Anesidora was waiting for her.

  Eos had managed to wriggle her way out of the flood of bodies pouring out onto the Chance’s deck. Hordes of employees had immediately begun sweeping, measuring, and buffing out the scrapes off the marble floor. Eos could only shake her head in amazement.

  Even when she’d been more fortunate, she’d have never dreamed of such rapid efficacy. It was borderline concerning.

  Still, it was always somewhat admirable to see people do something they were good at.

  It’s why Eos had migrated to the upper deck of the Lucifer. She watched the Leviathan limp its way through Caelum Firma, bobbing like a wounded kite on a string. It was a miracle it was bobbing at all. Eos tried not to tamper down the pride in her heart, but her fingers couldn’t help but play with the bead hanging over her heart.

  Rhododactylos. Giving and taking. Had she given them enough? Eos hoped so.

  A hand swatted at her shoulder, mercifully missing the burn.

  “Stop moving,” Anesidora signed, her eyebrows furrowed. Eos laughed.

  “Sorry, Captain,” she signed back. Eos dutifully settled her arm back by her side.

  It was her and Anesidora on the upper deck. They sat under Eos’s favorite spot in the whole of their home — a cloth-adorned gazebo, sitting by a beautiful woven table. Eos had installed the gazebo ages ago. It was a simple, ramshackle thing of four wooden posts and the barest scaffolding of a roof. Carpentry, Eos didn’t know much about. But she'd made up for it with her weaving. The roof was adorned with yards and yards of gauzy curtains she had woven herself. And she'd even taken fibers to weave the round, low table she sat on now.

  Anesidora took Eos’s arm into her lap. Eos had started launching into her explanation of all the wondrous twists and turns of her adventure, only to be very firmly sat down and critically inspected.

  Of course, after everything, Anesidora could only see the wounds Eos had acquired.

  The scolding would come later, when Anesidora’s hands were freed up. Right now, both hands were too busy swiping medicines onto the burn on her arm, wrapping gauze around the pink flesh.

  Anesidora had the most weathered hands Eos had ever felt. Her palms had held a hundred hammers and had borne the shock of striking metal in a thousand forges. They’d probably been burned more times than Eos had drawn breath.

  But they still remembered how to be gentle. Eos closed her eyes and let the tension in her shoulders unwind. The stinging faded into a dulled ache. The adrenaline was wearing off. Eos became more aware of the stretch of her muscles, the sweat dripping down her hair, the brush of Anesidora’s measured breath against her skin. Anesidora must be inspecting all the other nonexistent wounds on her body.

  “You worry too much,” Eos signed. The words came out stunted, one arm stuck in place. Anesidora tied the bandage off, and promptly smacked her palm-first on the forehead. Lightly, at least.

  “You need to worry about keeping your head on your shoulders,” Anesidora signed, scolding. Eos laughed.

  “Why? You’ll always be here to keep them together for me,” Eos signed back.

  Anesidora only shook her head.

  “If you do not take care of yourself, you will break,” Anesidora signed, her fingers crumbling away from each other. “Then who will you help?”

  Eos glanced out to the sky again. Could she find her new friends? A stray curtain of cloth fluttered across her view. When it fell, the Leviathan was gone. A shame.

  Eos had prayed to Elpis. Go on, chase after the Leviathan. Maybe if Elpis caught up, they could feel what she felt. Warmth, vigor, hope.

  But Anesidora would disapprove, so… best to keep that prayer silent.

  “I take care of myself plenty!” Eos signed, turning back to Anesidora. “Look, I earned us dinner! We’re to tether ourselves to the Chance until they’ve cleaned up enough to host. We can enjoy a dinner while they tow us further towards their destination — they’re heading back to the Inner Ring. By dinner’s end, we’ll be nearly all the way to Mid Rim. Think about how much time we will save! How lovely, right, Anesi?”

  Anesidora wrinkled her nose. Only Anesidora could be displeased with the prospect of free company and free rides and free food. Eos would see it as endearingly stubborn if Anesidora wasn’t getting so gaunt.

  “No.”

  “Anesi—“

  Anesidora shut her eyes and spun her wheelchair, just to turn her back to Eos.

  Oh, not fair. Not another tantrum.

  Eos began patting and prodding and poking Anesidora’s shoulders until she could no longer fend Eos off.

  Anesidora opened her eyes and glowered.

  “House Nixie is the richest house in the system,” Eos signed. “If anyone can afford us a material thanks, it’s them. Don’t you think their food will be delicious?“

  “I think they will be sour,” Anesidora signed, face puckered and twisted as if she could taste it already. “I want nothing to do with a House like them.”

  “You don’t want anything to do with any House,” Eos sighed.

  “Then why do you keep asking me when you know what the answer will be?"

  “Are you asking me if I’d give up on you?”

  Anesidora did not sign anymore. She just glared at Eos. And Eos smiled brightly, because she knew that Anesidora did not ask because they both knew what the answer would be.

  Eos leaned forward to give Anesidora a hug. A good and proper hug, with a squeeze, burying her face in Anesidora’s hair. Two grumpy arms weakly hugged her back, ashes and all.

  The hug lasted a small eternity. It was Eos that pulled back first.

  “Now,” Eos signed. “If you won’t join us for dinner, I’ll just have to prepare you twice the lunch."

  Anesidora didn't protest. Eos took the handles of her wheelchair. They stopped only to glance at the sun slipping below the horizon of the Lucifer. Another beautiful morning passed. Another meal they were together for. Eos squeezed Anesidora's shoulder. Anesidora patted Eos's hand. They went inside together.

  Grand was not a worthy enough word for the hall. Eos wasn’t particularly sure there was a word for it so much as a feeling. The whole place looked like falling felt, like weightlessness.

  Eos was dizzy. This must be how fish felt out of water.

  Beneath the golden lights were the remains of a massive tree, a stump cut clean across. Jet black veins tore their way through the mahogany as though lightning had struck it in its previous life. But all that chaos had been neatly polished, lacquered, contained.

  The real mystique came just beyond that: a river of water, carved into a lazy circle atop the table. On the water’s surface gently bobbed a parade of meals.

  Eos could feel herself drifting along with the water. Her feet took her to trail along a particularly tantalizing plate of skewers (oozing with juice — and the tantalizing fragrance of cumin!) that flowed ever onward around the wood, until a clawed hand caught one.

  “Your seat is over there, darling!” Lady Sionna said with a smile, waving her skewer. Somehow, in the time Eos had been settling Anesi and the Lucifer, the lady seemed to have bathed and dressed. A new set of glittering rings curled like talons around her fingers.

  Eos followed the direction of her hand to an equally magnificent chair, marked with … her name, on an engraved wooden plaque. When did they have time to make a plaque?

  Eos was more distracted by the plaque than anything, sitting just to examine it.

  Eos Rhododactylos.

  Eos ran her fingers over the wood. Written out like this, so plainly? Eos thumbed the surface again. The lettering was inhumanely crisp and smooth. It couldn’t have been hand-carved.

  Eos was only startled out of her stupor when Lady Sionna spoke again.

  “Darling, catch your fill as it passes, and when you’re done, just sweep it into the river,” Lady Sionna said. “The servants will come by and take all that nasty muck away.”

  “Oh, I - see,” Eos said, startled as a flock of servants descended upon her. Among them were a thin, blonde man and a quick, small woman. One made to unclasp her cloak, which she stopped with a raised hand.

  “Your napkin, miss,” the man said, tentatively holding up a piece of fabric.

  Eos glanced across the table. Iris was there, already digging into the food with a similar thick, white piece of fabric tucked into her shirt. She caught Eos’s gaze, and mustered a judgmental squint back. Eos ran her finger over her cloak’s high collar.

  “I guess this wouldn’t do, would it?” she said to the servant with an apologetic smile. “I can unclasp it. My thanks.”

  Eos could feel Lady Sionna’s gaze through the whole exchange. Ah. Hopefully she could forgive Eos’s lack of table manners. Even at Eos’s finest, she’d never been Inner Ring trained.

  Eos flicked off her clasp, and allowed the servants to complete whatever incomprehensible ritual they were obligated to perform — smoothing back her hair, retying the ponytail, swiping a hot, damp towel across her cheeks. Less of a meal and more of a spa, Eos imagined. It’d been many years since she’d set foot in anything resembling a spa.

  “Why the Khenium, dear?”

  The question snapped Eos out of her stupor. She blinked at the Lady from underneath the towel. “What about Khenium?”

  “Your clasp,” Lady Sionna said, amused, bejeweled fingers fluttering near her throat. Eos could see she’d amassed a number of golden chains, inlaid with precious gems and jewels.

  Eos glanced back down at her comparatively dull silver chain. Her pink namesake bead dangled from it. That wasn’t dull, at least.

  Lady Sionna continued. “Don’t look so surprised, darling! Metals are my trade, after all.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “It is?” Eos said. “I thought—”

  Lady Sionna let out a tittering laugh. “I know, I know, House Nixie is so fond of its buildings and architecture — just look! Don’t we have such a lovely place? But I’ve always been much fonder of the things we build with, you know? Metals and such. I’m so curious — why a clasp? You can’t utilize Khenium’s summoning well with that, you know.”

  Eos shifted in her seat. “I do,” she said, giving Lady Sionna the best smile she could under the towel. “It was a gift.”

  “Oooh,” Lady Sionna said, leaning forward. Eos could hear Iris let out an audible groan. “A Khenium gift? From a lover, perhaps?”

  Eos laughed. It’s an innocent question. Her heart didn’t need to wriggle in her ribs, and her face didn’t need to flush. How could anyone know better?

  “You misunderstand, my Lady,” she said. “A gift from my Captain. She melted the Khenium from an old sundial and reforged it herself. She apologizes for not being able to come tonight — she’s unwell, and sends her best wishes.” Eos could clock Iris’s little eyebrow twitch a mile away, but both she and Lady Sionna seemed to think it best to ignore it.

  “Your Captain is a smith?”

  Eos nodded. “One of the finest. Though, she crafts fine things in both senses of the word — small things, like blades, and chains, and bells. Nothing as grand as your firearms.”

  “Oh, honey,” Lady Sionna fanned herself, clearly tickled with the praise, “I have much bigger guns than those little ol’ things you saw today.”

  Eos felt her chair jerk back as the Lady hummed, clapping her hands, and the whole ship shifted as the luxurious walls paneled apart.

  Guns. Really, really big guns, thicker than an ox’s body and emblazoned with ostentatious, nearly-unreadable golden script: House Nixie.

  “Of course,” Eos said, feeling as though somehow someone had slapped a bug dead against her cheek. “Of course you do.”

  “Of course I do!” The Lady laughed. “I just wanted to take the little ones out for a spin, you know? The energy consumption to rearrange the whole ship for these sweet babies costs more mass than you could dream of!”

  “But you brought them out right now?”

  “Of course. It’s all chump money, darlin’.”

  “Ah.”

  Eos thought that she would very much like to be Lady Sionna’s chump. Eos was not above setting her pride aside to eat. In her head, she was already dismantling the gun screw by screw. The gold flakes scraped off the script alone could probably feed her and Anesidora for a month.

  Ah. No. No. Rude to stare and think about ways to covet and steal. Eos smacked her greedy, impish thoughts away.

  Eos tried to smile at Lady Sionna instead. Lady Sionna blinked back owlishly. They stayed there in smiling silence. Sionna made no move to dismiss the guns. Eos glanced back. Were they just going to have artillery guns hovering over their shoulders in the dining hall?

  ... guess so.

  Iris cleared her throat none-too-subtly. “I’m gonna eat,” she announced, and without waiting for anyone else, grabbed at the passing stuffed mushrooms.

  The implicit permission had Eos reaching for the lamb, shyly taking just one at first — and then rapidly reaching for more as the plate drifted ever-further away from her hands.

  The first bite was close to bliss. The second, third, (and so on) were less memorable as Eos scarfed down food as fast as she could within the realm of politeness. In every bite, the aroma was thick in the steam and juices exploded in her mouth. She could taste spices dried and fried into the meat from planets away. She could smell the sharpness of herbs freshly-picked, somehow. Eos melted.

  Eos wondered how Anesidora was holding up right now. No fine towels or hot spiced lamb to eat. Or perhaps she did have some. Lady Sionna certainly seemed to have no shortage of generosity. She’d sent up so many servants, Eos had to fight her way back down to the Chance through them. Eos could only laugh, imagining the poor soul that would try to lay a hot towel upon Anesi’s skin.

  “I must thank you for your hospitality,” Eos managed to say, inbetween inhaled bites. “It’s been many destinations since we’ve had such a warm welcome.”

  Lady Sionna waved her hand. “Celebrate tonight, my dear. I may not be pleased about all those nasty ruffians scurrying around my ship, but — well. Iris here told me all about you helping her out. So a proper House Nixie thanks is in order!”

  “Happy to help,” Eos said, in full sincerity. As if she’d regret helping them now. Their dreamy dinner was helping Eos forget the burning sack full of food in the belly of the Leviathan. Their stores…

  “You didn’t just help us.” Iris cut in, shaking Eos from her thoughts. Eos looked up. Iris was stabbing at her plate. “You helped those pirates. Why?”

  “Because, darling,” Sionna said, watching Eos, “she’s polishing a name.” She swirled her goblet in Eos’s direction. “Isn’t she?”

  Somehow, the question felt more pointed than Eos was sure Lady Sionna intended it to be.

  “I am,” Eos said. She looked at Iris. “I know the crew of the Leviathan well. I’ve tracked them for weeks now. They can be vicious, but they can also be reasoned with. And they understand how to pay back a name.”

  She turned back to Sionna. “I understand if you find my actions… inappropriate. I had hoped to stop any bloodshed and negotiate a peace - though it seems you are more than capable of maintaining your own peace. I’d no idea they’d grown bold enough to attack House Nixie.” Eos shook her head. “You should be careful as you tread the Outer Ring. There are worse pirates-”

  “Yeah, yeah, the Argonauts roam around,” Iris said, stabbing at something on her plate. How she kept her silence this long, Eos didn’t know. Iris certainly hadn’t kept her eyes to herself, squinting at Eos with a childlike malice that Eos found more amusingly endearing than anything else. “And their fifty ships. Blergh. They only have one leader.“

  “All correct,” Eos said, an odd feeling bubbling out of her chest into her tone. This little girl knew all that? Maybe the Inner Ring did care a bit for the affairs of the Outer Ring.

  “My darling dear is working so hard,” Lady Sionna cooed. “Me? I would never set a toe in these awful, awful places, but my baby’s so brave. She wandered out here to learn a little about the anti-piracy trade with one Lady Mielikki Kynago, but I’m afraid she wandered off too far. Just picked her up off Uareen when you ran into us!”

  “Kynago,” Eos mused aloud. “Huntswoman. You’re learning the trade of a bounty hunter? Feisty business.”

  “What do you know about it?” Iris sniffed.

  “Oh, more than you’d think,” Eos said. Hard-earned experience.

  Iris gave her a little look. “…enough to teach?”

  …Huh.

  Eos tipped her head to the side. Teach. Eos would never get used to how lightly other planets used the word. Or — and there was a vain little part of her heart jumping for joy at the thought — maybe it wasn’t being used lightly at all.

  “Teaching is a very high honor,” Eos said, propping her elbows on the table, her cheek on her hand. “But I don’t know what I’d be good to teach you.”

  “But you would!” Iris said, standing on her chair, hands planted on the table. “Could? Teach!”

  “Oh no she couldn’t!” Sionna scolded. “Sugar, we talked about this. That girl has got other places to be, doesn’t she? Lots of business to attend to, just look at her. And you have plenty of tutors here!”

  “But I don’t want other tutors, they all just make me memorize wanted posters anyways, I want whatever she did with just talking…”

  Eos stifled a laugh. Iris wouldn’t have appreciated it, but it was hard not to find the display… adorable. But better not lead Iris on.

  “I’ve never considered myself a teacher at anything,” Eos said, voice trying to let Iris down gently. “And I’m afraid my Captain and I are on a very important journey.”

  “What?” Iris said, an indignant squeak to her voice. It was like she couldn’t imagine anything more important than what she was doing now — but, Eos thought, that was fair. Every twelve year old felt the weight of the world revolving around them.

  Maybe Eos could teach her that at least one orbit had a different trajectory.

  “My Captain has agreed to help me defeat a great evil in return for my assistance with the name. And so, I travel.”

  “What great evil?” Iris asked, indigence forgotten for sudden curiosity. “Is it some kinda monster?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Are you going to kill it?”

  “Are you interested in helping?”

  “Oh, hush, darling, don’t bother her with such sad questions.” Sionna reached over and pinched Iris’s cheek, much to the girl’s protest. “Especially when she’s going to need to go soon.”

  (The emphasized soon seemed harsh. Eos had hoped for a little more respite, but — well. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.)

  “I welcome such questions,” Eos said, “for few know of the fate of my planet, and fewer still are curious.”

  “Your planet?” Iris said, leaning over her hands planted on the table. The water in the river sloshed.

  “My home,” Eos corrected. “No one owns Naguya Tan.”

  “You’re from Naguya Tan?” Sionna gasped. “Well! That certainly explains the luxury fabric.”

  “Hah,” Eos said. “I suppose.”

  Of course they knew about the fabric. The fabric and the dragons, she supposed. The great tourism pull her father had so dearly promoted. She wondered what her father felt about it now, if he was feeling anything at all. Did he regret it? Or was it good, that her people’s crafts and companions endured as the symbol of their planet, instead of the ruined husk it must be now?

  Eos blinked the memories from her eyes. “Naguya Tan fell into the hands of a tyrant, many years ago,” she said. “It must be — I suppose — eight years, already. All my people’s autonomy lost in a furious tide. The conquerer—“

  Eos felt the shape of the name in her mouth, let her tongue run over all the jagged edges and her teeth bite down on the hatred boiling in the back of her throat.

  “Titania,” she said. “Titania Areia.”

  Areia. Warlike. No name fit better to its bearer, Eos thought. But that was a thought best kept to herself.

  “Oh!” Sionna said. “I know her, doll, all about her.”

  Eos sat up so straight she felt her ribs flatten against the table’s edge. Her heart strained against its place as if it could jump onto the table and dance. “-! You do?”

  And Lady Sionna was — laughing. It wasn’t a polite laugh, or a nervous laugh. It was amused. And it was ungrateful of her after a warm meal and a kind welcome and curiosity, but Eos couldn’t help the blood boiling molten-hot in her veins at the sound, at the pain cringing in her every organ.

  It wasn’t funny, Eos thought. This is my home.

  Eos laughed with her.

  “What a small galaxy!” Sionna said. “Oh, yes, Titania Areia made herself known to just about every Inner Ring House and empyrean she could send a message to. And she’s sent lots of messages. Shattered bones and bloodstained parchment and all that nasty, nasty business. A scary lady, that one.”

  “Yes!” Eos said, relief flooding her body. More than relief. She could feel warm prickling at the edges of her eyes, the soaring of her heart in her chest, and that tightly-wound thread running between her and Elpis jingling with hope, hope, hope. “Yes, yes! Oh, thank the stars. This plea, I’ve made before. The aim of my journey is singular; I hope to retake the home of my people. I’ve turned to every corner I can travel to in hopes of — kind souls, like yourself. In hopes of aid. Anything you can spare, in pity or — I mean, certainly with the might of House Nixie, to spread the word of Naguya Tan’s plight—“

  “Oh,” Sionna said. “Oh no, no, darling. We couldn’t do that.”

  Eos felt her own smile plastered tightly to her face. And like plaster smothered over her mouth, it felt like it was suffocating her. “Ah?”

  “Mommm,” Iris said. “What if she taught me? We could give her one cannon.”

  “Aww, look at my philanthropic sweet pea!” Lady Sionna said, pinching Iris’s cheek again (much to the same protest). “But no, no, can you imagine?”

  “One could,” Eos tried. “Lady Sionna, I know the events of today must leave you wary of combat and bloodshed. But I assure you, I don’t expect the might of a whole cannon — though it would be a welcome sight! — I… I ask only for an ally. Any simple support you can provide, even just to sing the name of Naguya Tan to your friends. My planet should be known. It may be small, but — it matters.”

  “Oh, no, no, dear, it’s not that we’re scared,” Sionna said. “Oh, you poor thing. You must be so frightened of getting blasted away. No, last I heard, your planet is doing quite well! And that’s precisely the problem.”

  “The…problem? I don’t lie, the tyrant has taken over our trade—“

  “No, no, I know you’re not lying,” Sionna said. “Oh, no, that Titania was a real thorn in our side. Before your planet, she gobbled up every Scourge-ridden planet she could, you know that? Talking about waging galaxy-wide war.”

  “Yes,” Eos said. “I—“

  “Oh, just horrible places,” Lady Sionna said, shuddering, fanning herself. “So dry and yucky! But I digress. She was turning to planets that hadn’t even been struck by Scourge, yet, and then — well, she stopped right after yours!”

  Sionna drummed her fingers across the top of the table, on the edge of one of the table’s rings. If the galaxy had been the table, Eos thought, maybe Naguya Tan would be around there. Ghosting on the outer rings. Under the shadow and sight of the Inner Ring, but not close enough to be considered.

  Lady Sionna shook her head. “You have to understand,” she said apologetically, “That Titania gave us a big scare. So when she finally settled down her tantrum on Naguya Tan — well, the rest of us came to an agreement.”

  “An agreement..?”

  “Yes,” Sionna said. “The good of one for thousands. If this planet lets her sate her appetite, you know, then it’s best the beast sleeps. I can’t very well go back on my promises to the others, or else they and Titania both would be after me, and — oh, well, from what I hear, Titania is taking good care of Naguya Tan! The planet is flourishing. Trade is up. GDP is good—“

  “Can I get a cloak!” Iris said, jumping up. “From the planet, by the way? One of the fireproof ones?”

  “Oh, of course, dear…”

  Eos couldn’t let her eyes settle on them. Her gaze stayed vaguely unfocused on the space between them, staring at one of the cannons hovering over their shoulders. More was being said between them, but Eos couldn’t hear it.

  How could she expect them to look up at her? Down at her? Her entire world vanishing like rain into a river, and they were staring through a window, wondering when the sun was going to come back.

  An agreement. Her whole planet bargained away, and she didn’t even know.

  Eos tucked her cloak around her. One for many. Naguya Tan was part of that many. It deserved its own chance. Its own hope. Even if it couldn’t be found here — somewhere, right? Somewhere, there was.

  If nowhere else, hope lived in a small box, on the lap of an old empyrean stowed away on the Lucifer.

  “Thank you,” Eos said, breaking into the conversation. “For your honesty, Lady Sionna.”

  “Aw,” Lady Sionna cooed. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing? You’re welcome, dear. I am sorry about this, but — my hands are all tied, as it were.”

  Eos tried for another smile. Maybe it was less convincing, but Eos put all she had into it anyways.

  “I’ve been met by disappointment before,” she said. “I’m not shocked to meet it again. But I don’t fault you, Lady Sionna. And to you, Iris — you can see, now, why I need to continue on with my Captain.”

  Iris flopped back into her seat, sinking down and crossing her arms. “She must be pretty great,” Iris grumbled. “For you to give up staying here.”

  “She is great,” Eos said. “A great smith, a brilliant mind, a wise woman of astounding capability. And—” her voice softened.

  How to describe Anesidora? It seemed like there was never a good answer, no matter how many times she did it. But Eos knew the feeling, secure and sure, that Anesidora wrapped around her, and put it all into her voice. “—and she saved my life. If anything, I’m the one who owes her a great debt.”

  “You said your Captain makes blades,” Sionna said, a golden fork slipping a cut of meat between her lips. “Did she make yours?”

  “Indeed,” Eos said, her mind already rearranging the paragraphs about Anesidora she had practiced and recited a thousand times. Any piece of showmanship to let her be known.

  “It’s a magnificent piece of work,” Sionna said, waving her fork around. “Could I see yours?”

  “The blades we gifted are all siblings,” Eos said. “All identical, or meant to be. But — of course you can see what years have done to weather my blades.” Eos swiped her fingers across the napkin before hooking her blade by its whistling ring. Eos pulled it free with a flourish.

  “If you could do me the favor of sitting still, m’lady,” she said, and with an expert flick of the wrist, sent the knife spinning into the massive ham upon the table river. It ducked, bobbed in the water, and drifted over to Sionna, who clapped with wild enthusiasm.

  Eos watched her wrench it out of the ham, hands eagerly drumming on the table for judgment. Sionna turned it this way and that - even Iris, across the table, leaned in to squint at it.

  “Oh, dear, like you said, nearly perfectly identical. But I couldn’t help but notice — mine’s not Khenium.”

  Ah. Drats. The woman really did know her metals.

  “I’m afraid not,” Eos said. “Ours is not a wealthy venture, Lady Sionna. I was simply very fortunate to have some Khenium when I met Captain Anesidora, and she did me the great honor of incorporating it into my blades.”

  “Ah,” Sionna said. Eos could tell the answer disappointed her, somehow. That was fine. Eos was disappointed that she was poor, too. “Then why give us the knives? As an advertisement piece?”

  “It’s something to remember her by,” Eos said. “Her name. We’re travelers, see, and never know where we may end up — or where we might simply end. We don’t know if our homes may ever know to bury us. So — it’s better to leave a thousand small marks while alive, than to wonder if we’ll leave a large one when we’re dead.”

  At least, that’s what Eos thought. No use telling House Nixie about the dozens of hours she’d spent to persuade Anesidora to leave even a maker’s mark on the knives.

  Sionna turned the knife this way and that once more, appraising eyes sliding over them. For all her dramatic flair and glamour, the lady had a sharp intelligence behind her. Eos could admire that. In another life, Eos would like to think she would have lived the same — wild, happy, free, drinking in the wondrous knowledge of a thousand travelers.

  “And Khenium is concentrated in the handle?” Sionna said, clicking her nails against the metal, testing the knife’s weight. The scrutiny made Eos shift. It always pained Eos to disappoint. But — well, the knives were Anesidora’s, and Anesidora never disappointed.

  Eos held her hand out — and just as before, called her knives home.

  It flipped its way through the air, blade-over-handle. She could just let it beeline home, but what was life without a little show? Even if she couldn’t go home with the aid of House Nixie, couldn’t she leave them something to remember her by? Eos let her arm sweep out to her side, letting the knife curve in its trajectory and as it did — it whistled.

  Just like a diving bird’s wing tore through the air, the tip of her knife cut a beautiful arc of fire straight across the table. Twin gasps from mother and daughter, and one (final) genuine grin from Eos. It always felt good to impress. It felt even better to impart just an inkling of wonder to others.

  All the colors of a sunset lit up the room. Eos felt the welcome heat of her darling fire just narrowly miss her fingers, and her knife land back into her hands. Old friend. At least it would be coming back with her to Naguya Tan.

  “You’re right again, my lady,” Eos said, and slid the blade back into her bracer. “And while I fear that there is no Khenium in your blade, there is fire. I know not what magical material my Captain used, but I know it’s yours.”

  “It is?” Iris said. “Really? Mama, Mama, can I have the knife?”

  Lady Sionna’s bright eyes shone. “The knife? All your knives? Huh! And what an interesting scabbard! So thin - may I see?”

  “Oh - I’m afraid I’d like to keep these on, good lady.”

  “Ah,” Sionna said, leaning back. There was a big-eyed doe-like disappointment in her gaze, enough that it made Eos feel more than a twinge of guilt — but then Sionna gave her a smile.

  “You know, I’ve made up my mind,” Sionna said. “It’s been a long, long day, and I feel just awful about you and your planet. I’m sure you could enjoy a nice hot bath. You and your captain, no? Before going off on your quest.”

  Iris jumped up onto her chair. “What!” she said. “Mama, you mean it? I mean - yeah, our bathhouse is like, the best ever! You gotta stay and try it.”

  Sionna was smiling at Iris, and then smiled at Eos. She smiled like a glacier, Eos thought. Beautiful and large. Something looming behind it, just out of view. Was it guilt? Was it shame? Was there more to be said?

  Paranoia is getting the better of you, Eos chided herself. You’re turning into Anesidora.

  Another Anesidora wouldn’t be a terrible thing. But it was not who Eos was.

  “I’d love to,” Eos said, and smiled back.