9. Stunningly Flawless and Far, Far Away
Stunningly Flawless and Far, Far Away
Ships groaned with the ghosts of past voyages as they shifted in their moorings. On the cusp of this unexpected journey, I envied their hard-won experience. I was terrifyingly unprepared to brave the waves that would carry me across my own vast, uncharted seas.
Griffon backed against the weathered wood of a transit shed as he scanned the line of iron-hulled windjammers and paddle steamers anchored in formation along the dock.
The ships had different names—Goldfeather, Windward Promise, Skybound.
But the same name owned them all. ‘Tessalyn Shipping’ was painted so often it felt less like branding and more like a warning.
“Stay out of sight. There will be guards patrolling the larger merchant ships over there,” he whispered, pointing toward those masts and smokestacks stabbing the swirling darkness.
The air was a layered blend of rust, fishy brine, and damp, weather-beaten wood. Where the cave above the sea smelled of the fresh, salty tang of open water, this smelled heavy. My insides twisted under the dense, almost suffocating mix. I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking.
He shifted his attention to where smaller boats sat docked in a more secluded, cluttered area of the harbor.
Leading us in that direction, along the cramped space against the buildings, he steered clear of the occasional patches of light from the gaslights.
I followed close behind and narrowly avoided bumping the colorful buoys hanging from the weathered cedar siding.
He slowed and crouched behind a stack of crates and cages under the overhang of a fishing shack.
“Stay here and don’t move until I signal you.”
Without waiting for my reply, he strode toward the dock where a few smaller, older boats were moored to their slips.
His dark form stepped onto the gangway, walked a few steps, and stopped as if he were waiting for something.
From the shadows behind a piling, another figure emerged.
It was only a matter of seconds before something exchanged hands, and that figure stepped off the dock and made its way down the wharf and disappeared.
Minutes passed as he stood there. He seemed to scan the area as the mist grew thicker, blurring the edges of the cluttered marina. Soon, I would no longer be able to see the docks through the darkness from where I hid.
Would that be such a bad thing?
If I couldn’t see him signal me, maybe I could just turn around and go in the opposite direction.
I could spend my days wandering Trilatera, sleeping in doorways and begging for food.
And staying far, far away from the water.
A brilliant plan, really. I'd starve within a week, but at least I'd die on dry land. That had to count for something.
He finally raised his arm and beckoned with his hand.
I shook my head at myself. Such a coward.
How was I going to make it in this new world if I was too scared to experience it?
Steeling my spine, I took a deep breath and tiptoed through the maze of shipping crates until I stepped onto the dock, the wood shifting slightly under my feet.
Griffon had made his way to the end of the row of slips to a small blue sailboat.
“Where—“ I started, but he interrupted me with a raised hand.
“Not now,” he whispered with a glare. “Wait until we get out onto the water.”
My heart did a flip in my chest. ‘Out onto the water’—was I really going to do this?
Motioning me into the front of the bobbing boat, he uncoiled ropes from their pilings.
As I surveyed the short path to the bench, it felt like trying to navigate my way across a vast, raging ocean.
The little sliver of water visible in the gap between the wood of the dock and the boat’s oscillating gunwale made me light-headed.
He watched me in my hesitation. Stop being ridiculous—I would be on the water, not in the water. I could do this.
On the water, not in the water.
On the water, not in the water.
On the water. Not. In. The. Water.
The leap was probably a little overzealous.
I vaulted off the slip, overshot the landing, and tumbled into an off-kilter roll before landing in a heap against the opposite bulkhead.
As if I hadn’t just made a complete fool of myself, I scrambled up, slid over to the bench, and smoothly took my seat as if the graceful sit salvaged the disaster that preceded it.
My face heated as the seconds went by in silence.
“Graceful,” he finally deadpanned.
“I was going for memorable,” I muttered, refusing to look in his direction. He pushed off the dock and sent us floating away. The boat rocked with the motion.
He turned to sit with his back to me, picked up the oars and rowed us away from the slip.
Staying quiet, I watched the dark water lap against the wooden hull over the side.
I pulled the lumin shard out from under my shirt to illuminate the boat.
The mist rolling over the undulating water made seeing anything beyond a couple of meters in front of us impossible.
My knuckles were white as my hands gripped the bench. Breath in. Breath out.
He rowed another ten minutes before he pulled the oars into the boat and took a gold pocket watch from inside his overcoat.
It sprang open as if he were about to tell the time, but then the watch face flipped up again, closing the timepiece into the lid.
He gazed at what was underneath and extended his arm.
“Is that a compass?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see it?”
“No.”
He never even glanced in my direction.
I huffed. “I know how to use a compass. While you concentrate on the sailing part, I could help navigate.”
He scanned the furled sail and the various ropes. I recognized the subtle change in his expression the moment he saw the logic in my reasoning. Leaning forward, he extended the compass toward me. I smiled and reached forward to grasp it, but his hand didn’t let it go.
He pegged me with a glare. “Do not drop it in the water. If you do, I’ll throw you in after it.”
I gulped. “Okay. I’ll be careful.”
He let go. “Keep an eye on it once we get out of the harbor. We need to head southeast until the coast curves back to the west, past the peninsula.”
With the compass secure in my lap, I held onto the side of the boat as it rocked back and forth with his movements.
He unfurled the sail and adjusted the ropes.
The sailcloth billowed out and caught the wind, the boat cutting through the water—and then began to lean.
I gripped the bench and stared in fright at the water moving further up the side of the hull. We were going to flip…
“It’s going to heel over a bit with the wind as we pick up speed. Sit on the port side to balance us out.”
I couldn’t think through my panic and looked at him with a mix of terror and confusion.
“Sit on the left side of the boat,” he continued with an exasperated sigh. “Port is on the left side.”
“Right. Port. Left. Very intuitive naming system you sailors have worked out there.” I shuffled over to the opposite bench, trying to appear as though I hadn't just been contemplating my imminent watery demise.
I calmed down only once Trilatera’s natural harbor was behind us.
Breathing steadier now, I held up the compass, rotating it to match our heading.
The engraved brass instrument was heavier than it looked, with a long chain and a thick, engraved hinged lid hiding the clock mechanism.
A slender magnetized needle bounced around its pivot point until settling below the letter E.
The cardinal direction was rendered in a swooping, elegant script.
“You need to head to the right about 15 degrees.”
He adjusted the rudder and gazed out into the rolling mist. “With any luck, this fog will lift soon. There’s only a couple of hours until sunrise, and we need to follow along the coast as long as possible.”
The lights of Trilatera to our right came in and out of focus in patches of fog as we maneuvered down the coast. The moon appeared from behind a cloud when we passed a narrow headland overlooking the sea.
At the top of the cliff, a massive, toppled monolith protruded from its apex.
The top half of the structure had been severed, and rubble lay around the base.
“Is that one of the obelisks?”
Griffon turned. “It is.”
“Do the Volanti realize the obelisks held no actual power? That they were just markers to indicate the boundaries?”
Any young one born within the obelisks during the solar day of the alignment was supposed to grow a potens lock behind their left ear and eventually manifest an ember.
But of course, except for me. I was just gifted with that shiny lock of hair. And I didn’t even have that anymore.
Griffon shrugged. “I’m sure a lot of them assumed, or were led to believe, they destroyed the power of the alignment by toppling them.”
Apparently, to the Volanti, bending astrophysics only requires knocking over a fancy stone monolith.
As the marker faded into the distance, so did the city that housed the Citadel—the building that was constructed ages ago, at the exact center of the triangle created by those three monoliths.
Thoughts of Frater Andren filled my mind as my stomach dropped.
He would search for me when I don’t show up for our chess match in the morning.
And he would worry when I was nowhere to be found.
I wished I could have told him goodbye or left a note—anything to reassure him I was okay.
And it would soon be more than Frater Andren that noticed me missing. Would they sound the alarm? Would the soldiers look for me next?
“Are they going to try to find me and bring me back to the Citadel like they want to return you to Pavo?”