FIRE
"Deklow," she insisted, "I want to buy the inn. I have a whole bag of gold. How much do you want for it?"
"I told you, Merilyce, The Perfumed Fisherman is not for sale."
"Fine. You know what. It stinks of fish, and I'm done with fish. I will find another inn to buy, and I will be your competition."
Merilyce stormed out of the inn, and kept marching to the rhythm of the persistent arguments within her mind. She didn't stop until she reached The Spotted Seahorse, a tavern well known for not having any dealings with the criminal underworld. She stormed right in and went straight to the bar.
"I want... Deklow? What are you doing here?"
"Me? I work here. What are you doing here?"
"I... What? I just saw you in The Perfumed Fisherman?"
"Yes. I run a few places, actually."
"Well... I assume you aren't planning on selling me this one either?"
"Afraid not."
"Fine," she spat, and rushed out of the door.
On she went, determined to purchase a tavern, and still be able to settle in before the evening rush. She crossed the market square and followed a seedy road filled with women wearing barely enough to satisfy Constable Pektyne, should he happen to be in the neighbourhood. It wasn't the most reputable area, but men looking for paid company were prone to reducing their inhibitions before doing something their wives wouldn't be too pleased about. She stormed into The Old Unfaithful with renewed vigour, and slammed the bag of gold on the counter.
"I want to... Deklow? What the... How the hell?"
"Merilyce? Nice to see you again. Would you like a drink?"
"Would I... No! I would like an explanation! Just how many taverns are you working in... at exactly the same time?"
Deklow sighed.
"Look, if I tell you, will you leave it alone?"
"No, of course not," she said. "But if you tell me, and show me how to do it, then I won't tell anybody else about your little secret."
* * *
ICE
Pektyne was furious. It wasn't that he was completely against crime. No, crime had its place in society. It was disorganised crime that riled him. Makyron wasn't working for someone, he was just an opportunist. It was up to Pektyne to stop these heinous acts of unsanctioned crime.
"Wha'?" exclaimed Tyke. "Issa broken compass. Wha' you wanna go chasing him down fa?"
"It's my compass!"
"You foun i' onna ship."
"Yes, well, it's still mine."
"Bu' it don' even work."
"I know that."
"Jus 'ave an ale and forge' it, please," rasped Tyke. "Deklow?"
The innkeeper brought another round of drinks, two for the city watchmen, and one for Rendyle. The navigator had taken to drinking with them instead of the wrecked ship's crew. Deklow had a strange expression on his face as he surveyed the three of them.
"You alright, Deklow?" asked Pektyne. "You seem... worried."
"No. It's nothing. Just... not what I expected."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," said the innkeeper, thinking out aloud, "it's just not how I would have planned it, I guess."
"Planned what? What are you talking about?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm sure it will all work out."
Pektyne took a sip of ale, his eyes still fixed on Deklow. There was something very wrong going on. Everything. That messenger who had sent them to the Bluntooth Peninsula in the first place. The Sharpened Bluntooth opening in the middle of nowhere just when a ship happened to run aground nearby. The empty cave. The torch, burning in the empty cave. Why was the torch burning in a godsdamned empty cave? And then there was the compass. There was something odd about that compass, he just couldn't quite grasp what it was. As if it was leading him somewhere, but not by pointing him in the right direction.
He shrugged and shook his head. These thoughts had been plaguing him, growing worse all the time. He felt like something was watching him. Nudging him along, perhaps. Something... beyond his understanding.
"That does it," he said. "I am going to find out what the hell is going on. If it's the last thing I do, I am going to find out what the godsdamned hell is happening on this island."
* * *
TIME
Arynlock studied the Seven Sevens, trying desperately to work out what she was missing. She must have overlooked something, some fine detail that would aid her in bringing it all together.
She had the seven Navigator's Coins laid out before her, and a map of Renryre Island, alone in a vast blue ocean. Somehow, the coins would help her find the mainland, but... she was missing something.
She broke her attention on the map and raised her hand to her head, cupping her forehead and rubbing her temples before running her fingers through her greying hair. She had repeated the motion countless times over the weeks; every time she thought she had found the solution, she became lost again in a sea of confusion.
She glanced around the room at the patient, silent onlookers, their eyes fixed on her, intent, eager. All except her servant who, curiously, was looking unusually down.
"What's the matter with you?" she asked in a slightly annoyed tone.
"Nothing, madam. Nothing at all."
"Why don't you make us a pot of tea, then?" suggested Arynlock. "Our guests look rather parched."
"Yes, Ms Arynlock. Of course."
The servant trudged away, his sour mood infecting the room.
"Right, where was I?" mused Arynlock, focusing back on the map.
She checked the seven coins again, looking at every minor detail on each individual coin. The constellations were different on each of them, an apparent pattern, yet not one she could follow. Surely they must mean something.
She slid the coins around, rearranging them in different orders, different shapes. She tried replicating the arrangement of the stars of each coin, tried aligning them with the features on the map of Renryre Island. She wondered if the map was to the wrong scale, if she needed to try a different map. Perhaps one with markers in the sea.
But there were no landmarks in the ocean, just a vast empty nothingness, not a single island or rock piercing the waves. Nothing with which to orient the island. If it weren't for the consistency of the sunrise, she wouldn't even have been sure which way she was facing. At least she knew that Renryre Island itself wasn't moving.
"I am so near to figuring this out," she mumbled, mostly to herself.
She placed all seven coins on the left margin of the map, searching again for something, anything she might have missed. She slid the first coin out, the Seven of Snows, gradually moving it towards Goldryke Caves. The Seven of Storms she moved over Rordynne Forest, followed by the Seven of Stars over Littleren, the seat of the Godstone.
"Hmm," she said appreciatively.
She kept moving the coins one by one, the Seven of Sands over Fools' Escape, the Seven of Seas over Helen's Bay, and finally the last two she moved over the city itself, the Seven of Suns, and the Seven of Sevens, supposedly the key to deciphering the others. She studied the arrangement for some time, a constellation in itself which formed a near perfect arc that followed the western coast of the island, crossed the mountains, and wandered over towards the northern coast before looping back down into Fools' Escape. She considered the pattern for some time, nodding to herself slowly.
"Hmm," she repeated.
* * *
THE KEY
If there was one word that Nelysse could use to describe herself, it would be patient. Through all the years, she had never rushed a loaf of bread. It was a skill in itself, patience, one that was earned through tireless practice.
"Well," she said eagerly, "where is it?"
Arynlock didn't seem to hear her, so deep in concentration she was. Unsurprising really; if locating the mainland was an easy task, somebody would have found it already. People had been searching for decades, ever since it had gone missing. Many had lost their lives to the endless quest.
The elderly gentleman Nelysse had met in the drawing room had been one of those who had spent many years of their lives in pursuit of the elusive mainland. Abbikson had given up after losing too many friends, and had finally gone to live in solitude in the desert, trying to forget what he had lost.
"Anything?" she prompted, but still there was no answer.
Nelysse could remember those early years well, when sailors embarked on their perilous journeys almost daily, many of them never to return. The port had grown quiet after some time, ships' berths left empty, families broken, and loved ones mourning the senseless deaths.
"Hmm," said Arynlock, tilting her head to one side as she studied the coins.
Nelysse wondered what they might find on the mainland. Would they have been forgotten? Would the mainlanders welcome them back?
"Can I do anything to help?" volunteered the bakerwoman, but there was no response.
Nelysse had inherited the bakery when her parents had passed away. She had lived in the same building her entire life, struggling with change while she remained ever the same. Since the city watchmen had been lost on the mainland, criminals had roamed free in Helen's Bay, while poor Pektyne struggled to keep order against the odds. Two of those criminals were right there in the room with her. Tailfin, the infamous gangster, crime lord of the island, and Kyrnrie, the thief she had caught nosing about in her bedroom.
"Hmm," added Arynlock to her previous statement, evidently oblivious to her audience.
There were others in the room too. The young good-looking fellow who had arrived wearing nothing but his underwear. Fortunately, the servant had found a cloak for him, as the young lady with Kyrnrie really shouldn't be exposed to such sights. Ryleine's grandfather had joined them too. A sweet old man, though evidently he had left a large part of his mind behind at some point in time along his extended journey. Another strange man that she had seen many times in the bakery had also joined them. The Scribe, he humbly called himself.
The eight of them stood watching as Arynlock tried to decipher the coins. Well, nine if the servant was to be counted, but he appeared to have little to do with it, pouring the tea with a sour look on his face.
"Hmm," said Arynlock in high-pitched voice, nodding as she appreciated the arrangement of coins in front of her.
Silence hung in the room, stretching out as far as time could reasonably extend without snapping.
"Well?" urged Nelysse, excitement getting the better of her.
"Hmm? What?" asked Arynlock, concentration broken as she looked up from the map.
"Well... where is it?" she asked. "Where is the mainland?"
Arynlock glanced back down at the coins.
"Do you know," she said as she sucked in a deep breath, "I haven't the faintest idea."