The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,126

and wicked wit. For those times, there was little he wouldn't endure.

This evening she was thoughtful, and there was a kind of quiet sadness to her. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but he'd long learned to stop searching for cause and effect where Trinica was concerned. She was a different woman to the one he'd left behind, but now she was free of that ghoulish make-up he could almost believe the last twelve years had never happened.

'I'm worried about your crew,' she said suddenly. They were the first words spoken for half an hour.

He blinked. 'You are?'

'Aren't you?'

He thought about that. Worried wasn't exactly the word he'd use. He was aware that the atmosphere aboard the Ketty Jay wasn't good, but he'd assumed it would sort itself out without any interference from him.

'It's just this whole Grist thing,' he said. 'Once we catch the bastard, they'll be alright.'

'They won't, Darian. They're coming apart. I know it's mostly my fault, but still—'

' Your fault? How's that?'

She gave him a look, her pale face framed by the furred rim of her hood. 'You must see that they hate me.'

Darian plucked at the back of his glove. 'Hate is a bit strong,' he said. 'If we held a grudge against everyone who'd ever screwed us over, we'd have to leave the country. It's not like we've never been ripped off before.'

'Ah,' she said. 'But I'll bet you never invited the thief on board afterwards, though.'

'That's true. Except once, and that was to kick the shit out of him.'

She sighed, blowing out a plume of steam. Their feet crunched through the thin crust of old snow that lay on the paths. Two townsmen walked past leading a shaggy beast of burden, which was towing a piece of machinery on a cart. Frey had seen several of the creatures over the past month but he still wasn't exactly sure what they were. Something between a cow and a ram, he supposed, but since they came buried under a mass of knotted and tangled fur, it was difficult to tell. All he knew was that they were immensely strong and they stank like a mouldy underwear drawer. He vaguely wondered if they were good to eat.

'Listen,' she said. 'You were never the best at seeing what was in front of you, so I'll explain. Your crew resent me. Not only because I stole from them, but because I'm taking up your time.'

'You think they're jealous?' he scoffed. 'Trinica, they're not children.'

'Some of them aren't far off,' she said.

'S'pose you're right at that.'

'Darian, they've lost a friend in Crake. Even I can see that, and I never knew him. At times like that, when things are uncertain and times are bad, a crew looks to its captain for guidance and reassurance. But you're not there. You're with me. They can't understand it, and they don't like it. Darian, do any of them even know we were almost married?'

'No,' he said, uncomfortable. 'I think you're making a bit much of this, though.'

'No, I'm not. I would have said something weeks ago, but I didn't want to tell you how to run your crew.'

'I've done alright so far,' he said. He was on the defensive, and it came out snappy.

'You have. But now you need to do better,' she said. 'Being a captain, it's more than just making good decisions and giving the right orders. It's about trust. You're like the head of a family. They need to trust you, and you need to trust them.'

'They do trust me!' Frey protested. 'Why do you think they've stuck with me?'

'It's a testament to their loyalty that they have,' she said. 'But it won't last forever. You're barely talking to your navigator. For what reason, I can't tell, but it's been going on for a month. The rest of your crew don't really understand why they're being dragged through town after town, because you haven't explained to them why it's important to you. And all of them are feeling the loss of Crake, but their captain doesn't appear to care.'

'I do care!'

'But they can't see that.'

Frey didn't like the way this conversation had turned. He knew she was trying to help him, but he still didn't like to be criticised. He bit back a sarcastic comment and tried not to look surly.

When she spoke again, her voice was gentle, cushioning the content. 'You let things fester,' she said. 'It's your way. You're not good at talking about the