“Wait a moment,” Adelgis interjected. “Volke is usually well-regarded. He looks normal. Mostly normal. And people like him. Well, after they get to know him.”
“He’s not himself right now,” Fain said. “And I don’t think we should push him to do anything other than rest.”
“Because you’re afraid Volke might become violent or deranged.”
Fain gritted his teeth. “Let’s just stop talking about it in front of him.”
“You’re the one who said he was a plague-ridden madman. I’m just elaborating.”
“Stop,” I said, holding up a hand. “It’s okay. I’d rather we not hide the fact that I’m carrying the plague. I don’t mind if you discuss it.”
Shadows under my hammock moved with life and purpose. “My arcanist,” Luthair said. “As much as I admire your truthful nature, this is one fact I think you should omit whenever possible.”
I laced my fingers together and then unlaced them, filled with a fidgety energy as I mulled over the comment. I didn’t want to trick anyone—being straightforward and open about the situation seemed like the right course of action.
“There are guilds who hunt plague-ridden arcanists,” Fain said. “You know about the Steel Thorn Inquisitors Guild. And the Huntsman Guild. They’re the most famous, but there are plenty of others. If word gets out about what you are…”
Adelgis traced the outer edge of his map with the tips of his fingers. “I suppose that would be troublesome.”
The conversation died. Silence settled between us. Even the ship seemed to stop creaking as we hit a stream of gentle breeze.
Determined not to dwell on the subject, I tried to recall what we had been talking about before the argument.
The city of New Norra…
Although I had heard of the city from tales I had read as a kid, the truth of the matter was that I didn’t know much beyond the border of my island nation. The farther south we traveled, the more foreign the world would become. Normally, I’d be excited for the adventure, but circumstances were dire. Theasin Venrover, Adelgis’s father, was the only man I knew who could help me cure the plague, and the longer it took to reach him, the less time I had to deal with the problem.
What if Theasin could create a cure, but it required material from halfway around the world? That wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. We had to find him soon, and if the Sun Chaser was the fastest mode of transportation, we couldn’t agitate our hosts.
“Why did your father go to New Norra?” I asked.
Adelgis held up the map and pointed. “Do you see this coast?”
He pointed to the southern edge of the Argo Empire. It stretched west for a considerable distance and then turned southward. According the legend, the farther south the coast went, the more it became a desert. The Amber Dunes—as the map referred to it—seemed barren. While several dots representing cities marked the rest of the map, the Amber Dunes had three. The largest dot, positioned halfway down the coast, was New Norra.
“This is the only port if you want to continue south,” Adelgis said. “It’s gigantic, and it has the largest bazaar I’ve ever seen in my life.” He lowered his voice as he continued, “There are no laws about what you can buy or sell here, so my father frequents the place for unusual mystical creature parts.”
“Like Port Crown?” Fain asked.
Adelgis replied with a nod. “Only with fewer pirates.”
“But there are still some pirates?”
“It’s a free port,” Adelgis said, blasé and uncaring. “Pirates frequent the city quite often.”
Fain paled a bit. He stared up at the ceiling, his brow hard-set.
“You don’t think we’ll run into someone like the Dread Pirate Calisto, right?” I asked Adelgis. “He sails up north.”
“I hope not,” Adelgis said. “But there’s a real possibility.”
For the moment, it seemed as though we would have to navigate dangerous waters. But even if we had to face pirates, explore unknown cities, and gain the trust of an airship crew—at least we had a plan. One way or another, we’d make it to Theasin and find a cure for this arcane plague.
At least, that was what I told myself.
The wooden boards beyond our door creaked.
We all looked up, even Wraith, his wolf-like ears erect.
The soft sound of boots echoed quietly in the hall, as though someone was trying their hand at stealth, but every other step was too hard to keep hidden.
“Who’s that?” Fain asked.
“Probably the same girl who threatened me earlier,” I quipped.
Fain shot me a questioning look, but before I could answer, Adelgis cleared his throat.
“No. The person in the hall wasn’t a woman. It was the blacksmith.” Adelgis forced a half-smile. “He’s come looking for you, Volke. And I think your conversation with him will determine whether we stay on the airship for any length of time.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Well…” Adelgis folded his map and placed it back in his satchel, taking due care to tuck it in between the pages of his book. “I think it would be best if the blacksmith explained everything.”
I didn’t know why, but his flippant answer irritated me. I didn’t need surprises, not at this point in my life, and if it was important to staying on the airship, I needed all the information I could get before having a serious discussion.
“Just tell me,” I said, barely holding back my anger. “Now isn’t the time to be obtuse.”
Adelgis stared at me with a neutral, almost callous, expression. “Very well. The blacksmith came to speak with you because he’s your father.”
5
A Murder Of Crows
My first thought was of Gravekeeper William, but my gut knew that wasn’t who Adelgis meant.
When was the last time I had seen my father? On my fifth birthday, nearly twelve years ago. I hadn’t spent the occasion celebrating or socializing with family—I had spent the day watching my father’s murder trial. He hadn’t been born on the Isle of Ruma, so they had sent him to the mainland for final judgment. I had never found out what had happened to him, and now Adelgis was telling me he was the blacksmith aboard an airship?
“My arcanist?” Luthair asked from the shadows.
I shook away my thoughts. “Yes?”
“You became quiet. I’m concerned about your wellbeing.”
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”
Fain swung his legs off the side of his hammock. “Do you have a bad history with your father?”
“No,” I muttered. “I don’t have much of a history at all.”
The airship creaked as a strong gust of wind whipped past.
No one said anything, and I suspected they were waiting for me to make a decision. Did I even want to meet my father after all this time? What if he was just a blackheart, like they said in his trial? They made him out to be a cutthroat—someone who came to the Isle of Ruma to steal phoenix chicks.
But that was so long ago…
I could barely remember what had happened. I never enjoyed recalling the memories, so I pushed them from my mind whenever they surfaced.