Page 118 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

But my eyes are closing. I have time to think that I’m going to have to get him to teach me to do that, and then darkness engulfs me, sucking me under like thick, black oil.

24

“You’re luckier than you have any right to be,” Sister Cadua says. “This one bled like a bastard, but it only tore the muscle. I’ve put some fellspike powder in with the bandage, so it shouldn’t fester.” She draws a needle through my flesh, purses her lips in satisfaction, and bites the end of the thread before tying it off. “The other one got caught in the rib and missed your lung, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“I’ll try—ow!” She gives me an uncharitable grin as she finishes the knot with a tug. “I’ll try to get stabbed a little less next time.”

“Good. We’re a little swamped at the moment.”

Meroe, sitting at my side with my hand held tight in her lap, says, “Thank you, Sister Cadua.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” The Jyashtani woman smiles at her. “Remind this stubborn girl that if she tries fighting anytime soon, those are going to open right up again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Meroe says, with a dark glance at me.

Sister Cadua leaves and there’s a knock at the door. We’re in the First Tower again, a significantly nicer part of it than my old cell. It looks like someone’s bedroom, hastily repurposed as a hospital. Several sets of sheets have been sacrificed to make bandages and towels.

“Come in,” I manage. Meroe pulls the bedsheet up to cover my bare torso, swathed in bandages, before the the door opens.

The Scholar looks none the worse for wear, his cane tapping, but his features are drawn. When you go around prophesying doom, I suppose it’s something of a mixed blessing to be proved right. He looks over his shoulder and closes the door behind him.

“It’s good to see you so…” He waves a hand vaguely. “Alive.”

“Doesn’t mince words, does he?” Meroe says.

“Not that I’ve noticed.” I shift, wincing at the pain. “What’s happening?”

“The packs have retaken the walls,” the Scholar says. “Crabs are still coming, but a little slower now.”

“How did they get over the walls in the first place?” I say.

The Scholar shrugs. “Nobody expected every crab in the Stern to come at us at once. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Blessed’s balls. Hagan had warned me there was no time left.

“It’s the Rot,” I tell the Scholar. “It’s … doing something to the crabs. Egging them on.”

He frowns at me. “It’s a theory. But we’re still hundreds of miles off.”

“Which means it’s going to get worse. You wanted to know what happens to everyone? This is it.”

He swallows, and straightens up. “If that’s true, then it’s already too late.”

“Maybe not.” I glance at Meroe. “We have to get to the Garden.”

“That’s what I came to ask you. You and I can set out at once—”

“Not you and me,” I say. “All of us. The whole crew. I don’t know if it’s possible to turn the ship, but even if it is, it’s obviously too late for that. The Garden will protect us.”

“How can you possibly know that?” he snaps.

“You have your sources, and I have mine,” I say.

He snorts. “Even if I believed you, what then? Move everyone the length of the ship? It can’t be done.”

“I think it can,” Meroe says. “I’ve been … planning.”

“Regardless,” I say, “it’s not your decision. Tell the Council I need to talk to them.”