I'd noticed the way Jask looked at Kora, and the way Kora found excuses to be near him, despite claiming he was too brooding for her taste. He was handsome enough, with his dark hair and eyes. A bit sallow under the eyes, as if he hadn't slept in months. But I could see why he'd caught Kora's eye.
"Leave her alone," Tor said, though he was smiling as he and Omri played what looked like a game that involved marbles. "Young love is beautiful."
"I'm going to murder all of you," Kora muttered.
The crew had accepted us faster than I'd expected, treating us less like passengers and more like temporary members. Only Omri remained quiet, though I got the sense that was just his nature rather than active dislike.
Cypher entered the galley, and the atmosphere shifted subtly. Not tense, exactly, but more focused. He grabbed a plate of food and sat at the head of the table, and I was struck by how naturally the crew oriented toward him. He was their center, their anchor.
Cypher nodded to Omri, who scooted a drink his way, then his gaze found me. “Scavenger, you're taking third watch tonight. Zoya will walk you through the basics of helm control."
My stomach dropped. "The helm?"
"You need to learn. If something happens to me or Zoya, someone needs to know how to keep this ship on course." He took a bite of bread. "Don't look so terrified. Zoya's an excellent teacher."
"I'm not terrified." Yes I was.
"No?" One eyebrow rose, and I could have sworn I saw amusement in those copper eyes. "Could have fooled me."
Across the table, Vic coughed to hide a laugh.
Third watch started too early. I reported to the helm to find Zoya waiting, bundled in her void mantle against the Gallery's cold. It looked like a leather coat, reaching her ankles, but the leather sparkled, the little flecks of anchor crystal catching the glow of the crystal torches. I wondered if hers was illegal like mine.
"Ready to learn, rookie?" she asked.
"No," I said quickly. She cut her eyes at me and I sighed. "Aye, ready and waiting."
The helm was more complex than I'd expected, a wooden wheel connected to a series of gears and pulleys, with control levers on either side that adjusted the wings' pitch and angle. The astrolabe sat in a brass housing to the left, its rings slowly rotating as it tracked our position. It functioned similarly to those used on the seas, only these were made with anchor crystals, and could feel the fabric of the Gallery rather than the turn of the planet.
Zoya walked me through each control, explaining how the ship responded to adjustments, how to read the pressure gauges and void-depth indicators. Then she stepped back and let me take the helm.
The ship felt different from this position, less like a vessel I was riding in and more like a living thing I was guiding. I could feel the currents pushing against the hull, and could sense the ship's desire to drift off course.
"Small corrections," Zoya said. "Don't overcorrect or you'll start a wobble."
I made a tiny adjustment to the left, and the ship responded smoothly. A thrill ran through me.
"Good. Now check your depth gauge. What's it reading?"
I glanced at the instrument. "Three hundred and twelve relative to the nearest current."
"And it should be?"
"Three hundred."
"So?"
I adjusted the pitch control, and felt the ship rise slightly. The gauge crept back toward three hundred.
"Perfect," Zoya said. "You're a natural."
We sailed in silence for a while, the Gallery stretching endlessly around us. Distant portals glowed like colored stars in shades of blue, green, amber, red. Some pulsed with steady, slow rhythms, others flickered erratically.
"Can I ask you something?" I said finally.
"Sure."
"What's Cypher's story? How long have you been with him?"