“You can’t sail a ship with two people.”
“Says the woman who can summon fire.”
“How about for once we just pay for something? It’s not like we can’t get the autlas.” She looked back into the wagon at all their stolen goods. “If we sell it all we could probably buy a small ship. If you let us sell that yigging crown, we could probably get a galley and a crew.”
“Don’t even look at it.” Whitney lunged forward and reached under one of their horses. He had the crown pinned under its stomach using the strap from the saddle. He removed it, wrapped it in a silk blanket, and stuffed it into a fold in his clothing. The points poked into his ribs but he didn’t care.
“What do you even plan on doing with that thing?” Sora asked.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll know it when the time comes.”
“Well, I still say we sell off all of this stuff and get out of here before those monsters we stole it from come back.”
“You know, you’re no fun at all. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve stolen a ship.”
“Oh boy, here we go. Please, Whitney, oh glorious and grandmaster thief, tell me the story I know you’ll tell me no matter what.” Sora folded her arms across her chest.
“Many moons ago I found myself first mate to Grisham ‘Gold Grin’ Gale, king of the pirates and master of the seas. But he knew as well as I did that he wouldn’t even have a ship had it not been for me.”
“And where is this ship now?”
He rolled his shoulders. “Who can say? Likely at the bottom of the Torrential Sea.”
“You know you’re not old enough to have done everything you say you’ve done, right?”
“Age is but a number.” He sighed and looked at the ground. “Fine, let’s see if we can’t go charter a ship.” Whitney grabbed one of the horses by the lead and started off toward the docks.
“Charter is a strange way to say steal.”
“Nope, this time you’re right. I may be many things, but I’m not the one to try sailing a ship through the Boiling Waters. It would be tough to teach you any more all-important lessons if we’re stranded on a rock.”
“No more lessons.” Sora closed her eyes, smiled, and let out an exaggerated breath. “Almost sounds like paradise.”
Whitney ignored her and led the wagon to a tailor at the end of the docks. There wasn’t a type of trade hard to find in Winde Port. They rifled through Grint’s gang’s belongings. Mostly it was silks, but there were a few other trinkets as well. Nothing so opulent as the Glass Crown, but Sora seemed eager to add it all in as a bonus. They threw in the horses as well. The portly merchant looked like his eyes were going to bulge out of his head as he took in his haul. Whitney knew they were getting an awful deal, but it would be more than enough to catch a ride like royalty aboard the finest ship sailing east. They’d leave nothing but an empty, horseless carriage for Grint and the others to find.
When they reached the harbor, the wind and cold had hulls groaning, and that was as close to the sound of waves as there was in Trader's Bay. The water was like a sheet of glass, with portions of the coast so still, they might have been frozen. Whitney couldn’t remember the last time it got cold enough to turn the bay half-solid. It was such a harsh juxtaposition to the murky waters of the Torrential Sea bordering Yarrington where massive waves pommeled into Mount Lister and towering sea walls.
Down by the beach, along the splintering deck, stood Whitney’s favorite watering hole in all Pantego, Winder’s Dwarf. He stopped outside and looked to Sora.
“All right, if there’s anyone I trust to get us to the Panping Region in one piece, they’re in this room,” he said. “I know these people. Just stand there and look pretty and the deal will keep getting sweeter.”
Sora groaned and rubbed her temples between her index finger and thumb. “You have a strange way of complimenting a lady.”
“Oh, you’re a lady now?” Whitney then flung the door open and shouted, “Tum Tum!”
Everyone in the tavern repeated the words and slammed their tankards twice on the bar or tables. Raucous laughter followed.
“I thought we were here to charter a ship?” Sora whispered after she took a good look around the place.
Like most of Winde Port, the bar’s interior was unimpressive. But like any good tavern, it was crammed with sloppy drunks. But unlike most, Winder’s Dwarf had no need for a bard. Those slovenly, unassuming men were from every corner of Pantego, even beyond the Glass—well, except the Shesaitju, Whitney noticed. Which was fine with him, he’d always found their culture to be incredibly formal and drab.
But there were Dwarves and Panpingese, men from Brekliodad and the far north. There was even a half-giant hunched over in the back of the room with women draped all over him, though it wasn’t clear how he even got through the front door.
“No better place to strike a deal than within these walls,” Whitney said. “Plus, Tum Tum is a stand-up dwarf. Nothing like Grint. You’ll love him.”
“Tum Tum is a name?” she asked, incredulous.
Whitney parked himself on a stool furthest from the door and Tum Tum waddled over. He was so short and his belly so round that he looked like a pufferfish. His coal-black beard grew in patchy, with whiskers sticking out from his nose and ears that he never cared to trim. Grint Strongiron made all dwarves seem like thieving, backstabbing cowards, but Whitney had known Dwotratum “Tum Tum” Goodbrew for years and he was the finest dwarf there was.
“Whitney Fierstown!” Tum Tum said. “Thought ye were dead.”
“Not dead. Reborn!” Whitney exclaimed. “Whitney Blisslayer now. First of my name.”
“Yer yanking me beard.”
“Nope.” Whitney reached into his pocket and slapped down the writ given to him by Torsten himself. Tum Tum leaned up over the bar and scoured the paper. “Got the seal of the Crown and everything.”
“By Meungor’s axe it does! How in Elsewhere did ye manage a thing like that?”
“If I started that story we’d be here all night.”
“That’s for sure,” Sora mumbled.
“Let’s just say a member of the Royal Council owed me big time.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Tum Tum folded the writ up and handed it back to Whitney, then stepped onto a low stool that helped him see over the bar.
“Aye! Everyone!” he shouted. “We got ourselves a noble in the house!” More laughter rose and tankards slammed. “I suppose that means ye can pay double now?”
“You should be paying me to drink in this shoghole you call a tavern,” Whitney said.”
“Watch yer mouth. There’s a lady present.”
“Finally, someone notices,” Sora said, deciding to take a seat.
Tum Tum reached out and took her hand between his chubby fingers. “And what may I have the pleasure of callin ye, my lady?”
“Sora.”
“Blisslayer?” Tum Tum finished for her. The look on her face made him question what he said before he even finished. “You two aren’t?”
“Married? Gods no!” Whitney burst out laughing and earned a well-deserved elbow into his ribs.
“He should be so lucky,” Sora said through clenched teeth. “We’re friends from childhood, catching up on old times. Sora, with no other name and proud of it.”
“Well, any friend of Whitney the Filcher Fantastic is a friend of mine. First round’s on me.” Tum Tum opened a tap and ale poured freely into a couple of earthenware mugs.
“Afraid there’ll only be time for one round, my friend,” Whitney said. “We’re hoping to catch passage to Panping—Yaolin City, in fact—before things around here heat up any more.”
Tum Tum threw his head back and released a hearty laugh from deep in his belly. “Ye ain’t goin nowhere without a temporary trader’s license issued by the prefect. All ships be grounded, as ye can right see. Only ones leavin be those tradin essential goods and able to prove it.”
“Well then, a second round it is
!” Whitney said, slapping the bar.
“That’s it?” Sora asked. “You give up?”
“If you call a night in the best pub in Pantego ‘giving up,’ then we really need to reconsider my lessons.”
Sora slid her ale away and said, “Tum Tum, why are all ships grounded? Any word on when things might let up?”
“Just got into town I be guessin? Saw the Black Sandsmen in lock up on the way through? Rumor is there be a war brewin and the Boilin Waters ain’t safe, that there be some group of rebels waitin out there, wantin vengeance for the new king lockin up Caleef Rakun.”
“So, we’re stuck here?” Sora asked.
“As a pickaxe in mud.”
Whitney threw his mug back. Half the ale wound up dribbling down his chin. “Very simple really,” Whitney said between swigs. “Just gotta find someone with papers heading that way who wouldn’t mind a couple of fine-looking stowaways.”
“Are you confused about what simple means?” Sora asked.
“Ye might be in a bit of luck,” Tum Tum said.
“Why’s that?”
“That there’s Tayvada Bokeo. Not likely many be crazy enough to risk both the Boilin Waters and gettin shredded by a Shesaitju fleet, but he be a member of the Winde Traders Guild. And nobles always be welcome at the guild. Tayvada!” the dwarf called to him even before Whitney could respond.
A thin, Panpingese man sauntered over, smiling and shaking hands with all those he passed. His hair was the color of a Dawning midnight, and he wore it pulled back so that his pointed ears were unmistakable.
“Tum Tum, the place is lively as ever,” he said. “Good fortune to you.”
“Aye. Here’s someone I’d be wantin you to meet.” He put an ale down in front of Tayvada and continued. “Whitney Blisslayer, first of his name.”
“Ah, Mr. Blisslayer, a pleasure. Tayvada Bokeo at your service.” He bowed, then turned to Sora, took her hand, and kissed it. She seemed so stunned by what he was, she barely reacted. “And your wife? Stunning! So good to see a Lord of the Glass and a Lady of the East in matrimony together.”
“Oh, she ain’t—”
“It’s an honor to meet you as well, Lord Bokeo,” Whitney interrupted Tum Tum. He bowed low in return, sneaking a glance over at Sora. Her glower looked like it could slice through glaruium.
“What brings you both to town?” Tayvada asked.
“I’ve—we’ve heard great things about your guild and hoped to enter the fold,” Whitney lied.
“So good to know our reputation has carried all the way to… Yarrington raised I’d say?”
“So right you are!” Whitney forced a nauseating laugh. Sora tittered and smiled with the grace of a proper lady. He had to give her credit. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought she hadn’t grown up in a crummy shack on a dried-up river.
“And you, my dear, when did you leave our beloved Panping?”
“Actually—” Sora started, but Whitney cut in.
“Actually, we were planning to catch a ship there before hearing of the horrible things happening in your fine city and the slowdown in the harbor. We have business in Yaolin City. A potential import deal with her family. We grow barley on a plantation north of the city, you see.”
“An exceptional crop,” the man remarked.
“But it appears we are without the temporary license needed to charter passage. And to travel by land, at this point, would delay things beyond what we can afford.”
“I see. Prefect Calhoun issued the edict shortly after the new king declared war against the Black Sands.”
“So we heard. I attempted to meet with the prefect and get all this sorted out, but all this has him too busy for unexpected audiences and we’re not from around here.”
Tayvada shook his head. “Of course. In general, that man is notoriously hard to meet with and these are rough times here in Winde Port. Haven’t seen everyone up in arms like this since the Panping Wars. What was that... has to be more than twenty years ago?”
“And some change now,” Whitney said as if the man didn’t know. Liam’s War, which brought down their Council of Mystics and absorbed all the Panping Region under the Glass, had been two-and-a-half decades ago. He knew because that was when Sora arrived in Troborough on a caravan finding homes for children orphaned by the fighting.
“Such a shame. Normally it wouldn’t have mattered at all. Would have merely cost you a few more autlas to charter east as passengers.”
“Which is what I told my wife on the ride here. Much safer sailing to Yaolin City from here then all the way around by way of the Torrential Sea. Alas, it seems that was the better option.”
Tayvada scratched his chin and took a look around the room. Then, he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you what, I like a couple that proves our peoples can live harmoniously after so much bloodshed. These days, that’s more important than ever.”
“There’s no one in the world I’d rather be with.” Whitney took Sora’s arm and gave it a loving squeeze. Her false smile deepened while she returned the gesture, but she dug her nails into his back at the same time.
“Well, why don’t you come by the Guild Hall later this evening. Find me and I’ll see what can be done to get you to Yaolin City in fair time—short of hitching a wagon—yes?”
“That would be superb, Lord Bokeo.”
“Please, call me Tayvada.”
A soft purring sound emanated from the man. Whitney nearly let a laugh sneak out at the thought of a man as proper as Tayvada gassing up the place. Then a pair of reptilian wings flapped behind him. Whitney didn’t even try to hide his surprise.
“Whoa!” he shouted, taking a step back and bumping into the bar. A few glasses rattled as he looked to Sora, whose jaw dropped.
“I am so sorry,” Tayvada said. “I sometimes forget she is there.” A dark brown creature about the size of a large sack landed on his padded shoulder. Scales covered every bit of its body, with frills around its head plate. A pair of small wings stretched out acting also as front legs, claws serving both as joints and feet.
“Is that… a dragon?” Sora stammered. The creature blinked at her inquisitively. Its piercing, snake-like, yellow eyes had two sets of eyelids. A thin, translucent layer which closed sideways beneath a normal, vertical pair.
The man laughed. “Dragons are long gone, my dear. This here is Aquira. She’s a wyvern—a distant relative of the dragon found in the Pikeback Mountains. She is nearly full-grown and mighty friendly… unless she considers you dangerous. You’re not dangerous, are you Lord Blisslayer?”
“Not toward a beauty like her,” Whitney said. “That’s for sure.” He grinned and again glanced toward Sora. Her face was like stone, unmoving from awe. He’d seen a few wyverns before in Panping whereas, she’d clearly never seen anything like it. They were extremely rare and valuable. They didn’t, however, burn down villages and eat men as they couldn’t sustain flight for long with their small wings.
After a long moment, she finally whispered, “May I touch her?”
“It is doubtful she’ll let you. She may be friendly, however, wyverns are notoriously proud. But by all means, try. She won’t bite.”
Sora reached out. Aquira backed away and stuck out her serpentine tongue. Whitney was about to tease Sora when the wyvern suddenly leaned back in and nuzzled her head against Sora’s outstretched hand.
“Bravo!” Tayvada said, giddy.
“Her scales are so dry!” she exclaimed.
“Let me see. A friend of mine had one and he loved me.” Whitney went to pet Aquira, but the wyvern hissed at him before flying back and hovering behind Tayvada. Her breath was hot, like the hazy air just above a roaring fire.
“Don’t fret, my friend.” Tayvada lay his hand on Whitney’s shoulder. “She has a soft spot for women.”
“She just has good taste,” Sora said.
Whitney crossed his arms, then plopped back down on his stool. “So, the Guild Hall, t
onight?” he asked.
“Yes, tonight,” Tayvada said. “I shall see you there. And do wear something… fitting?”
Whitney looked down at his tattered cloak. “My apologies. It has been a long journey.”
“I understand. Until tonight, my Lord and Lady.” He bowed, then nodded Tum Tum’s way. “Come Aquira!”
Whitney turned to Sora as the man walked away, Aquira flapping to keep up with him. Sora was finally able to turn off her smile, but Whitney’s remained ear to ear. He raised a fresh tankard of ale to both her and Tum Tum.
“See?” he said. “Simple.”
VII
THE KNIGHT
Torsten could almost taste the energy in the air the night of Pi’s declaration. A flurry of genuine activity passed through Yarrington the likes of which not seen since the passing of King Liam. People active not because they felt they had to be, such as had been for his coronation, but out of true desire.
He could hear the great King Liam’s voice imparting wisdom before yet another war, “Common people don’t revel in the fear of the royals behind walls,” he said. “They crave an enemy they can reach. Villains that breathe their air, walk their dirt… spill their blood.”
It was a simple concept, but as Torsten looked out upon Yarrington, he understood better than ever. For months, the city had been obsessed with things they couldn’t control; a dying king, a queen driven to the brink of madness, unprovoked raids, hunger, a miracle—but now the taverns bustled. Together, young men and fathers drank and cursed the Shesaitju. They flooded the barracks across the kingdom, volunteers on top of conscripts.
All that time, trying to avoid war and Torsten forgot what the Glass Kingdom was founded on. Half a century ago, they were just another kingdom in the corner of Pantego. Then a young king was called on by Iam to take up the sword, to bear His name, to bring greater Pantego under a single crown.
Liam had been older than Pi, yet Torsten couldn’t help but wonder if history would repeat itself, would give a second chance, granted by Iam, to stay true, to keep spreading his light.
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