It was a peculiar sound, a hard click of nearly solid boots on metal, that woke Clarissa up. She threw herself upright, swatting at the wall beside her bunk until she found the light switch. She shut her eyes for a moment, blinked, and then looked around the room to see if anyone else was inside.

To Clarissa's relief she was alone, but the clacking grew louder, as if whatever making the noise was getting closer. Clarissa hugged her knees, held her breath, and stared without blinking at the door.

The clacking stopped, and someone knocked hard on the metal door. "Hey, kid!" an unfamiliar voice shouted through the steel. "I was hoping for a word, if you were willing."

Surprised, Clarissa floundered for a response, and stayed silent long enough that the person on the other side of the door spoke again. "Just a little bored on this voyage. Crew ain't exactly hospitable, and I've had every conversation I ever want to with my mates. And then some."

"Oh," Clarissa found herself saying. Before she knew what she was doing, she had already slid off the bed and was pushing her feet into her boots.

"Thought you might like to look at a bit more of the world. Monastery kid like you probably hasn't gone much beyond the farms. And if your room's like mine, you don't have a window," the woman said.

Something about the last sentence twitched at an unfamiliar urge in Clarissa, and it drew her eyes to the harsh lines and metallic gleam of the walls. Even the door, a metal oval with a lip at the bottom that rose almost to her knees, had lost something of the comforting lustre it had before she had fallen asleep.

Her room felt less like a fortress, and more like a prison.

"Yes," she said, despite the worries gnawing at her stomach. "I'll be out in a second."

Clarissa tied her boots and pulled her heavy grey cloak over her shoulders, bunching the material below her chin and pinning it in place. Clarissa then stepped up to the door, lifted the heavy latch, and pushed hard to swing the door open.

The woman waiting at the other side of the door was richly dressed. A vibrant red dress, with a heavy grey scarf wrapped around her neck, steeply heeled boots and long, lacquered fingernails. Even her face had the telltale contrasts — unnaturally long eyelashes, unnaturally white skin, unnaturally black shadows above her eyes, unnaturally red lips — of expensive and elaborate makeup.

Even the woman's smile, not lacking poise or enthusiasm, looked painted on.

"Well hello," the woman said, leaning forward just a little and resting her hands on her knees. "I was worried you'd turtle in there and we'd never get to see you again. What's your name, child?"

Clarissa bristled at being called a child, and stepped over the lip of the doorframe in an act of defiance. "I'm Clarissa."

"Just Clarissa?" The woman asked. She made a click with her tongue and shook her head. "Of course. You don't have last names at the Monastery. Just enough of an identity that your teachers don't have to point to single you out. I've always found it rather cruel."

"You know about the Monastery?" Clarissa asked warily.

"I've spent a lot of time in Bankerloft. Monastery's always been just around the corner, so to speak. Not that I end up knowing much about it, but I see the initiates, your age and younger, who come through on errands and such," the woman said, her smile holding neither warmth nor sincerity. Clarissa began to regret opening the door.

The woman tilted her head to the side and gave Clarissa a small grin. "Guess that makes us neighbours."

"I guess," Clarissa agreed.

"Well, it ain't that close, but considering you've been cast off like this, I might be the closest thing you have to a familiar face," the woman said. "On occasion I'd ask Bradford, the baker at the store your friends would fetch supplies from, to slip some of you sweets when he had extra."

Clarissa nodded, remembering the taste of jam tarts and the hard candies they could only ever taste on errands to Bankerloft.

"I even remember some of you young children talk so excitedly about roast squash. Apparently the one thing the Monastery never did well was food," the woman said, tapping her chin as if lost in recollection. "I'll bet the curry that absurdly well built man made has ruined every childhood meal you've ever eaten."

Clarissa nodded. "But miss, why are you bringing this up? I'm grateful if you're the one getting us sweets from Bradford, but why bring this up now?"

"Just wondered if you know where you're setting off to," the woman said. She leaned forward and tried again to smile kindly. Again, her expression looked like it had been applied from a makeup box.

Clarissa bit back a reflexive response, recalling what Mercy had said earlier about Monastery knowledge being as valuable as it was. "I don't know," Clarissa answered eventually.

"No? Well, you're right to be worried. No telling where these smugglers are taking you. Suspect it's to pay off this ship," the woman said as she spread her arms and pointed at the walls. "Not even Olencian Yachts have metal hulls."

Clarissa's eyes widened, and she was halfway to a gasp before she stopped herself. "Mercy had said the Ravens' Child was special, but..." Clarissa blurted out, realizing that if anyone had commissioned this ship, it would have to be someone this crew owed a great deal to. And right now; they were carrying a strange black box to a place Clarissa knew next to nothing about.

And carrying Clarissa.

If this ship was in debt to anyone beneath the sky, it had to be to the Monastery itself.

"You see?" the woman said, her smile both more sincere and less kind. "And whose holds those debts? Because a girl from the Monastery would go a long way to paying whatever debt they still have."

Clarissa considered the woman's words, now knowing them for lies. If this ship's crew had debts, it wasn't to some mystery gangster like the woman was insinuating. Exposed, it laid bare not only the woman's duplicity, but her motivations. She listened with renewed interest as the woman carried on. "My friends and I, we're only going to Volante, where slavery is illegal and they're proud of that fact. You could make fast friends there, and people would happily look out for you until you get settled." Wariness washed through Clarissa like cold water, as the woman laid herself bare without realizing it.

Taking a hint from the woman speaking to her, Clarissa put on a smile that she didn't feel. And when the woman in the dress saw it, her expression turned hungry, predatory, and not at all kind. Like a predator sensing weakness, the woman drew closer. "I rather doubt this crew would raise a fuss, if you insisted on leaving with us when we reach Volante. What do you say, kid? Better someone you know, even a little, over these smugglers and scoundrels."

Clarissa held the smile on her face for just a little longer, before she gave up the effort. She looked up at the woman in red coolly and crossed her arms. "What I can say for these scoundrels, is none of them have lied to me yet. And you've done nothing but try to. Thank you for your offer, but no."

The woman's smile rippled, as rage contorted her mouth like a flag being twisted in a sudden gale. But the conflict faded as the clap of another pair of boots sounded.

Clarissa turned to see Captain Locklear approach. He wasn't looking at them, seemingly engrossed with the small book in his hand. He even hummed to himself as he turned a page. He only looked up as he grew close, and his eyes widened as if it surprised him to see the two of them. "Most folk use a voyage as a chance to sleep. Can't always guarantee a time when you'll have dark and quiet, you should be taking advantage."

"We were just reminiscing about where our paths took us in Bankerloft," the woman in red said quickly, putting on another very well presented smile to the captain. Her smile faltered a moment later when the captain turned back to what he was reading. "Thought she'd like something familiar while you drag her off to whoever's paying you for her."

"That's mighty thoughtful of you," the captain replied without any real feeling. His bland delivery, and his divided attention, made it seem as if he had recited the words from his book. "So long as you keep to the sections of the ship you're allowed, rather doubt anyone will notice you, let alone find you underfoot. Most of the crew have gone to bed already, anyway."

"I," the woman in red began to say, but she paused thoughtfully before she responded. "Yes, captain. I'll keep all of that in mind."

"Just don't expect the girl here to be waving you off," the captain added as he turned a page. "Not about to disturb her rest even if you've bonded a little."

Clarissa was unnerved by the reason Captain Locklear would say that, but the man's bland expression was impossible to read. The woman, however, didn't seem to share Clarissa's trouble, and smiled that predatory smile of hers. The smile Clarissa believed was the woman's only honest expression.

"Very sensible, captain," the woman said. "Perhaps I should take that advice. Goodnight, captain."

The woman in red turned and walked to the stairwell. The captain, reading his book, now stood between Clarissa and the departing woman, until he heard the hatch to the stairwell shit.

The captain then breathed a sigh of relief, folded the book shut, and tucked it into a coat pocket. Clarissa flinched, finally seeing the captain's other hand resting on the handle of his pistol. "I'm not fond of ferrying vipers," the captain reflected aloud. "They often bite before they reach their harbour."

"Captain?" Clarissa asked.

The captain turned to her and met her gaze for a long moment. Even as he stared at her, his fingers twitched his sides, and his lip twitched in irregular intervals. After a moment, he sighed, and shook his head.

"Think nothing of it, kid. Go back to bed, it's a long trip to the shield," Captain Locklear said, and he gestured with his head towards her room. "Reckon they'll be out of my hair a little sooner than I thought."

"What do you mean?" Clarissa asked.

"Nothing," the captain said, but he hesitated. He looked up at the ceiling as if torn between bad options. "Just, you're safe here. Much as we can make it happen. You can take that with you as you go back to sleep."

Clarissa nodded, confused and wary, and turned around to open the door back to her room. The captain walked back down the hall, towards the bridge, and opened his notebook again. Clarissa watched him walk away, before she stepped back into her room, shut the door, and resolved to go back to sleep.

Once again, despite everything she went through, she found it surprisingly easy.