“I understand,” Ven said, staring at the steam disappearing in the distance. He returned to his chores.
By nightfall the Serelinda had turned southeast, and when the sun came up again, land was in clear sight.
“There she be, Ven,” Oliver said in a hushed voice. “The island of Serendair, one of the most beautiful places on earth. Look well, lad; you may see her many times in your life, but this is the only first glimpse of her you will ever have.”
Ven watched as the ship sailed ever closer to the island. The first thing he saw was a brilliant beam of light circling slowly in the gray haze of dawn, high in the air. A moment later he saw that it was from a giant tower that stood at the end of a long sandbar at the outer edge of the harbor. It was the tallest building he had ever seen, as high as the mast of the Serelinda, or higher. He looked up and down the coast and saw two more towers, not quite as tall, their lights circling as well.
Beyond the light towers was the harbor. Ven swallowed in amazement. The harbor was easily ten times the size of the wharf in Vaarn, with hundreds of docks lining the shore. Brightly colored flags flew from the end of each pier, flapping merrily in the ocean breeze. There were so many people scurrying about on the docks, loading and unloading ships, that it reminded Ven of an anthill with thousands of ants carrying crumbs.
The land beyond the dock seemed to go on forever. “I thought Serendair was an island,” Ven said.
“Aye, lad, it is. A right big island. It’s almost a continent all by itself,” Oliver answered. He handed Ven a wooden box. Ven looked at him questioningly.
“Sir?”
“In here you will find parchment paper, ink, a quill, and some sealing wax. Find a corner out of the way while the crew is making ready, and write whatever letter you wish to your family.” The captain’s blue eyes twinkled. “Of course, you might want to just wait a few days and take it to them in person.” Ven stared down at the letter box. “You do understand you will need to stay in Kingston at least a few days, Ven?”
“Why?” Ven asked.
“Well, I have to report your rescue to the authorities,” Oliver said calmly. “It’s just a matter of procedure. Most likely the harbormaster will sign off on it himself, but just in case he wants to send it onward, you need to wait around before you can get passage back on a ship home.”
“Onward?” Ven asked nervously. “Where might he send it?”
“Oh, nothing to worry about, lad. It might go to someone in the naval office, or even the Secretary of the Navy. In theory, it could go to the king himself, but I would doubt it. You never know, so until the report has been signed off on, you will need to stay in Serendair.” He inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry. I imagine you want to be getting home as soon as possible.”
Ven looked out over the rail, watching the bustling city wharf come ever closer.
“I’m not certain what I want, sir,” he said honestly. “Or, more rightly, what my father will want.”
“Why is there a question?” Oliver asked, his silver brows drawing together. “I cannot imagine any father not wanting his lost son to come home as quick as the wind can carry him.”
“Not a son who has destroyed the family business,” Ven said sadly. “Among the Nain there is no greater disgrace. Each ship we build is very expensive, and costs my father a lot of money in materials and labor. He does not get paid until the harbormaster signs off on the Inspection. I didn’t bring the ship back—in fact, I blew it up—so my father will never get paid. And he will be out so much money that it might cost him the business. My family might even have lost their home. They could be living in the street by now. And me being around would only embarrass him on a daily basis.”
“Be that as it may,” Oliver said pleasantly, “whatever loss he might suffer can’t begin to compare to how much I’m sure he misses you.” His face grew serious. “Trust me on this.”
Ven said nothing, but suddenly realized that there were more differences between Nain and humans than he had ever realized.
The sea captain reached into his coat pocket. “Until you are cleared to go home, you should probably go to the Crossroads Inn and ask for lodging in the youth hostel there. That’s where young folk stay when they have nowhere else.”
“How do I get to the inn?” Ven asked.
“Once you get to Kingston, go to the main gate at the eastern edge and follow the road until it comes to a crossroads. It’s about three miles to the inn. You can usually catch a ride with a farmer or merchant’s cart, or you can walk. You will know when you have reached the inn, you can’t miss it. The innkeeper is a lady named Mrs. Gertrude Snodgrass. She’s a—hmmm. Well, she’s a fine woman, yes, indeed. Tell her I said that she would be happy to put you up, and she will be.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ven said, his stomach turning over sickly.
“But don’t go today.” The captain glanced up at the sky. “It will be afternoon at least before we make port.” He looked intently at Ven. “You do not want to go to the Crossroads Inn at night. Do you understand what I am saying?”
The firmness in his voice made Ven shudder, even while his curiosity was tickling the back of his mind.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “But why?”
The captain’s face hardened. “Don’t start out on the road after the sun begins to go down. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Ven said quickly.
“Good,” Oliver said. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the crystal flask he had filled from the spring on the Floating Island.
Ven’s eyes opened wide as a beam of light caught the bottle. It sent rainbows flashing around the deck.
“I would be most grateful if you would deliver this to Mrs. Snodgrass for me,” the captain said quietly. “It’s extremely important that it gets to her.”
“I’d be happy to,” Ven said, taking the flask in his hand. It was cool to the touch, and hummed as if it were singing. “But why don’t you deliver it yourself, sir? Surely it would be safer with you.”
“Because I ship out in the morning, lad,” the captain said. Ven thought he saw a touch of sadness in Oliver’s eye, but when he looked again it was gone. “And as I already told you, one does not go to the Crossroads Inn after the sun begins to set. But I must get this water to Mrs. Snodgrass. Can I trust you to make certain of that?”
“You can count on me, sir,” Ven promised.
The captain clapped him on the back. “Good. Now, excuse me. I have to get the sailors’ pay ready. Go write your letter. You may use the desk in my cabin.” He turned and went belowdecks. Ven carefully put the flask into the pocket where he kept the jack-rule and buttoned it.
Then he went to the captain’s quarters and sat down at the small desk in the corner of the room. He took out the parchment paper, ink, and quill, and, after a good many squiggles and blots, began his letter.
* * *
Dear Father,
On that day the ship was lost at sea, as far as I am aware, all other hands were lost, but I was saved by a merrow.
* * *
Ven stared at the page, then shook his head, scratched out a few words and started again.
* * *
Dear Father,
On that day the ship was lost at sea, as far as I am aware, all other hands were lost, but I was saved by a merrow I was rescued. I write to you now from just off the coast of the island kingdom of Serendair, in the Southern Ocean. I was pulled from the water by the captain of the good ship Serelinda, and brought here to a hospitable welcome.
* * *
Ven fiddled with his quill, suddenly out of words. Despite what Oliver had said, he had no idea if Pepin would want to hear from him again once his father was assured of his safety. He took a deep breath and continued writing.
* * *
I am terribly sorry about the loss of the ship, Father. I did try to remember my lessons, as you instructed me. I fear I may have remembered them too wel
l. I will need to remain in Serendair until the records of my rescue have been reviewed by the authorities here. Until that time I expect to be housed at the Crossroads Inn under the supervision of a Mrs. Gertrude Snodgrass.
* * *
He blotted the ink dry, then added one more sentence.
* * *
Please give my love to Mother, and tell my siblings that I miss them and am very sorry.
Respectfully, Ven
* * *
The ink in which he had signed the letter suddenly smeared and ran. Ven blotted it quickly, then dried the eye that had dropped the tear onto it, looking around hastily to see if anyone had noticed.
Everyone on the ship was moving furiously, hurrying to get the last of their gear ready to off-load when the Serelinda was anchored in port. No one had seen him crying.
He quickly sealed the letter with wax and went back to work.
From then on everything happened in a blur. The passengers and crew darted hastily around the decks, lugging baggage up from the holds, getting ready to leave the ship as the docks came closer into sight.
Finally they came into port. The passengers and all their baggage were off-loaded. Then the captain came to the gangplank with a sea chest full of envelopes, and handed them, one by one, to the sailors as they left the ship. He shook each of their hands. Char and Ven were the last in line.
Oliver handed Char the second-to-last envelope. “Here you go, Char—ten gold measures of scrip. Pay for a mate, third class.” The captain patted Char’s shoulder. “It was good sailing with you. And if you decide you want to go back to sea, you’re welcome to serve on any of my ships.”
“Any except the Serelinda, unless you’re changin’ cooks,” Char said gloomily. “I need to keep what little of my ears is left untwisted.”
The captain laughed. “Aye, good enough,” he said, shaking Char’s hand. He turned to Ven and handed him an envelope of the same size, the last in the chest. “You, too, Ven. Ten gold measures.”
“Sir?” Ven asked, staring at the envelope in Oliver’s hand.
“Go on, take it, lad,” the captain said, pushing it at Ven. “You served as a deckhand. Deckhand’s pay is also ten gold measures of scrip, which is paper money that sailors use.”
“I—I know about scrip,” Ven said haltingly as Char tromped down the gangplank, his kite over one shoulder, and disappeared into the crowd of people. His father’s shop accepted scrip as payment for small things, like rope. All the other shops on the docks did as well. “But I don’t deserve to be paid. I was rescued.”
The captain’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “We put you to work as a deckhand, Ven. I have to pay you, and I have to pay you scale—what every deckhand makes—or I’m in violation of the sailor’s code. And that I won’t do. So take it, and good luck to you.”
“But I only served for a few weeks. Char was on the Serelinda for six months. And we made the same amount of money.”
Oliver exhaled. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it? But that’s the code of the sea, and we are bound to it.” He cocked his head as Ven looked down at his feet. “You goin’ to be all right, Ven?”
Ven nodded. “It just seems unfair. Char has it so much harder than I ever did.”
The captain regarded him seriously. “Aye, it may seem that way now. But actually, in some ways Char has it much easier than you will, Ven. Unlike you, Char is human. In most places in the world, no one will look at him twice. You, now, you are Nain. While you were home, in the protection of your family, that may not have been a problem. Your father is a very well-respected man, and a family your size—well, there is safety in numbers. But now you are on your own. Alone you may find that there are a few people who are not friendly to Nain, or anyone from a different race.”
He looked out to sea, where the sun was beginning to set into the western horizon, red-orange above the blue water.
“Now, Serendair is a friendly place to people of all races most of the time. The king himself insists upon it. But people come here from all around the world. You find all types of folks, especially in a port city, and not all of them have the same attitude as the king. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Ven nodded. His family had discussed the problems of being different many times, but as Oliver said, he had never felt in danger because of it.
Until now.
Oliver smiled, and Ven’s worry lessened. “Just remember, Ven, you’re as good as any other living soul on this earth. Whether other people know that or not doesn’t really matter as long as you do.”
“Yes, sir,” Ven said, smiling slightly. His father had often said the very same thing.
“Good man,” Oliver said. He put out his hand, and Ven shook it. “Now, give me your letter. Be sure to get that flask to Mrs. Snodgrass safely, and as quickly as you can. But not till morning.”
“I will,” Ven promised, handing him the letter. “Thank you for everything, captain. I owe you my life.”
Oliver shook his head. “You owe me nothing, lad. If you ever find yourself in the position to rescue someone, be sure to do it without expecting anything it return. It all evens out in the end, believe me.” His eyes twinkled. “But you do owe that albatross, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good enough. Best of luck to you, Ven. I expect we will meet again.” The captain tipped his hat and headed back up the gangplank.
Once Ven got down to the dock, he had to walk through a huge swarm of people pushing and shoving their way to get closer to the ship. They were talking among themselves.
“Do you suppose he’s gotten off yet?”
“I didn’t see him. He must have been kept for last, to get the less important people out of the way first.”
“Unless he came off first, and we missed him!”
“Oh, no!” a young girl wailed at the thought.
“Er—who are you looking for?” Ven asked a heavy human man who had stepped on his foot, trying to get a better view over the heads of the crowd.
“Marius,” the man said impatiently, still straining to see. “The greatest warrior that ever lived, boy. He was said to be traveling on this ship.”
At the name, the crowd grew even more excited and anxious. “Marius, yes, indeed, the greatest warrior who ever lived, everyone knows that.”
“Oh, brother,” came a familiar voice behind him. Ven looked over his shoulder to see Char pushing his way through the people.
“Hey, Char,” Ven greeted him, taking him by the shoulder and steering their way out of the crowd. “Where are you off to now?”
“The Sailors’ Rest,” the dark-haired boy replied. “Gotta find a place for the night.”
“What’s the Sailors’ Rest?” Ven asked.
Char shrugged. “Sort of an inn for sailors, a place to sleep for a night or two, down by the docks. They let you pay in scrip, o’ course.”
“Hmmm,” said Ven. “Do you think I count as enough of a sailor to stay there?”
“Sure,” said Char, shifting his duffel to the other shoulder. “It’s not a great place, lots of men who have had too much rum to drink. I was gonna go get a space on the floor, wander around Kingston for a while until the last minute, then go to sleep quick. We can go together if you want.”
“That sounds great,” Ven said.
Char led Ven off the docks and up into the cobbled streets of Kingston, where more people than he had ever seen were milling around in the afternoon light.
Above them they heard a harsh cry. The boys looked up to see a dark shadow of an enormous bird pass overhead, circling twice, then fly out to sea.
“That albatross must really like you,” Char said, starting down the street again.
Ven wasn’t sure. I wonder why that bird is following me? he thought. It seems to be looking out for me, but every time it appears something terrible happens. He watched the shadow until he could no longer see it, then followed Char.
Neither of them saw the other shadow, th
is one lurking in the streets behind them, following them silently through the alleys of Kingston.
9
Kingston
THE MAIN STREET OF KINGSTON WAS LINED WITH PRETTY SHOPS that sold roses and bread, arrows and armor, meats, lamp oil, fruits, vegetables, and everything else imaginable.
Ven followed Char around women buying fabric, men trading leather, and children playing, to the center of the street where a great fountain stood. In the center of the fountain was a large copper sun, and from its metal rays water sprayed in seven different directions, each reflecting a different color of the rainbow.
“You hungry?” Char asked.
“Yes,” Ven said, staring at the fountain.
“Well, then, let’s hit the Confectionery,” Char said, nodding across the street.
Ven followed him to a large stone building with a glass window across the front. The smell of freshly baked cookies and other sweets billowed out of the shop every time the door opened. A sign above the window said:
The Magical Confectionery
Ven stared in the window.
“Whoa,” he whispered.
“Don’t just stand there,” Char said, pulling open the heavy door. “C’mon.”
The shop was full of every kind of pastry and candy, all fashioned in amazing shapes. On one side of the shop were pieces of castles made entirely out of cookies—guard towers, gates, walls, and shields, and even a portcullis made out of pretzel sticks. On the racks next to it were chocolate figures of mythical beasts, some of them tinted with colors—strawberry-scaled dragons, white chocolate unicorns with horns glazed with golden sugar, winged horses rendered entirely in dark chocolate.
A completely assembled confectionery castle stood in the shop window, beautifully detailed, from the cobbled walkway of tiny sugared jellies in front to the garden of spun-sugar trees and beds glittering with gumdrop flowers in the back.