I scowled at him. “I’m not Empire! I’m from Kjora, too.”
“I know. That’s what I mean.”
My stomach felt suddenly heavy. “What?”
The trapper jerked his head back toward the bustle of the town. “Kjora’s a couple days’ sail from here, ain’t it? Never been off the island myself.”
“A couple days? No.” I shook my head, refusing to believe him. I told myself he was a typical landsman, that since he had no reason to sail the seas, he’d no reason to know the distances between islands. I only knew because of Papa’s carved map. “Just half a day. We got blown off course.”
“Half a day. That certainly ain’t true.” The trapper leaned back on his stool and gave me a long, appraising look. “Where exactly do you think you are?”
“Akel,” I said, although my voice trembled.
The trapper stared at me for a moment longer. Then he laughed, his great shoulders shaking beneath his shaggy coat. I took a step back, glancing around, not liking this one bit.
“Stop laughing at me,” I said.
“You ain’t in Akel,” the trapper said. “You’re in Skalir.”
Skalir. The whole world tilted the way the Penelope had last night. I grabbed onto the edge of the trapper’s cart to steady myself.
“That’s not possible,” I said.
“No idea what’s possible or not,” he said. “But you’re in Skalir.”
My ears buzzed. Papa’s map appeared in my head – the islands raised up in relief, the stain sunk deep into the wood. Skalir, past the Bathest Chain, past Akel, heading up toward the north, toward the very top of the world. The trapper was right; it was three days’ sail, not even from Kjora but from the spot in water where the storm had hit us.
“Not possible,” I said again.
The trapper squinted at me with suspicion, and I pushed away from him before he could say anything more. At first, I headed in the direction of the Penelope, but then I started worrying that it was still doused in whatever magic had brought us here in the first place. That magic – that must be why I slept so late. Working a simple protection charm had never worn me out so thoroughly before.
I turned away from the boat and walked toward town, my heart pounding. Something must have happened to Kolur; he wouldn’t have left me alone otherwise. I could work a tracking spell on him but I didn’t have the materials and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find them here. Or even afford them. Or if my magic would even work. Everyone said that magic changes as you cross the seas, and so the spells of Skalir might be spells I could never understand. I couldn’t risk it.
I shivered and left the docks.
As crowded as the docks were, the town itself seemed small, little more than a settlement growing out of the cold, rocky ground. The wind blew in from the sea, smelling of salt and fish and the peculiar scent of late winter. There weren’t as many people here, as if everyone wanted to cluster close to the ocean. I trudged down the main street, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. It didn’t much seem to work. Anyone out on the street stared at me as I walked past, and whispers trailed behind me like clouds.
Mama and Papa had both taught me pride. So I kept my head high and refused to look away if anyone caught my eye. But it was hard, not so much because I was ashamed but because I was scared. Scared that Kolur was gone for good, that some foul spell had stolen him away as I slept. Every child raised in the north hears stories about the Mists, those creatures from beyond even the uppermost part of the world. I didn’t remember seeing any of their mist last night, that cold, gray blanket that can swallow you whole. But it had been dark and difficult to see.
Sea and sky, I wished I wasn’t so far from the soil of my home. There’s magic to keep the Mists at bay, but I still didn’t trust that it would work here, even with the south wind.
So when I came across a wizard’s shop, I ducked through the heavy, carved wooden doors, relieved at the sudden weight of magic around my shoulders. It was a small shop, dark, smelling of incense and blood. A girl stood behind the counter, chopping up dried marsh violets. She lifted her head when I walked in and frowned like she didn’t know what to make of me.
“I’d like a protection charm.” I pulled out the small pouch of gold discs Mama had me carry whenever I went sailing with Kolur. For moments like this one, I supposed. Papa always thought it was silly, that I should just carry Kjoran money, but Mama always insisted that he was shortsighted.
“We don’t have many.” The girl pulled out a tray, only half of the pockets filled with charms. They were basic things, built of lichen and stone. I ran my hands over each one, feeling out the magic. Even these simple premade charms work differently from person to person, and you have to make sure you’re able to channel the charm’s power properly before you buy.
The girl nodded approvingly.
When my hand passed over a bracelet made of twisted-up asphodel and threaded with tiny seashells, my whole body blazed.
“This one.” I plucked it off the tray. The girl nodded and named her price. It was reasonable, and I was glad, because I didn’t know the customs for haggling here in Skalir.
“Do you feel you’re in danger?” she asked after I paid.
I slipped the bracelet onto my left hand. “I’m not certain.”
She tilted her head at me. “If you’re in trouble, the wizard could help you.” For a price. She didn’t say it aloud, but it was implied.
“Not necessary.” I lifted my arm and shook the bracelet. With each movement, its power pulsed through me. Comforting. “But I am looking for someone. Another Kjoran. An older man. Brown hair.”
“No one else has been in here for some time,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
I frowned and thanked her. I’d hoped that Kolur might have come here to gather up more premade charms for the boat.
Unless the Penelope had been damaged. Then the simple charms wouldn’t be enough–
“Is there a repair yard here?” I asked. “Or a supply shop?”
“Are you sure you’re not in danger?”
“Quite. I’ve just lost my apprentice master.” I flashed a smile at her. “He tends to drink.”
My answer mollified her curiosity. “The repair yard’s not far from here. Walk left from the shop, and then turn toward the sea when you reach the prayer stones.”
I thanked her again. When I walked back out on the street, I really did feel safer with my bracelet. The air was brighter, and I had a good feeling about the repair yard.
It didn’t take me long to walk there. The prayer stones lay at the outskirts of town, a great pile of rocks worn smooth by the ocean, arranged in unfamiliar patterns in the frozen mud. We had prayer stones in Kjora, too, but the patterns were different, based on runes from the ancient tongue.
The repair yard was as small as the town, just a rickety wooden fence hemming in some broken-up lumber and a shack built of gray bricks. A single boat floated out in the water, one of its sails dangling at an unnatural angle. It hurt me to look at it, like I was seeing a broken arm.
This time, no one came out to greet me. I went up to the shack and banged on the door until a shriveled old man answered, his white hair tucked up in a startlingly red cap.
“Empire girl!” he cried when he saw me. “Do you like my hat?”
“What?”
“My hat. It was crafted from the finest Empire fabric over twenty years ago, by a sailor who lost his way. I helped repair his ship when no one else would, and he gave it to me as a gift of thanks.”
“Oh.” I pretended to study the hat like I had knowledge of Empire fabric. To me, it looked tatty and worn, but then, it was twenty years old. “It’s quite lovely, yes. Wonderful workmanship.” I had no idea if this was true. It was a hat.
The old man beamed. “What can I do for you, so far from home?” he asked. “Do you have a ship that needs repair?”
“Not exactly.” The wind blowing off the water was as cold as the ice from last night’s sto
rm. I fiddled with my bracelet. “My apprentice master’s gone missing. I thought he might have come here. We were in a storm, and he’d probably be seeking repairs.”
The old man studied me, rubbing at his chin, his stupid red hat jumping in and out of my line of vision. “An apprentice master? So you aren’t from the Empire.”
“I was born in Kjora.”
“Kjora! Still a long way from here.” He nodded. “And your apprentice master, he’s Kjoran, too?”
I nodded, not daring to get my hopes up.
“Aye, he did come by here, looking for parts.”
I sighed with relief. “Not too short, not too tall? Brown hair?”
“And dressed like a Kjoran, yes. A bit grumpy.”
That was definitely Kolur. “Oh, thank you, sir,” I said, grinning wildly. “Do you know where he went? Did he mention anything?”
“He wasn’t terribly chatty, but he did rush me about. Said something about having to meet someone.”
My good mood evaporated. Meet someone? Who could he possibly be meeting? We had been blown here by accident.
I pushed the doubts aside. Maybe he had a friend here. Granted, I didn’t know how, since no one befriends those from the other island, and besides, he hardly had friends in the village, save Mama. Perhaps he was asking around for a way to get us home.
“Did he say where?”
The old man shook his head. “But there aren’t many places to meet here in Beshel-by-the-Sea. There’s the lodging out on the edge of the woods, and Mrs Arnui’s inn, in town.”
I considered the two options. Kolur never liked to venture too far from the sea, so I figured it was safer to put him at the inn.
“Thank you,” I told the old man. “That was very helpful.”
His smile brightened. “If you need repairs, you know where to come.”
I left the repair yard and made my way back to the village. The wind had picked up, blowing in from the north, cold tricky gusts that stirred up my hair and sent all the shopkeepers rushing to latch their shutters. I wrapped my arms around my chest and kept my head tilted down, checking the sign of each shop as I passed, looking for an inn. The wind blew. It didn’t feel like Kjoran wind; it was sharper, and with a sweet scent to it, like ice berries or frozen flowers. A pleasant change from the brine of fish.
I found the inn easily. It was tucked down close to the docks, marked by a pair of thin, spindly trees that were out of place in the rocky landscape. Inn, the handpainted sign read.
I went in. The wind ripped the door from my hand and slammed it up against the wall, and every face in the room looked up at me. All the murmuring stopped. I froze, feeling vulnerable and afraid. I was in a strange place, and these people were all strangers.
“Shut the door!” A woman bustled up to me, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows. “You’re letting in the Abelas.” She grabbed the door and slammed it shut. “When they get like this, blowing down from the mountains, they’ll stir up anything bad enough if you let them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I straightened up my spine. “I’m looking for a friend. He’s Kjoran.”
“In the back.” The woman sounded bored and harried at the same time. I wondered if she was Mrs Arnui. “If you want something to eat, let Addie know. We’ve got elk stew today.”
And then she scurried off to a nearby table, the benches lined with bearded fishermen.
I went toward the back of the room, looking for Kolur’s brown hair. When I found him, he was facing away from the door, hunched over a bowl of that elk stew, talking to a woman. She glanced at me as I approached, the candlelight flickering in her eyes.
“Got a few weeks’ time–” Kolur stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Hanna! You found it.”
“Found it?” I stomped over to the table and slid into the bench beside him. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. I went to the repair yard and a magic shop and I had no idea – and why are we in Skalir? How is that even possible?”
My ranting was met with silence. The woman kept staring at me with a dark, hollow expression.
Then Kolur laughed. “Oh, you stupid girl, you didn’t see my note.”
I glared at him.
“I pinned it next to your bed. Told you exactly where to find me.” He laughed again. “Guess you were in a hurry to get home? Thought we were in Kjora?”
The woman sighed and lifted one hand. A girl appeared. She was a smaller, shorter version of the woman who had yelled at me to shut the door, and she immediately refilled the woman’s glass with frothy amber-colored ale.
“No,” I said. “I thought we were in Akel. How the hell are we in Skalir?”
Kolur turned back to his stew. The woman took a long drink of her ale. Then she spoke. “You ought to just tell her, Kolur.”
Her voice vibrated inside my head. It was rich and sonorous, like the bottle of Empire wine Mama opened up on her birthday one year.
“What’s there to tell? Are you hungry, Hanna? I imagine you are, after that charm you cast last night. Addie!”
The girl appeared again.
“Bring Hanna here a bowl of this elk stew. And a glass of milk.” Kolur peered at me. “Milk does wonders, helping you get over the magic exhaustion.”
I wondered how the hell someone like Kolur would know that.
“I’m over it,” I said. “I just want to know what’s going on.” The woman watched Kolur and me both. She was probably Kolur’s age, but she didn’t look as worn-down by life as he did.
“To answer your question,” Kolur said, stirring at his elk stew, “we’re in Skalir because that ice storm wasn’t just a storm. There was magic in it.”
“I figured out that much. What sort of magic?”
“The wild sort. It’s of no concern to you. Just know that it brought us here. Probably would’ve blown us farther, if I hadn’t cast a quick redirection charm. I knew Frida here could help us.”
“Redirection charm?”
The woman flashed a quick, hard smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Hanna. I apologize for Kolur’s rudeness.” She held out one hand, long and tanned and graceful. “He should have introduced us right away.”
I took her hand, hesitantly, and shook it. When our skin touched, my blood sparked; she was some sort of witch, to have such strong magic running through her body.
She smiled again, dropped her hand, and took a drink.
“Frida’s an old friend,” Kolur said.
“You don’t have friends,” I said. “And how did you cast a redirection charm? You can’t do magic.”
Kolur looked down at the table and didn’t answer. Addie reappeared and set down a bowl of stew and a cup of milk. As much I didn’t want to admit it, the smell of the stew made my mouth water and my stomach rumble. I really did need to eat.
I picked up the bowl and took a long sip. Kolur nodded approvingly. “Told you.”
“When are we going home?”
There was a pause. Voices hummed around us, all speaking that strange, foreign dialect.
“You that excited to be back in the village?”
“No. I’m just curious.” I gulped down my stew. It was delicious, the meat tender and falling apart, the broth flavored by herbs like the ones Mama grew in her garden.
“A couple days’ time, most like.” He stared down at his own stew as he spoke. “We’ll get started repairing the boat tomorrow. There was a bit of damage, mostly magical. Frida should be able to take care of it.”
“Not you? Since you can cast redirection charms now?”
“That was a fluke.” Kolur took a drink of ale.
I kept eating my stew. A couple days’ time on an island I only knew from the carvings on Papa’s map. It was a sort of adventure, like the ones Mama used to have. Hanging around the Skalirin docks wasn’t exactly the same as sailing a pirate ship through Empire waters, the way I used to pretend when I was a little girl, but it was as close as I was likely to come.
Still, doubt niggled at me. As e
xcited as I was to see beyond the shores of Kjora, I couldn’t shake the discomfort that something was wrong. Kolur couldn’t do magic beyond the same few charms everyone can do, and it was strange that Kolur, who aside from his friendship with Mama was one of the most conventional Kjorans in the village, would have a friend on another island.
That his friend was a witch, well, that was even stranger. Exciting, too. But mostly strange. And I didn’t know why.
Kolur set down his ale and leaned back on the bench. Something in his expression was off – not wrong, exactly, but different, the way the wind had felt as it blew through the town. It gave me the same sort of chill. He looked across the table at Frida and I followed his gaze, peering at her over my soup bowl. She stared back at me with eyes like oceans. They were just as unpredictable.
CHAPTER 3
As it turned out, the repairs were even more minor than Kolur had suggested, and by the next afternoon the Penelope was fit to sail again. I hardly had to do anything at all, mostly just hand Frida foul-smelling powders and unguents as she made her way around the ship, casting unfamiliar spells. It was the closest I’d ever come to apprenticing as a wizard, and it was a disappointment to learn that it didn’t feel all that different from apprenticing as a fisherman.
I could sense Frida’s power crackling against my own, but there was a restraint to it. She wasn’t showing me everything she could do. Every time I handed her something – some ground-up shells, a bit of dried seaweed – that magic would arc between us and then fizzle away, and I wondered what she was keeping from me. All her spells were sea-magic, something I was familiar with but hadn’t really seen, and it was frustrating to sense her power but not be able to fully experience it.
I wondered if proper witch’s apprenticeships were this frustrating.
Kolur watched the repairs from his usual place up at the helm, eating dried wildflower seeds. When I asked about them, he said they were a Skalirin specialty.
“How do you know about Skalirin specialties?” I said. “Are you telling me you’ve been off Kjora before?”