by A J Witt
“What if he’s the one who hired the bomber? Or he’s behind the village attacks?”
“Don’t you keep saying these things aren’t always connected?”
Criss turned around and walked toward the ticket shop.
“Where are you going?” called out the chief.
“To buy Ocean Star tickets.”
“Are … are you sure?”
The nastiness of her reply was palpable. “Don’t you want to solve this case?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
He grazed his hand on her shoulder, and she leaned in a little closer. Okay, this is it. They sat still until, fingers trembling, the boy caressed the side of the girl’s neck. Then, he tilted his head toward hers. She hesitated, but did bring her legs closer. The young couple sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. Come on, do it already. The girl twisted away, and Ruan exhaled in disbelief, increasingly frustrated. Gods, they’re so scared. The personal attendant looked up at the sky. At this rate, they’ll only kiss if I go down there and force them to. As if she had somehow heard him, the girl turned again. And to the surreptitious spectator’s delight, she laid her lips upon the boy’s.
“Yes!”
The startled pair looked up and found a strange man observing them from the elevated deck of a nearby boat.
He had a scar extending down the side of his face. “Took long enough!” exclaimed Ruan.
The two grabbed their belongings and scampered away from the docks. Leaning on Ocean Star’s railing, Ruan cleared his throat and spat into the water below. They have no idea what’s yet to come. All things considered, the trip to Portown will do me well. Our countryside’s much more … ascetic. The Temple's ubiquitous influence ensured most villagers considered acts involving sexual debauchery to be egregious sins. But a prude society also produces a more erotic one. A phenomenon the accuracy of which the personal attendant had demonstrated many times over.
A horn sounded, and he spun around, intent on making his way down toward the ship’s main deck to see the departure. First, a stop in Fermantis. The swamp city, home to certain locales that might otherwise be frowned upon in the capital, was always an interesting destination. Stepping off the last of the rungs leading to the boat’s main deck, Ruan watched as two more passengers boarded. He had noticed them lingering around the docks and pegged them both as Battalion agents. Or a lord and lady, perhaps? Too difficult to tell. Regardless, Ruan had a feeling those two would somehow get in his way.
A flurry of activity interrupted the personal attendant’s thoughts, suggesting they were about to leave port. Despite the absence of the captain at the helm, dock workers untied the thick ropes keeping Ocean Star tethered to land, while a group of sailors pulled in the gangway. When the captain showed up, they drifted away.
“Wait!” Two men came sliding around the corner of a side street. They tumbled to the ground, shot up, and sprinted toward Ocean Star. “Hold that boat!”
One was significantly shorter than the other, and the way they ran at the same speed made Ruan chuckle. The odd pair arrived at the edge of the dock, but Ocean Star was already out of reach.
“We have tickets!” shouted the taller one. The shorter and stouter of the two waved papers.
Ruan was mesmerized by the man, in no large part due to the incredible mustache he sported. Having never been able to grow any bristle, the personal attendant often admired the facial grooming of others. And that is quite something.
“It don’t matter,” barked the captain. “You’re too late.”
The bystanders expected a confrontational reply from the tardy passengers. Instead, without a word, the two men walked away. Then, they spun around in synchrony and raced toward the ship. Ruan’s heart skipped a beat. Like all others on the deck, he dashed to the railing and looked over. The gap between the dock and the boat was at least a couple body lengths, and it kept widening.
“Stop!” the captain ordered.
Delighted to be witnessing such a bizarre scene, Ruan laughed. Even the sailors were watching with anticipation, some quick enough to place wagers on the upcoming leap’s success.
“St—”
Joss and Pluto went soaring into the air. The gap had grown to three body lengths in Ruan’s estimation, and he wondered how they would make it. Both flapping their arms, as if the motion might help them maintain altitude, the jumpers progressed toward Ocean Star. For a moment, time seemed suspended.
Pluto somehow managed to clasp the bottom railing of the deck. And while Joss came nowhere near doing so, he latched onto his friend’s ankle, an exploit saving him from a tumble into the cold water below. The onlookers were stunned.
“Incredible.”
“Did you just see that?”
“Amazing.”
Aiden was the first to rush over, helping the two men onto the boat. “What a jump. Are you okay?”
Several sailors reached out to pat Pluto on the back but found their arms intercepted by a grip of steel. The livid captain yanked them away and came face-to-face with the two performers. “What in the Gods are you doing?”
They’re about to get thrown overboard. Ruan opted to keep his distance.
It took Pluto only a few minutes to blather his way out of it. “… and that’s why you should never give a kitchen boy more than five minutes to grill a balbak rib and—”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” cut in the captain, at that point only seeking to avoid having to hear anymore of the ridiculous explanation. “Just go to your cabins.”
The performers were about to dart away when something caught their attention. Ruan followed their fixated gazes to a short woman watching the entire scene with bemusement. Her long dark hair swayed in the light breeze. The personal attendant found her to be … striking.
“What are you waiting for?” the captain yelled. “I said go!”
Pluto and Joss obliged, disappearing into the ship. As the rest of the crowd dispersed, Ruan, casual, made his way to the alluring woman. “How’s it going?”
The way she looked up and assessed the personal attendant made him sweat. Beneath her black eyes lurked excitement and trouble.
“Did you think they’d make it?” she asked.
“You mean the jump?”
The woman nodded.
“No,” lied Ruan.
“Seriously? I would have expected another answer.”
“And why’s that?”
“You seem like someone who likes taking risks.”
“My scar, you mean?” The personal attendant brought his fingers to the side of his face. “That wasn’t from a risk I took.”
“What scar?”
Ruan smiled. “It’s fine, there’s no need to apologize.”
“You sure like to flatter yourself, don’t you?” She shook her head. “I wasn’t talking about your scar, by Gods!”
“I—I think it was a reasonable misunderstanding.”
“Well, I don’t.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“Where are you going?” asked the woman.
“Portown.”
“Me too.”
“Then you’ll join me for dinner in Fermantis?”
“Dinner?” She laughed. “Why waste my time with that when I could be in the Undergrounds?”
“The Undergrounds?”
“Come find me there, if you’re up to it.” The woman winked and walked away.
Ruan was impressed. You can count on that. He wandered back to his cabin and lay in bed, staring out the porthole. Might be a good idea to get some rest. The leg to Fermantis was the shorter one. They would arrive by early afternoon, spend the night and morning in the swamp city, prior to embarking on a full day’s journey to Portown. It was a long trip, curtailed by the Dominion’s pride of the sea.
Once it became evident no other lands existed, the Noble Assembly had not wasted time in repurposing Ocean Star. After all, the Wimau River was the fastest means of transportation across the Dominion. A river r
ace even took place every year, pitting the quickest Source-powered motorboats against each other in a southbound dash from the capital to Portown. The record was on the verge of seven hours, though Ruan was willing to sacrifice speed for the luxury of his cabin and the additional stop in a city with little Phaidrosian oversight. So long as I can avoid those dreadful Saryn plates. It was far too easy losing money playing the villagers’ favorite game.
They were now picking up serious speed, and the Woods of Murcavis flew by in a blur of green and brown. Merchants Road came into a fleeting view and vanished again. Ruan dozed to the rhythm of the rocking boat, until his eyelids fluttered open. The scene out of his porthole remained unchanged, identical trees interwinding with a moderately crowded Merchants Road. Unable to resist any longer, Ruan fell asleep for several hours.
Late in the afternoon, Ocean Star decelerated as she entered the perimeter of the swamp. Fermantis emerged, its expansive docks and elaborate network of canalizations exposed. Ruan exhaled in relief, eager to get off the ship. After his lengthy nap, he had been up and down restless, pacing the decks and passageways, looking at the Wimau stretching into the horizon. As soon as the gangway was put in place, the personal attendant rushed onto firm land. He hated confinement, and the boat, despite its opulence, was nothing but a large container.
Ruan paused to see where the others were headed. Pluto and Joss walked right by him and scampered straight into town, while the two Battalion agents followed a smaller canal to the north at a more leisurely pace. The dark-haired woman did not disembark. Disappointed, the personal attendant loitered around the docks in hopes she might still show up, but his hunger grew too important to ignore, especially in view of the numerous eateries to choose from. The fried balbak at The Free Adept is the best I've ever had. Or maybe I'll go to Harsh Marsh Inn for their clam chowder. Mmmh. The Red Room? Closed … What about the balbak special at Farm-and-Teas? I can't miss that. Ruan raced toward the archway leading to the city center. The guards, positioned in response to the village attacks, were busy chatting and waved him through.
Fermantis boasted a large network of roadways and canals that funneled into a main square known for its fountain depicting the Cave of Dust and Bones. Of all the figures in the Book of Provenance, the hermits had accrued by far the longest narrative. Their home among the stalactites and the stalagmites was where the great heroes trekked for advice, starting with the first Overseer legend Lutigas and ending with Baratna, the final descendant in the line of Temple creators. The Fermantese rendition of the hermits had them hunching over in hooded cloaks that blended into the stone of the fountain, making the sculpture difficult to discern. A work of art befitting this complex city.
Swamp urban planning epitomized the ideals of disorder, with its mishmash of congested homes extending haphazardly, over the walkways, below ground, into the air. There were lodgings propped up by stilts high above the canals. Many of the wooden dwellings were connected by makeshift bridges and internal routes known only to locals. On a previous visit, Ruan had become lost in a network of buildings for hours on end, a mistake he did not want repeated. It was getting dark, and the personal attendant watched the Source-powered street lanterns flicker to life. They gave off a warm light, and he loved to stare at their reflection in the water, especially after frequenting one of the city’s vintage smoking cellars.
The wait at Farm-and-Teas was too long, so he settled on a communal bench at the Harsh Marsh Inn where a hot trough of clams fed anyone to their heart's desire. Anyone with enough coins, that is. Feeling bloated far too fast, Ruan paid his bill and stumbled toward the main square. He approached Hermits Fountain and dipped his fingers in the water, wondering what the night might bring. The Undergrounds … It had been a while since he last visited the prominent dance room, that memory being particularly hazy. I want to find her. Ruan ventured along a side street. She could be fun. Zigzagging around the swamp city, he found a wooden bridge marked by a dozen Source-powered lanterns dangling from its railings. Across the way, a line of people had formed in front of a nondescript establishment. The attendant took his place behind them. Appears to be moving swiftly. Once inside, he walked down a set of rickety steps barely kept together. It’s only a matter of time before this totally collapses. The Undergrounds had been dug out by amateurs with no experience in shifting sands and moving tides. A problem for another night. Ruan pushed open a last set of doors.
The music, muffled until then, hit him like a brick. And so did the heat and smell of energy. The partygoers were shaking their bodies, jumping frantically, and waving their arms to the beat. On stage, musicians banged on huge drums and other Source-powered instruments, creating a metallic and exciting sound that kept re-invigorating the adrenalized crowd.
Ruan was about to join in when someone grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Hey you,” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Worn out, Sabine sat and leaned against a large tree trunk. Gazing up, she spotted a bird hopping along the lone dead branch of an otherwise leafy tree. It darted in erratic spurts, then stopped and stared at the ground, head cocked. The round body flaunted a long tail, short thin legs, and a brown coat glistening in the sun. Its yellow underbelly rapidly inflated and deflated, a movement the young woman found appeasing.
The creature leaped off the branch and furiously tugged an earthworm from the dirt, then flew back to a concealed nest in the forest. Soaring freely through the air, not a thought on its mind. Sabine sighed, envious yet forgetting the bird was on a constant task to feed its chicks. Never had she experienced a compulsion to fly away, escaping her worries … and fears. Everyone’s out to get me. Sabine had trouble understanding why. What have I done to deserve this? She glanced at the brothers. And why am I still with those two? Their time together was bizarre, like a nightmare, but for an odd reason, staying with the Adepts felt like the right thing to do. Her thoughts were reciprocated, given they had yet to kick her out. In reality, each brother was dealing with the situation differently. Witty and chatty, Kyran appeared to lack any appreciation for the grave circumstances. Edvon remained quiet and focused on moving them ahead in the journey.
“Maybe you’ve been exposed to it in the past?”
Sabine turned to face Kyran, irritated. “I already told you what happened.”
“Do you seriously think the Gods came down here to wake you up?”
“Yes, They saved us.”
“You are—” Kyran paused for added emphasis, “—out of your mind.”
Edvon snorted. “It was that stupid mushroom you ate.”
“What?”
“Must have reacted as an antidote to his drug, whatever it was.”
“Hmm,” mused the younger brother. “That does make sense.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Sabine.
“Oh, enough of your Gods.” Kyran exhaled sharply as Edvon nudged him on the shoulder. “I do remember him offering us a sip from his flask. But for the love of Cholee, I can’t remember drinking.”
Sabine’s eyes widened. “Watch your mouth!”
“Oh please, you think the Gods can hear me all the way from their Red City?”
“Well, they heard my prayers.”
Gritting his teeth, Kyran was resolved to prove her position’s lack of logic. “Okay, so you’re saying the Gods listened to your prayers and woke you up? Well, did you pray to them while asleep?”
“No, how could I do that?”
“Exactly. What you’re saying is nonsense.”
“I pray to them every day,” replied Sabine, refusing to surrender. “And anyway, I don’t care about your opinion.”
“Good, because I think the only God worth praying to is Cholee.”
The young woman let out a gasp. “How dare you!”
“Alright, I’ve heard enough,” interjected Edvon. “Can we concentrate on getting into this city?”
Kyran and Sabine looked away from each other.
Their elevated positi
on at the edge of the woods offered an unobstructed view of Fermantis, which sat on an expansive swampland stretching to the horizon. The city was accessible only via the Wimau River or Merchants Road, and it boasted an impressive number of man-made canals and waterways converging onto the docks. There, laborers loaded crates on riverboats destined for either Phaidros to the north, or Portown and the smaller villages to the south. The main square in the center was lively, with a picturesque fountain and locals walking along rows of stalls where merchants sold their wares.
It was still early morning, the sun peeking out from the skyline, and already Edvon yearned for another night’s sleep. He observed a pack of balbaks scampering across the swamp. We’ll need to follow the river for a long time before we can feel safe. And even then, only the most remote villages were free of Overseers. Edvon had no plan in mind, and it disheartened him. His agitation was exacerbated by the two others who kept interrupting his thoughts with obtuse questions.
“Why are we even going in there?” asked Sabine.
“There’s no other way around,” Edvon answered.
“Not even way around?”
“Do you want to walk that?”
“I guess not.”
Edvon pressed on. “What would you eat?”
“I’m not sure,” Sabine replied.
“Where would you find shelter?”
“Okay,” intervened Kyran, “we get the point.”
“Great,” said an increasingly angry Edvon. “Now how do we get into this city, by Gods?” His brother’s proposal saved him from being chastised for the profane language.
“Why don’t we just hide in plain sight?” Kyran shrugged. “Let’s just walk in there as if nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you crazy?” asked Edvon. “The city’s swarming with Overseers.”
“How would they know what we look like?”
The older sibling paused. “I don’t know, and I’d rather not find out. So let’s just sneak in like, well, regular fugitives.”