The Rakkar of Heddard Bay would have her in a bind and could ask any price they liked to get Wind Sabre sky worthy again. But just maybe, if there was anything left of Talis’s share of the money, she’d hire a couple more crew members. Give the ship a proper set of hands.
But there were no spare hands now, no room for such thoughts. They still had to get to Heddard Bay with what was left of the ship if they were going to put in for any repairs at all.
Talis reached the top of the forward ratlines. She didn’t want to jostle the midship line any more than she had to, so she’d cross the full length of the ship on the catwalks.
The thin, springy planks of the walk bounced under her feet. She moved with as much haste as she could, but the unbalanced lift balloon wobbled irregularly. The catwalks leaped up as she stepped down, propelling each step higher on the next bounce.
Sophie gave her a scathing look as she approached. Only then did Talis realize she’d crossed the hazard without her own safety harness or a lead line clipped to the railing.
“Really, Captain? Why am I wearing this chafing thing, then? Don’t you feel the walks trying to buck you off?”
Sophie braced the wire line and shifted her weight to free one hand. She jerked a leather-gloved thumb at the locker behind them. “Put it on, or I drop the line.” Her hand clamped back down as the line started to tug through her grip. “Captain.”
The catwalk still lurched and tossed beneath their feet, even with them both standing still. Crossing it unfastened had indeed been foolish. Load of good Talis would do for everyone if she went over and needed rescue, or was beyond rescue and left them with two fewer hands to help get Wind Sabre back to civilization.
She fetched a harness and, bracing herself against a rib of the lift envelope, climbed into it and secured it across her stomach. It had a short lead, only about two arm-spans, and was designed to keep her from plummeting to flotsam if she fell. She and Sophie’d likely get their leads all tangled up together, but she did feel safer with it on.
The envelope’s line anchor was secured against the side in a pocket of canvas designed for the job. The forged metal ring was shaped like a belt buckle, triple-reinforced thick stitching all around the outer ring held it in place, and the crossbar in the center curved out to give room for the lift line, to prevent it from rubbing on the canvas and wearing either the line or the envelope.
Sophie threaded the wire through and pulled as best she could. There was a break in the catwalk below the anchor, so the walkway wouldn’t be crushed beneath the tension of the lines. But it made for awkward work. She braced herself, toes against the lift envelope, one foot to either side of the gap below her, and pulled. Her shoulders leaned outward toward the misty green of open sky.
Sophie bared her teeth. One elbow was clamped against her side for stability, her other arm straining. The knotted end of the line was mere inches away from making it through the anchor. But with the weight of the hull at play, inches were leagues.
Talis moved behind her, braced her feet against the balloon outside Sophie’s, and together they pulled the wire. Talis could feel the thin material cutting into the joints of her fingers.
“This the longest we got?” Sophie’s voice was strained.
“The others might even be shorter.”
Sophie’s only reply was a grunt, but Talis felt her increase her effort.
Hand over hand, in hair’s-breadth increments, the end of the rope got closer and closer to the metal bar. The wire creased at the end of the loop. Talis had an awful image of the wire snapping, the line dropping, and them propelling themselves out over the catwalk. The impulse to tug her prayerlocks itched at her mind. An old habit that would take a long time to break, even knowing Silus Cutter was gone.
When the knot of the line caught on the edge of the bar, they pulled together on count. Talis’s muscles burned, but she took a deep breath and channeled the last of her reserve energy as they wrenched on the final pull.
The wire shuddered as the knot crossed over the bar. It gave them a small respite from the strain, but only just. She and Sophie still braced against the balloon. Her arms still burned in complaint.
The knot was there. The line was pulled through and, if they could untie it, there was enough length to tie off to the anchor.
Of course, they couldn’t untie it. Nor could either of them let go of the wire. The palms of her hands, and the insides of her fingers, were in agony. Her arm muscles twitched in protest at the strain.
A rumble passed through the lift balloon, and the catwalk beneath them shuddered.
“Ship doesn’t like the length of the line, does she.” Sophie’s voice was hard, even. It wasn’t a question, but there was a question behind it. We gonna make it, Captain?
“We’ll shorten the others next,” Talis said, talking through her clenched jaw. Those few words took all the effort she could spare.
The catwalk trembled again. But this time it was the welcomed rhythm of approaching feet. She would have breathed a sigh of relief if she dared relax.
Dug came around the curve of the lift balloon, harness on and lead clip bouncing in its place along the catwalk’s guide rail. A length of rope looped over one arm and a small canvas bag of tools cradled in the other.
The three of them together made faster work on the next two lines. Wind Sabre’s
