by Will Wight
This was too much for the angry stranger to process. He lumbered toward her again. “I just told you not to ask—”
Petal withdrew a smoke bomb from her pouch and flicked the striker.
Most of these bombs worked on a longer fuse, with the fuse itself wrapped inside the package. Petal kept this one very, very short. Smoke shot from her clenched fist in an instant, spraying directly into the face of the drunken man.
He slapped his hands against his face and screamed as though she’d stabbed him in the eyes. His friend got off a little better; spared the direct spray, he stumbled away from the smoke, cursing and scrubbing at his eyes.
It was just an irritant, but it was a strong one. Such a dose from short range…
Petal took a few nervous hops backwards, away from the blindly flailing red-faced man…whose face had just gotten much redder. She pulled out her next emergency measure: a cloth, which she soaked with a measure of liquid from a sealed old wine bottle.
The liquid wasn’t wine.
In her nerves, she may have spilled a little more on the rag than she intended. She had barely gotten the cloth close to his nose before he stiffened up and fell to the ground, rolling and kicking at the dirt like a dreaming dog.
His partner had made it most of the way out of the alley before Petal, screwing up her courage one last time, leaped onto his back and clapped the rag over his face. This one managed to resist for almost an entire second before he, too, fell to the ground.
Between her pounding heart and her harsh, nervous breaths, Petal could barely hear anything else. But she forced herself to look around outside the alley, checking for witnesses.
She saw none. The street had mostly been bare when she entered, and it didn’t look like anyone else cared to investigate the noises outside the saloon.
However, the second man’s limp hand was lying in the street. She grabbed him by the belt with both hands, bracing herself against the dirt and dragging him backwards with her whole body weight.
Then she should leave and look for Jyrine. She knew that.
Instead, she dropped to crouch on her heels and trembled. She had to let the nerves out so they didn’t poison her from within. Like draining a wound.
And judging by how long it took her to get her breath back, she’d had a lot of poison inside of her.
In fact, she didn’t come back to herself until she heard her own name.
“Petal?” Jyrine asked in astonishment. “Why aren’t you back on the ship?”
She stood at the back of the alley with the other two men, all three of them looking equally stunned. There was no cave behind her.
Had there been some hallucinogen in the alchemy class? No, Petal was certain that wasn’t it.
If she was seeing things that weren’t there…and alchemy wasn’t the cause…there was only one other possibility.
Petal shrank into herself, looking from Jyrine to the other two strangers. “Are you…okay?” Petal asked.
She almost hoped the answer was no, that Jyrine had gotten herself in over her head and mixed up in something she didn’t understand.
But she didn’t look like someone out of control.
Jyrine knelt by Petal, taking trembling hands in her own, which were warm and calm. She gave Petal a familiar, almost motherly look, and the sudden sense of safety helped Petal to take a long, soothing breath.
“I’m fine, don’t worry. I was just catching up with some old friends.”
Behind her, the two men had started checking up on the men on the ground, shooting Petal horrified looks.
“Jyrine, there was…I mean, I saw a cave.”
Jyrine’s brow furrowed as though she had no idea was Petal was talking about, and Petal could see the lie forming on her lips. Petal would pretend to believe it, and then as soon as she was back on the ship, she would tell Captain Calder.
Well, maybe she would. There was the possibility that Calder wouldn’t listen to anyone say anything about his girlfriend or would believe Jyrine no matter what Petal said.
Better to tell Andel. He would know what to do.
Jyrine must have seen in Petal’s eyes that a lie wouldn’t work, because she suddenly relaxed. She looked resigned.
“It’s Elders,” she said at last.
Petal had figured that out already.
“Are you…with them?” Petal asked. She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that.
Jyrine sighed. “You remember when he, the Great One, spoke to us?”
Petal couldn’t forget it if the Emperor himself tried to erase it from her mind.
“What did he say to you?”
“He said…” Petal had reported this to the crew already, but it was still embarrassing to say out loud. She mumbled into the neck of her dress. “He said you were my family.”
Jyrine smiled, squeezing her hands in reassurance. “That’s right. And we are, Petal. We are. So can you trust your sister, this once, when I tell you that what I’m doing isn’t going to hurt anyone? I’m just here to learn, like you. The more we know, the better. Isn’t that right?”
Petal nodded. That much was true. The Blackwatch studied Elders. Even the Luminians studied Elders, though their interest wasn’t as academic.
“I knew you’d understand. But the others won’t. They’d think it was too risky.”
She rolled her eyes as though they both knew how silly that sounded, though Petal happened to think that messing with strange men and Elder powers in the dark of a strange town was dangerous.
But she understood what Jyrine meant, so Petal nodded.
“So you’ll keep it a secret?” For the first time, Jyrine looked uncertain. Vulnerable. Petal wondered what she would do if Petal didn’t keep it a secret.
But…
Petal had hated it when she was denied official access to the alchemical knowledge she craved. She had immediately resorted to her own methods of learning, from stealing textbooks to sneaking up to the rafters to spy on lectures.
Who was she to stand in the way of Jyrine’s ambition?
“I promise,” Petal said softly.
Jyrine brightened and threw arms around her in a tight, reassuring hug.
Behind her, the two newcomers tried to shake their friends awake, but the writhing locals only groaned in pain.
Chapter Three
present day
Compared to Candle Bay, the Capital’s tiny military harbor was nothing worth mentioning. It was surrounded by sheer cliffs, so cargo from the ships had to be raised and lowered by a series of platforms supported by pulleys and cables.
Calder had been forced to dock The Testament here. He couldn’t abandon the Lyathatan unsupervised in the Capital’s largest harbor indefinitely, and too many of the public knew his ship on sight to risk it.
But leaving his ship, his Soulbound Vessel, tucked away in this rocky, guarded, inhospitable stretch of coastline had left Calder feeling somehow lonely. As though he would never return.
So this morning, just to prove that feeling wrong, he had carved out some time to visit.
Escorted by Imperial Guards, he strode onto the deck he’d built with his own hands and saw his crew waiting for him.
Petal trembled, shooting peeks at the monstrous Guards through her dark cloud of hair. She shrunk inside her overcoat, fiddling with something inside that Calder couldn’t see. It would be some kind of self-defense alchemy, he knew. Holding a gas bomb or a vial of acid would make her feel more secure.
Foster wore his reading-glasses, his shooting-glasses still hanging against his wild gray beard. He was examining a nearby cannon, grumbling about its condition. The old man wore his toolbelt, his own Soulbound Vessel, and the tiny tools trembled as though aching to be used.
While Petal looked nervous and Foster distracted himself with work, Andel seemed completely comfortable surrounded by the Imperial Guard. He stood in his pristine white suit and hat, hands tucked behind his back, a subtly amused smile on his face as he watched Calder.
It lifted Calder’s spirits to see them, though he couldn’t help but eye the gaps between them. Urzaia would have laughed and thrown his arms around Andel, and Jerri would have rushed up to greet him.
The empty spaces made his heart ache, but he hadn’t expected any of the crew.
“Finally sick of slumming in the Imperial Palace?” Calder asked. “I see you decided to return to true luxury.”
Andel raised an eyebrow. “I was visiting with friends in the city when a very polite young man with ram’s horns instructed me that I was expected by the Imperial Steward.”
“They shook me from my bed,” Foster grunted.
Petal shrunk back from the nearby Imperial Guards, then spoke in an apologetic tone. “…I was in my room. They told me to come.”
Calder pushed down his instinct to blame this on the nearby Guards. For one thing, they had not given the order. He had. He just hadn’t intended to.
“I am more than sorry, everyone, but I do bring good news: the Independents have accepted our proposal for peace. The meeting is in two weeks’ time.”
From their lack of response, he could see they already knew.
“No, stop, settle down, your excitement embarrasses us all. Now, to celebrate, I mentioned that I wanted to spend some time on my ship and that you should be invited. I didn’t intend any kind of order.”
Foster peered deep into the cannon. “Lucky you, Captain. Now you have people that listen to your orders whether you want them to or not.”
Calder hadn’t made a plan or even looked too closely at his own intentions. He simply wanted to feel the old deck beneath his feet. Even wearing these armored boots, it was good to feel a connection to his Vessel, from its slick green-black seamless deck to the green-veined stretch of sails currently furrowed like a wing overhead.
Tapping into Kelarac’s warm handprint on his arm, Calder sent his Intent deeper into the ship. Through the chains at the bottom of its hull, his awareness dove to the Lyathatan, manacled and resting above the sea floor.
The Elder had been far more manageable ever since Calder had received the mark of its master. Now, it floated in the shadow of The Testament, contemplating its own slowly unfolding plan.
When it felt Calder’s touch, the Lyathatan sent a demand back up. It wanted repayment for a favor long granted.
Sharks, the Elder ordered.
Calder almost never needed to feed the Lyathatan. It could go months—maybe years—without eating, and when it was hungry, it was more than capable of hunting for itself. It took a moment before he could unravel the layers of its alien Intent and understand its full meaning.
It wanted the sharks that he had promised it as repayment for a favor. A favor it had granted years ago. And one that Calder had paid for already.
But he supposed he didn’t want to leave an angry, hungry Lyathatan in the Capital’s secret military harbor. Especially now that they had begun mining the Gray Island for its treasures.
The other two ships in this harbor were returning from the Consultants’ former headquarters, bearing teams of Readers and investigators determined to unlock the secrets of the Gray Island.
“Make a note,” Calder said to the nearest Imperial Guard. “We need to bring sharks to the harbor.”
The Guard inclined her head.
Calder clapped his hands together, the Emperor’s gauntlets clashing as he did so. “My apologies, everyone, but you know you can make yourself at home. I only planned to spend an hour here, and you’re welcome to return with me to the Palace afterwards.”
Petal scurried up to him, looking even more uncomfortable than usual. “Um, I wanted to…talk with you…soon. I found a job.”
That was a surprise blow, and it landed square on Calder’s chin. “Are you not being taken care of in the Palace?”
She shook her head vigorously. “…but if we won’t be sailing anymore, I wanted…” She brought out vials of brightly colored liquid, pushing them forward as though they explained what she wanted to say.
“It’s a research position in the Champion’s Guild,” she explained. “Not that I’ll be a Champion. But I have experience with…you know. Urzaia.” She studied the deck beneath her shifting feet. “A lot of their staff left since…the Emperor. They need alchemists.”
Petal peeked up at him as though expecting to see him angry.
Though it wounded him to see his crew crumbling in front of his eyes, how could he be upset? Petal had always been more talented than the Alchemist’s Guild had recognized, and she deserved to find a Guild that could use her talents.
He had thought she was happy working with the Imperial Palace alchemists, but if that wasn’t the case, he was glad she had found a new position.
“Congratulations, Petal! The Champions will be lucky to have you.”
Even in his first meeting with Baldezar Kern, the Head of the Champions had mentioned how short-staffed their Guild had become. This would be for the best.
Petal squirmed in place, but took a step back when Andel walked up to join them. He tilted his hat back so Calder could see his eyes.
He saw only compassion there, so Calder braced himself for more bad news.
“I’ve been looking for a position with the Witnesses,” Andel said gently. “Not as a true Witness myself, of course. I wouldn’t do any better as a Silent One than Petal would as a Champion. But they need paper-pushers and staff managers just like anyone else.”
Calder’s throat was growing tight, so he cleared it. “Do you have anything lined up yet?”
“I have a few leads. Failing that, I don’t mind looking outside the Guilds. There’s been a new delivery company making a fortune since the Emperor’s death, may his soul fly free, and I’m sure they could use a man who’s used to checking the contents of boxes against a master list.”
Though he felt foolish for doing so, Calder had to clear his throat again. “You know, I wasn’t going to leave any of you behind. I can make you a position in the Palace.”
Petal looked down, but Andel continued meeting his gaze.
“Once the treaty is signed,” the quartermaster said, “you won’t need us anymore.”
That was not at all true, but Calder couldn’t find the right words to say so.
Andel spoke gently, but relentlessly. “This is a good thing. The world is calming down. If the Guilds don’t make peace, you won’t ever get the chance to be a real leader. And now is the perfect time. The conflict between the Guilds has so far spilled very little blood, and it hasn’t become an all-out war like we all predicted. We’ve dodged the worst outcome, but it means we have to find something to do with our lives.”
Calder blinked rapidly to avoid tears. “I am…sorry to see you go. Both of you.”
Petal teared up to match him.
“It’s not like we’re saying good-bye forever,” Andel said reasonably. “We’re all sticking around the Capital, and if you’ve proven anything today, it’s that you can snatch us from our beds whenever you feel like it. Just like usual.”
A loud scraping sound drew Calder’s attention, and he looked over to Foster. The man had grabbed a long-handled brush and was enthusiastically scrubbing the inside of the cannon.
“How about you, Foster?” Calder asked. “Are you going anywhere?”
He had almost asked, “Are you leaving me too?”
“I’m retired,” the old man barked.
“You’ve technically been retired the entire time I’ve known you, but that hasn’t stopped you from collecting your pay.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I’m retired, and it’s not like I have anywhere to go. Might as well stick around.”
Foster staying with him did keep a little wind in Calder’s sails. It buoyed him enough to give him the strength to say, “I’m sorry for interrupting your morning, everyone. The Guards will escort you wherever you wish to go.”
Andel walked forward immediately, but he stopped on his way over to the railing and rested a hand on C
alder’s shoulder. “We’re not gone yet. Call on us if you need to.”
Petal was up next. She tried to say something, but she didn’t seem to be able to get the words out.
Finally, she threw her arms around his neck and wept into his shoulder. His own eyes fogged up before she released him and followed Andel down the ladder and to the longboat waiting below.
With the exception of a lone Guard, that left him and Foster alone on the deck.
The air was filled with the sound of the gunner scraping away at the cannon.
“What am I doing, Foster?” Calder asked at last.
Foster grunted as he pulled the brush out. “What do you want to do, Captain?”
It wasn’t like Foster to answer a question with a question unless he was making a point. He was never shy about sharing his opinion.
“I want to show everyone that I can do the job.”
Foster braced the brush against the deck, leaning on it like a cane as he caught his breath. “That’s the thing, though. You can’t do the job.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mister Foster.” Calder should have known better than to go to Foster for advice.
“I’m not going to polish you up where you don’t deserve it. You know I’ve got no extra love for the Emperor. If you ask me, he did something great by protecting everyone from the Elders, then he stuck around for an extra two thousand years because he couldn’t trust anyone else’s hand at the wheel. But if you’re trying to fill the man’s shoes, you should at least learn from him.”
“Little late for that.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, boy. I’ll knock that crown off your head.”
Though Calder now had access to most of the Emperor’s belongings, he had actively avoided Reading them. For one thing, the Emperor left behind a weight and intensity of Intent in his most prized belongings. The longer Calder was around them, the more it felt like they were…pushing into his head. It was disturbing.
For another thing, Calder hated the man.
Walking around in his ancient armor, Calder continually felt the Emperor’s thoughts forcing their way into his own. It made him feel polluted. Defiled.