Daina took her usual place behind and to the left of Ashe. Basch fell into step beside her. She wanted to speak with him, but her worry over what Ashe would think of her consorting with her father's supposed killer kept her quiet. Even happy-go-lucky Vaan had taken some time to come to terms with Basch's presence, never mind his innocence. The coup d'état in Nalbina two years past had consequences so much graver than a single, heartless murder. The crime encompassed every soul in Dalmasca, and the aftermath rested squarely on Ashe's shoulders.

Instead of speaking, Daina sang to the rhythm of their march. Not only Nabradian hymns but songs from Dalmasca, too. She even knew an Archadian ditty – not a very appropriate one because she'd picked it up from a drunken soldier, but at least she got a muffled chuckle out of Balthier. Everyone walked at their own paces, Fran understandably on edge. Forest-dwelling viera didn't belong in this jagd wasteland, and the relentless urutan-yensa let them know that humes were far from welcome also.

The urutan-yensa patrolled the platforms, their crustacean-like bodies hidden behind tattered cloaks and metal masks, their speech full of clicks and scrapes that sounded like grinding iron. No one knew whether their race needed to slumber, but their predilection for putting intruders under sleep spells suggested they didn't.

The sandsea swirled beneath the catwalks. The forgotten iron of the platforms and bridges had gone red with disuse. In some places, it had entirely rusted through and collapsed. It was hard work fighting their way west, and far from linear. The catwalks were rounded, like a series of rings connected by the straight expanse of bridges. Often, Daina completed a curve around a storage tank and stumbled upon a party of urutan-yensa, or a pack of alraunes, the territorial, spike-headed cousins of deadly nightshade. Whenever the alraunes heard approaching invaders, they uprooted themselves and ran at the invader's legs, lowering their red tomato heads like charging rhinos. Daina was constantly in danger of tripping over rivers of cables that snaked across her path and dangled, eaten through, off the edge. The fighting was dirty, confined to the narrow catwalks, the bulk of the work falling on those with swords. There simply wasn't enough space for Fran or Balthier to have clear shots. After a few hours of this, Daina was covered in sand, rust, and sweat.

Near sunset, Basch called a halt at the top of a refinery tower, where silent machinery and fused gears sat indifferently in their sand-filled housings. Ashe lowered herself stiffly in the lee of a pipe, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. She was exhausted, but she would never have said so. Daina was glad Ashe had this chance to rest. The last rays of the sun turned to molten gold, the wind warm and comfortable. She had always enjoyed sunset on the desert, after the brutal heat of day and before the chill of night.

Ever curious, Vaan peered over a railing, rust flaking beneath his palms. He stood there, poised at the edge of their narrow world, studying the giant hammer-like shape of iron against the sun.

"A construct to draw oil from the ground," Basch told him, running a cloth along his sword's blade, inspecting both for sand. "Abandoned many years now, it seems."

"I don't remember a time when we needed to burn oil for light or coal to heat our homes," Daina admitted. The invention of the glossair engine negated the necessity of fossil fuels; the rings operated instead on the plentiful Mist of the land. Other advancements had soon followed, completely transforming the quality of life across Ivalice.

Vaan brushed his hands on his trousers. "Did Dalmascans build this?"

"No," Basch said. "The Rozarrians. Their empire lies far to the west, ever at war with Archadia. Heedless of the kingdoms caught in their midst. Dalmasca. Nabradia." His amber eyes unerringly found Daina where she stood listening. "Landis."

She took that as an invitation and sat near Basch, the only Landisian she knew, and felt a little less sorry for herself. She cleaned her own blade with loving care. It had been two years since Nabudis's destruction – there were Nabradians in Ivalice still, though their numbers were few. Of Landis, a country that had died twenty-two years past, there was nothing left.

A heavy tread on the platform, just beyond the curve, impelled her to her feet, kogarasumaru drawn. The plant-like alraunes made little bubbly popping sounds as they hopped around on their root-legs, and the urutan-yensa's stilt-like feet tapped, metal against metal. Whatever was coming was neither. And then the newcomer spoke when he topped the ramp, continuing Basch's thought.

" 'Tis the small craft's fate: to watch the list of the galleons and pray for light winds."

"Vossler!" Pleased, Basch strode forward to clasp his friend's hand. "Why are you here?"

"Imagine my surprise, when upon my return to Bhujerba, I find both you and the Lady Ashe have vanished." Vossler frowned in Balthier's direction. "I thought you above consorting with sky pirates."

Basch held his ground on that one, for which Daina was thankful, when he said, "Balthier is a man worthy of our trust. And it was the Lady Ashe's decision. I am content to lend my arm. As I could not when Rasler died, when her throne was taken. Never again. I will defend her this time."

"You walk the knight's path," Vossler said, laughing. "The Lady Ashe?"

Basch turned his head as if to point her out, but Daina intercepted Vossler. "She's fine, and she's resting. Please, we shouldn't disturb her. How did you find us?"

"Balzac." Vossler put a hand on his hip. "Your shopping trip in Rabanastre did not go unnoticed. It only took a little work to discover the flight path of the pirate's airship."

Daina had completely forgotten about Balzac. He had eyes everywhere. "We should keep moving, else others discover our intent with such apparent ease," she said.

"Aye," Basch said, and he went to speak with Ashe.

"Daina," Vossler said, stopping her. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I asked you to be my eyes, and you have done remarkably well." He clapped a hand on her spaulder and grinned. "Tell me, what is your intent now?"

The question, asked in perfectly normal, reasonable tone of voice, gave Daina pause. It wasn't right. Something seemed off. She couldn't put her finger on it. Was it Vossler's smile, perhaps, that didn't reach his eyes? She did not believe now that Vossler trusted her, but she could not imagine why he would suspect her of consorting with the Empire. So she told him of Lady Ashe's plan until the lady herself joined them and confirmed it.

"I see," he murmured, one finger stroking his goatee. "So the Dawn Shard does lie in King Raithwall's tomb." His hand dropped. "The marquis sympathizes with your plight, yet the Empire watches his every move. He can keep whispers of your 'abduction' silent for only so long."

"Yes," Ashe said earnestly, "but tell me, Vossler, what have you accomplished? Have you found the means to restore Dalmasca?"

"First, we must claim the Dawn Shard," he said evasively. "It all begins with that."

They marched well into the night. Daina spoke to no one about her misgivings, for what good would it do? Vaan and Penelo – they wouldn't understand. The sky pirates – Balthier had made it clear he was in this for the money, nothing more, and wherever he went, Fran followed. Lady Ashe walked alongside Vossler as she had always done, obviously relieved to have him back.

Basch . . .

Daina couldn't say anything about Vossler. Not even to Basch. All she could do was wait, and watch, and protect Ashe should danger threaten.