The ship is light, yare and sweet to the helm: Silhouine swoops around a flock of cranes, then dips the keel to score the surface of a sparkling lake, just for the joy of it. Flight. The Loveblind Bird must be centuries old, but she behaves as if her beams were cured yesterday.
Plans crowd into Silhouine’s head. A ship wants a crew, and the crew will want a destination. Where will they go?
What, Silhouine asks herself, does she want?
Yael, more than anything, wants the ship to go in a straight line long enough for her to safely vomit.