Vincent

Mercy didn't attempt to talk to him for the rest of their trip back to breathable air. Vincent expected it, at first, while their ship plummeted through the thermosphere, stratosphere, and the mesosphere. But when the air was thick enough for Vincent to take off his helmet, and even after he had helped her take off her vacuum suit and pack it away, Mercy was still silent.

Vincent wasn't normally inclined to interrupt someone else's thoughts, and he left her to her musing for as long as he was able. It wasn't until the wind shifted, and he needed to make a decision about where to sail next, that he broke the silence.

"Mercy, did you want to visit the Wayfarers at Idlewind? I could drop you off there, it's only a day out of the way to the Monastery's settlement at The Core," Vincent offered, as he set the propellers to quarter speed and locked the wheel in place.

Mercy looked shocked by his suggestion. And judging by the small twitch of her lip, hurt. "Drop me off?" Mercy asked eventually. "Are we parting ways?"

"Honestly, I hope you'll stay. I could use the help," Vincent admitted, "but I have to get this ship to the Monastery. There's a little time before they run out of fuel to power the Shield, they can make another box and fill it. But he Monastery has no crew to ferry it, no time to train anyone, and no one else they can trust with the secret."

Vincent sighed, and looked out at the sky. "But I can't expect you to do more than you have."

Mercy nodded, and reached into a small satchel at her waist. When her hand came back out, it was holding a clutch of long black feathers. She took off her hat, and began to weave the feather into the band. Vincent watched as she wove in another, and then another, until the plumage extending off the right side of her hat looked a great deal like a raven's wing.

"Mercy?" Vincent asked.

Vincent knew something of the Wayfarers. Not a great deal, but enough to know that only their storykeepers wore the feathers of their clan. Seeing her weave the raven feathers in as she was, he didn't know what it meant.

"Vincent, the Shield keeps the sun from washing our sky into the void?"

"It does," Vincent confirmed.

Mercy attached another feather. "If the sky can't survive the sun's winds without the Shield, it follows that the Shield is as old as the sky. Does that make sense?"

"It does, and you're right," Vincent said.

"So the old wayfarer story of the earth before, the one you told me was true, did we cause it? Did we break that earth like we broke Grainglove, with that power you keep in your box? Is that why the Monastery keeps its sciences secret?" Mercy asked.

"I don't know," Vincent admitted. He held out his hands placatingly, to preempt the glare Mercy shot at him. "The Monastery doesn't know, either. But they believe we did it, which is why they don't share their knowledge freely. And considering the stakes..."

Mercy and Vincent both four their eyes pulled to the shattered ruins of Grainglove.

"And so, for as long as the skies have been, the Monastery must have been carrying that cargo. Powering the shield that keeps the skies from being ripped away from the pull of the isles," Mercy concluded. She shook her head, and turned to him. "Vincent," she asked, "what do I do with that knowledge? What can I do, knowing what I know?"

"You could come with me," Vincent offered. His hands were shaking, his body barely containing his fear, much as it had in those moments when he had jumped between the ships. "I'd rather not try to run the box across the skies alone."

Mercy considered what he said for a moment. Eventually, and to his profound relief, she smiled and nodded. "You were right, Vincent. There are things that set the course of your life, once you know them. I'll come with you. But we need a better ship."

"We don't have time. Best we can hope for is some repairs while we wait for the Monastery to prep another box."

"We need a clan ship," Mercy said, and she put her hat back on, wearing that familiar tilt that half-covered the scar on her face. "Vincent, we'll need to do this delivery more than once. The skies aren't safe for the Monastery any more, and that's not going to become less true as the years go on. Even if they get a ship and a crew together again, how would the great isles handle seeing guns on a Monastery vessel?"

"What are you thinking?" Vincent asked.

"That you and I are a clan now," Mercy said. She stepped up to him, took his hand, and put the raven egg in his palm. "We are The Ravens' Children, children of unkindness. And unlike the Monastery, we can defend ourselves without turning the skies against us."

"Are you sure?" Vincent asked. He held up the egg, at the pale-green surface, and traced the pattern of the brown splotches along the surface. Something about it, in his hand, felt right. "Doing this delivery could be our calling for a long time."

"This isn't a choice, Vincent. The Monastery can't do this work anymore, and no one else under the sky can be trusted with it," Mercy said.

"I'm sorry, Mercy," Vincent said.

"I'm not. I made my choice when I followed you, back on the Hood. And I got to make it again, before you showed me the shield. I put a lot of faith in you, captain, and it was nice to have it rewarded.

Vincent smiled, happier than he had remembered being in a long time. "Do I get a fancy hat?" he asked.

"This is carried by the clan's Storykeeper," Mercy said, and she tapped the brim. "But speaking of stories, when we get a chance, I'd like the Monastery to tell me the story of the Raven clan. I would like to know if her story is ours."

"I'll make it part of the price for our work," Vincent said. "That and a new ship."

"I'm not sure I want the Monastery to build us a ship," Mercy disagreed. "They don't build warships, and we're going to want something with some firepower."

"I was thinking," Vincent said, and he pointed back up towards the sun. "The Shield has some small craft, with metal hulls. It would take a lot of work, but the Wayfarers have the shipyards on Idlewind to do it, if we can get some Monastery metallurgists to do the work. If we had a ship like that, we could take a few hits without risking the box."

"You think you could get that price from the Monastery?"

"For what we'll be doing, there is no price too high," Vincent confirmed.

Another silence passed between them, as the ship droned on and the wind swept by. Eventually, Mercy broke it when she extended her hand, as if in greeting or sealing a bargain. "My name is Sha'il of the Ravens' Child. Once Sha'il of the Wandering Lark. I haven't used that name, the one I was born with, since before we met. Mercy was in honour of the day you gave me berth aboard the Hood, and Larkin was so the clan that cast me out would remember the shame."

Vincent shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you, old friend. My name is Vincent. Just Vincent, since the children of the Monastery don't have family or clan names. Locklear was just a fusion of 'lock' and 'leary', or keeping suspicions from getting out. I took up that last name to avoid drawing attention to my childhood."

"Vincent. It's a pleasure to finally, really know you," Mercy said. Vincent couldn't remember if she had ever smiled like that before. He had to remind himself to breathe.

"It's both astonishing, and terrifying, to be known," Vincent admitted. He coughed uncomfortably, and pointed to the bow of the ship. "We won't have the slipstream working for us, so it will take twelve days to reach the Core. Calmooria is on route, we can stop there for fuel and food."

"Aye, captain," Mercy said, as she turned away to begin deflating the Monastery's lift bag.
Vincent smiled, tucked the necklace under his shirt, and took the wheel. To follow the course the winds had set for them.