The cries of seabirds and the shouts of working men and women meet my ears as I lean on the railing. I’m standing on the dockmaster’s balcony, watching the activity below. Sirocco is perched on the railing near my arms; Bastet is leaning against my leg. Everyone else is currently otherwise occupied.

  Down below, I see the five samurans at work, anxiously overseeing the loading of their eggs. As it turned out, all three samurans laid their eggs while we were still in Zlona – by the time I arrived back from the rift with everyone, only River wasn’t quite finished.

  In total, there are twenty-eight eggs – Hunter laid eight, Happy gave eleven, and River produced nine. From what I’ve seen and heard, that’s a pretty normal quantity – I’m relieved that the eggs haven’t been damaged by everything that happened. I mean, I knew, of course – I’ve been keeping an eye on them at regular intervals – but it’s a different matter seeing them come out whole and perfect. They’ll need to incubate for another month, but we’ll soon have baby samurans running around the ship – heaven help us.

  They’re stored in the boxes that Nicholas was able to procure for us – purpose-built incubation containers that ensure the best conditions for the eggs within them. Each can only hold a single egg, so it’s something of an operation to get them all loaded.

  It’s a responsibility too. Every egg that makes it onto the creaking, shifting ship is one more under my ultimate care. While there’s a great deal that I can’t prepare for, and even more that I don’t know, my decisions now and in the future will dictate who survives and who dies.

  My nervousness about the ocean and the threats lurking in both its depths and the sky above it has only grown. There’s something distinctly disconcerting about the thought of a fish that’s big enough to swallow one of our ships in one gulp, and there’s evidence to prove that they exist here.

  But hopefully, if we don’t make our presence too obvious, leviathans like that will remain in the depths that they tend to frequent.

  My eyes drift and linger over the figures of Master Mirena and Alyna who are currently going over the enchantments with a fine-toothed comb. I’m glad to see that – Lord Pevril related that there had been a number of sabotage attempts, all of which had been foiled one way or another. But there’s always the possibility that there were more attempts that are not known about because they were successful. Sarran is checking on our supplies and Maxen is inspecting the weapons just to make sure those are all present and correct.

  I was grateful when the Master Enchanter decided on the return from Zlona that she would come with us. I’m still not certain what convinced her – whether it was the strength of my companions, the reagents she’d found by venturing out of her workshop, or the tale about what we encountered when searching for the rift, but she’s obviously decided that the risk is worth it.

  Even better, she’s offered to apprentice Alyna, an opportunity the former-thief at first was reluctant to accept – not because she didn’t want it, but because she feared what would be demanded of her in repayment. I spoke to her about it, the Bond revealing her disquiet, and was able to reassure her that she would not owe me a debt; that her service during and after her training would be enough repayment. After that, she accepted eagerly.

  Unfortunately, Master Mirena feels that Hunter’s path is too divergent from her own, and Hunter’s original teacher, Sera Thornlee, also sent in her regrets despite her initial enthusiasm. Still, the Master Enchanter has agreed to oversee Hunter’s learning a little – enough that she shouldn’t accidentally kill herself.

  At least Sera Kerst the alchemist and River’s teacher was able to get permission from the guild to join – they’ve actually sent an apprentice and a journeyman along with her too so River will have a peer to discuss with and Sera Kerst will have several assistants to help her construct all the potions we’ll need. As long as we have the ingredients, of course, but we have boxes and barrels of them in storage, so hopefully we’ll be fine.

  Master Marin is already on board, as are Loran and his two siblings. His sister brought along her whole family – her husband and young son. I’m not sure what to think about that – I couldn’t deny her request, of course, but I fear for what that baby will be exposed to. It’s her choice, I tell myself. It doesn’t help as much as I hoped it would.

  My eyes drift further up, spotting the flags flying proudly on both masts and prows of the ships. The Titanbend crest flies in the topmost position on every ship, indicating my position as the leader of the expedition, but below it, four other crests have their own places.

  All four of my allies arrived before I did – dealing with the rift in Zlona added days onto our travel that we weren’t able to make up later. We only paused in Azaarde and at the country seat for the minimum of time – more recruits had volunteered in our absence who we needed to organise, and, having achieved my goal of level thirty while in Zlona, I needed to visit the treasury.

  Josiah, Layton, and Valence all accepted my excuses with easy equanimity – I was grateful to see that Josiah had brought a ship with him, though it looks like a bit of a lame duck beside swans. It’s currently a hive of activity – Emilia thought that her enchanters could install at least a few of the most important enchantments that the other ships bear, and they’ve been hard at work ever since they received permission.

  Layton is more visibly nervous about the journey – given that his element tends more towards fire than anything else, I can understand it. Still, it hasn’t held him back from joining us and his forces are currently boarding their own ship.

  Valence’s party is busy too – I see Valence himself on the deck, deep in conversation with the captain Emilia found for his ship. I was grateful for that – that one ship didn’t have a captain had been a nagging worry for me. I met the woman yesterday – not a Classer, surprisingly enough, and, from what I can tell, with some dubious origins. But she impressed me with her straightforwardness and how her crew was obviously her top priority.

  Elarion, of course, was another question. I was met with frosty formality the moment we met again in Lord Pevril’s manor – not that I can blame him. Following my urge to clear the air between us, I invited him to share a cup of tila with me in one of the parlors.

  My mind wanders back to the conversation once again, searching for any hidden meanings I haven’t yet teased out.

  “Lord Elarion, thank you for joining me. Please, take a seat,” I direct him to a chair opposite mine. A servant was here only a few minutes ago, bringing a tila set accompanied by some small bites to eat. I pour Elarion a cup and then do the same for myself. “I wanted to say thank you for joining me on this expedition. I am aware that it was not necessarily what you wanted to be doing with this time.”

  Elarion raises an elegant eyebrow, his expression blank as he picks up the cup, taking a sip only after I do first.

  “It is my honour to serve the House of Titanbend – as it is for my father and was for my grandfather before me.” His words and tone are impeccable, but I can sense the bite beneath.

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  I eye him for a moment, then nod to myself. Nicholas would not approve but I don’t want to walk on eggshells for the next five years.

  “Lord Elarion, please forgive me for speaking bluntly, but I prefer frankness over pretty words. You are here because Nicholas, the Binder of your father, commanded it to be so. I do not fool myself that you have any warm feelings for either of us. But there are many dangers ahead of us – we cannot afford to be fighting amongst ourselves as well.”

  Elarion’s cool eyes regard me.

  “I would not dishonour my House by failing to comply with your orders – to the letter.”

  I nod.

  “And that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I know I have your compliance – unwillingly, perhaps. But I would greatly value your advice given freely, not held back from spite or offered with resentment. At present, you’re an ally because you must be. Is there anything I can do to change that, so you become an ally because you want to be?”

  Elarion gazes at me for a long moment. It feels like I am laid bare beneath his searching gaze. Like his eyes can penetrate to the soul beneath my skin. If I can see mana, might it be possible for others to see souls? And if so, what would mine look like? Pitted by my flawed humanity, or burnished to a greater shine because of it?

  “You are indeed inexperienced, to reveal your desires so plainly. Do you know how hard it is to hold myself back from taking full advantage of what you have offered me?” the Forestheart heir finally asks. There is judgement in his tone and I find myself flushing at the picture of naivety that he paints of me. “But I suppose it is refreshing in a way. Tell me, Heir Titanbend, would you have commanded my presence if it had been your choice?”

  It’s a trap. I know that. A ‘proper’ heir would support his lord in front of others. But I’m not a proper heir – Nicholas knew that and still offered me the position.

  “I would not have,” I say. Elarion’s gaze flickers. “Because I prefer my allies to be willing, not coerced.”

  Elarion hums noncommittedly.

  “Would you release me from my obligation and then stand before your lord and defend your actions?” Another test, and one I suspect he expects me to fail.

  “If you really don’t want to come with us, I will go to him tonight and convince him to let you go,” I offer instead, turning the hypothetical into reality. I’m rewarded by noticeable surprise in Elarion’s controlled expression.

  “Even though that would lose you not only a powerful fighter but his retinue of soldiers and crafters?” Elarion questions, a slight note of incredulity in his voice. “The day before you are due to leave?”

  “Even so,” I agree. I’ve experienced unwilling allies among the Pathwalkers in the samurans’ world – and then I had a Dominate Bond with each of them in an innate culture that might made right. This is a very different situation and taking Elarion if he is determined to do the minimum might actually be more risky than not taking him at all.

  Elarion is silent for another long moment. Then he dips his head, his cool expression thawing for the first time to reveal slight interest.

  “Then let us converse, Lord Markus, on what you would be willing to offer to make of me a willing ally.”

  Fortunately, he hadn’t asked for anything too outrageous. I sensed that he was testing the waters just as much as I was. Just like Layton, Josiah, and Valence, Elarion will have the right to create his own settlement and gather his own resources. We will operate as allies, not as master and subordinate as I suspect Nicholas intended. And given what the blood-curse has done to him, I can understand his malice towards the family. It doesn’t mean that I have to continue it, though.

  Elarion also wanted to be certain that I would treat him with the respect due to his station – I hardly considered that to be a concession and readily agreed. In the end, I feel that both of us walked away from that meeting somewhat satisfied. We’re hardly friends, but neither are we enemies and that’s probably as much as I can hope for.

  I spot two other nobles down on the deck of my ship – Mage Tiria who I met near Zlona and who came with us to Whalehost, and Lady Renaye’s daughter, Lady Keshaka. They seem to be deep in conversation – I wonder if I should be worried. Apparently Lady Keshaka was dropped off by one of the family’s cloudships a day before our party arrived. Pity – I’d have liked to see that.

  I haven’t had any time with her yet – from what Pevril says, she immediately headed down to inspect the ships and hasn’t even come back for meals – but, again, we will have five years to get to know each other.

  Another group of figures catches my gaze, a clump of purple figures walking through the crowded docks. They don’t seem to have any problems making progress despite their shot stature – even the dockworkers give way to the grim-faced damayars.

  That was a surprise yesterday. Shortly after my meeting with Elarion, a servant came to tell me – with obvious disapproval – that I had a visitor. This was revealed to be Sor’az, a surprise since I wasn’t expecting to see him again.

  The damayar had not exactly been standoffish, but he’d kept to himself, responding politely to any questions I asked him, but offering no more than that. As he promised he would, he worked for his keep in the manor kitchens while we were in Azaarde as he didn’t come with us to Zlona. When we departed for Whalehost, he came with us, and then, with a few words of thanks, he vanished into the city before we even got to the manor. I tried to press some money on him, but he refused it.

  And then he came back, more relaxed than I had ever seen him. He told me that he’d found his crew and ship still present, still intact – the weight that had lifted off his shoulders was visible even to me.

  “Ah feared they’d a given me up fer dead,” he’d told me, a frown tugging at his lips. “Ah wouldn’ a blamed them neither. But t’Augur told ‘em ah’d be back ‘fore all was lost an’ they held true.”

  I’d been impressed by their loyalty, though when I voiced that, Sor’az indicated with derision that damayar were not like fickle humans, changing their loyalties with their clothes. He did send me an apologetic glance after he said that.

  Sor’az had then got down to the reason why he’d come to see me.

  “See, t’ Lost Continent is a dream te us. When a scout ship came back wit’ news o’ it…” He’d shaken his head with wonder in his gaze. “How’s about we help each other out? Ye’ve proven yerself a good sort o’ human. Didn’ have te free me, nor help me get back to me crew. Ah owe ye, an’ that’s a truth. My crew an ah’ll sail under yer banner, act as scouts fer ye – my ship is faster than any o’ those tubs o’ yers. Not te say they’re not nice tubs,” he’d quickly corrected himself. “But there ain’t no one can sail like a sea-farin’ damayar an’ anyone ye’ll ask’ll tell ye t’ same. Anyone honest,” he qualified.

  To be honest, I didn’t really need convincing. Frankly, given the journey ahead of us, the more the merrier. Even better, Sor’az was bringing his own ship and crew – all he needed was a bit of funding for supplies since his crew had almost been reduced to eating their shoe leather.

  We drew up a contract – Sor’az insisted and I didn’t blame him given his recent experiences with humans – and then set off to make final preparations.

  “Markus?” Nicholas’ voice draws me out of my thoughts. “Are you ready to go?”

  I turn around. He’s looking better, if I’m not deceiving myself – his skin has more colour to it; his eyes are slightly less tired. I gave him his final treatment last night, and then we broke the Dominate – to his obvious relief – and reinstated the Tame. It’s not like we’ll be able to communicate at the distance I’m going – even emotions won’t leak once we have enough ocean between us. But at least we’ll be able to tell if the other is alive or dead – that’s more than anyone else coming along with us will know about those they’ve left behind until long-range communications can be set up.

  I take one last look at the ships, then to the ocean beyond. It’s grey today, but relatively still. Fine weather for sailing, enthused Pevril at breakfast time.

  Then I turn back to Nicholas, urging Sirocco onto my shoulders and stroking Bastet as she stands by my side.

  “I’m ready,” I tell him, surprising myself by how true that is. I’m not ready to lose people; I never will be. And in many ways I wish I didn’t have the responsibility – the weight of so many people depending on me never gets lighter. But this is my life now. This is the role I’ve accepted; the purpose for which I was brought to this world.

  Time to see how much our preparations and plans are worth.

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