“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The Huntsman Guild is here in the city.”
“Yeah. I saw that reaper arcanist from the tournament.”
“The city is offering a hefty reward for the death of plague-ridden arcanists and mystical creatures. Other hunters have flocked here as well.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say to that.
“There are several dread pirates in the port,” Adelgis continued. “Apparently, the Marshall of the Southern Seas isn’t allowing them to pass, and now they’re semi-trapped in the city unless they want to go back north.”
“Okay.”
Dangerous, but not the worst news. Pirates in free ports tended to mind their own business. While the city wouldn’t enforce bounties from other countries, it still had its own laws, so pirates were welcome to stay so long as they didn’t cause too much trouble.
It probably meant we should stay away from the docks and shipyard at all costs, though.
“And although I didn’t make it to the labs or library, I did overhear thoughts about the khepera,” Adelgis muttered. “I’m sorry I got your hopes up, but it seems as though no one in New Norra has seen any. I thought maybe the khepera were being smuggled out or hidden, but I couldn’t hear anything that would indicate that.”
My father stepped forward. “Don’t rule out that possibility yet. Let me speak to Vethica and the captain. If we search the Grotto Labyrinth, we might be able to find clues.”
Adelgis, unfazed by the interjection, said, “The denizens of New Norra won’t enter the underground maze, unless for official matters. Some think that the khepera left because too many people violated the rules of no entry in the past.” He smoothed his long hair, his voice becoming distant. “If we solve this mystery on their behalf, it might actually be a boon for everyone. The citizens of New Norra considered the city cursed now that the khepera aren’t around.”
I slowly nodded.
Could the khepera really cure the arcane plague? Theasin seemed to believe abyssal leeches had the capability, but that didn’t mean it was limited to them. Khepera were mystical creatures of renewal, and that could equate to unique forms of healing. On the other hand, the longer we stayed here and searched, the less time I had to find Theasin.
“I think it’s worth investigating,” Adelgis said, obviously replying to my thoughts. “I can search for my father’s whereabouts while the rest of you discover the location of the missing khepera. If I find my father before you find the creatures, we can reopen this issue about whether we should stay. If you find the khepera first, then perhaps our problem will be solved.”
That meant I would get a chance to explore the Grotto Labyrinth, and that fact alone swayed me to the option. Some of us could search for the khepera, while others searched for Theasin—a decent plan.
“Don’t do anything until I speak with the captain,” Jozé said. “I mean it. He’ll be upset if we do anything without him knowing.”
I nodded. “We’ll wait.”
“Good. Maybe you two should get some rest, then. In the morning, we’ll get this all settled.”
I was dreaming.
Adelgis’s magic influenced my sleep so often, I knew the moment I entered one of these “memories” from the past. This memory was different from the last few, however. I felt like I had returned to a coherent narrative and I recognized the narrow streets and gloomy atmosphere of Master Zelfree’s rundown childhood town.
I stood on the docks, blue skies above me, calm waters under the pier. Actually, Zelfree stood on the docks, but I watched the events through his eyes, and it gave the scene a more personal touch, like it really was my own memory. The smell of the sea salt felt so familiar and real.
Young men and women waited in line, each of them in their early twenties or younger, their clothes ragged and their frames scrawny. The ships in port had sailors standing near the gangplanks, some with pieces of parchment, some with bits of charcoal. The people waiting in line would walk up to a ship, sign their name on the paper, and then hopefully board their new vessel.
I had seen this before, not in Zelfree’s memories, but when I’d lived on the islands. Ships would often come to port recruiting people, and it was always the same. Sign a two-year contract and begin work as the lowest level of deckhand. If you worked hard enough, perhaps you could move up in the ranks. It was tough, but ships would hire anyone, even if people were unskilled. It meant they got a lot of orphans, third or fourth children, and ex-convicts who hadn’t been sentenced to death.
Most individuals waiting in line held small pieces of paper. It was the advertisement for the Frith Guild, and each one of them took it over to a man standing next to a dinghy. The small boat belonged to the massive ship-of-the-line waiting out in the bay.
A ship-of-the-line was a three-masted warship known for superior naval battle. The side of the vessel had the name emblazoned in the side: The Red Falcon. Ship-of-the-lines were too large to fit in port, so The Red Falcon had to send the tiny dinghy back and forth to take on new crewmembers.
I waited my turn in line, my feet hurting and my clothes itchy.
A man walked away from the Frith Guild crewmates and headed back down the pier. His shoulder-length copper hair shone in the morning light, giving the locks a dark-red hue that looked akin to rusted metal. The people in line snickered and stared—but any time the man shot them a glare, they all looked away.
I recognized the man as Lynus—the same one who had told Zelfree to apply to the Frith Guild in the previous dream-memory Adelgis had shared with me.
“How’d it go?” I asked. Zelfree’s voice was familiar, but not entirely the same, just like the other dream. Younger. More energetic. It was why I hadn’t recognized him straight away, but now that I knew, I was certain this was Zelfree.
Lynus pushed back his hair. His face was still swollen and bruised. He couldn’t even open his right eye, and the cuts on his eyebrow and lip looked like they could split open again at any moment.
“They want you pass a test first,” Lynus growled, his emphasis on the word test like it was venom.
“Oh, yeah?”
I pulled Lynus close. He was… larger than me. More muscle. Taller. It made me nervous, but Zelfree didn’t tense or act differently.
“What kind of test?” I asked under my breath. “Those whimsical tests they give new apprentice arcanists?”
Lynus rubbed at his face. It appeared he had trouble breathing with his mouth closed, and I suspected his nose was broken. “Math or some nonsense.”
“Math? Hm. Arcanists get all the fun, it seems.” I stared at Lynus, one eyebrow raised. “You’re good at math. I taught you all your numbers.”
“My head hurts.” Lynus groaned as he grabbed at his temple. “It’s hard to… concentrate.”
My head hurt just looking at him. I was surprised Lynus didn’t have a concussion—maybe he did?—and even walking around without falling over was a major accomplishment. The longer I got a good look at him, the more impressed I became. He seemed sturdier than most people I knew, including Zaxis.
“Get in line for that ship,” I said as I pointed to a brig out in the bay. “It’s a vessel of mystic seekers.”
Lynus stared down at me with his one squinted eye, his face resembling purple, pulverized meat. “Mystic seekers?”
“They hunt mystical creatures and star shards out in the wilds. Then they bring them back to civilization. You can handle that, right?”
“I suppose.” His voice shifted to something quieter. “What’re you gonna do?”
“I’m going to take this math test,” I said with a chuckle. “Just to see how well I’ll fare. I’ll come join you afterward.”
“Tch.” Lynus moved away from me and ambled over to the next line. “Don’t take too long.”
The line moved at a steady pace, and I noticed only about one in ten were accepted as crew members of the Frith Guild’s Red Falcon. Then I was called over to the dinghy. I sauntered
over, my hands in my pockets, the ocean winds playing with my hair. Well, Zelfree’s hair. The man at the dinghy was a ship officer, I could tell by the four buttons on his fancy black coat and because his boots were as shiny as a mirror.
But the moment I looked at his face, I knew his identity.
Gregory Ruma.
The legendary swashbuckler—the man who named my home island—the man who had been brought low by the arcane plague. He had kept his wife’s barely animated corpse in an abandoned building while he had tried to find a way to fully resurrect her. The plague had played tricks with his mind, stripping away his hold on reality.
Now here he was. Young and fresh, the first officer of the Red Falcon, long before he had even had his adventures far to the north. A cluster of work contracts stuck out of his coat pocket, all identical except for the blank lines meant for someone’s name.
Zelfree didn’t seem impressed, though. He didn’t catch his breath or even flinch. He gave Ruma the once-over, focusing for a long moment on Ruma’s short brown hair—windswept and lush—and then on his arcanist mark. A leviathan was woven through the star, a long serpent-like creature with fins and a dragon face.
“Good day,” Ruma said. “Are you here because of the flyer?”
I nodded.
“And can you read?”
He didn’t ask in a way that offended me, but my entire stance changed once the question had been asked. I tensed and crossed my arms, my teeth practically hurting from clenching my jaw so tightly.
“I can read,” I said, my tone carefree and jovial—the exact opposite of how I felt.
“Excellent. I’m Gregory Ruma the Leviathan Arcanist, first mate to Liet Eventide and journeyman arcanist of the Frith Guild. I have a couple of questions before I can offer you a worker’s contract.”
“I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.”
The confidence in Zelfree’s statement bordered on arrogance, and if I could have chuckled, I would have. Master Zelfree had never seemed cocksure when I had interacted with him. Then again, I didn’t know young Zelfree. They almost seemed like different people.
Ruma forced half a smile. “All right. Have you ever worked as a mariner before?”
“No.”
“Ah. Well then, indulge a few hypotheticals. Let’s say you have fifty copper coins, and a rogue steals eighteen. How many do you have left?”
I tightened my grip on my arms and smirked. “How about I give you the imaginary thirty-two coins to jump right to your most difficult question?”
Ruma lifted an eyebrow, his gaze hardening as he searched mine. For a brief moment, it felt like there was something unspoken between us.
“All right,” Ruma drawled. “Let’s say you have eighty copper coins that you need to divide among three shipmates. The second man will need twice as much as the first, and the third will need five less than the second. How much do you pay each?”
The first math question I could answer without much difficulty. This question, however, left me momentarily confused. I couldn’t hear Zelfree’s thoughts, even though I inhabited his body, so I didn’t know if the complexity of the question puzzled him or not.
Ruma withdrew a scrap piece of paper and a bit of charcoal from his pocket. Then he handed them over. “You can write it out, if you need.”
I gave Ruma a pointed look—something that screamed, are you serious? You think I need help solving this problem? I grew tenser and turned away. “The first man gets seventeen coins, the second gets thirty-four, and the last gets twenty-nine.”
While Zelfree had solved the question, I hadn’t yet. Were those really the answers?
Ruma’s hard edge transformed into a genuine smile. “That’s correct.”
“Have you got any more questions?”
“No. That’s all I needed.”
Ruma reached for one of the duplicate work contracts in his coat pocket, but stopped before he took one out. Instead, he opened one of the pouches on his belt and withdrew a different piece of parchment. “Here’s your contract.” Again, he offered the charcoal bit. “Sign your name and you can board the dinghy. One of our crewmembers will take you to the ship and show you to your new quarters.”
I snatched the work contract from Ruma’s hand. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’re not going to join? No one here pays as well as we do.”
“I’ll work with whomever I want to,” I stated. “There’s more to life than coin, and I won’t be controlled by it.”
I walked back down the pier without even looking at the contents of the contract—I just shoved the paper into my trouser pocket, my whole body still stiff. I didn’t stop until I reached the line for the mystic seekers’ ship. For some reason, despite the fact that mystic seekers usually paid more than other types of crews, the line seemed shorter than most.
When I reached Lynus, he glanced over, and just his proximity seemed to relax me. No longer agitated, I returned my hands to my pockets and exhaled, as though this were where I was meant to be.
Lynus stared for a long moment. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“You had that look when you walked over here. Don’t tell me you failed the test?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what happened? I figured you’d love the Frith Guild recruiter, what with his perfectly coiffed hair. Or did he turn you down?”
I smacked Lynus in his side, right in one of his injuries. He chuckled through a groan and then grimaced. It didn’t feel like I had hit that hard, but it had still been a solid strike. Lynus continued to chortle, even after he had straightened himself.
The people in line—thugs and cutthroats, every one of them—shot us glowers. I stepped closer to Lynus, who practically blended in with the rough crowd.
“Well?” Lynus asked as he rubbed at his wounded side. “Let’s see the contract. C’mon.”
I shrugged. “They assumed I couldn’t read. You know. The same song and dance. I don’t wanna sail with them.”
“Heh. Can you blame them? You do look like a vagabond.”
Although I hadn’t noticed it before, my ill-fitting clothes and scuffed boots registered in my thoughts. I glanced down, and I knew Zelfree must’ve felt the same in that exact moment. Dirt and tree sap dappled the sleeve of my shirt.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’s not like I’m going to take an assignment on a ship that isn’t with you. I just love opportunities to prove how talented I am.”
“I still wanna see it.”
I pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of my pocket and handed it over. Seagulls flew close, and I wondered if they thought the paper was a bit of food they could steal. Lynus growled in their direction, and the birds had enough sense to take wing and head farther down the pier.
Lynus read over the contract with the one eye of his that would actually stay open. His busted eyebrows narrowed and knitted. He handed the paper back, hesitant.
“You’re not gonna take this?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Weren’t you listening?”
“They wanna make you an officer-in-training, Everett.”
I flipped the page over for a moment. I had only managed to read two sentences before I shoved the contract back into my pocket:
First Mate and Journeyman Arcanist of the Frith Guild, Gregory Ruma, hereby offers _____ the position of Trainee Navigational Officer (Nautical Apprentice). The duties shall include all manner of deck officer and navigation training.
“They probably handed me the wrong contract,” I said.
Lynus scoffed. Then he shoved my shoulder, almost enough to knock me off the damn pier, but I maintained my balance. “You’d be a damn fool not to take it,” he said.
“I’m not leaving you with the mystic seekers.”
“Nah, you’re just saddling me with the guilt of holding you back.”
I snapped my attention to him. Lynus managed a smirk in return.
“You really want
me to take a position on a different ship?” I asked.
“’Course not.” Lynus ran a calloused hand through his matted hair. Then he pointed to the edge of the bay, right were two mountains almost connected. The mountains created a natural barrier—a narrow passage all ships had to sail through. “Everyone has to go through the Lightning Straits, right? Even if I join these mystic seekers, we’ll probably see each other on the other side. There aren’t many ports from here to the Argo Empire, either. Think about it.”
“You’re saying we’ll still see each other, even if we’re not part of the same crew.”
He nodded. “Just take your officer position and be thankful at least one of us is lucky. I’ll work with these sea cows. And maybe someday I’ll join the Frith Guild, too.”
The way he had said those sentences—it was a lot softer than everything before.
It reminded me of Illia. She never hesitated to push me toward my goal. And like Lynus with Zelfree, she could always read my emotions, even when others couldn’t. If Illia and I were in this situation, I had no doubt in my mind it would play out the exact same way.
I rubbed at my nose and then said, “Just promise me we’ll stay solid. Even if we take separate ships, travel with different crews, see unrelated sights—you and I will stay the same.”
Lynus chuckled, though it sounded odd through a busted nose. “Gettin’ sentimental already? We haven’t even left.”
“I just want to make sure we’ll stick together. Even if times somehow get rougher than they already are.”
“Don’t worry. I promise things will always be good between us, no matter what else happens.” Lynus shoved me and then growled, “Now don’t make me throw you into the water. Go on. Get outta here.”
I rotated my shoulders and left the line, my steps sluggish.
It was a shame I couldn’t hear Zelfree’s exact thoughts in the moment. It was obvious he didn’t want to leave.
I awoke in the Sun Chaser, my back hurting from the awkward way I had tossed in my hammock. I pulled myself up into a sitting position. Nothing moved, and that seemed odd for a ship. An airship wasn’t tethered to the water, but I still expected to hear the waves lapping against the hull.
Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4) Page 12