Father opened a worn wooden box, revealing a stack of well-read letters. The one he took from the top was newer than the others. He seemed to hesitate. I had never seen him with such an expression on his face as the one he wore now looking at the letter in his hand. When he turned back to face me, his expression was once more composed. He handed me the letter.
The yellowing parchment envelope had Uncle’s name written in deep purple ink on the front. The wax seal on the back displayed the Sterling family crest, but seemed to have been chipped off and reapplied several times. Just how long had Father been trying to contact his brother?
I looked at him confused. “The Post Office can’t find him?”
“It would seem not,” he replied. “I have sent many letters over the past couple of years and they have all been returned to me.”
I frowned. I’d never heard of the Post Office failing to deliver a letter before. As long as you had a letter for them to deliver the Post Masters was supposed to be able to find anyone anywhere at any time. Unless…
“Are you sure he’s not…” I trailed off, not wanting to put it into words.
“He’s not dead,” said Father firmly. “I have checked the city’s Citizens Register[3] again and again. Every time a letter comes back unopened. He’s still listed. Nothing has changed. The Post Masters simply cannot find him. I don’t expect you to dedicate all your time to it, you will have other priorities. But given that all other avenues seem to be closed to me…” He trailed off, looking old again.
“I’ll find him.” I promised, a determined expression on my face.
At weeksend, I arrived at the museum just as it was opening, my trunk in one hand and my notebook in my front coat pocket. I rang the buzzer on Linesley’s office door with purpose, and when it opened, the professor didn’t look at all surprised to see me.
“I see you’ve come fully-prepared,” he said, nodding at my trunk as he welcomed me inside. “So, I suppose there’s no need to ask if you’re still sure?”
“None at all,” I replied. “I’m ready to go.”
“Very well, but before you do, we have a few things to discuss.”
“Of course,” I said, taking a seat on the couch, ready to give the professor my full attention. “Let’s get started.”
We spoke for several hours at length about the details of the project, what had already been collected and what was still needed. Linesley provided me with a collection of notebooks to record my research and a schedule on which to make my field reports.
“The small things are important too,” he said. “Don’t think we just want the general facts on government and industry. Remember to speak with the people.”
Then we talked about the professor’s colleagues.
“I’ve made a list of their travel routes for you,” he said, indicating the map he’d drawn on. “If you want you can try and meet up with them in their last known location and exchange data. I also want to hear from you at every stop along your way, even if it’s just to check in.”
“Of course.”
A knock on the door interrupted our conversation.
“Ah, there’s one more thing as well,” said the professor, as he got up to answer it.
A young man was waiting in the doorway and entered at the professor’s request. He wore a wide-brimmed leather hat on top of brown hair with a scraggly fringe. He had a stubbled chin and clenched an unlit cigarette between his teeth. His green eyes were unusually vibrant, but there were tired circles under them. He had no travel gear with him, only a small leather hip pouch strapped to his belt, next to a holster carrying a large, wood-accented handgun.
“I felt a bit uncomfortable letting someone with no previous experience wander off into the world on their own,” said Linesley. “Risk has many years’ experience with survival skills and traveling in all climates. He’ll be your guide and travel expert on your trip.
“There’s no need to worry, he’s from a mercenary guild with a very trustworthy reputation. His morals are above reproach.”
“You’re sure about that?” I asked, looking the scrappy mercenary up and down. He looked more like some street thug than any kind of professional escort.
“Don’t worry princess,” said the mercenary. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last sheila on earth.”
Well now I just feel so reassured.
“Now, now,” said the professor. “There’s no need for such things. We’re all adults, and we’ve got jobs to do.”
“Yes of course,” I said, inclining my head to Risk. “I apologise for my behaviour. My life is in your hands, Mr. Risk.”
He seemed taken aback. “Yeah, uh, just Risk is fine,” he said, nervously tugging the brim of his hat down.
“So,” said Linesley clapping his hands. “You’re all packed, so I assume you’re ready to go immediately?”
“Oh yes. I am more than ready to hit the seas.” I pulled my notebook out of my pocket and flipped it open. “Even back when my plan was just a holiday, it was never my intention to just blindly wander the continents. With a job to do, I think it’s even more important that I take a structured path and leave no stone unturned.”
“I thought I was supposed to be the guide?” said Risk, though he sounded more amused than angry. “What’s your plan, then?”
“Nyuesi,” I said. “The eastern continent is rich in history and culture. There are few humans there other than tourists, so there should be lots of new information to document.”
“Very well,” said Linesley. “When you arrive, you should start by asking for Professor Khetari. She went east for her part of the project; she’d be a good one to catch up with, if you can. I’ll call ahead and get you some tickets on the first ship I can find heading east.”
“I’ll send you a message as soon as we arrive.”
“See that you do,” replied Linesley. He hesitated, before taking my hands in his. “I’m so glad you decided to do this, I’m really grateful…”
“Don’t be,” I said. “This is something I want to do, for me as well as anyone else. My future starts here and I’m going to grab it with both hands.”
With that, I took up my trunk, and strode out of the professor’s office, Risk at my heels.
We rode in a small private carriage down to the docks. On the way I busied myself with the files the professor had provided, reading through them in greater detail. It was intimidating to be following in the footsteps of such well-established explorers. Risk sat next to me, watching the world go by out the window.
When we’d met in the professor’s office, I had assumed he’d left his things out in the hall, or downstairs with the receptionist but when we went out to catch the carriage, he’d got in with nothing but the clothes on his back.
“You sure you’re not going to take any luggage? I’m happy to make a stop somewhere if you need to pick something up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “I got everything I need. I travel all the time for work. I can’t be luggin’ massive suitcases around with me.”
“Well as long as you’re sure,” I said, then smiled. “It must be nice to have the chance to go on a vacation like this for work.”
“Isn’t this your job too? Should you be thinking of it as a holiday?”
“It’s true that I will have a lot of work to do on this trip,” I agreed. “But I’ve been thinking about traveling like this for the past five years of my life, and I almost very nearly had to give it up.”
“Parents not pleased?”
“You have no idea,” I said, running my fingers over my family ring.
Risk followed my gaze and frowned. “You might want to hide that, by the way.”
I opened my mouth to explain but Risk just shook his head.
“I don’t care what it is,” he said bluntly. “It’s a big chunk of silver that screams ‘I’m wealthy, please rob me.’ I’m responsible for your safety and I’m telling you to put it away.”
I’d worn it for less than a day, but I read the sad truth in Risk’s words. It would hurt not to be able to wear it, but hurt far worse to have it stolen. With a sigh, I slid the ring off my thumb and stowed it away in a secure compartment of my trunk. The carriage was silent for the remainder of the trip, both of us staring out our respective windows, lost in our own thoughts.
At the crest of the last hill, I could see the expanse of the ocean spreading out in every direction, surrounding the cape head that held Pheras’ busiest port. Ships from all across the world were docked here, from luxury cruise ships, to tiny fishing vessels, taking and leaving passengers and goods of every kind, from every place you could imagine.
Trade ships from all corners were anchored here, with stalls hawking the latest imports and treasures from across the continents: fine silks and fresh spices from Nyuesi, exotic fruits and animals from Guraan in the south-west, and the newest fashions in clothes and furniture from the Crystal City. If you could reach it by water, you could find its wares at Port Pheras Royal.
At the security gates, I showed my passport, and Risk his guild ID, the handwritten note from the professor directing us to Dock 12 in the Old Port.
Risk’s eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t trust boats out of the old port,” he said, as we walked the creaking boards of the ancient jetty. “Everyone decent uses the new side.”
“I’m sure it was all he could get on such short notice.”
“Well don’t complain to me if you get abducted by pirates and sold off in some eastern brothel.”
“Isn’t that why you’re here? To make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Can’t make no promises. Not when you’re dealing with faces like these.”
He jerked his head at the boat we’d just passed. It was an old wooden vessel, held together, it seemed, by scrap patching and a prayer. A stack of loudly-screeching iron cages sat on the jetty, next to a couple of rickety tables laden with a mismatch of oddities. About half a dozen burly men were milling around the deck and gangway of the boat, loading and unloading more cages and crates of who-knows-what. For such a suspicious outfit, their boat seemed to have quite a few customers.
“Smugglers,” Risk noted, not bothering to keep his voice down. “With Nyani pups by the sounds of what’s in those cages. Fashionable exotic pets for the super wealthy. You’re looking at two to five hundred gold crowns each, minimum.”
My eyes widened. That was a lot of money. You could buy a house for that in some places.
“And the guards are just blind, then, are they? Smuggling is still illegal the last time I checked.”
“Pftt, no one cares in the old port,” he said. “Besides, most of the jetties and warehouses down this way are owned by the kinds of people who’d rather the guards not come around. Money talks and I promise you, doesn’t matter where you are, plenty of guards are ready to listen.”
“Great,” I said, my words dripping with sarcasm.
“And this is where your boss saw fit to get us a ride east,” he continued with a grin. “You sure he’s not trying to secretly sell you off somewhere?”
“He’d be a fool if he was. I’m a Sterling, he’d never make it to the bank.”
“A little louder next time,” said Risk. “Don’t think all the scum heard you.”
I ignored him.
Chapter 4:
The Departure
The Seacow was a medium-sized ship with large black sails. Her hull and deck were made mostly of wood, but the stern was constructed from mismatched sheets of iron. They were riveted to each other in a patchy sort of way, and stuck out oddly from the rest of the vessel. On either side of the ship, their tops just breaking the surface of the water were two massive corkscrew propellers.
Risk whistled. “Arcane conversion,” he noted.
“A what?” I’d never heard of such a thing.
“They’ve put a crystal-powered engine on it,” he explained. “Not bad. You don’t see many of these anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Cost,” he said with a shrug. “New arcane-engine ships aren’t as expensive as they used to be, so converting is a waste of time. Of course, the newer engines are all registered arcane artefacts so—”
“Enjoying the view?” came a snappish voice from the end of the gangplank.
A short, scrawny man, with a bare chest and a red scarf tied around his head and face, was walking towards us. He wore a simple pair of heavily-patched cloth pants held up with a pale leather rope belt. There was a look of suspicion in his eyes and I could see why. Risk might fit in with the misfits at the old dock, but with my long-sleeved, pastel-coloured sundress and travelling trunk, I stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Anything I can help you with?” the man asked, his beady black eyes darting between us.
“My employer called ahead,” said Risk casually. “A Professor Linesley, about passage east? We got the right place?”
The man’s eyes brightened immediately. “Ah yes!” he said, his voice turning oily in a second, his long fingered hands rubbing together nervously. “So sorry to not have recognised you, good sir and gentle lady.”
How exactly you were supposed to recognise someone from only a name, I had no idea.
“Two for passage to Nyuesi, wasn’t it?” the oily man continued, speaking to Risk. “Ah, one-way trip wasn’t it, uh just to make sure, no return?”
“Nope,” said Risk. “One-way to Kharu in the Miraban Territories.”
“Good, good,” said the oily man. He started to walk backwards up the gangplank, gesturing for us to follow. “We were waiting for you to arrive. We’re ready to ship off.”
“I’m sorry about the last-minute call,” I said. “It was rather a last minute decision itself.”
“Not at all, not at all,” he assured. “We’ve taken stranger requests I assure you, and the good professor did say you were already on your way when he called. We were expecting a longer wait. Very prompt you are, so considerate.”
No sooner had we reached the deck, was the gangplank was being pulled up behind us. The man scampered off to his post and I could almost imagine a ratty tail swishing behind him as he ran.
The deck rumbled beneath us, and I looked down to the water to see the propellers spinning up. Streaks of pale purple light were running across the metal, following the lines where the iron plates intersected. A violent stream of bubbles was frothing out behind the ship as we pulled out of the harbour.
I watched the port slowly slip away behind us, emotion swelling in my chest. This would be the first time I’d be leaving home on my own. Well, mostly on my own, given that I had a grumpy mercenary hanger on now. But this was a big deal for me. I was an adult now, fully in command of my own destiny. I felt a hot wetness in my eyes and quickly shook my head to clear it. There was no use for that now. Sighing deeply and breathing in the salty sea air, I watched the cape as it vanished beyond the horizon. Pheras and its inhabitants were behind us and the only way now, was forward.
The Seacow glided smoothly through the water. Only the gentle vibration of the deck beneath my feet reminded me of the ship’s powerful engine. One that would propel us to our destination in a mere fraction of the time the sailing ships of old could manage. It was then that I realized we hadn’t got tickets on just any old ship.
Minotaurs.[4] Dozens of them. Their muscular bodies were covered in thin, wiry hair from the hips down, the colour of their coats ranging from deep browns, to golden creams, and splotchy black and white. Their heads resembled those of bulls, with long muzzles and wicked-looking curved horns, with eyes in varying shades of yellow and orange. But there was the sparkle of intelligence in them that was sorely-missing from the docile farm animal they resembled. None of them wore shirts and their pants seemed to all be in various states of torn, from the knees up to the mid-thigh, their long tuft-ended tails poking through specially-cut holes in the back.
There were humans as well, many of them in fact. But as I looked around, it seem
ed like a good portion of the crew was made up of the bull-headed creatures.
I turned to Risk. “Did you know about this?”
“I’d heard the ship was a mixed crew,” he replied, looking around the deck. “But minotaurs? No.” He didn’t seem all-too-happy with the situation.
“Something wrong?”
Risk shrugged, his expression unchanged.
“Well, I think we should relax,” I said. “We won’t arrive for several days, might as well enjoy the trip.”
“You do whatever you want,” he said. “I’m just here to be your body guard.”
“You know what, Risk?” I said. “I have made it my personal mission to ensure that you have fun on this trip.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
“I hope our guests are enjoying themselves.” The oily man had returned. He stood hunched slightly, rubbing his hands together again, his eyes crinkling in a broad grin. “How did you like our casting off?”
“I loved it,” I said. “I’ve only been on short sailing cruises before. Arcane ships are so much more exciting!”
“I’m delighted to hear it. Well, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your cabin.”
We followed the rat-like man below deck, past the galley and the crew’s quarters, to the private cabins.
“You know,” he said. “We don’t take many passengers. So I apologise if the accommodations aren’t quite up to the standards a… lady… like yourself is used to.”
“Oh don’t worry about that,” I assured him, though I suspected the man’s use of the word lady had been sarcastic. “I’m just grateful we were able to find such a nice ship on such short notice.”
The private cabin was small but clean. A pair of bunk beds had been built into the outer wall, a porthole visible in the bottom bunk and a table had been squeezed into the corner behind the door.
The Island of Wolves Page 4