Now comes the real test of whether he’s ready to start
bonding training. I nod to Swift, and she plucks the radio off
her belt. “Swift to navigation, get us moving at a slow clip,” she
orders.
The
Minnow
’s engines are right below us. They roar to life,
kicking up a steaming froth in the water as the boat crawls for-
ward. Bao lifts his head, shuddering as the heat hits him, then
starts to paddle after us. It could be simple curiosity driving
him, though. We need to set a pace and see if he keeps it.
Most of Reckoner training is a waiting game, and it’s one that
makes Swift steam at the ears. She sits on the counter where
I’ve grown used to sleeping, knees drawn up to her chin, toss-
ing the radio back and forth from hand to hand. I would have
thought the monotony of ship life had prepared her for a cou-
ple of boring days, but apparently there are better things to do
today aboard the
Minnow
than watch a beast pup swim.
Bao keeps the pace that the ship sets, and for the first
time this morning, I allow myself to relax. If he continues
to follow these instinctive patterns, his imprinting behav-
ior will engage, bonding him to the
Minnow
, and the part
that’s up to him will be over.
Which means the part that’s up to me is days away.
Bao’s cunning. He’ll learn quickly. He’s a Reckoner, bred to
be trained. And I’m going to train him to kill. Not to defend
a ship, no—this beast is going to be taught to hunt down and
