Yesterday, Jet had shared a bottle of strong spirits with Nightwalker. The conversation was relaxed, but inevitably turned to their current predicament.
"The ship absorbs an ocean of essence from the divine flame, but climbing up to the surface will be difficult. We can train young Tyris and her husband to steer the ship, but even with six Saints working in shifts, we'll run ourselves ragged."
She gave him a curious glance.
"What are you getting at?"
Nightwalker looked her up and down, then grinned.
"Well, your pool of essence is several times deeper than that of any of us. Plus, you're the captain. It seems strange that you are not standing at the helm, no? Won't you take at least a shift or two?"
Jet studied him with a relaxed smile.
