The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

XV

The Gates of Farewell & Welcome

In which Bessa and Edana take the first steps of a thousand mile journey

Aunt Nerissa approached Bessa and Edana after breakfast the next day, as they were preparing to set out. She invited them to join her in the Pelasgian side of the family library.

In other parts of the empire, libraries were typically divided into two, with one side devoted to works in the Pelasgian language, and the other side devoted to works in Rasenan. The Philomelos library was no exception, thanks to Papouli.

The beauty of the room made Bessa sigh deeply. Designed as one grand hall, with semicircular turrets at either end, the library exuded tranquility. A glass dome over the entryway allowed light into the room. Directly beneath the dome, a grand medallion inlaid in the marble floor featured the Philomelos motif of a nightingale clutching a grape cluster in its talons.

Niches inside the walls housed cabinets lined with volumes. Marble pilasters, shaped as half moons, separated each cabinet. In a nod to Silura, carved starflowers served as the pilasters’ capitals.

Most of the cabinets contained codices, though some contained wooden scroll cases. Before Bessa was born, scrolls dominated the library. But Grandmother completed the process Papouli had started, of having the scribes copy his old scrolls to codex form.

Bessa smiled, remembering how Uncle Hedrek had grumbled about undergoing the format shift for his own collection. Using the codices meant they no longer needed to have long tables for unfurling the scrolls in the library, and Grandmother claimed the longest table for the dining room.

A mural between one set of shelves depicted Papouli in his youth. His expression of quiet contemplation looked like an invitation to unburden herself, and she imagined his patients had felt the same way.

Aunt Nerissa got down to it. She placed her company at Bessa’s disposal, and advised her to visit her office in Delmore, the nearest port to Asil’est. By the time they arrived, she said, the Kyane’s Rest should be waiting for them at port.

“Don’t take too long to arrive; it is a merchant ship. I personally know her captain, and will vouch for him. I will reserve a room for you. There are very few for any passengers, and most people have to sleep in the open.”

“Thank you,” Bessa breathed, moved by her aunt’s generosity.

Aunt Nerissa held up a hand. “There’s more. I have asked my captains to keep their eyes and ears open.” Shifting her gaze to Edana she added, “If necessary, you may call upon them, and these others here.”

She pushed forward a piece of parchment she had rolled into a small scroll. Edana unfurled it, and silently read the names of other captains and shipping companies.

Aunt Nerissa said, “The way I see it, the giants may not live on air. Certainly their human supporters don’t. With any other battle and invasion logistics matter. Supplies matter, and the navy has outsourced supplies and logistics to my ships, and others, in the past—it is how I met Morivassus. Why could not our enemies do the same? So far the giants have appeared near water, in Silura. Perhaps they have a ship? Maybe one with a portal? At any rate, I hope this helps you. If you need anything else, let me know.”

Taking her leave, Aunt Nerissa paused long enough to kiss and hug Bessa farewell. In voice husky with unshed tears, she uttered well-wishes in Bessa’s ear, and speculated Bessa would look lovely on her wedding day.

Shortly after, Bessa and Edana set off, this time with a large escort. By nightfall they came to the capital, White Cliff, where they stopped at an inn. They remained there the next morning, for Bessa needed to pay the tax she owed for freeing Lenora. The clerks confirmed their receipt of the manumission documents she’d sent days ago.

As it turned out, a clerk recognized Bessa’s name, and she and Edana were ushered in to meet the governor. Roswald’s report had also arrived, and the governor received with it Saavedra’s missive regarding the weapons the Pendrys had provided.

For the governor’s benefit, Bessa and Edana were obliged to give their official testimonies, and answer every question he put to them.

Before they left, the governor decided they deserved a reward for their part in exposing the duke, and for facing down the giants. He offered to cover the losses to Bessa’s vineyard, and gave her and Edana small medallions commemorating their valor at Red Pointe. Bessa smiled at the medallion’s engraving of the gigalion’s head. This would be a thing to explain to grandchildren one day…

Because the women intended to go to Sirônasse, the governor arranged for them to speak to his counterpart there, via his oraculum. The governor of Sirônasse asked the women to allow his own duke and aethers to view the giants’ thunder maces for themselves.

Edana had retrieved a good amount of the maces precisely for the engineers and tekmagi to study them, and she promised to turn over a few to the fortress in Asil’est. They would be held for the senior officers. Having done this, they were finally on their way.

“Let’s walk here,” Edana said, when they were nearly an hour away from White Cliff. “You’ll want to see the full view of the dragons when we reach them. Before then you’ll want to at least see the view of the Sea of Five Dragons.”

Edana was right. Bessa stopped in her tracks when they came to the bluff that marked the descent to the isthmus. Never in her life had she come so far, and she paused, turning this way and that.

Silura ended with the field of blue starflowers swaying gently in the breeze before her, and a trellised arch at the field’s edge leading to the road running down the bluff and to the land bridge.

A different vista awaited Bessa when she turned back: a vast green field, and a broad highway leading back to White Cliff, Falcon’s Hollow, and her life as she had known it. She clasped her arms about herself, trying to fight the urge to go running back to her estate.

Remember, Bessa told herself. Even if the giants weren’t an issue, there was still the matter of Lysander. Turning back wasn’t an option.

Somehow, without her realizing it, certain choices were no longer hers to make. No longer were her days her own, to pass as she would. And—she did want to leave. All her life she’d read about places she wanted to explore, new people she wanted to meet. Now was her chance.

Bessa glanced at Edana, who regarded her sympathetically. Edana was framed by a view of the arch, which was spangled with honeysuckle vines.

“I cried,” Edana said. “When we reached this arch, my parents almost had to strap me to the wagon to make me move. I wanted to stay here like nothing I’d ever wanted before.”

She had taken that walk, Bessa considered. “At least we’re together. This was our plan, wasn’t it? We were supposed to leave Silura with a pack filled with goodies, our families’ warm hugs and kisses, and our walking sticks in hand. We were supposed to go exploring all over Rasena Valentis, and see the places our fathers had been. This is not quite how we pictured it, and not as sweetly as we wanted it, but we’re doing this now.”

Edana pondered this for a moment. She smiled. Together she and Bessa entered the arbor, and its floral canopy. They descended the bluff, entering the isthmus proper.

When they walked another five miles the mist appeared, from seemingly nowhere. The group brought out their glowlights and continued on their way, albeit a little slower than before. Bessa nervously looked around. Anyone or anything could be in the mist with them. The guards escorting them kept their voices low.

Occasionally, a fox screamed in the distance. The screams always sounded like a child or woman in distress, setting everyone’s nerves on edge.

Before they got much further into the mist, Edana hung her glowlight in a net that dangled from the carriage. Leaving her hands free for her knives, which she openly carried. She looked unceasingly about them, the set of her jaw betraying great tension.

Edana must have felt Bessa’s eyes on her. “Amalu and I were ambushed on the street when it was foggy like this,” she said, answering Bessa’s unspoken question.

A fox screamed again, making Bessa grit her teeth. “The fog wasn’t natural, though, was it?”

“It was too perfectly timed against us. I’d say no. Amalu did his best to keep me from knowing exactly what was happening in Valentis. All I knew was that he believed someone very important was setting up Valentis for a fall. Likely the emperor was the target. Think about what would happen if you needed amulets and other wards of protection, but couldn’t access the most powerful material for that purpose.”

“Surely the emperor has stockpiles of silver? Or can jump to the head of the queue if need-be?”

“Which is how we knew he was not the sole target,” Edana agreed. “But I said, ‘if you needed amulets.’ You, and everyday folk of lesser means than you. Think about it. Now that we are reunited, if you believed you needed silver, who would you turn to?”

“I’d ask you. Surely you’d yield a bit of your own stockpile for your good old foster sister? I wouldn’t even have to ask; you’d just send it to me, no?”

Impishly, Bessa faced Edana, giving her the full brunt of the doe-eyed stare she used when they were children. Old Tamm, the master vigneron on the Philomelos estate, never failed to yield up his honeycombs, or sips of his honey wine when Bessa used that stare on him.

For a moment Edana’s lips quivered in her silent laughter. A release of tension, Bessa saw, and thereafter Edana looked a little more relaxed, though she remained alert and kept her knives out.

“True enough,” Edana replied when she composed herself again. “And that is true also for the high and mighty in Valentis, naturally. In times of great trouble they’d exploit their own connections. And everyone else would know who they need to turn to: their temples. So many people in convenient locations…”

Bessa’s eyes narrowed. “Just as the giants on the beach.”

“Just so. And if you did not go to the temples, if you went to the nearest sorcerer, how likely would you be to question the amulets he offers to you?”

Involuntarily, Bessa glanced back. Trees peeked through the mists. Each time the mist outlined a man’s shape he would step forward, revealing himself as either one of her guards, or Edana’s. The carriage wheels creaked on the stone road. Occasionally a bird trilled, or a yet another fox barked.

They were alone. However, Bessa decided the conversation would be better to have when they were safely ensconced in one of the imperial inns.

Yet, she could not let the matter drop until she asked, “Because of you this scheme never came to pass, did it?”

“No, it didn’t. For which the Star Dragons were grateful. To hear them tell it, my actions staved off a great battle. For now, anyway. Look, there.”

Following Edana’s gaze, Bessa looked upward.

And gasped.

Looming over them, from two hundred feet or so, was the massive head of a dragon. The stone creature glared forbiddingly at them. Like Lady Aelia, and unlike Roswitha, a column of spikes ran down his forehead. The spikes seemed as tall as her body, and added to them was a crest adorning the dragon’s head like a crown. More spikes ran along the back of his long neck.

“Incredible,” she breathed.

Edana led her to the plaque set up in honor of Ginessa and the dragons.

Here is testament of Ginessa, daughter of Silura, who raised these noble dragons to defend her people. Look upon them, and know that these dragons will be roused once more if ever again an enemy threatens this land.

The mist cleared a bit, allowing them to see the other dragons against the backdrop of the azure sea.

“The plaque doesn’t name the dragons,” Bessa observed. “Did Ginessa ever name them? How did she compel them, I wonder? None seem able to control sea dragons now. Is it true that even the emperor and the dukes have to use special amulets to make their dragons obey them?”

“I’ve heard that the dukes ride sea drakes because drakes are more willing to deal with humans, even ones who don’t have magic. The sea dragons are sapient, so I don’t know if I believe the story about compelling them: how wise would it be to make a slave of an intelligent dragon? Lady Nensela said that Lysimachus is not under the emperor’s control. They’re friends.”

In silence they continued on. As soon as the mist cleared enough, the chief of their guards suggested the women board their carriage, to make up for lost time.

“We will want to enter Sirônasse before nightfall,” they were warned.

The guards drove a fast pace, and before sunset they reached the arch heralding the entrance to Sirônasse. Red and blue poppies surrounded a majestic stone arch. The vista beyond was every bit as magnificent as the one they had left behind in Silura.

A short way beyond the arch, they came to an imperial inn, appropriately named the First and Last Stop.

Only after they secured rooms did a question occur to Bessa.

“The governor gave me an imperial inn pass, to go with yours. How did you get yours? I thought only government officials were supposed to have them?”

The ‘inn passes’ were certificates issued to and by government officials. Inn passes permitted the bearer to stay at an imperial inn, and have priority in room choices. As well, the bearers could freely rent carriages, horses, and any other services they might require. Ordinary people, even if rich, weren’t supposed to have access to them. Until now, Bessa assumed Edana’s pass had come from the Star Dragons.

Edana snickered. “Connections can get you a lot. My pass came courtesy of a different official. If I’m asked, he’s a client whose wife likes the silver I sell. Honestly, I wasn’t jesting about using a cover that’s actually true. No one should be suspicious of anything, or ask questions that lead to answers I didn’t want them to have. And now you have a pass, too. We’re both above suspicion. Let’s not waste that.”

The next morning they resumed their journey, and spent the next two days moving as fast as possible to the southeast, and the shores of the Viridian. Along the way Edana pointed the places where she had bought some of the fine gifts she’d given the Philomelos family. In turn, Bessa bought a few things she sent back to Silura, particularly to Grandmother and Grandfather Pendry.

On the third day they came to the Rhabdomachaeum. The school stood tall and imposing, with a marble façade, and a glass dome rising from the center of its central wing. Inside, the floor of the main hall was tiled with a massive mosaic depicting the school’s founder, Dagomarus the Bold standing with his arms folded, wand in hand, and one boot on the neck of a massive black stallion with flames coming out of its mouth.

The sight of the mosaic stopped Edana in her tracks.

“One would think you’d seen a dragon you look so surprised,” Bessa said.

But Edana caught the eye of a passing student, and thus she asked, “What is that horse? With fire coming out of its mouth?”

The student, a suave-looking young man in a smart green tunic, sidled up to her. “Oh, that? A morvarc’h. The way the legend goes, the monster used to terrorize the coast of northern Sirônasse. Until good ol’ Dagomarus put a sword to it, that is.”

“What’s so special about it it to you, Edana?” Bessa asked.

“I’m certain I’ve seen this before…”

However, at that moment the headmaster’s secretary fetched them and ushered them into his office.

The headmaster allowed them to see Pippa and Lenora. The girls hugged Bessa so fiercely they nearly knocked her over.

“They say there was a battle with giants. Were you there, too?” Pippa demanded. She cocked her head and stared intently at Bessa.

Bessa confirmed her guess, and rewarded her cousin’s curiosity with an edited version of the battle…and insisted the girls learn mounted shooting.

“Don’t assume you’ll never need to shoot or throw something from the back of a moving gryphon. Or a horse,” she said, adding the latter animal after a moment’s thought.

The girls solemnly assured her they had every intention of learning battle tactics.

While Bessa talked to the girls, Edana spoke to the headmaster and a few of the senior staff. Thankfully, they had heard about the Battle of Red Pointe, which made them very attentive when Edana explained about the giants’ tactics and vulnerabilities. She exhorted them to speak to Pegasus Primes Senovara and Roswald.

When she finished talking, she presented them with a few of the thunder maces, explaining her hope that they could find a way to counter their power—or make a few of their own.

As she hoped, the sorcerers were invigorated by the challenge she’d presented them.

“Let us incorporate all of this into our lesson plans with the advanced students,” one senior magistra said to the chief magister. The other teachers nodded vigorously in agreement.

Edana smiled. Instinct told her it would be wise to get as large a pool of sorcerers as possible to collaborate and research fighting the giants. Perhaps their archives contained the information Lady Nensela was seeking. The teachers would know how to search for it, and were likely to do so now that Edana had given them the impetus.

She had been so focused on the duke—and reuniting with Bessa, she now admitted to herself—that she had missed such an obvious strategy on her first trip through. Bessa’s idea of talking to everyone who would listen and involving them in defensive plans inspired her.

Bessa was right, the faction supporting the giants had to work in the shadows. Spreading the truth would spread the light, which Edana now believed would strengthen their faction.

Once assured all was well at the school, and that the sorcerers were added to their arsenal, they continued on.

Lady Nensela’s warning remained at the forefront of Edana’s mind. On a hunch she checked in with Senovara.

Strange men had come to Falcon’s Hollow, the pegasus prime reported. The men insisted on asking after ‘Donna,’ and her whereabouts.

Immediately upon hearing that heart-stopping news, Edana asked about the Philomelos family. Thank the Speaker, Senovara assured her Bessa’s family suffered no further attacks. As for the men, their strange behavior obliged them to leave town before sundown.

Edana brooded all the way to Asil’est. Already she’d endangered Bessa’s family. What could she do about it? At least Bessa had fortified her estate’s security. Now sorcerers joined the ranks of her guards.

But should she keep Bessa involved in her mission, given the known dangers? Doubt nagged at her, tugging at her conscience, and no defense came readily to her mind. Obviously, the best possible outcome for Bessa would be if this Lysander was home, or nearby. Failing that, Edana would settle for a solid lead on where to find him. Then Bessa would have to leave the mission behind, and she would be safe.

“Let it be so,” Edana pleaded to the Speaker.

So much did her fears preoccupy her that she failed to notice Bessa growing more and more quiet as they approached Asil’est.

However, when they were within two days of the city, Bessa hired a messenger to give notice to the Xenakis estate that she would call upon it. Her hands shook as she tried to write, and her thoughts were disordered; Edana was obliged to write the note on her behalf.

Later, Bessa awakened Edana in the middle of the night with her pacing. Finally, when Bessa rejected her breakfast, pushing her bowl of chestnut porridge away from herself, Edana asked her a question.

“I don’t know. No wait, that’s not true,” Bessa said. “I am worried.”

“About what? Lysander? Perhaps he won’t be there,” Edana said. Did she sound sincere? There was always the next-best case, where they simply learned his whereabouts. It was this that allowed her to feign nonchalance when she ventured, “You have more time to prepare to meet him, if you need to.”

“Yes…”

Edana arched an eyebrow and waited expectantly. As she watched, Bessa toyed with her spoon, and then with her hair. Finally, she took a deep breath.

“Did your parents talk about marrying you off to anyone?”

“Mama gushed about finding me a husband the day she gave me my first long chiton, but Papa insisted there was no rush. Other than that, no.”

“So you will choose for yourself then,” Bessa said, almost inaudibly.

Oh. So this was why Bessa was out of sorts.

“Is that what you’re worried about? That your grandmother didn’t choose well? To be honest, I’m surprised that you question her judgment on this. She loves you and she’s wise, and I don’t think she would choose anyone you couldn’t bear to be married to.”

That was sincere. Edana did have faith in Matrona Aurelia’s love for Bessa, and in her judgment.

“I know,” Bessa said slowly. “But he’s still a stranger. What should I expect? Now we’re going to see his family. Possibly. Maybe only the servants will be there. But I can’t help it, I am worried. Suppose he’s there? I don’t know if I want to meet him yet. Does that sound strange?”

Edana took a moment to answer. If she were any true friend, she should convince Bessa that meeting Lysander and marrying him on the spot was the absolute best thing to do.

But Bessa was speaking to her heart to heart. And trusted her to answer accordingly.

“Well…if you did meet him now, what do you think would happen?”

The question seemed to un-stopper whatever feelings Bessa kept bottled up, because the words came out in a rush.

“Should I even marry him? Right now, at a time like this? Without my family? When giants can kill us all at any moment? The only reason I’m going to Lysander now is because my grandparents are driven by fear for me. Fair enough, because I’m driven by fear for them. Fear is driving everything here, and I can’t trust decisions made out of fear.”

Fear is driving me, too. Suddenly, Edana felt as if she’d been jolted awake after a long slumber.

“Leaving my family might have been the worst mistake of my life,” Bessa continued, an unmistakable tremor in her voice. “If the giants kill them, I will have lost this time with them. Yet if I were home, what could I do to stop it from happening? Going with you, to this Lady Nensela, is the only useful thing I can do about my fear. I couldn’t do anything for my vinedressers. All I could do was run from the giants. I even left you behind!”

Bessa’s anguish pierced Edana’s conscience. Fear had been her master long enough. Now she must toss it aside, and speak from her own heart.

“For over a year after the massacre I would see my mother as I left her,” Edana began. “As I abandoned her. I left her to the gryphon; I didn’t even try to drag her away with me. Every day since I’ve hated myself for it. Over and over again I told myself if I hadn’t panicked I would have found a way to save her. What kind of daughter was I?”

An expression of eloquent horror came over Bessa’s face, but Edana shook her head when she started to speak.

“You helped me,” Edana said quietly. “That night in your vineyard, I told you to run. When you ran, I didn’t think you abandoned me. Never. I was at peace because I knew you were escaping to safety. That was all I cared about. And now I see the massacre from my parents’ side.”

Bessa leapt up from her chair and rushed over to Edana. In silence they sat, clasped together in a fierce embrace. After a while, Edana spoke, shifting the conversation back to Lysander. Gently she suggested that as a red gryphon in the legion, it was unlikely Lysander was unambitious, or uninterested in the glory of defending the empire from formidable enemies.

“We could use his help, if he’s able to give it. Every ally we can gather will be valuable, and having a red gryphon in our corner would only be a good thing. Helping us will be his duty, as well as his honor. You understand that, surely? So, I think that is not the heart of what troubles you.”

Edana watched as Bessa squared her shoulders, the sign of her old friend mentally girding herself.

“All of the most important choices I might make are out of my hands. It’s as if I’m a bystander, or a character in one of my own stories. And I’m—scared—that I’m walking on the edge of a cliff. One wrong step, and down I fall. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. But, Bessa, sometimes you are acted upon. Sometimes the choices will be made for you. And sometimes your only option is just to survive. You can’t adapt, you can’t make choices, unless you survive. You need to trust that you will survive. Let me point out something to you,” Edana said. She shared with Bessa what she’d realized at the Rhabdomachaeum about enlisting allies.

“I think you have good instincts. Trust them. They’ve led us right so far. That many people died at Red Pointe doesn’t change that. The duke’s treachery, and the consequences, it’s just one of the things we can’t control. What we can do is keep to the mission, and let everything flow from there.”

With Edana’s advice lodged in her heart, Bessa serenely crossed the gates of the Xenakis estate. To her relief, none of her future in-laws were home … nor was her future husband. However, from what she saw of the estate and the servants, she formed an impression of them.

For one, she noted Lord Xenakis allowed his household staff to wear comfortable grades of wool and linen. Always she judged people by how they clothed their household slaves, as she regarded it as the height of pettiness to keep them in coarse, itchy fabrics. The slaves did not simper or cower, which meant Lord Xenakis did not terrorize them.

Did he pass his kindness on to his son?

The marble busts of illustrious ancestors Lord Xenakis kept on display emphasized that her dowry was the prime motivation for him to wed her to his son. Her family did not match his in stature; her prosperous estate merely made her respectable.

Unfortunately, the stewards did not know Lysander’s exact whereabouts, only that he was leading a detachment in the East. Bessa asked them to contact either Aurelia or Lady Nensela if they should learn anything more definite.

Before she left, Bessa made a point of giving the estate’s guards a few of the weapons and spells her grandparents had made. This shocked the chief guardsman. As well, the estate’s stewardess dropped to her knees and kissed Bessa’s ring.

To show their gratitude they gave her an itinerarium, which listed the locations of the stopover houses Lord Xenakis kept between the estate and his house in Delmore. Moreover, they refused to allow her to leave before loading her up with provisions for her trip, especially little delicacies that were the specialties of the cook.

“You are their future mistress; I suppose they wanted to make a good impression on you,” Edana laughed, after she looked through the baskets and inventoried the impressive bounty.

The first basket was loaded with wine, cheese, bread, jellies, cakes, and meat pies. The slaves even included jars of starflower honey and violet-infused honey, both of which Bessa would later pour for the cheese and fruit they snacked on to hold hunger at bay.

In a separate basket the servants also included toiletries, which they produced on the estate. Dandelion unguent made with beeswax and olive oil for chapped lips or sore muscles. The spicy scent from an alabaster bottle announced the presence of soapwort. Edana unstoppered the bottle, and inhaled the additional perfume of wildflowers.

“Hopefully I made a good impression on them, too,” Bessa said.

“You gave them the means to defend themselves. That should secure a great deal of loyalty, I’d think,” Edana said dryly. She replaced the stopper in the soap bottle, then resettled the bottle in the basket. “And I’m sure your father-in-law would think well of you for looking after his people.”

Finally they came to the fortress of Asil’est, where they met the aether who was expecting them. He gladly welcomed the thunder maces and scythes they brought.

Early in the evening they finally reached the port, and this time Bessa fluttered with excitement. In spite of Uncle Morivassus and Aunt Nerissa, she had never traveled anywhere via ship before. She paused to take in the view of the sea.

Viridian was a worthy name. The water was a remarkable green, and the white foam of the waves looked inviting enough that the little girl within her spirit fervently wished to frolic in them. Bessa heroically resisted, concentrating instead on the ships crowding the harbor. So many possibilities swirled in her mind. What would Kyanopolis look like? And of course it was on another continent, Amanareia, which itself held wonders. She smiled brightly in anticipation of the fabled land.

However, at a market stall Bessa was mystified when Edana bought a large stalk of root, brown and gnarled. Ginger, she called it. Not native to Silura, and thus Bessa asked what it was for.

“You’ll see.”

A hostel near the quay served as their base. From there they found the offices of Nerissa’s shipping company, and learned they were still in time to catch the Kyane’s Rest.

“Tomorrow we leave, if all goes well with wind and tide,” the shipmaster assured them.

This condition accorded with what Bessa’s aunt and uncle had told her about sailing and shipping. Still, even if the weather cooperated, the Sea Lord must be appeased. Therefore, Bessa burnt an incense offering to Him of costly styrax resin, myrrh, and roses. With everything else going on, she hardly cared to risk incurring the wrath of His children, the sea dragons.

As they listened out for the herald’s cry the next day Edana gave Bessa a small pouch to tie valuables around her neck. If they should die in the voyage, and if their bodies should make it to shore, the pouch’s contents would aid whoever found them in paying for their burial. It was the custom of sea travel, and Bessa wryly agreed it was sensible.

Kyane’s Rest, at nearly two hundred feet, carried aboard six hundred passengers besides the crew. As Aunt Nerissa warned Bessa, most passengers slept on the decks, in tentlike shelters. The shelters were divided into sections, the men and youths traveling alone in one part, and women and children in another.

The cabin Aunt Nerissa reserved for them allowed just enough space for their luggage and their bunk. The guards were obliged to sleep in shifts in the single men’s quarters when they went off duty.

As they got underway, Bessa quickly understood why Edana dispatched a slave to make them a tisane of hot ginger water almost as soon as they came aboard. Bessa could not bear to leave her bunk until she’d consumed two entire cups.

Having already acquired her sea legs, Edana played nursemaid. However, attempts to get Bessa to open her eyes and try walking were all in vain, until the captain sent an invitation to join him on the deck. Edana insisted Bessa come with her, on the basis that she would recover faster if she were looking at the horizon. Even so, Bessa still needed convincing.

“What if you need to put a sea captain in your stories? This is research, Bessa,” Edana teased.

That did it.

Captain Tal Asher offered refreshments when they joined him, but only Edana partook. Keeping to her hot ginger water, Bessa abstained.

The Captain recognized Edana as one of his countrywomen, and gregariously loosed a volley of questions when they joined him on the deck. He was full of sympathy when he learned Edana had never seen the land of her forefathers.

“Your accent sounds as if you are from the Last Lands, and you have one of their names, not ours,” Captain Asher observed.

Edana stiffened, as if on her guard. Bessa, who had been reclining on a long settee, sat up straighter and fixed a wary eye on the captain.

“Yes, my father settled there, since his legion was in Sirônasse when he was finally released from the army. His friend, Bessa’s father, invited him to stay with his family in Silura. It was only supposed to be temporary, but then he discovered my mother was living there—she once helped them on a mission in Tartessia. Mama was from Yriel.”

Captain Asher’s eyes brightened. “Was your father one of the Taken?”

Edana gave a start. “The Taken…?”

Captain Asher leaned closer to her, as if sharing a secret. “That’s what my parents and their generation call them,” he explained. “About thirty years ago the Beast, an officer with the rank of draco hydra, swept through the Blue Crescent and conscripted several young men. No one saw them again, not for years. Some, like your father, never came home at all. That must have been hard for him.”

Silent, Edana sat motionless, staring at the horizon. “Snatched. Taken from his home. Why didn’t I—” with a start she cut herself off, as if remembering where she was. “Ahem. As you say, he did not make it home. Bandits killed him on our way to Eitan. Along with Mama, and everyone else in our caravan.”

What she heard in Edana’s voice obliged Bessa to rescue her. Therefore she asked, “Wait, wait, wait. What is this ‘Eitan’ you speak of? Didn’t your father just make up that name for stories? You know: far, far away, and long, long ago?”

The captain and Edana exchanged a glance.

Sounding apologetic Edana explained, “Papa did like to embellish the stories, but Eitan is the true name of his country. Terabinth is the name the Pelasgians gave it, because those trees are all over the place. The Rasena Valentians adopted that name from the Pelasgians. You notice that Captain Asher called Silura the ‘Last Lands?’ Most of the Rasena Valentians from all over the empire call Silura that, and you have to remind them of the actual name.”

“Exactly,” Captain Asher said, turning his attention to Bessa. “And my apologies to you, miss, I meant no disrespect. Of all people I should know better! By now I’ve accepted that most people call us Terebinthians, so I’ve learned to use my country’s name as code: if you know it, you’re one of us. If you don’t, you’re one of them. A lot of people back home will make a point of being greatly offended if you use the wrong name. Good thing your friend knows our true name, because many of those same people will reject her as one of us simply because of her name. It’s too, ah, foreign.”

The captain turned his full attention on Edana, and his gaze softened a bit. “I don’t suppose you have a second name?”

Edana looked down at her wine cup and Bessa stared at her, fascinated. Never before did Edana blush. Not where her second name was concerned, anyway.

“It’s Shifra,” Edana said, peeking up at the captain from beneath her lashes.

He smiled, and patted her hand reassuringly. How forward, Bessa thought, but Edana did not appear offended.

“Your father was not wrong to call you beautiful,” Asher said.

“It’s something a father would say,” Edana deflected.

“Well, not only a father, little sister,” the captain insisted.

Little sister, Bessa noted, as she took in the meaning of Shifra and the reason it embarrassed Edana. Inwardly she was amused; clearly the captain wanted to emphasize that he was not old enough to be Edana’s father. Allowing herself a small smile, Bessa pictured how exciting it would be for Edana to marry a sea captain, and explore all over the world with him.

Then she remembered Lady Nensela’s family, and she sobered. Perhaps Asher could retire and they travel overland instead? Ah, but Edana’s family was massacred on an overland trip. The obvious lesson pained her: no choice offered a guarantee of protection. Her vinedressers—winegrowers—were cut down in their own homes. Obviously, safety could not be the paramount consideration for how to live one’s life. So, what would make Edana happy while she lived?

Returning from her reverie, Bessa caught Edana’s deepening blush.

“Our nations have much in common,” Bessa observed. “My grandparents disapprove of my name, as do others in their part of Silura. I thought distrusting outsiders was unique to my country. But if the Nuriels had made it back to yours, what would it have meant for Edana? Would they consider her an outsider?”

The captain stroked his beard and looked thoughtful as he answered. “Not necessarily. The Blue Crescent, where I’m guessing her father was from since he was one of the Taken, is a huge trading port. They’re used to outsiders, and can live and let live. Even her mother could have been comfortable there. It’s the inland folks who might give her a hard time. They would make an exception if she knows the Sayings of Truth, but otherwise, forget it.”

“But in the coastlands she could be herself?”

The captain smiled again. “She should be herself regardless. Maybe it’s the sailor in me, but I refuse to turn myself inside out just to please some stranger. Do this or that custom just so, or you can’t be one of us. No, no, to the Darkness with all of that.” He drained his wine cup.

The women waited, and he continued after a moment.

“Of course, that’s just me. My ship is a country unto itself, and I make the customs here. Edana—Optima Nuriel—should make her own decision. And it’s easy for me to take my home for granted, because it’s in my blood and I did grow up there. I know how it’s shaped me. But it’s a different matter for young Optima Nuriel.” He again focused on Edana, and again his gaze softened. “You owe it to yourself to take a trip home. You will not regret it. It’s worth it, warts and all.”

Edana accepted this with good grace, and assured him she had every intention of going there.

For some time they sat in relaxed silence. Then, Edana asked a question that she and Bessa had wondered about, ever since Aunt Nerissa mentioned the possibility.

“A portal? On a ship? Hmm. Well, you could have one. But it would have to be a small portal.” Captain Asher furrowed his brow as he considered it. “Small rules out an army using it, though, not if the goal is to transport everyone stealthy and quick. A scouting party, sure. But the real question is, where’s the second portal? The ship has one, where’s the other one? I’m not sure a portal could take you anywhere except a second portal. In ancient days, maybe, during the Seven Gates Era. But now?”

Edana and Bessa exchanged a look. So a portal on a ship was indeed possible. It might explain how the giants managed to arrive at Red Pointe in secret.

"Let's discuss this later, with Lady Nensela," Edana suggested later, when they returned to their cabin.

"Looking forward to it," Bessa agreed.