"How do we know when the bag's full, madam Crafter?" One of the now hundreds of workers asked Crafter a'Loria, as they pumped the Gloam into the lift-bag of the second ship.

Mathias cringed as the young man spoke, pitying him for the brunt of his charge's wrath he was about to bear.

Predictably, Tabitha a'Loria rounded on the boy as if she were about to reduce him to carbon. Her once red hair gleamed with its own firelight, and her eyes burned as she glared at the poor boy. "Are you part of the auxiliary engineering detail?" she asked, in a menacing rasp barely louder than a whisper.

The boy nodded, despite stepping back and swallowing his sudden desire to run away. An angry Crafter could have that effect on people, Mathias remembered. "Engineer Restin Valmont, madam Crafter. Structural design and inspection," the boy said.

She nodded slowly in response, and asked, "How would you know if a heavy gas, heavier than air and visible to the naked eye, had filled a container?"

"It would come out the top," he said, and his face fell as he spoke. He sheepishly lowered his gaze and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, ma'am. Stupid question."

"Are you concerned about working with the Gloam?" she asked. The question surprised Mathias, who rarely heard her express any concern for those who weren't her apprentice.

"Aye, ma'am. We all are," Restin answered.

Tabitha nodded and said, "It takes minutes of breathing that mist to kill. More than long enough for me to deal with it, should it come to that. Stay careful and alert, and we should all be fine."

"Aye, ma'am. Thank you," he replied, and stepped away to return to his work.

Mathias stepped closer as Tabitha hissed in frustration. "Every child in the City knows the Gloam doesn't kill instantly," She said. "Burn that arrogant boy, why the hell did he leave with my senior Engineer?"

Mathias shrugged in response. "He wanted a helmsman. Only two other people in the City know the controls, and he couldn't take either of them."

Tabitha rounded on him, and asked "Who's the fourth? I count only three. Gerald, Maxwell and myself."

Mathias smiled and tapped his chest. "I'm not flying in anything I can't land."

She chuckled a little and shook her head. "You've been reading over my shoulder. Do you think you've read enough to ride the Bore?"

He cringed, as he instinctively glanced at the Spire. "No," he admitted. "But neither has Maxwell. Your apprentice made it appear startlingly simple, though."

Tabitha nodded, her expression grim. "He did. Even I won't do as well."

"Why?" Mathias asked.

"Riding the Bore benefits from being able to Craft," Tabitha said, and Mathias clenched his teeth as he saw his charge unconsciously glance towards the Spire. "You can feel how the fires of the Spire will shape the winds around it. But being able to feel someone else's will in the flame is something no Crafter in the history of the City has ever made a dedicated study of."

"Except you. As you studied the Gloam," Mathias said.

Tabitha smiled mischievously. "I never studied it." Her admission was a shock, and he nearly let it slip onto his face. "He was keen to study the Gloam before I took him on, you know that much. I became his master to shield him from the authorities of the City, who would never let him work. No one has ever outlawed studying the Gloam, but..." she explained.

"But under a different master or any oversight, he might have been expelled from the Apprentice Hall," Mathias added, nodding to himself. Tabitha always had an engineering bend to her studies, and had worked on buoyant suspension for building bridges. Her interest in the Gloam, a radical departure from her usual inclinations, had made for a few interesting meetings over the years.

"And my ships would never have flown," Tabitha finished. "Keeping his research secret was easy as his Master. I don't have to share his research, only my own. I might have graduated him years ago, despite his inclinations, but when he discovered the Gloam could burn indefinitely if it had no air to mix with, I used him to keep most of the airship development secret."

Mathias smiled. "It worked. But we should finish getting this ship assembled so that you can take it into the fight." He smiled, and glanced across the deck, noticing a few of the engineers waving to each other. "I think they're ready to test the propellers."

She smiled and nodded. "And you can go find out what the reason is for the cacophony out there," she said, gesturing towards the side of the ship.

Startled, Mathias turned in the direction she pointed, towards the far end of the docks. In the distance, barely discernible in the shadowy light of the Spire, a crowd was slowly marching towards the ships. The mass of people were all dressed in charcoal-black; the heat-treated uniforms of the Military.

Mathias watched the procession for a few moments, hoping for clues about their purpose. It only took a glance to notice a train of cylindrical tube,s twice as long as a person, being pulled on small carts.

Mathias swore under his breath and glanced over at Tabitha, who was engaged with the engineering crew testing the propellers. He stared back at the advancing troops for a moment longer, then vaulted over the side of the deck.

The saving grace of a three-storey fall was that a person usually had enough time to prepare for it, as long as they knew how to land. Just enough time. Mathias smiled as he fell the eleven yards that lay between the side of the ship and the ground, hit the ground with his feet, and let himself collapse into a roll. It was a familiar move, and his body went through the motions without any effort. He came up to a stand, took his hand away from his head, and straightened his hat before walking over to the advancing contingent of soldiers.

He moved swiftly, passing through the hundreds of workers with practised speed, keeping the distant crowd in his sight. His place quickly put him past the workers, and despite being outnumbered hundreds to one, Mathias placed himself in the path of the oncoming troops.

Mathias stared at the oncoming congregation and tried to recall what he knew of how the military behaved. The lead platoon of soldiers was likely there to clear a path, with the most polite soldiers encountering any obstacles first, and the more insistent following behind.

Like being punched by someone with a soft glove, Mathias reflected. He wasn't surprised when a pair of young soldiers stepped up to him. "Apologies, sir," one of them said. "We need the path clear."

Mathias smiled, trying his best to seem sympathetic. "That's what I'm here about. Parades aren't supposed to be held in the industrial quarters of the City," he said, holding out his hands placatingly.

"Umm..." the soldier stuttered, confused.

"You're supposed to have them in public places, during the day. Having an audience is important. And in this case, you're marching into what is still technically a secret project."

"Sir, we're on official Military business. I need you to stand aside. For your safety," the young soldier said, defaulting to a rehearsed line to cover her confusion.

Mathias grinned, and let the shadows fall over his face. He allowed his tone to drop a little, and added a harsher note to his words. "Soldier. Take me to the ranking officer in this marching band. Be quick, before I decide you're trespassing."

Her right arm twitched, and her back straightened instinctively before she could stop herself. She grimaced, sneered at Mathias a little, and waved over her sergeant.

Mathias let his hand rest on the pommel of his dagger, feeling the uncomfortable coolness through the rough canvas of the handle, and found it reassuring.

"Mathias?" someone asked, from the crowd ahead of him.

Mathias grimaced, recognising the voice calling his name.

"Why the burning hell are you trying to pick a fight?" a tall, fierce-looking man asked. The man walked forward from behind a crowd of people, and the soldiers nearby gave him a wide berth, standing straight at attention.

The man wore the soldier's standard overcoat; a knee-length, dark blue overcoat with a stiff, rigid collar. Unlike most soldiers, his coat had no insignia denoting rank or battle honours. His clothes were unnaturally clean, his boots recently polished, his beard neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut short. Nothing about what he wore explained the deference the soldiers showed him, except the longsword he wore at his belt.

The sword had a cold-stone core, as every officer's sword did. But unique to the weapon he wore, was a pommel depicting a stone wall, with a red lance of fire behind it.

"Benden," Mathias said, slowly. "You're not my Crafter's favourite person right now."

"She can swallow that damn pride of hers, or she can watch someone else fly her ship. I have Golems kicking in my walls, hundreds of reports of Gloamtaken storming across the causeways, and nearly thirty missing platoons. If she can help defend the City with this ship of hers, she can damn well shut-up and do it," Benden hissed.

Mathias nodded and held out his hands placatingly. "She understands, Benden. Her ships are yours."

Benden glanced over to the ship and smiled. "Her putting two ships in the air is the only good news I've had tonight." He paused and stepped close to Mathias. Speaking softly, Benden added "Their behaviour has changed. The Golems aren't cutting straight into the City, like they did in every other invasion. They're breaking causeways and sweeping the walls, cutting off the fire to entire sections at a time."

Mathias looked up towards the ship and caught Tabitha's eye. She shrugged, and he beckoned for her to join them. "Is that unusual?"

Benden nodded solemnly. "It is. Normally they cut straight towards the Bore. Kick in a wall, wait for the Gloam to claim the area, then go through the next. Four invasions with Golems, and they never deviated from that pattern. I don't know what changed, but it's one more reason I want her in the air."

"And the battalion behind you?" Mathias asked.

Benden scowled, probably at the lack of deference in front of his soldiers. He was, after all, dictator of the City until the invasion was repelled. "I have something for her ship."

Mathias glanced back towards the soldiers, his eyes widening in understanding. Stretched behind the lead soldiers was a train of large cylinders.

Valkyries. "How many?" Mathias asked.

Benden smiled. "A dozen. They're the newest design, half again as long as the standard model. They've been stress-tested, but they don't even have the Crafter's insignia yet. Along with that, an over-strength gunnery platoon."

"Valkyries, Benden?" Tabitha called, as she marched towards them. "You seize my ships, conscript my apprentice and engineers, and now you want to put cannons on my ship? What's next, an edict claiming the invasion doesn't end with the destruction of the Golems?"

Mathias' eyes widened, and he instinctively laid a hand over his obsidian pommelled dagger. She was angrier than he would have guessed, and the signs of it were too easy to see. Her hair was glowing again, the ember-red and quite possibly warm to the touch, and the air around her shimmered with heat.

Asides from Benden, every soldier nearby unholstered their weapon, and squads of soldiers fanned out to form a broad semicircle around her. It was crisp and precise, and their guns would be about as effective against her as a single bucket of water against a burning building.

Benden glanced towards her after a moment, appraisingly. "As I see fit, Crafter. The City is in peril, and you have a unique resource to make use of," he said forcefully, his tone measured and imperious. It was the voice of someone who learned long ago how to be obeyed.

"Valkyries, with a military contingent to accompany them? Have you forgotten the edict of Parliament, preventing you from doing exactly this? Do you think the officer you place on my ship will give orders, old man? And if you do, how much a threat do you think this handful of soldiers are to me?" Tabitha asked, her words punctuated by crackling sound as pockets of air were flash-heated near her.

Mathias hissed in frustration, keenly aware of how far away he was from her, and how dangerous she was. Even among Crafters, she was formidable. If she decided to let loose, he would be her first target, followed by Benden, then any nearby officer. Cold-stone could incapacitate a Crafter, even her, but you had to be close enough to stab with it.

And Crafter a'Loria could turn a building into slag from half a mile.

"I expect you to provide a mobile platform my artillery crew can use, and to obey my deployment orders. Like the order I'm giving right now, to install my Valkyries on your boat," Benden replied, haughtily. He was startlingly unconcerned with how much danger he was in, Mathias noted.

"Ship, Lord Captain. It's a ship, not a boat," Mathias surprised himself by saying. He turned back to Tabitha and made a show of holding out his hands, spreading his fingers wide.

She eyed his gesture with a sneer, and contemptuously stepped past him, towards The Lord Captain of the Wall. She stood in front of him, and despite not being a short man, he had to look up to meet her gaze.

"So the ship is still mine?" she asked.

"Of course it is. I'm not willing to make your ship less effective. Even if I dislike your insolence," Benden said.

"So you aren't playing politics with the cudgel this invasion affords you. I will help you repel our enemy. But these ships will do more than help defend the City, once this invasion is over," Tabitha leaned closer, and her defiant rasp of a whisper was difficult to overhear. "You've guaranteed it."

She stepped back and inclined her head a little. "I stand between the City and her enemies. As does my ship, sir. Make use of us, Lord Captain," she said, loudly, with a passing imitation of the standard military salute, right hand in a fist, over the heart.

He returned the salute. "Prep for deployment at the Western Wall. Golem sightings have been more numerous there. Engagement protocol will be at your discretion but check with command periodically for priority orders. Happy hunting, Captain," he said, his crisp formality meant more for the soldiers behind him.

"Crafter. It's 'Crafter', Lord Captain. The First Law of Reconciliation should not be so casually flouted," she said. Mathias was surprised to hear her say that, after her demand for autonomy on her ship.

"Then what grants you authority on your ship?" he asked.

"On my ship, I am no longer in the City," she replied, with a fierce grin.

Benden nodded. "'No Crafter shall command, or hold dominion over others in the City,'" he recited, understanding. "I can live with that."

"Then I want those set up six per side, from bow to stern," she said, stepping bast Benden and into to the throng of soldiers. It didn't take her long to be dissatisfied with their gawking incomprehension. "Six on each side of my ship, spaced out evenly! Which you can't do until you drag them over! I wanted to be airborne an hour ago! Do I need to light a fire under your asses? Because I can actually do that."

As she started shouting orders, Benden laughed, and turned to Mathias. "That went better than I expected" he admitted, clearly pleased. "Her rage is exhilarating, and surprisingly human. Were they right, to assign her to you?"

"Exhilarating? The stories of a Crafter's rage are used to cower children into obedience, and you enjoyed it?" Mathias asked, more amused than appalled.

"I did. How often can someone convincingly threaten The Lord Captain of the Wall?" Benden asked. "Besides, she answered every concern I had about putting my people under her command."

"How so?" Mathias asked.

Benden looked at him with an amused smirk. "Weren't you paying attention? I needed to know if she had enough self-control to trust her with my people, and enough confidence in herself to lead effectively. She needed to know that my people would obey her. What did you think that was about?"

"I wondered why you were poking a scourged Crafter," Mathias said. He paused for a moment, and considered. "What was plan B?"

He gestured to the Valkyries. "The first one is loaded with canister shot. Figured it would buy you enough time, if it came to that."

Mathias nodded, exhaling sharply in a whistle. "You don't do half-measures."

"Not when I'm trusting my people with a Crafter," Benden replied, as he glanced back at Tabitha, directing the movement of the Valkyries towards her ship. He glanced back, and asked "Do you trust the Crafter flying her other ship? I heard he left with a mechanic, several engineers, and a maintenance squad."

Mathias laughed. Benden wasn't going to like hearing this. "Her apprentice is in command. She gave him the sword."

Benden scowled dismissively. "You stink at humour, Mathias. Who did she trust with her ship?"

Mathias didn't answer, as Benden only needed a moment more to realise he had already been told. "Flame-bitten Crafters with nothing but ash between their ears! An apprentice! And you let her give him her ship?"

He paused for a moment. "Why did you let her do it?"

Mathias recited a short list of names. "Coraline Estoban, Theo Ratterson, and Brenda Thael. Do you know the names?"

"Crafters. I've listed all three as potential war assets. Theo is Chief of Research and Development in everything but name. All of them are well-respected Crafters. What are you saying?"

"All three of them were her apprentices. How many names are listed as potential war assets among the Crafters?" Mathias asked.

"Fourteen. Counting a'Loria, that makes four of the only fourteen Crafters that I could ask to stand where Olivia Polden did. I see your point," Benden admitted. "But she didn't graduate him."

"True. She didn't graduate him," Mathias admitted, as he turned away and stared out at the Spire. "Did you watch the other ship take off?" he asked, glancing at Benden.

"No. I've barely left the main communications hub," Benden said.

"He took the ship in a corkscrew up the Spire," Mathias explained, pointing up to the clouds the Spire pierced. "The ship weighs over three hundred tons, and manoeuvres like a brick on a sheet of ice. He was easily making a hundred miles an hour, when we lost sight of the ship in those clouds. Before he left, he said he might make a hundred and fifty."

Benden whistled sharply, as he followed Mathias' gaze.

"You trust her. And she trusts her apprentice with something she was willing to throw down with you over."

Benden nodded. "You're saying he has the best endorsement I can expect for an untested, top secret project?" he asked, lamely. He laughed ruefully and shook his head. "Worst he can do is crash, I suppose. Are you flying with her?"

"I am," Mathias said, quietly. He grimaced as he spoke, and shrugged.

"You don't look particularly thrilled," Benden noted.

"I'm flying on an experimental ship with a scourged Crafter that you've sent to war," Mathias hissed. He turned to Benden, and said "you've killed her, you know. I'm only the knife."

To his surprise, Benden only nodded in agreement. Mathias had expected anger, denial, or spite. To see The Lord Captain of the Wall solemnly agree with his outburst was as startling as anything else he had seen this night.

"I've killed hundreds tonight," Benden said, solemnly. "A dozen platoons are either dead, or stranded behind the Gloam. I'll kill thousands before the week is out. The scary part is how little it bothers me. I barely shrug over the casualty projections anymore. Brave and self-sacrificing people, the best of the City, and I'm spending them like a gambler who thinks he'll die tomorrow if he doesn't win."

Mathias watched as the remorse faded from the old soldier's face, to be replaced by the familiar indignant rage The Lord Captain was famous for. "But I'm not wrong to do it, and you know the stakes."

"I know," Mathias admitted.

"Then serve, as she has chosen to. Save our City. You can hate me for it after we win," Benden said, and turned away to depart.

Mathias nodded to himself, and followed after his Crafter.