The Aeronaut's Windlass (The Cinder Spires, #1)

by Jim Butcher

“Do you believe what they said about him at the court-martial?” Kettle grunted and peered ahead for a moment, and Gwen thought he had simply declined to answer. She had turned and begun to leave when he said, “Miss Lancaster?” She paused. “Yes?” “I didn’t know him when he was in the Fleet, miss, but . . .” Kettle took a slow breath, his lips moving slightly, as if composing his answer before he spoke. Then he nodded and turned his eyes to her, his expression intent. “Miss Lancaster, spirestone is heavy. Fire is hot. And the captain does his duty. No matter what it costs him. Understand?” Gwen regarded Kettle’s unshaven face for a slow breath and then nodded slowly. “I believe I’m beginning to. Thank you, Mister Kettle.”

Grimm gestured to his arm. “The rumor mill is performing to specifications, I’m afraid. I already had this when it started.” “I remember,” Bayard said. “So. You repelled an assault by Auroran Marines . . . with one hand.” “My crew did the majority of that.” Bayard made a little ah sound. “Naturally. While you stood about offering critique, I suppose.” “It’s as if you know me.”

“That being the case,” Ferus said, “I will accompany you. It will add verisimilitude to have someone who is genuinely drunk at the table.” He shook his head sadly. “Death is light as a feather, duty as heavy as a Spire, what?” “Ah,” Benedict said. “Master Ferus, is that wise?” Gwen asked. “It’s an ancient proverb, handed down from the time of the Builders,” Ferus replied. “Chronologically speaking, it is wisdom of the highest order.”