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screams were. My heart made it farther than my hands ever could.
    A splash to my right.
    I turned, searched the water. Orange flickered for an instant, and I lunged for it. My fingers found softness and warmth, cloth and skin. Please, Saint Saea, let them be alive . I grabbed, held on with both hands, and yanked.
    A crewman rolled out of the waves, coughing and sputtering. So much blood on his forehead. A deep wound for sure, maybe even a bone bruise. I dragged him out of the water, through the reeds, and up the bank. My hand covered the gash in his head and I drew , not a lot, but enough to close the wound and stop the bleeding. My head throbbed above my left eye.
    Fishermen and dockhands appeared on the bank beside me, forming a chain with a thick rope wound around their middles. The largest man planted his feet in the muddy bank near where I had huddled behind the bush. I darted over and grabbed the rope a foot in front of him.
    “Stay back.” He pushed me away, and I nearly went down.
    “I can help!”
    “Help the injured.”
    Men thick from hard labor jostled me aside and extended the chain out into the water. I moved away, scanning the shore for survivors, but the men hadn’t brought any back.
    More flashes of color and snippets of screams caught me. I ran down the bank, away from the men and their rope chain. Ferry passengers neared the shore, fighting to keep their heads above water.
    I went back in, bits of wood and debris banging against my hips as wreckage started washing up. A dark shape loomed ahead and I lunged sideways, swallowing a mouthful of water. A crate swept by and slammed into a barrel behind me. Coughing water from my lungs, I found a woman whose arm would never bend again and dragged her to shore. My fingers were stiff as I pulled out a man who would limp. My heart went numb when I touched a boy too still, too cold, to heal.
    Rain fell harder, as if trying to flatten the waves so we could save more, but it hindered more than helped. A horrible snap, louder than the thunder, caused heads to turn. The smaller ferry broke in half and disappeared under the water. Seconds later, the larger ferry ground itself over the wreckage. The hull cracked, wood tore away from beams. People clinging to rails toppled to the angled deck and slid into the lake.
    I kept going, pulling them out, dragging them in.
    Even after the screams stopped and the crying began.

    I walked slowly, achingly, unsure where my own hurts began and the ones I’d taken ended. League Healers were rushing past me with stretchers slung between them, splashing through puddles and muddying their uniforms. Most were apprentices and low cords. I looked for Tali but didn’t see her. My basket had disappeared. Stolen, kicked away, I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. I had nothing left but pain.
    Tali would be busy tonight and exhausted tomorrow. With so many injured, the Slab might even fill before the night ended. Did they keep extras for emergencies? Two hay-bale-sized pynvium Slabs was more wealth than I could imagine, but would even that be enough for so much pain?
    Music and laughter drew me to Aylin’s show house, but she wasn’t there. Happy, dry faces shone through the windows, oblivious to the suffering at the docks. The blacksmith’s was closed, but heat radiated off the chimney in the back. I stood against it under a roof that kept most of the rain off me.
    “I have nowhere to go.” The words slipped out, startling me. Could I go to the League? Maybe they’d take my pain before realizing I couldn’t pay for it. Or at least give me a dry place to sleep. I pressed closer against the bricks. Foolish thoughts. If I went to the League, those wards or even the Elder might see me. Too big a risk just to stay dry for one night.
    I watched for Aylin, but she never appeared, not even when the rain stopped and the moon came out. So I walked. Almost dry, I listened to cicadas and music. Tomorrow, I’d go to the pain merchants. I had