POV: tress
Summary
Tress's reversal lands as well as any cannon shot ever fired in the dragon's chamber. Xisis echoes a baffled *What?* — Crow echoes a furious *What?* of her own — and Tress presses the case calmly: Crow is strong (she can show the bruise on her stomach as proof), unafraid of spores, proven to use midnight aether earlier that very night. Crow lunges to physically silence her, and is checked by the deliberate click of five dragonsteel claws — each as long as her leg — against the crimson floor. *I will not have you harming one another in my house,* the dragon says. *One of you shall be my servant, and I do not like damaged property.* Crow glances at her own reflection in the silver and lets go.
What follows is a negotiation neither woman expected to be having. Crow argues that the slave was meant to be the payment and she is the captain of the ship; Tress points out that this makes Crow the more valuable prize. Xisis folds his forearms like a basking creature and looks frankly amused; the narrator aside notes the deep, ground-shake quality of his voice. Crow pivots — Tress is younger, easier to mold, less than a month off her home island. Tress counters that a dragon who enjoys a challenge would surely prefer to unlock a sea captain's skills. Xisis mildly notes that he prefers not to expend effort training servants, and that Tress is arguing against her own interests. Crow piles on: the girl has built ingenious devices, a verdant bomb that lifted the ship above the rains, a gun that fires spores — *some kind of spore prodigy.* Tress admits she only tweaked designs she found; Crow notes humility as another point in her favor.
Tress tries the only honest argument left for handing over Crow: that the spores in her blood are killing her, and only living under the dragon's care can heal her. Crow points and laughs — she knew Tress would ask for healing as payment, and she will live just fine after that. Xisis grants the point: *Child, you are losing ground quickly.* He cannot see why he would want a hated officer in his household when he could have someone even-tempered, well-liked, and skilled. Crow tells Tress she should have tried harder to be awful — she had warned her, after all, that this life was not for her.
Tress takes a breath and tells the truth instead. She would make a terrible servant, she says, because she really, really does not want to be one. Xisis hushes Crow with a click of his claw and narrows his iridescent eyes at her. Contrary to rumor, he tells her, his servants are treated well: no disease, engaging work, regular meals, books in their off hours. Why does she not wish to serve him? Because, Tress says, there is a man she loves who is held captive, and she has to free him. *I don't care for the hearts of mortals,* the dragon says, *except for how they taste.* Then her voice rises — she will not stay. No matter what he does. She will dedicate every thought, every moment, every waking breath to escape; she will collapse his cave; she will walk through the spores; she will spend fifty years if she has to, and he will eventually have to kill her to stop her, because she *will* reach the Midnight Sea, find the Sorceress, and save the man she loves.
The chamber lets her voice fade. Xisis studies her with ancient eyes and asks, quietly, whether she really means to confront the Sorceress. Tress nods. *Then perhaps taking you captive now would be a mercy.* Crow tries to crow her victory and is cut off mid-syllable: a wave of the dragon's hand sends the black ribbon wrapping the nearest pillar wriggling forward of its own accord, gagging Crow and binding her tight to the column. *She really is awful, isn't she?* the dragon remarks. *I'm afraid so, sir,* Tress agrees.
Xisis decides. He needs someone to scrub floors now that he has promoted Lili. He makes it a point not to interfere too much in the world above; if Tress really has made the discoveries Crow mentioned, taking her would set the planet's technology back — he will pick that as his *excuse* for letting her go, and he refuses to explain the word further. He then insists on paying for his new servant, however little he thinks the trade was worth. Tress asks if he can lift the Sorceress's curse on the man she loves. He cannot — nor will he do anything to help her quest, for there is precisely one being on this planet he fears, and her friend Cephandrius is not it. (Rude.) Tress, exhausted, says her life is payment enough. Then she hesitates. *Would you consider three small boons instead of one large one?*