[ 12 ] What Goes Up

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What Goes Up

When Charlotte entered Frankford Millstone's residence, he was sitting at his desk with a monocle up to his right eye. Charlotte thought about keeping the map for herself, out of spite if nothing else, but the old man knew the island better than any of them. He'll help me, but not before ridiculing me. That's how it went on most days. Frankford would offer insults before he offered help.

Even on first sight of Frankford's study, one could tell that the man had an interest if not obsession with maps. If they were not bound and rolled up in the corner of the room, they were already hanging on his wall. They were his keepsakes, his treasures, his children.

Frankford seemed not to notice her, so Charlotte walked closer and said, "What are you reading?"

Frankford looked up, startled. "Ah, my dear Charlotte. You nearly scared this old man half to death. How many times do I have to tell you to not creep up on me like that?"

Charlotte smiled. "I'm sorry. I will announce my entrance next time with bells and whistles. It seems my memory is almost as bad as your hearing!"

Frankford grumbled. "I'm reading The History and Happenings of Sebolt. The volume has seen better days. The pages are worn and dusty, but the text holds the history of the island."

"Is it a rich history?"

Frankford Millstone laughed. "History is always rich. This one especially. It tells of the founding, when Chandler the Explorer first discovered the island and proposed colonization to Hemonstalia's seventh king. The king sent a hundred ships to Kolos and Maulth and places beyond, seeking trade from the nations in the Burned Lands and mystic isles. When the ships returned, they were overflowing with thousands of Calacami slaves. So began the colonization of Sebolt."

The Calacami, Charlotte thought, remembering the ships that crashed into their shores after they settled on the island. "The ships that ran aground years ago carried them, did they not?"

"They did. The slave traders tried to sell us their inventory, funnily enough. They expected us to welcome them, to wipe the tears off the slave children, offer a handsome sum of money, and put them hard to work. I guess their captors didn't receive word that Sebolt is no longer a nation of slaves."

Charlotte was in Eckrondale when the fleet crashed into the rocks. The merchants were hoping to sell a shipload of slaves, young ones and old ones alike, but Sebolt had changed. It was a free nation now. It was an island of Hemonstalians. When Geoffrey Marg found out there were slaves aboard, he demanded their captors be jailed, the ones that lived through the skirmish at least. The ships were full of Calacami children who were auctioned off to eager parents. Even now, history was being made.

Frankford Milltone was living in Eckrondale at that time. He moved there for a couple of months, after he found a temple full of maps and documents that were far too many to bring back to Tannuchi. Charlotte and Whik had visited him when Geoffrey Marg was declared the Steward of Sebolt, but Charlotte couldn't call any place home besides Tannuchi. She didn't like the endless stone labyrinths of the city, the way the walls stretched so tall that one couldn't see the flowing fields of wheat. She liked her cabin outside of the village. It was simple, but it was hers.

"There must be thousands of pages in that thing," Charlotte said.

"There are. I have hundreds left to read, but it doesn't take much to make me weary these days. I will have to wait to learn about the Mages of Kolos who once brought magic to the sleepy island. I'm most looking forward to that part. But you didn't come here for a history lesson, did you? What do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

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