The Weight Within

The dead lift crystal had left the Morrowfin hanging unevenly against the broadside wind. Orra felt it in the deck first: a small, persistent cant that made the soles of her boots press harder on the downhill planks. Above, the remaining lift crystals shone through their housings, steady for now.

Brask had the failed crystal’s cage open. He leaned over it with one hand braced on the rim, the other testing a copper contact with a rigger’s pick. “Still warm. Still useless.”

“Can you bring it back?” Vey called from the helm.

“Not while we’re in reach of that thing.” Brask tapped the housing. “If I force it, I could crack the crystal. Then we’ve got a box of pretty dust and another hole in the lift.”

Orra looked past the starboard rail. The enormous curved structure cut through the cloudbank, black stone streaked with faint seams of light. The nearer chain disappeared into its collar. Farther along the curve, the second chain entered another. Both hung down toward the Aethersea, their links catching the glow from below.

The Morrowfin’s disabled crystal was a cost they already carried. A second pulse might make it a disaster.

Nima stood by the astrolabe frame, watching its nested rings shift. She had tied a dark cloth over one wrist to keep the wind from catching it. “The interval is shortening. The last pulse traveled along the curve. The next should reach those collars before it reaches our housings.”

“How long?” Orra asked.

“Three minutes, perhaps four.” Nima adjusted a fine brass arm. “I can lay the veil across the lift cages again. The pattern will hold for the first strike. After that, I can’t promise the same shape.”

Vey kept his eyes on the structure. “We’ve seen enough to know another pulse can hurt us. We can turn away now.”

The second chain swayed once, although the ship’s sails had not changed angle. Orra fixed her attention on the link nearest the collar. It settled against the curve and stayed there. The chain looked less like a line leading somewhere than a load held under tension.

“If we leave, we still won’t know why both chains are here,” she said. “One more pulse. We watch the collars, then we turn out.”

Vey glanced at her. “You’ll have the first call to retreat.”

It was as close to a promise as she expected. She nodded and went to the rail.

Brask shut the dead housing and hauled himself upright. “I’ll take the fore braces. If the ship rolls, I want those sail lines ready before the yard starts arguing with us.”

Orra followed him along the deck, checking the two independent safety lines coiled beside the diving winch. They would be useless here, but their knots were familiar under her fingers. She pulled each one free of a snag and secured it again. A line that could run cleanly was a line that might bring someone home.