“This this, or this, getting the hell off the island?” Kip asked.
“Either. Both.”
“It’s the signal,” Tremblefist said to Cruxer. “The Lightguards have control of the cannon emplacement at the mouth of the harbor. If we try to sail out of here, they’re to sink us.”
“Yes, I am,” Kip told Teia.
There was a moment of hurt, and she smoothed it down, but it didn’t disappear. “I’m staying,” she said. “I’ll help you get away, but I’m staying.”
“Is this because of—” Kip gestured to the cable they’d come down together.
“What do we do?” Cruxer asked.
“What are the parameters of your mission?” Tremblefist asked Cruxer.
Cruxer looked surprised that Tremblefist was giving him command. “Save Breaker,” he said quickly. “Nothing else matters.”
“No, it’s not about that,” Teia said. “You heard … Her. She didn’t release me.” She meant the White. She didn’t want to say it, not even in front of the squad. It was that kind of secret. “I have a mission. A purpose that’s bigger than what I want, and a task that only I can do.”
“What? What task?” Ben-hadad asked, interrupting.
They both stared at him.
“Sorry. By the way, contract’s fine. Bit archaic, ‘enemy of your enemy’ and the like, but … Sorry!”
“Teia, you don’t have to do this,” Kip said.
“No,” she said. “I don’t have to. But I choose to.” She tugged out the necklace she always wore, a little vial of olive oil. She’d always avoided questions about it. Now she broke the string, dropped the vial, and crushed it under her heel.
“Breaker,” Tremblefist barked.
“Sir,” Kip said, turning away from luxiats and women and—fuck! Did everything always have to happen at once? “Yes, sir?”
Tremblefist locked his gaze. “Thank you.” His mouth twitched a grin. The family resemblance to Ironfist was never more clear. But Tremblefist seemed free, his spirit open and joyful.
“Thank you? For what?” Kip asked.
Tremblefist said, “I’ll clear those cannons. Your ship will be safe. Go in light, Breaker.”
“Quickly, people!” Cruxer said. “I see Lightguards. Lots of them. Thirty seconds. Maybe.”
Kip turned back toward the luxiat, who’d gone pale. Someone put a pen in Kip’s fingers and presented the contracts, braced on a board. Kip signed, signed, signed.
“We have everything?” Tisis asked.
“Yes,” the luxiat said. “Hands.”
“Defensive positions, people!” Cruxer said.
Kip and Tisis presented their hands and the luxiat lifted a pitcher and washed them of metaphorical sin. When he saw that Kip’s hands were smeared with literal blood, he gulped. Kip felt Ferkudi put something on his head and saw that the young man had crafted green luxin crowns for both of them.
“You are here of your own free will?” the luxiat asked.
“Yes,” Kip and Tisis said quickly. Kip realized he’d barely even looked at her since he’d gotten here.
“Have either of you promised yourself to anyone else?”
“No,” Tisis said.
“No,” Kip said, a heartbeat late.
“Touch your right hands and entwine your fingers.”
“Wait!” Ben-hadad said. He waved his hands and almost fell over, having to hop on his good foot to regain his balance. “A Ruthgari wedding can be considered illegitimate and annulled if there’s no fire. Water, wine, and fire to sanctify a marriage. You need them all.”
The whole squad started looking around for a torch. How hard could it be to find a torch in the middle of a thousand merchants?
“Ah, hells,” Kip said. He opened himself to the sun and raised his own left hand, letting power roar through him. Fire gushed out of his hand skyward.
He must have been a bit tense, because it leapt out much farther than he meant, a pillar of fire ten paces high for a moment, before he tamped it down.
“Flesh protuberance,” Ferkudi said.
“Ferkudi!” Cruxer said. “Position! And shut it!”
“Lightbringer indeed,” Big Leo murmured.
“On with it!” Kip said. If the Lightguard hadn’t known where exactly to find him before, they certainly would now.
The luxiat picked up the cup. He’d apparently dropped it when Kip painted the sky with fire. He filled it from a skin with wine. “The wine is Orholam’s gift. The shared cup signifies the joys and sorrows of the life you will share.” He guided them to each drink, the cup held awkwardly in their clasped right hands. “Even the awkwardness you feel is an emblem of your new—”