It took a little longer than anticipated - six weeks - but eventually, the Current did make it to Finota. They were all so relieved to see land again they whooped as soon as Sally shouted that it had come into view.

  “Alright,” Paracelsus said with a grin, “Everyone, I hope you packed enough. We’re gonna be here for a few months.”

  “Wait!” Gareland interrupted, “Where are we all going to stay? I mean, I know where I’m going to stay.”

  “That’s a good question.” Tariq said, “Where are we going to stay?”

  “Why is that my responsibility?” Paracelsus asked. Immediately, all eyes were on him, which should have been fairly foreseeable, “Ok, fine. I’ll look into some sufficiently large abodes.”

  “I for one, am excited,” Federico said, with a rare grin, as slight as it was, “I’ve never travelled to another country.” There was a slight pause, “Wait. That’s a lie. I was in Arbabane once.”

  “I’m excited to hopefully get some shut eye without your damn vines spreading everywhere.” Serpacinno delivered it in an understandably annoyed voice.

  “Ah yes, I apologize for that.” He was, as expected of a businessman, more than amicable and friendly, “I think it’s the salty air.”

  “Where are you going?” Gru’lya yawned, throwing her arms over her head, which drew a number of thoughts, primarily about whether or not mermaids actually slept, and how, “How long are you going to be gone?”

  “A few months.” Lonceré said, he had two of him to help carry all of his effects, “Why do you care?”

  “I…” She lingered too long, and the crew was once more starting to leave, “It gets lonely.”

  “You don’t have any friends?” Sally asked, “Like, other mermaids? Or something?”

  The mermaid shied away from that question, turning to face the sea and rubbing her arms nervously.

  “Does anyone know what’s going on?” Lonceré asked, trying to whisper discreetly so as to not be rude.

  “Uh, it’s alright.” Paracelsus said, trying to offer some comfort, “I assume that’s a no?”

  She parted her hair slightly to reveal her forehead. There was some scar, or abrasion in the center, small and circular, but decidedly not the result of a cut being healed. It was as though there was supposed to be something there, but wasn’t. She said, “I never grew an esca.” She waited for a response, but everyone just looked at her dumbfounded, “It’s a lantern, supposed to be attached to my head. It allows us to sea in the abyss. But mine never came in, and I had to live near the surface.”

  “Oh…” Sally said, squatting and grasping the mermaid by the hands, “That’s so tragic.” She turned to the crew, “We have to help her!”

  “Uh…” Serpacinno said, “How exactly?”

  “We can’t just stay here,” Paracelsus bemoaned their situation, “But I may have an idea. Give me a minute.”

  Indeed, it took him eighty-five seconds to return. He was pushing some contraption - a stool, with a loosely attached back and wheels on either side. “My mother was a cripple. This was something I remembered making for her. Do you think you can fit?”

  “Yes, yes, I think so.” She brought her hands straight out of the water, grasping them repeatedly, “Help me up.”

  Initially, Paracelsus tried to grab her on his own by the elbows, “Holy shit!” He said, dropping her unceremoniously, “Lonnie, get over here and help.”

  The cook dropped his own bags, coming over and helping his captain pull her out of the water. Still, she was heavy enough that it took both his double and their combined gift to do so.

  “Oof,” He rubbed his head, after the three of them had gotten the mermaid into her chair, “Are you made of stone?”

  “No.” Gru’lya responded, as though the question was both literal and meant to be taken seriously, “I just have a big tail. How do I operate this thing?”

  “I haven’t worked that part out yet.” The alchemist replied, before he got an idea, “Sally can push you!”

  “Okay!” Sally took the duty, seemingly in stride, which surprised the majority of the crew who expected her to be lazy and not want to do it.

  And thus, after paying off the docking and harboring fee, they made their way into town. It was truly remarkable, modern in its architecture (most likely due to the economic boom afforded by the motor carriage), but traditional and quaint in much of the art and infrastructure.

  “We’re already being watched.” Gareland said, “I mean, I don’t know them personally, but I know enough to know my father’s men are here, too.”

  “Well, let’s just hope they don’t stop us.” Paracelsus said, “I mean, we’re pretty stand-out. I never really anticipated us being stealthy.”

  “All aboard!” The engineer shouted. The group rushed on board, jumping on at the back of the vehicle and sighing with relief as they put their bags down.

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  “Come to think of it,” Sally said, “It’s good that you’ve got long hair. Not that I’m complaining, but you don’t have any clothes, do you?”

  “No.” Gru’lya replied, “Why would I?”

  “Ooh, ooh,” Sally hopped up on the seat, standing directly on Lonceré’s legs, who grunted in response, and she grabbed her bags again, “Let’s take a look. I have a lot of shirts you might like.”

  “Is it just me, or is she acting weird?” Paracelsus asked.

  “Hmm?” Serpacinno responded, she was so absorbed in looking out the window, wondering just how fast they were going, “What was that?”

  “Eh, nevermind.” He said.

  And so, for a few minutes, there was peace in their carriage. At one point, a woman had come around with coffee and cigarettes, whose collective smells filled the car.

  Then, after a further peace lasting around an hour, an innocuous looking man came and sat down right next to Paracelsus, who asked, “Can I help you?”

  Without so much a ‘hello’ in response, the man put his hand on Paracelsus’ shoulder, and the two of them vanished. Gru’lya was the only one awake (besides Sally of course, who was currently looking for a toilette), and she had no frame of reference for this. Was this a normal land-dweller occurrence? Most probably, or he would’ve made some commotion, right? So, she simply contented herself by leaning back, gripping onto the poet shirt she’d been lent by Sally (which was far too large for her and acted as more of a dress).

  —

  “What the fuck?” Paracelsus said; his breathing was shallow and quick, and he held his hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat.

  He immediately found himself with a knife to his neck. Of course, he held his hands up in submission.

  “Paracelsus.” Anita said, “Good to meet you.”

  “I wish it were under better circumstances?” He replied in turn, “What’s going on here?”

  He quickly analyzed the situation while the others were talking amongst each other. Two people, shoulders hunched, were at either door of the car, standing guard; a thin red trail of… blood(?) or viscera(?) connected them at the spine, around the sixth thoracic vertebrae. Other than them, the eight people guarding Paracelsus, and himself, the car was empty.

  “If you make it easy, we’re here to take you in.” Anita explained. She leaned back in her seat, with a cocky, self-assured grin, that told Paracelsus she thought she had already won.

  “And if I don’t?” And he oh so desperately wanted to prove her wrong. “Actually, that was a stupid question. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who you work for?”

  “I’m representing the Three Points’ interests in Machiave.” She said, having the fucking gall to offer a handshake, “I’m Commander Maffezonni.”

  He took it, rather pleasantly, too, “You know, technically speaking, I outrank you.” He offered with a smile. He tried to avoid his usual constructed confidence, but it was an easy habit to fall back on, “Can I put my hands down? My arms are rather tired.”

  “Sure.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him, “But don’t try anything.”

  “How do you intend to deal with my crew?” He asked. “You only took me, unless I’m mistaken. No doubt Sally’s back by now and they’re going to be on high alert.” That clearly got to them. They all shared a look, which didn’t go unnoticed by Paracelsus. “And that’s not to mention the -”

  “The what?” Maffezonni asked, snarling her last words.

  “I shan’t say.” Paracelsus joked, making himself sound as immature and arrogant as possible.

  “I think you will.” The knife was pressed further against his throat, and the commander put her foot on the seat, towering over him.

  “If I don’t regularly make contact with the…” He gulped harshly, “Engineer, she has orders to derail the train.”

  Another pause and another few moments of silence passed before Anita said, “Bullshit.”

  “Maybe.” The alchemist replied, “Or maybe not.”

  “When’s the next stop? Twenty, thirty minutes?” She asked, panicked. “Ok, we’ll take him further up the train.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” Giuseppe, the man who spirited away Paracelsus earlier, questioned, “It could be difficult moving him between cars full of civilians.”

  “What should we do instead?” She asked, “We can’t not consider it. Maybe send one of the men up to the front?”

  “I think that’s wisest.” Giuseppe replied, “Ferrari, you go check on the conductor.”

  One of the women stood up, and then there were only ten of them in the car.

  “What’s this about, anyway?” Paracelsus asked, “All that court business happened over two years ago. Don’t tell me this is the most efficient use of time.”

  “Shut up.” Anita said. She was now visibly agitated. She was pacing and tapping her foot when she stood still. “You’re a fucking traitor, of course we’d search for you.”

  “I’m just saying -” He just said, “Machiave’s probably joining the Union. Shouldn’t you be off killing some politician or something?”

  “What did you say?” She shouted, “Repeat that.”

  “Machiave’s joining the Union?” Paracelsus asked, “You didn’t know. I figured you all would’ve known.”

  Giuseppe took his boss by the shoulder, walking away a few feet and lowering his voice, “He’s getting to you. We can’t just believe everything he says.”

  “Elio!” She shouted, turning around, “Have you seen anyone?” The man shook his head, and she turned back, “I know, I know - it’s just… What if he isn’t lying? As I said, we have to at least consider the possibility.”

  “You’re the commander.” He conceded, “But consider that he’s likely just as nervous as we are. He knows he’s not getting another chance, he’ll say anything to save himself. If he said he was the reincarnation of Paace, would you consider that possibility?”

  “That’s blasphemy.” She countered, “Of course I wouldn’t.”

  “Exactly -”

  A knock on the front door rang out. “Excuse me, why is the door locked?”

  “Stay out.” The woman watching it said, her tone and general demeanor laconic. She raised her spear to shoulder height, pulling back her arm and prepping to launch it.

  “Not yet, Luna!” Anita shouted, “Don’t you dare throw that yet.”

  “I’m trying to get through!” The voice, and the knocking, repeated, “The only bagno’s back that way.”

  Anita stepped forward, walking up the door, waiting for the ringing to cease. It did, briefly, but then whoever was on the other side started doing something to the lock. “I’m warning you, whoever you are -” The revolutionary pointed, even though logically the target of her words couldn’t see her, “We’re conducting… Official business in here!”

  “Oh, I see.” The jiggling of the lock stopped, “That person who came from this car: why was she wearing the Points?”

  Before Anita could give the order to attack, whoever was on the other side fired a gun, blasting a hole through the lock. Impossibly quickly, another followed, gutting Luna and causing her to fall to the ground, bleeding. A third followed just as quickly, fully breaking the door of its hinges.

  “Oh, hello, Parace.” Fra said, waving their two left arms and spinning the guns on their levers, “I thought it would be you here.”

  “Fra!” Paracelsus shouted, his grin lighting up the room. He used the distraction afforded by his friend’s actions to grab the knife at his throat and flip it around, pinning his would-be attacker’s shoulder to the seat. In the chaos, with all eyes off of him, he touched the window, making the glass recede before he climbed out and on the top of the carriage.

  A series of gunshots rang out, and it seemed as though all the revolutionaries had taken cover. The alchemist used his time wisely, taking the mass from the glass he’d co-opted earlier and making a cane. Now at the front of the car, he crouched down, lowering the cane toward the coupling, “Grab on!” He shouted.

  Using their one free hand, Fra grabbed on, and then was subsequently raised onto the metal roof of the carriage.

  “Alright, we need to run backwards,” Paracelsus said, having to shout to be heard above the wind, “My crew -”

  Before he could finish his thought, a loud metal scraping could be heard both in front and behind him. The train’s roof was penetrated, and Elio, the man guarding the door, climbed up behind him. Luna, whose gunshot wound was now regenerating, filling in the missing flesh with a greyish, foul-smelling version of flesh, climbed ahead of him.

  “Nevermind,” Paracelsus said, “We have to stand our ground here.”