The Dirty Countess's journey to Leonard's shop in Kinvarra was prolonged and tense. The crew was already stressed enough playing host to one shade—now, they had two...and a mage. All thought of the Mothers' vanity errand to Bridgehelm was long gone.

Orix had wrinkled his nose upon first boarding the ship, and Wren had had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't rudely remind him of the state of his home.

The sun was rising, and Godfrey and Orix were now hunched over papers in the galley together, considering the details of their new mission. They needed to find a second scrapper vessel, reunite all seven elusive mages, open the passage in the fog, distract the uncontrollable, unkillable moraiths, save the survivors (if there even were any), pop back to Meraki, and seal up the passage again before the moraiths caught on.

A small feat.

Even though Wren had grumbled about their ridiculous new mission, she was glad that Godfrey was on planning duty. He could be annoyingly fussy, but he did a thorough job, and she knew he would consider every detail. If Frey was on the job, it would get done.

Teddy was stress-cooking in the kitchen. So far, he'd served barley and pea soup, mushroom tarts, loaded potato skins, figgy pudding, and Elderflower Cordial. Wren was never one to complain about a steady supply of food, but she was concerned that their cupboards would soon be empty.

Abigail was in the engine room, keeping things running. Scarlett had finally emerged from the cabin and was now wandering around the ship, visiting each of them in turn. She'd barely spent any time with Wren in the bridge—instead, she spoke with Titus, who had crept out of hiding momentarily.

Wren didn't know if she felt better knowing that the mage didn't use his magic anymore, or if she'd prefer that he did, in case they wound up in a spot of trouble. After all, they had just increased the size of the target on their backs tenfold.

Soon, clouds of steam and smoke billowed in the distance. The sprawling marshes gave way to roads, buildings, and people going about their daily business—completely unaware that hundreds of meters above them floated two shades.

Beyond these sparse outskirts was the capital city itself: Kinvarra. The grand metropolis of Meraki, the country's beating heart of industry and business. Its skyline was carved of iron and steel, with watchtowers, factory smokestacks, and, of course, the massive Paragon headquarters—with any luck, they wouldn't end up anywhere close to that foreboding place.

Wren swung the ship slightly east, towards the part of the city with fewer watchtowers. "Better get ready," she said over her shoulder to Titus and Scarlett. "We're almost there."

#

Leonard stood by his office window, staring at the Dirty Countess in disbelief.

"It's a miracle she got here in one piece!" he said, throwing up his hands. "Just look at the state of her!"

"What do you mean?" Wren asked incredulously. "She's the same as last time!"

He tried to cock his head but only managed a slight tilt. His neck, like the rest of him, was short and squat. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"I think she's rougher around the edges."

Wren scowled. "She's an old girl, but that's no reason to be unkind."

She, Godfrey, and Titus were in Leonard's office. There was barely an inch of free space in the room, between the stacks of paperwork, tattered furniture, and spare ship parts. A few crooked watercolours hung on the uneven walls in a half-hearted attempt to brighten up the place. It had a broad window on one side that looked out onto the shop floor. Wren could see the others there, standing by the Dirty Countess. They were leaning against a large crate, which held the two shades. She hoped that Orix was right when he insisted that the creatures would stay put...if they got out somehow, the shop would erupt in pandemonium, and they didn't need more to worry about right now.

"We'll spruce her up, all the same," Leonard said. Then he added under his breath, "She's in desperate need of it..."

He waved over a mechanic and gave her some instructions. He turned back to the crew and gestured towards the door. "All right, out! I have work to do."

"Actually," Wren said. "There's one more thing. Do you have a scrapper ship?"

Leonard scratched his chin. "I have a couple in the yard. Does it need to fly?"

"Just long enough to survive a quick trip."

"Hmm. What's your budget?"

"Budget?" She glanced nervously at Godfrey. "Errr..."

Leonard wasn't amused. "Do I look like a charity?"

Truth be told, Leonard's shop actually was something of a charity operation. He took in the roughest cases—recently-released Paragon prisoners, young street rats, anyone society had left behind—and turned them into skilled mechanics. He gave them a second chance. That was why Leonard's was the shop of choice in the pirate world: you could rest easy, knowing his mechanics weren't going to sell you out. Their dislike of the Paragon was palpable.

"Put it on the Mothers' tab," Wren said, and Godfrey elbowed her in the ribs. "Ow! What?"

"We can't!" he said in a hoarse whisper.

"This is important," she whispered back.

Leonard blinked at them. "I can hear you, you know. No doubt you've gotten yourselves into some trouble again. What is it this time?"

"Nothing," Godfrey said quickly.

"Look," Wren said, "we wouldn't ask for help if we didn't need it. You know that."

Leonard plunked himself down in his old office chair, which gave a rusty squeak. "Kids, you aren't getting a damn thing from me unless there's a bloody good reason." He folded his hands over his ample stomach and waited.

"Yes, kids," repeated Titus. "Tell the nice man why you need a scrapper."

Godfrey shot Titus a look. "The fewer people who know, the better."

"We should just tell him," Wren said. "We aren't going to get a ship otherwise."

"It's for his own good!" Godfrey argued. "Knowing would put him in danger."

"At least this way he can be ready."

"Ready for what, exactly?" Leonard asked, eyes narrowed.

"He won't believe us!" Godfrey insisted.

"He will!"

He paused, considering. "Can we just tell him a half-truth?"

"Still right here," said Leonard.

Titus groaned. "Just tell him, for fog's sake!"

Godfrey crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine."

Leonard raised his eyebrows. "This should be good."

"Okay, so..." Wren began. "The Paragon lied about the Settlement. It turns out the mages had to close the passage in the fog because of the monsters on the other side—they're called moraiths, apparently—who were trying to get into Meraki. Anyways, there are survivors in the Settlement and we're going to save them. We need the seven mages to open the gate to the Settlement. We already have two—well, one and a half—but Orix says he knows where to find the others. The hard part comes after we open the passage, though. That's why we need a scrapper ship. We need to distract the moraiths while we get in, save the survivors, and get everyone out as quickly as possible."

Leonard blinked at them. There was a deep furrow in his brow and his mouth was set in a thin line.

Godfrey threw up his hands. "I told you he wouldn't believe us!"

Leonard moved forward, leaning heavily on his desk. He rubbed his eyes with thick fingers. "You two," he said, pointing to Wren and Godfrey. "Get out. You,"—he pointed to Titus—"stay. I have questions."

Wren baulked, insulted. "Wait, why do we have to get out?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not an answer!"

"Because the fox is the smartest of you sorry lot."

Titus sat a little straighter, curling his tail.

"Come on, let us stay," Wren whined.

"No. You talk too much."

Godfrey opened his mouth—

"Yes. You, too."

"We'll be quiet, don't worry," Wren reassured him. "We'll just sit here in silence while you two discuss—"

"OUT!"

#

The door slammed behind Wren and Godfrey. They walked over to the others, disgruntled.

"Well?" Scarlett asked. "Is he giving us a scrapper or not?"

"Don't know yet," said Wren. "He needs to think about it." When she was sure Orix wasn't looking, she mouthed Titus to her. Scarlett nodded.

Ten minutes later, Leonard emerged from his office. There was no sign of Titus—he would be invisible while the mage was in view.

The crew fell silent in tense anticipation as the stocky shop-owner planted himself in front of them. "I've decided," he finally announced. "You can have a scrapper."

"Yes!" Wren punched the air. The others were visibly relieved.

"It's in rough condition," he continued, tempering their excitement. "Won't last long with its engine."

"That's fine," Godfrey said quickly.

"And its balloon needs some patchwork. It's not much better than the Dirty Countess there, but it should get the job done."

Wren ignored the jab at their ship. "Thanks, Leonard. You're a brick."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I'll add it to the Mothers' tab. Can't be seen doing favours or others will be lining up at the door."

That would raise a flag with the Reverend Mother, Wren knew, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Not right now, anyway.

Leonard took a step forward and gestured for them to gather round. He spoke in hushed tones. "What you're about to do, it isn't safe. It isn't smart. I get why you're going, but it's incredibly risky. I don't know whether there are survivors over there or not, but you need to be quick about it. In and out. No games. I mean it, Wren." He fixed her with a pointed look. Usually, Leonard was quick and candid, but now he was deadly serious. "The Paragon will be on you in minutes—you need to be prepared for that. Gather as much ammunition as you can, and make sure those mages have your backs."

He eyed Orix, who put on a nonchalant air and leaned against the crate with the shades. His elbow knocked a screwdriver off, and it clattered loudly to the floor.

Wren sighed, embarrassed.

"You're playing with fire here," Leonard continued, looking around at each of them. "Some of you might not come back alive. You're risking your necks to save people who might be gone already. It's bloody stupid."

Scarlett shifted uncomfortably, and Godfrey bit his lip. Teddy and Abigail looked at each other, doubt written on their faces.

"But...it's admirable, too," Leonard went on, his voice gruff. "I'm proud of you. You've got moxie, the lot of you."

The group was silent, unsure how to respond. Leonard wasn't usually the effusive type. Should I hug him? Wren wondered. No, that was silly—far too forward. A handshake? No, too formal.

Abigail spoke up. "Er, thanks."

Leonard cleared his throat. "Anyhow..." He turned to wave over a couple mechanics, when a sudden blast shook the shop.

Tools fell to the ground, and windows shook in their frames. Ships screeched in their lifts, tipping dangerously. There were cries of surprise. Wren grabbed hold of Scarlett beside her to hold steady.

"Paragon incoming!" Leonard bellowed, and the shop mechanics burst into a flurry of activity. He turned to the crew. "Get back to your ship and get out of here!"

Wren's eyes went wide. They'd expected the Paragon to catch up with them, but not so soon! And for Leonard's shop to be caught in the middle...

Wren felt like she was moving in slow motion. The others streamed past her, moving towards the Dirty Countess. She made to follow them, but suddenly remembered—the shades in the crate! She turned on her heel and doubled back, but she needn't have: the two shades were slipping out of the box, as though the wooden slats were little more than air.

Of course, she cursed herself. They're shades—they don't need help from me, or anyone else.

"What are you waiting for?!" Godfrey cried, suddenly beside her. "Come on!" He grabbed her arm and dragged her along, when suddenly there was a deafening crash.

A Paragon ship blew through the far wall, reducing it to rubble. Debris flew everything, forcing them to crouch down and shield themselves.

The Paragon ship's door flew open and heavily armoured soldiers streamed into Leonard's shop, guns raised.

"There's no time to get to the ship!" Wren heard Orix shout. "They'll shoot us down!"

Clearly Leonard had had the same thought because he hollered to them from the office: "Quick, this way!"

"No! The ship!" Wren cried.

Grey daylight streamed in through the massive hole in the wall, illuminating the Dirty Countess. It was the closest ship to the soldiers. She watched as a squadron ran up the ramp, disappearing inside. Wren's heart plummeted.

They're taking our ship! Our home!

Godfrey yanked at her. "We have to go!"

But she was rooted to the spot, unable to pull her gaze away from the Dirty Countess as more and more soldiers streamed inside...

She thought of the bridge, the galley, the cargo hold. Their cabins, with the few trinkets they'd each managed to gather over the years. She thought of Titus's maps, Abigail's paintings, Teddy's prized ingredients, Godfrey's books. Her photograph, hanging above the bed—the only thing she had left of her family.

The Paragon had already killed them once, when they had sent them to the Settlement. Now they would scrub all memory of them.

Scarlett grabbed Wren's other arm and together, she and Godfrey managed to pull her towards Leonard's office.

"We'll get her back," Scarlett told her. "Now come on!"

Wren forced herself to snap out of it. "I know!" she snapped. "Let me go!" But it was a lie—she knew this was the end of the road for the Dirty Countess. They were never getting her back...not from the Paragon.

Their home was gone.

The trio darted behind ships and tool shelves to make it to the office. Orix, Teddy, and Abigail were already there. Wren caught sight of the shades hovering just behind Orix, out of view so as not to panic the fleeing mechanics, who were disappearing into the floor.

"The escape tunnel is behind the desk," Leonard told them, ushering them through.

The carpet was rolled back, revealing a trapdoor leading to a dark tunnel. The mechanics dove in, one by one, going as fast as they could.

Wren looked at Teddy, then back at the tunnel. He wasn't going to fit...

Shouts came from the shop floor as the Paragon soldiers discovered mechanics who hadn't made it to the office in time.

"Quickly, now," Leonard said, pushing Abigail forward.

"We can't go," Wren said, trying not to panic. "Teddy won't fit."

"Don't be foolish!" Leonard barked. "I know that! Take who you can and get out!"

"Go, go, go!" Teddy said, pushing them towards the tunnel. "I'll be fine!"

She jabbed a finger at Teddy. "Stop that!" She turned to Leonard. "We can't leave him behind!"

Leonard looked like he was trying very hard not to lose his patience. "Kid, I've been around a long time. You need to make hard decisions to survive."

"Please," Teddy begged them, "just go."

Scarlett turned to Orix, pleading. "You're a mage! Help us!"

Orix backed away. "I can't."

Godfrey jabbed a finger at the office window. "The Paragon is right outside! They're going to catch us if we don't do something!"

The mage shook his head, going pale.

So much power, and not an ounce of courage. Just what you would expect of a mage, Wren thought bitterly. "He's not going to help us," she said, her voice flat.

Bullets pierced the office window, shattering it.

"Do you want to save Abraham or not?" Scarlett shrieked at Orix.

"Oy! This way, now!" Leonard said. He hovered over the tunnel, one leg already inside.

Wren whirled around to look at the others. "Anyone who wants to go should go," she said quickly, but no one moved. She turned back to Leonard. "We'll close the tunnel behind you."

He pursed his lips, displeased. "Well. Good luck." He disappeared into the tunnel, and Wren closed the trapdoor, rolling the carpet back into place.

"What've you done?" Teddy moaned. "They'll catch us all now..."

Godfrey crawled over to the office door and peeked out. "Our ship is crawling with soldiers..."

Wren swallowed hard.

"What do we do, Wren?" Abigail asked, her face full of hope.

Wren crawled over to Godfrey and looked out at the shop until, finally, her eyes finally snagged on an opportunity. Remarkably, in their haste, the soldiers had left their own ship completely unguarded.

"Okay," she began. "Hear me out..."

#

Wren darted out of the office and hid behind a tool chest. Four stood guard by the Dirty Countess, while several others searched the interior, making a ruckus as they tossed things around.

Two soldiers stalked by, mere feet away. When they had passed, Wren dashed behind a pillar, inching closer to the Paragon ship. She waved for the others to follow her lead.

Godfrey slipped out next, concealing himself behind an old ship. He made a complicated set of motions with his hands.

Wren shook her head, not understanding. "What?" she mouthed.

He gave a dismissive wave. Crouching low, he dashed behind the next ship. Abigail followed, taking his place behind the ship. She gestured for Scarlett to join her, but she couldn't see the soldier just around the corner. If Scarlett made a run for it now, she'd be caught!

Wren waved a hand, trying to catch her attention, but Scarlett didn't look her way.

The soldier was right there—Scarlett was going to run right into him!

Wren grabbed a ratchet off the floor and flung it to the other side of the shop: it hit a wall of tools, clattering to the ground.

The soldiers took the bait, allowing Godfrey, Abigail, and Scarlett a clear path to the Paragon ship. Moving quickly and quietly, they raced over and disappeared inside. She saw a flash of metal as Titus slipped inside, too. Maybe their luck was finally turning. She would go next.

She glanced over at the far wall. A group of soldiers stood by the fallen tools, scratching their heads.

"Paragon prigs," Wren muttered. "So predictable."

"Think again," said a deep voice.

She whipped around and ducked just in time—a fist slammed into the pillar where her head had been moments ago.

A hulking, red-faced soldier grinned down at her.

But Wren was up in a flash. She sent out her fist, aiming for the soldier's head, but he blocked her. His smile broadened.

She spun around and threw a punch at his sternum. He dodged it.

She moved to strike his throat. He dodged it again.

She hurled a fist at his jaw. Another dodge.

The soldier buried his massive fist in her stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. She gasped and fell to the ground in pain.

He loomed over her, pulled out his gun, and aimed it at her.

She stared into the barrel, dumbfounded. She always thought that when push came to shove and her life was actually in peril, she would leap into action. Figure it out. Go out on a high note, mid-strike.

But there were only three words in her head: No. Not yet.

Metal creaked in the distance. BANG!

Blood spattered from the right side of the soldier's head. He stumbled, stunned, before falling to the floor, dead.

One of the guns on the Paragon ship was smoking. It spun around to face the other soldiers.

"Our ship!" a soldier shouted. "They're on our ship!"

Wren pushed herself up and limped towards the ship, but she was moving too slowly. The soldiers would intercept her at any moment...

Suddenly, Teddy was at her side. He threw her arm over his shoulders, and half-carried, half-hauled her onwards, into the Paragon vessel.

They just managed to seal the door behind them before there was a hail of bullets, plinking against the ship's tough metal exterior but unable to pierce it.

As oppressive and sterile as Paragon vessels were, Wren had to concede they were well-made.

They made their way to the bridge. Godfrey was at the helm. Beside him, Scarlett was in the co-pilot's seat. Abigail hovered just behind them as the ship hummed to life.

Wren plunked herself into a seat. Her stomach still ached from where the soldier had punched her. "Teds, can you find the tracker?" Paragon ships always had trackers, and the last thing they needed was a chase.

There was a sharp crunch, and Wren's eyes darted over to Titus in a dark corner. He held a small, crushed box in his metal paws. "Done."

There were shouts outside as Paragon soldiers closed in on the ship, intending to take it back.

"Off we go!" Godfrey announced.

Wren gripped her seat, but there was no need. The ship cut through the air like butter, gliding high into the sky. The sound of gunfire quieted behind them, then subsided entirely as they slipped away. The engine was nothing more than a dull purr—not the usual bumpy roar of the Dirty Countess.

Her heart gave a dull pang. The usual bumpy roar was part of their home...and now it was gone.

"We just lost the Dirty Countess," Abigail finally said, voicing what they were all thinking.

There was a pause as they all took it in.

"The Reverend Mother won't be happy," Godfrey finally said.

Wren leaned back against the cushioned headrest and closed her eyes. She didn't give a damn about the Reverend Mother right now.

"It's astounding that I'm the one suggesting this," Titus began, "but we should find the other mages. One of them can use their magic to find a scrapper for us."

"Agreed," said Scarlett.

Titus suddenly stiffened, and disappeared.

Orix rushed onto the bridge, looking even more frazzled than usual. "Problem! Big problem!" he cried.

Wren was up in a flash. "What? What is it?"

His eyes were wide. "There's a prisoner in the brig!"

#

In the brig, the prisoner gripped the cell bars, watching them closely. She reminded Wren of a marble statue, with her white-blonde hair and pale skin. She wore commoner's clothing—trousers and a blouse—but without the usual layer of grime and soot. The girl must've gotten over the shock of seeing a mage and a shade a few minutes ago, because her expression was blank, betraying nothing.

Wren suppressed a sigh. This was a complication they really didn't need right now. "Who are you?" she asked.

The prisoner paused, considering her words before answering. "Who's asking?" Her voice was low and even, and she enunciated each word.

Godfrey picked up the manifest by the door. "Constance Wells. Picked up this afternoon on the Kinvarra docks." He flipped a page. "A double charge of fraud and battery."

Wren looked at Constance, considering. "She does look hard as a tack. Who do you work for?"

Another brief pause before she spoke. "No one. I work for myself."

"I do believe she's 'talking out of the side of her mouth,'" Orix said. "That's what you pirates say, isn't it, Wren?"

Wren shot him a look. "Quick tip...don't use the term 'pirate' in front of strangers. And don't use names." She hoped they didn't need to spend much longer with Orix—the mage was as irritating as they came.

"If you were stuck in the brig, you wouldn't be straight with your captors, either," the prisoner said.

"She has a point," Godfrey said. "Although I'd like to point out that we aren't as much captors as inheritors."

Wren turned to Godfrey. "I say we get rid of her as soon as possible."

But before he could answer, Constance jumped in. "I can be useful to you," she said quickly. "I know how to fight."

The girl was slightly shorter than Wren, but anyone could see the strong muscles on her forearms. Even the way she stood—shoulders back, chin up, back straight—made Wren think she was a force to be reckoned with.

"We have enough fighters," she said, "but thanks."

Orix tapped Wren on the shoulder. "You don't...you don't mean to 'get rid of her' get rid of her, do you?" he asked, concerned.

"No!" she and Godfrey said at the same time. Both Orix and the prisoner looked relieved.

"We need to drop her off somewhere," Godfrey said. "We can't very well let her out and have her wandering the ship."

They'd just lost their ship and Leonard's shop, and the Paragon was hot on their heels. Even this little meet-and-greet had gone on far too long—Wren needed to get back to the bridge with the others. "Let's just let her off when we get to our next destination."

"And where, may I ask, is that?" asked Orix.

"Actually, I hoped you could tell us!" Wren said, clapping him on the back. He looked startled by the touch.

"Oh? Well, I suppose we'll talk about it..." he eyed the prisoner. "Out of earshot."

"Good man. Your instincts are getting better by the second."

"Indeed," he said, turning on his heel. "Back to the bridge!"

"Wait!" Constance interjected. "You can't just leave me here!"

"We most certainly can," Wren said, already halfway to the door, "and are."

"Are we?" Godfrey asked, hesitant.

"Yesss..." Wren said.

"We should keep tabs on her."

Wren pointed to the prison cell. "She's behind bars."

"She could be wily, we don't know! Who knows what she could get up to?"

They didn't have time to argue. She needed to get back to the bridge with the others. "Fine," Wren said, throwing up her hands. "Stay and watch her if you want. I'll be in the bridge."