Rolling his eyes, Trader Ulstat nodded. “I’m accustomed to dealing with those who can’t grasp the brilliance of my views. In any case, I’ll forgo my justifications. Now, as I was saying, the Ulstat aim is to increase standing and fortune. My wife was no different. But she had something that many Ulstats lack. She understood the damage her coming madness would do. Rather than arrogantly descending into insanity and dragging the House down with her, she tried to understand her curse. Her search led her to journals penned by her ancestors, and from there to the doomsayers.”
“The cult?” Captain Altak asked. “Bunch of wretches no less insane than your family.”
I nodded, thinking of the wild-eyed cultists who waved burning batons and ranted about the end of the world.
Trader Ulstat’s brows twitched upward. “So you think. But consider this. Until we discovered the truth of the nightstrands, I’d wager that most commoners believed the trader custom of deifying our ancestors to be rooted in arrogance. But then we—Lilik, actually—discovered that the souls of the dead are all around us. We traders believe the presences of our ancestors still bless our lives. The custom probably originated with teachings passed down from the Vanished. But without proper guidance, knowledge often decays into superstition. So, back to the doomsayers. What do they believe?”
“That sea monsters with masses of tentacles will rise from the deep and swallow us,” Daonok muttered.
Trader Ulstat shrugged. “The fringe members, perhaps. Those who aren’t trusted with the real secrets and make up for it by shouting for attention from street corners. But those warnings are very different from what’s spoken about behind closed doors.”
“So you’re a doomsayer?” Caffari said, snorting. “Come to tell us about the end of the world, and in the meantime, your daughter is bringing it about.”
“My wife was inducted into the doomsayer hierarchy,” Trader Ulstat said. “But that was only the beginning of her search for truth. Even as her mind cracked, she had the strength to perceive what was happening and record the whispers and desires that rose in her thoughts. So much of the changes to her mind were in accordance with the doomsayers’ canon. That’s how we began to understand the Hunger.”
I froze. At my side, a dart of shock stabbed out from Tyrak. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he and Trader Ulstat had used the same word to describe what they feared had happened to Ashkalan.
Trader Ulstat caught my eye and nodded. “You want to know what’s happened to Ashkalan. I’ll tell you plainly: it’s the beginning of the end. Many civilizations have come to this point. And few were able to turn back. The rest are gone. Erased. Not even their homelands remain. They were eaten by the Hunger.”
Silence fell, broken only by the distant hiss of lava and the roar of Ioene.
“All right, I’ll just ask it,” Caffari said. “What of all the tide-dragged things is the Hunger?”
“I’m getting there. For around five years, my wife and I followed leads from the doomsayers’ scrolls, sent clerks to libraries within the Kiriilt Islands and beyond. I hired foreign scholars to decipher ancient alphabets and languages, piecing the information together over the course of a decade. Until finally, we understood the story.
“The Hunger underpins all existence. It lurks at the edges, a great and fathomless void that wants nothing more than to steal all life from our world. Given the opportunity, it will remove every drop of vitality from both the aether and the physicality, leaving behind a cold, sterile place. And after that, it will steal even the substance from our plane of existence, suck it closer and tighter and heavier until everything we once were collapses in on itself. Becomes part of the Hunger. Only then, once we are less than a memory, will the void close.”
No one spoke following the trader’s words. Finally, Paono stood. The glimmering cloud of aurora swirled, performing a sort of twisting whirlwind that reached high into the sky.
“You mentioned this was related to your wife’s madness,” Paono said. “Which means Mieshk would have the same… What, calling? Does this Hunger whisper to her?”
Trader Ulstat pressed his lips together. The arrogance had drained from his face. “The Hunger affects everyone in subtle ways. It underlies evil actions because they bring the world closer to the chaos which may open the path. But more often, the Hunger finds its way into worlds via those afflicted with madness. A cracked mind is susceptible to its urgings. Combining the human ability to reason with this susceptibility, the Hunger seeks to open rifts.
“My wife and I discovered records of a desert people living deep inside Reknarish. In their society, those with unstable minds are often honored as healers and prophets. But their histories also tell of a madman who opened a gateway for the Hunger. He used runes—the desert-dwellers still keep them recorded on copper tablets. Until I arrived at Ioene, I’d seen them only upon the parchment where our clerk had recorded them after visiting the tribe.”
“But now you’ve seen them in Ashkalan,” Jet said.
Trader Ulstat swallowed and nodded. “Not long after her mother died, I caught Mieshk reading the scholars’ records. No doubt the symbols spoke to her. As I mentioned, my wife’s madness infected her mind at a young age. But Mieshk was altogether worse. I knew I’d lost her by the time she was five.”
“Okay, so the rift,” I said. “What is it? How do we close it?”
On anyone else, the expression that fell over Trader Ulstat’s face would have looked like regret. I wasn’t ready to give him that much credit. But at the very least he seemed genuinely concerned.
“The Hunger is close. Anyone who goes near Ashkalan can’t help but feel it pressing in. But the gate isn’t yet open. Mieshk painted those runes. I’m sure of it. But something stopped her from completing her work.”
My eyes shot to Paono, who said nothing. “And if she does finish opening it?” I asked.
“At first, the Hunger sends shards of itself through the rift. Most legends call them the Hollow Ones. They are creatures of emptiness. Some say they are gray or black or nothing at all. The absence of substance. People talk of teeth and eyes and tentacles—you see where the doomsayer legends originate.
“It starts slow. One or two Hollow Ones. But the more they eat, the wider the rift. Our world begins to flow through the rent in reality. Meanwhile, more Hollow Ones escape the void. Legions of them. They swarm over the landscape and devour souls, light, emotion.”
“How do we stop it?” Jet asked.
Trader Ulstat shrugged. “My wife and I never found that answer.”
“But these desert people closed the rift,” Jet said.
“They must have, or we would not be here. Believe what you wish about me, but I have no more desire to see our world taken by the Hunger than you do. I plan to live a long life and enter the aether. But I would give up that life now if the alternative was joining with the Hunger. Because there is nothing in that void but torment and emptiness and longing. A Hunger that can never be satiated.”
I stared at the horizon, thinking. Mieshk had been nightforging the runes to complete them, which meant she couldn't finish without more souls to feed into the process. Paono had locked most of the nightstrands away from her, and according to the prisoners, she didn’t have many “pets” left. But any new deaths might give her the final strands necessary to finish the rift. She hadn’t sacrificed her followers to create them—yet. Maybe she needed her slaves for another purpose. In any case, we needed to eliminate her before she took that step and finished what she started.
“How many runes remain?” I asked. “Do you know?”
He shrugged. “I didn't remain in the harbor any longer than you did, I'd gather.”
I pressed my lips together. “We need to discuss this in private,” I said. “Jet, escort Trader Ulstat to the brig.”
Trader Ulstat nodded his acceptance. “I expected no better when I came aboard alone. But I suspect you understand the stakes now. Despite your low birth, you’re not so inept as to i
gnore what I say. Or if you are, I hope your friends can compensate. I am your best hope for getting Mieshk to a vulnerable position. And I don’t think I can defeat her without your strength. We must help each other. I think you understand that.”
Clenching my jaw, I looked away.
Roughly, Jet lifted the man from his seat. With his sword drawn, my general escorted Trader Ulstat to the ladder leading below.
“Well then,” Caffari said. “Seems we have a lot to discuss.”
Chapter Thirteen
AS WE FILED along the deck toward Caffari’s cabin to continue the discussion, Tkira lingered at the rear of the group. Outside the cabin door, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder.
“You’ve got plenty of voices and opinions,” she said. “I think I’d be of more use helping Daonok with the prisoners.”
When she spoke, a peculiar light entered her eyes, and her hands fidgeted. Daonok and Tkira? Was something going on there?
I hid my smile as I nodded. “I’ll fill you in later.”
Eyes shifty, she spun on her heels and dashed off for the nearest hatch. A glance at Caffari told me she’d sensed the same eagerness I had—the bandit leader’s mouth was twisted in a wry grin.
As our small group entered Caffari’s cabin, I caught the others staring at the furnishings. Caffari wasn’t a show-off, but she was a smuggler and a thief. The decorations that adorned her walls hinted at her occupation. A star map, carved of teakwood with jewels sparkling in the place of constellations, hung above her bunk. She’d told me it came from Reknarish, traded to her by a pirate working near the Stornisk Maelstrom. On another wall, she’d placed a stringed instrument made from a hide-wrapped frame adorned with silver and gold parrots. Caffari had stolen it herself from a jungle-clad island beyond the Waikert Archipelago. The people there lived inside an ancient volcano, their homes dangling from rope bridges that spanned the ancient crater. Or so she’d told me.
A low bench set with plush cushions lined two walls of the room. In front of it, a table held parchments and letters.
One by one, we slid onto the bench. We sat in grim silence for a while, the light rocking of the ship sending us swaying with each wave. Through the porthole in the rear wall, I watched a school of jellyfish drift on the currents. Beside me, Raav radiated tension. Occasionally, another wave of regret crossed his face, and his hand found the scar where his sword had pierced my back. He ran fingers over the slightly raised ridge.
As I scanned the group, realization penetrated my thoughts. I’d assumed we’d come back here to discuss ways we could use Trader Ulstat’s information without putting trust in it. But by the looks on their faces, the others were genuinely considering his offer. My lip began to curl in disgust. Hadn’t they learned by now?
“I’m not going to join forces with that man,” I blurted. “Absolutely not!”
Stunned silence followed my outburst.
“Lilik,” Paono said. Hands flat on the table, he met my eyes without flinching. “You heard what he said about the rift. And I was there. I saw it.”
The wood of the bench creaked as the others shifted to stare at Paono. Not wanting to break his confidence, I’d kept the memories he’d shown me to myself. While they watched, the cloud of glimmers swirled lazily around him.
“This is new,” Captain Altak said. “Go on, Paono.”
Paono’s eyes traveled the group. “She was etching runes in the walls using fire that streamed from her hands, then powering them with nightstrands. You could feel the pressure in the air. Like some awful energy wanted to force its way in. Some of you felt it firsthand when you visited Ashkalan’s harbor. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter who we must ally with as long as we keep that rift from opening.”
Around the room, my so-called advisors began nodding. I stared at Paono. How could he? I slapped the table, causing everyone to jump.
“Don’t you see? We can’t trust him. Sure, I could swallow my pride long enough to work with him… If he was actually honorable enough that some good might come out of it. But he’ll betray us the first chance he gets.”
Raav’s hands were clasped loosely on his lap. As he inhaled to speak, his fingers curled into fists. “Lilik… Ashhi betrayed you. I know. But Trader Ulstat is right about our chances against Mieshk. We simply can’t get to her. And if she’s nightforging those runes… Even if we did manage to kill her followers, we’d only make it easier for her to open this gate by supplying more souls.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Everyone was against me it seemed. I wanted to tell them that Paono was the reason behind my missing magic. He’d locked the strands away, and he was too sensitive to release them. I knew it was petty. But I had to make them understand—Ulstats could not be trusted.
Paono’s brows raised in a plea for compromise. Nostrils flaring, I fixed Captain Altak with my gaze.
“Even you, Vidyul?” I spat. “After the Ulstats killed Nyralit?”
I regretted the words the moment I spoke them, but it was too late. The captain’s face hardened. His slate-gray eyes said everything that I knew the rest were thinking. I’d gone too far. My temper may have just cost me not only my leadership but also my voice in this group.
My gaze fell to the table. “I didn’t mean that,” I said, the words heavy on my tongue.
Jet had taken a seat at the end of the bench and now stood to pace the room.
I really screwed up now, I said to Tyrak.
I won’t argue that, he responded. And I also think this is about more than Trader Ulstat. I think you’re upset that Paono challenged you after you worked so hard to gain the respect of these people.
Yes! He just completely undermined my authority. It’s hard enough to get them to follow someone who is seventeen…
Here’s the thing, though. Leading people isn’t about controlling them. Sure, the leader makes the final decisions, but only after listening to input.
It’s too late for that. I’ve already lost them.
I’m not so sure, he said, sending encouragement across our link. Anyone can make mistakes, but only the strongest and most confident leaders can admit them.
I sighed, embarrassed to look up. Aside from the lap of wavelets against the hull, the only sounds in the cabin were the heavy tread of Jet’s footfalls.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I let my frustration get the best of me. The last weeks have been difficult, but it’s no excuse. Can we start over? Paono’s information about Ashkalan… it agrees with what Trader Ulstat said, more or less. What should we make of that?”
I held my breath during the pause that followed. When Captain Altak inhaled before speaking, my shoulders sagged with relief.
“Let’s say we consider using Trader Ulstat,” the captain said. “He has the advantage—we can hope anyway—of being able to speak with Mieshk without being killed on sight. Can we use it? And as Lilik was right to question, can we trust him?”
Caffari put her heels up on her table and leaned back. “Let’s assume we can’t. Trader Ulstat never acts out of anything but self-interest. But I think we can work with that. We just have to put him in a situation where helping us is his best choice.”
At once, I saw where she was going with this. “As long as the consequences of betrayal are worse than the consequences of sticking with the plan, he’ll go along with what we say.”
“So we’re agreed? We use him?” Raav asked. When he’d spoken against me, I had moved away without realizing it. Swallowing, I closed the gap.
Jet stopped pacing and stared at me. “If Lilik agrees, I’m for a temporary alliance.”
My heart warmed at his show of loyalty. I could always count on Jet.
I nodded. “But I won’t forget the people he’s harmed. I made a vow to get revenge, and I won’t break that promise. I’ll only delay before keeping it.”
After we’d finished laying our plan for taking Mieshk down, we left Caffari’s cabin and went our separate ways. Captain Altak had offered
Paono a permanent cabin aboard Zyri’s Promise, and the two men clambered onto the Vanished ship’s deck.
I watched them go with a twinge of melancholy. During the discussion about strategies for Mieshk, the captain’s eyes hadn’t met mine. I didn’t blame him. I just hoped he’d forgive me for my heartless comment.
With the night air cool against my face, I walked to the front of the ship. As I approached the rail, I heard footsteps behind me. Raav stepped up and laid his hands on the polished wood of the rail.
“Do you think the plan will work?” he asked.
I sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll feel better about it after some rest.”
“Can I walk you to your cabin?” His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but still it held the low tones that had always reminded me of a cello, sonorous and haunting.
The truth was, I needed time alone, but I nodded anyway. “Sure,” I said, my voice less inviting than I’d hoped. Though I’m sure he sensed the distance in my heart, Raav swallowed and laced his fingers through mine as we turned for the ladder.
The door to my cabin had been closed while I was away. I stood in the doorway for a minute to let the dampness air out a bit before shuffling inside. Raav followed, leaving the door ajar behind him—he wouldn’t be staying.
“Are you okay, Lilik?”
I flopped onto the bed, exhaustion pushing me down like a heavy blanket. “I understand why the others argued with me. Is it wrong that I hoped you’d back me up?”
That had come out more harshly than I intended. I was just trying to be honest. But by the look on Raav’s face, I’d messed up yet again.
He narrowed his eyes. “If you wanted someone who would just agree with everything you say, maybe you should have chosen some weak-willed commoner.”
I flinched. “It’s still there, isn’t it? You’re a trader, and I’m a gutterborn. And neither of us will ever forget that.”
Raav rushed to my side. “I’m sorry, Lilik. You didn’t deserve that—I was lashing out. But you do deserve someone who respects you enough to tell you their real feelings. Your hatred for the Ulstats was blinding you, and I don’t regret saying something.”
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