time we reached the boat, tucked into a cave above the high-tide line. The boat hadn’t been used for years, and when we carried it to the water a family of mice scuttled from a nest in the sail. Piper checked the hull before we set off, running his hand over the flaking planks and testing the ropes, stiffened into the loops where they’d been curled.
The boat was bigger than either of the dinghies that Kip and I had used, and had two small sails, rather than one. Sally and Xander sat in the stern. Xander had calmed now, gazing over the boat’s side at the quiet sea. Once Piper and Zoe had rowed us through the rocks close to the peninsula, Piper handled the sails deftly, shouting his orders to me while Zoe took the tiller. We had to go carefully, to avoid the wreckage of the submerged city that punctured the dark water for miles. The tide was high, and only the tallest buildings emerged. The others lay in wait just below the surface. We passed so close to one of the towers that I could see pieces of our reflection in the broken glass that still clung to the rusted frame. I saw the fear on my own face, pale in the mirrored dawn.
Only when we were out of the clutches of the Sunken Shore, and we were making good speed, did I notice Zoe. She was standing in silence at the back of the boat, clutching the tiller so tightly that her knuckles stood out white on her dark hands.
“You OK?” I asked. I didn’t dare to mention her sea dreams. The memory of her furious reaction was a splinter lodged in me, too sharp to touch.
“I don’t like being at sea,” she said, and turned away from me to watch the wake of churned water behind us.
For the daylight hours, we stayed out of sight of the shore, only creeping closer once the sun had set. The wind was kind to us, and we moved fast. Zoe remained silent, but Xander made up for it with his periodic babbling. At one point, in the late afternoon, he began screaming about fire and muttering about the maze of bones. It kindled the flames in my own head, and I found myself on the floor of the boat with my head in my hands, the blast tearing at the walls of my sight, and the boat’s unsteadiness only shaking my mind further. Until the vision passed, Piper put his hand on my back and I tried to concentrate on that single patch of warmth, the one steady thing in the rocking world.
Sally kept a lookout for patrol ships. I couldn’t think of the Council’s black fleet without a shudder, remembering the sight of them massed near the island. The moon was at its highest when Piper dropped the sails, and he and I rowed the boat close to shore to land on a rocky beach, the pebbles noisy underfoot as we dragged the boat up to the long grass where we could conceal it.
I took the first lookout shift, and even after Piper relieved me I could barely sleep. There was little cover from the drizzle, and I was lying between Zoe and Xander. All night, his dreams of fire jostled in my mind with Zoe’s dreams of the sea. When we rose at dawn, and began the walk inland, I strode ahead, keen to get away from both of them.
We could only move at Sally’s pace, and when she flagged, Piper and Zoe took turns to carry her. I watched her clinging to Piper’s back and noted how patiently his right arm hoisted her when she kept slipping down to the left, where there was no arm to support her. I saw his blade-scarred hand holding her leg, and thought I’d never seen his touch so gentle.
By nightfall we were in craggy, open country. Sally couldn’t keep walking through the night, and we made camp in a stand of pine trees by a shallow creek. I went to the creek to wash, and when I came back to camp, my hair still wet, I saw Piper crouching near the fire, knife raised behind his head. For a moment I froze, scanning the trees for signs of an ambush. I couldn’t see the others through the pines—only Piper, his eyes fixed on something out of my sight. Then he let the knife fly, and I heard Zoe