Chapter Ten
The watercraft glides smoothly along the serpentine canals of Rava. We pass along the outskirts of a buzzing marketplace, and it’s the biggest I’ve ever seen.
Colourful stalls weave through narrow alleyways, cobbled together from vibrant tarps and woven greenery. They’re overflowing with trinkets and exotic treasures, vendors clamouring for the attention of the passing crowd.
Celebratory red-and-gold garlands thread through most of the stalls, and matching banners overhead proudly declare the Reckoning’s motto.
Honour to the Triumstellar Accord. Blessed be the stars.
I breathe in the medley of scents that drift upon the air.
Street food sizzling over open flames. Earthy spices and herbs.
The faint sharpness of fresh dye, and beneath it a dampness reminiscent of wet wool.
Freshly baked milk buns are perched on the windowsill of a nearby bakery, and I can’t help but salivate.
Suddenly, the apple I had for breakfast feels like a long time ago.
As our watercraft heads deeper into Rava, the city reveals itself in layers.
Quaint shops line the waterway banks, and colourful terraces clamber up the mountainside.
Each tier of the city offers a more stunning view of the harbour below, where ships bob gently in the turquoise waters, their sails billowing.
I have to crane my neck to take in the royal palace. It clings to the mountain’s peak, made from a pale, almost white stone that gleams in the sun.
The walls wrapping around the palace are tall, carved with windows and balconies in various places to provide a view of the city below. Most spectacular of all is the crystalline dome crowning the structure, reflecting light like an ever-burning star.
I swoon at the sight of it. The royal palace has long been known as one of Astraloria’s greatest architectural marvels, attracting admirers from every corner of the neighbouring principalities, Solara and Wrisha.
When we were younger, Elara and I fantasized about one day being able to see it in person. We’d dress up in our mum’s old dresses and pretend we were attending a lavish banquet at the palace, peering down from its balconies at the city below.
I can’t believe that, this time tomorrow, I’ll be walking through its doors. It’s a dream come true, and yet … Elara is not here.
Our watercraft slows. I realize we’ve arrived at the watercraft port in the centre of the city.
It opens into a vast pool of water, dotted with docks and jetties that fan out like spokes from a wheel.
The din of voices echoes beneath the grand stone structure arching overhead, people boarding and disembarking from various types of watercraft.
We drift towards an available jetty, where a watercraft coach seems to have just offloaded a group of people. They’re commuting workers, by the looks of their faded clothes and worn shoes. Untrained elementals like me, who can’t afford to live in the city.
Water laps gently at the wooden piers as the helmsman eases us into position. I thank him with a nod and step off on to the jetty, caught in a moment of marvel.
Beyond the arching structure of the port, tall buildings rise gracefully around us, reaching three, four, some even five storeys into the sky. They all have balconies spilling over with flowering plants and vines that cascade towards the streets below.
It’s beautiful and painful. A picture-perfect scene of arched windows and terracotta roofs – certainly a welcome change from the ivy-clad stone structures of Stellargrove. Elara would’ve loved this, and it hurts knowing I’ll never be able to share it with her.
Unless we win the tournament.
I turn to the helmsman. “What now? Where are we supposed to be staying?”
He shrugs and tugs at his collar. “W-wish I could tell you, but this is where the other pair asked to be dropped off. Maybe they had a room booked somewhere?”
“You didn’t think to ask them where?” Taron asks, swinging his bag over his shoulder and chucking mine at my chest. I catch it with a thud.
“My apologies. The pair barely acknowledged my existence.” The helmsman looks nervous. He pulls a lever, and the watercraft’s canopy reassembles. “Best of luck, I suppose.”
Taron and I stand in silence as the watercraft glides away.
“We’ve got nowhere to stay?” I ask.
“I guess not,” he says.
“Any money?”
He shakes his head.
“Great.”
I survey our surroundings beyond the port, from the pretty pastel houses to the marketplace we just passed. About halfway between the two, opposite a fishmonger’s stall, I spot a sign swinging outside a run-down building – the Lucky Fish Tavern & Inn.
The letters on the sign outside are faded, but the words on the one stuck to the window are legible. Help wanted.
“Can you cook?”
Taron shakes his head no.
“Balance plates?”
“I highly doubt it.”
“OK, well, then this ought to be interesting. Come on,” I say, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him along.
“Hold on – what are we doing?”
“We’re getting jobs,” I say as I steer him towards the Lucky Fish. “We’re not sleeping on the streets tonight.”
The inside of the tavern is smaller than I thought, darker, too, but it’s filled with laughter and lively chatter.
A gramophone plays soft music in the corner, and lively flames crackle in the hearth.
The air is stifling, swirling with the mouthwatering aromas of beef stew, mulled cider and Solaran wine.
“Man, someone turn down the heat.” Taron’s words came out in a drawl. “How can anyone survive this sauna?”
I ignore him – and the warm flush prickling at my neck – as I look around, searching for someone who looks like they’re in charge.
There’s a tall sturdy-looking man sitting behind the bar, wearing a silk shirt and a black bow tie that’s threatening to strangle him. I weave through the tables towards him.
“Excuse me,” I say with a forced smile. “Are you in charge here?”
“Who’s asking?” the man says without looking up from his newspaper. I wince at the photo on the front page, a mousy-looking man with two large front teeth. Buddy.
The headline nearly makes me choke. A grim discovery in Stellargrove: Jewel merchant found dead, Principal Guard probes possible foul play.
“I, uh, noticed your sign in the window.” My voice is strained, but I can’t seem to do anything about it. “Help wanted?”
The man peers round the paper at me, and then at Taron, his eyes narrowing. When he doesn’t respond, I add, “My friend and I are willing to work for free in exchange for a place to stay for the night.”
“Travellers aren’t welcome here,” he grumbles, turning back to his paper.
“We’re not travellers,” I assure him. “We’re competitors. We’re here to compete in the Reckoning.”
He sets the paper down, his gaze now sparking with equal amounts amusement and curiosity. He chuckles under his breath, and accompanying laughter erupts from some onlookers at a table behind us.
“Can you imagine?” one of them says. He twirls his finger, Luna talents silently commanding a crock in the centre of the table to refill his cup with wine. “Let me guess, you’re the privately trained pair?”
I nod stiffly. “That’s us.”
His friend joins in with a boisterous laugh. He shouts over to us. “You’re telling me you’re both here to compete in the biggest event of the decade, and you don’t have a place to stay? That’s a fine mess you’ve gotten yourselves into.”
I flash a bashful smile, trying to work the crowd. But Taron ignores them, turning to the man behind the bar.
“Job or no job?” he bites out.
The barman eyes him. “Funny, ain’t it? A privately trained pair with pockets deep enough to grease the High Council for a tournament entry, yet here you are, begging for work to cover a night’s stay. Makes a man wonder…”
A flush creeps into my neck. That’s it, our charade is over. We’ve been in Rava for no more than ten minutes and we’re already backed into a corner. I was a fool to drag us in here.
“Neither of our parents wanted us to submit our names for the ballot,” Taron says unexpectedly. “They are protective and don’t want us to die. We went against their word, so they’re refusing to support us financially during the tournament.”
I have to hold back my surprise.
“Your parents were right to worry,” slurs the onlooker who refilled his cup before. It’s empty already. “You won’t last a day on the island by the looks of you.”
Taron squares his jaw. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’re just grateful for the chance to compete,” I quickly interject, shifting on my feet so my heel rams into Taron’s toes with equal intention and precision. He shifts back a few paces and lets me take the lead.
“Please,” I say – no, beg – to the barman. “We won’t cause you any trouble. We only need a bed for the night, then we’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”
He sighs. “I could use some help around this place. All right. What are your talents?”
“Well, I’m an Emo,” I say, “and Wren here is a Luna.”
“An Emo and a Luna, huh?” The man’s forehead wrinkles.
“I guess a gravitational talent would be helpful in the kitchen and, with the tournament bringing in a flood of tourists, a bit of energy detection might come in handy with the rowdier customers. We don’t serve alcohol to minors – no sigil, no drink. You think you can handle that?”
I muster a smile. “We’ll do whatever you need.”
“Then you’ve got a deal. You can work here in exchange for a place to sleep. But,” he adds, raising a sausage finger, “I’m afraid I only have one free room at the moment. Sharing won’t be a problem, will it?”
I stutter, “Um, w-well … if you had two that would be…”
“One room. One bed. Take it or leave it.”
Taron looks at me, and I sigh.
“We’ll take it,” he says.
As much as I hate the idea, it seems we don’t have any other choice.
The man claps his hands together, but his applause is swallowed by the lively hum of the tavern. “It’s settled, then. Welcome to the Lucky Fish. Your first shift started two seconds ago.”