Finding the Suun

by J. A. Culican

  The sky was just lightening when we emerged onto the street and hurried in the direction of the docks. Stiarna was already there, waiting for us at the door. She fell in line beside me.

  "What are you going to do with the Duchess?" I asked Arun, reaching over to scratch Stiarna's shoulder.

  He shifted the bag to another shoulder, and we crossed the street. "I've already sent word to the estate. Our coachman will retrieve her and hire someone to do the repairs."

  "Your coachman." I nodded. "Sure."

  Captain Wynleth was waiting for us on the dock beside her ship, which looked very much like the Duchess, with its three masts and a dozen sails, but more polished. It had definitely not seen as much action as Arun's ship, or if it had, she'd been here long enough to do extensive repairs. I almost felt bad for what I knew she was about to face.

  Almost.

  Even less when I saw her look Arun up and down before speaking. "I thought I would have to send the guards after you."

  Arun looked to the east. "We have plenty of time left." He was being generous. The sun had very nearly risen over the city, which had become practically blinding with the sunlight reflecting off the glass buildings.

  We followed her on board. Her crew lined up to meet us, or her, rather. She barked orders at most of them, but one held back. He was short and skinny, with close-cropped yellow hair and pointed ears decorated with golden wire. "This is Renwick, my first mate."

  Renwick nodded at us but didn't speak.

  Erik introduced each of us in turn, Arun last.

  "Phina," Captain Wynleth said, looking down her nose at her fellow elf. "I thought you looked familiar."

  Arun narrowed his eyes at her but shook his head. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

  "And I plan to keep it that way." She dismissed us with a wave of her hand. When she walked away, she held her hands clasped behind her back, which was as straight as an arrow.

  We followed Renwick to our quarters, where we were all crammed into one room.

  As we claimed our cots, I turned to Arun. "Captain Wynleth really hates you. What did you do to her?"

  He sat on one of the cots and it swung beneath him. "Does it make me a horrible person to admit that I have no idea?"

  "Yes," Estrid said. "Definitely."

  We returned to the deck at Renwick's urging, where we were met with organized chaos. Unlike when Arun had ordered us around, this crew knew what they were doing.

  Wynleth stood at the helm and turned to us. "There are only two rules that you need to know in order to fly on my ship. First, I am the captain, and my word is the law. If I tell you to do something, you do it." Then, focusing on Arun, she said, "And second, no one touches the ship's wheel except for me and Renwick."

  "I have experience," Arun said. "I can help."

  She blinked at him, and then turned to me. "What was the rule again?"

  I couldn't help but smile when I answered. "No one touches the ship's wheel."

  Arun glared at her. "But I am a ship's captain. I will not be treated as a common passenger."

  Wynleth looked him over again. "Captain of a stolen ship is no captain at all." Then she adjusted her tricorn, tilting it at a cocky angle that made me think I could actually come to like her. "Besides, what kind of captain doesn't have a hat?"

  "I don't need—"

  But she was done, returning to the helm and leaving us to Renwick. He set us to menial chores, carrying buckets of water and hanging onto ropes while more accomplished sailors tied the knots. Finally, the Wind Wraith pulled out of its slip and angled away from the city.

  From her spot at the helm, Wynleth called to us. "Where to?"

  It was the moment I'd been dreading. I pulled the rock from my vest and held it flat in my palm. Erik, Estrid, and Arun looked down at it with me.

  "Still nothing?" Estrid asked.

  Renwick poked his head over my shoulder. "That looks like a wayfinder's stone."

  We all turned to look at him.

  "A what?"

  "A wayfinder's stone," he repeated as if that would clear things up for us. He patted his pockets, looking for something. "An old sailor's trick. You just need a compass."

  I looked up at Arun, surprised.

  He smiled and raised his eyebrows at me as if he'd known this would happen all along.

  "I have one." I pulled the compass out from my shirt and flipped it open. "Now what?"

  Renwick put the four-pointed stone flat in my right hand, the compass in the other. Then he turned me by the shoulders so that I was facing north. Almost immediately, the rock grew warm and began to glow faintly in the spot on it that corresponded with east on the compass. I looked up at Renwick, exhaling with relief.

  "Is it working?" he asked.

  I nodded, too delighted to speak.

  "It was created for you, so it will only work for you. You'll have to work closely with the captain on our journey."

  "East," I told him. "Toward the coast."

  Renwick left to deliver the heading to Captain Wynleth, and we were on our way, finally, to find the Suun heir.

  Chapter 3

  While the others dispersed to complete whatever menial task Renwick set them to do, I stood on the deck, the compass and the stone in my hands to confirm the heading. It kept us pointing east, and I began to trust Ravyn a little more. I felt hopeful for the first time since starting this crazy chase.

  But then the compass began to shift, and I realized Wynleth was changing course. In the distance, a small island that looked like part of Lamruil's outer rim came into view. And it seemed that we were headed straight toward it.

  I stood below the helm and called up to her. "We're off course."

  She looked down at me, her eyes narrowed in a way that struck me as particularly cruel. "No, we're not."

  "Yes, we are." I held up the compass as proof.

  "I am the captain of the Wind Wraith, and she goes where I tell her, and it is always intentional."

  "Then why are we going there?" I pointed at the small plateau, an island in a sea of clouds. It was much smaller than Lamruil, and much more crowded. The houses were not sprawling estates but packed in tightly in the small space. There were only a few flying ships docked at small, personal piers that jutted out over the southern edge of the plateau.

  "There's a stop we have to make before we continue on your quest."

  I wanted to keep arguing with her. To tell her that we hadn't agreed to this and that I did not, in fact, have time for any side trips. But I knew with certainty that she wouldn't entertain any objections. That they would likely have the opposite effect and make her even more determined to make this little detour.

  Instead, I went and told on her. Erik and Arun were helping two other men do something with a sail. "She's stopping."

  Arun stood and looked around. When he spotted the island, he froze. "Is that Fairlow?"

  "I wouldn't know."

  He muttered a curse that left Erik and me exchanging a confused glance, and abandoned his post, stalking toward the helm.

  When Captain Wynleth saw him, she smiled. "Can I help you, Phina?"

  "What are we doing at Fairlow?"

  "There's someone there I thought we should stop and say hello to."

  I turned to Arun. "What is she talking about?"

  He ignored me. "That wasn't part of our deal."

  "Our deal?" She scoffed at him. "I'm transporting you and the D'ahvol only because my high king ordered me to. I will take her where she needs to go, but I made you no promises about where else our journey might take us."

  Arun swung himself up on the helm and glared at her, nose-to-nose. "What do you want from me? Who are you?"

  Captain Wynleth raised an eyebrow. "Figured it out, have you?"

  "Not really," Arun answered. "Only that you have some personal vendetta against me, and you'll make the whole quest suffer for it."

  I didn't know what they were talking about, but I had never seen Arun li
ke this. Usually the peacemaker who put an end to confrontations, something about the sight of this place had him very irritated.

  "Is it because of her?" Captain Wynleth jerked her chin at me, bringing me into an argument I had no part in.

  Arun considered me over his shoulder. "No," he finally answered. "It's not."

  "Then why?" she hissed at him. "Why have you betrayed my cousin this way?"

  "Your … your what?" Arun stuttered.

  "Who?" I asked, looking between the two of them.

  Instead of explaining, Arun looked the captain up and down. Then, he asked, "Tsarra is your cousin?"

  Realizing that she'd revealed too much, she looked away, eyes focused once more on our trajectory. "Her mother is my mother's sister."

  "So, you know about—"

  "The betrothal? Yes. Your betrayal? Also, that."

  Now that he knew what was happening, Arun seemed a little calmer. "Even if she is your cousin, I don't see what that has to do with you."

  "She is family." Then, looking down her nose at him, "I know family has never meant much to you."

  The semblance of calm that had come over him dissipated and his cheeks flushed red with what I assumed was fury. She couldn't have known about the death of his sister, or she never would have said that. Everything he'd done was because of the love he'd had for her, the love that hadn't had anywhere to go after her death. The fact that I knew that, and she didn't bolstered me slightly.

  In an attempt to split them up, I stepped forward. "What does any of this have to do with this place? With Fairlow?"

  Arun was the one who answered. "Tsarra's father was on the high king's council. When he made an exceptionally unwise decision, it cost him his title and his estate. He was banished to Fairlow."

  "Why here?"

  "Because Fairlow is the epicenter of the slave trade for Lamruil. He's been reduced to managing the auctions, while his family is charged with caring for the slaves during their time here. Truly, they are little better than servants for the merchant and gentry classes."

  I hated the idea of slavery. Thankfully, the D'ahvol were too brutal to be victims of the elves, but humans were not so lucky. But I wasn't here to argue the merits of enslaving a people just because elves thought of themselves as superior. "And marrying you …"

  "Marrying any High Elf would give the family credibility and return them to their place in court. Her father might never be on the council again, but his honor would be restored."

  Elven politics made me sick to my stomach. A D'ahvol would have just killed him and been done with it, but this game of secret movements and underhanded betrothals was worse.

  Arun turned back to the captain. "If you know Tsarra, you know that she and I aren't suited for each other. It was a match of convenience. Her father wanted her to marry to regain his position. My mother wanted me to settle down and stay home."

  All that might have been true, but there was one thing he was forgetting. "But she came for you."

  Captain Wynleth pointed at me as if we were suddenly on the same side. "That's right. She came for you when you were taken by that human governor."

  "It was just an attempt to protect her family." He looked over his shoulder at the island that was growing closer. "The marriage was a bad idea."

  "Then why did you agree to it?" I asked, feeling suddenly sick to my stomach.

  He turned toward me completely, his back to the captain, who once again looked satisfied at my question. I didn't like giving her any ammunition, but they were questions I needed the answer to before I let him in any further.

  "When I agreed to it, I didn't have any reason not to. The Trisfina family was another lost cause that I was going to try to fix. Now …"

  "Now?"

  He didn't meet my eyes as he said, "Now, I think I might have a reason to say no."

  Was I that reason? Or was it something else? The mission, maybe, to save the world from a second Dark War. To find the heir and guide her on her path to the light. I didn't know which one I wanted it to be. I didn't know which one the bigger lost cause was.

  Wynleth wasn't having it, though. "Well, then you'll have to say no to her face. Only then will I take the D'ahvol where her stone wants us to go."

  Arun looked between the two of us, but I didn't say anything to sway his decision one way or the other. If she dropped me and my siblings in the middle of a Bruhier valley, we would find a way to survive and make our way to where we were supposed to go. It would be harder than just flying there, but we would find our way with or without her. We always had.

  "Fine," he finally answered, but he didn't have much of a choice. The Wind Wraith was already pulling into a rickety-looking slip at the edge of an even worse-looking market. The half-empty stalls were covered with dingy white cloths, and the streets were practically empty.

  After instructing Stiarna to stay put lest she scare the locals, we disembarked. A man stepped out of the dock house and moved down the pier toward us, a younger boy on his heels. Arun hung back and I suspected that this was Mr. Trisfina. It wasn't just Arun's hesitancy but also the man's appearance. His grey hair was thin, falling around his pointed ears, and his jacket, once fine, was threadbare and conspicuously missing the button that would keep it closed across his belly.

  "May I help—" He stopped, drawing up short when he saw Captain Wynleth stalking toward him with her usual long strides. "Quynn?"

  "Uncle." She grasped him around the wrist in greeting and he pulled her close.

  The boy behind him whispered something to Mr. Trisfina, who snapped back, "No, we will not charge them." The boy shut his ledger and scurried away back to the dock house. Then, to Quynn, "What brings you to Fairlow? Are you here for the … auction?" His eyes skimmed over the rest of us, not finding any of us in chains.

  "No, Uncle. I've brought someone who needs to speak to you and Tsarra." Quynn dragged Arun forward.

  It took a few moments for recognition to register in the old man's eyes. "Phina," he breathed. "You've come for Tsarra at last? I thought—we thought—"

  Arun grimaced. "No, Lord Trisfina."

  "What am I lord of, exactly?" Mr. Trisfina laughed humorlessly and held his arms out to the side. "I am no lord, not anymore. Please, call me Laurel." Then, he put his arm around Arun's shoulder, eyeing me and my siblings over his shoulder. "Come, let us speak in private."

  Arun and Mr. Trisfina disappeared into the dock house, while Captain Wynleth stalked away without another word to us.

  "Shall we explore a bit?" Estrid asked. "Stretch our land-legs before getting back on the ship?"

  Erik and I agreed, and the three of us moved through the market, drawing open stares from the elves gathered around the stalls. I guessed it wasn't common to see outsiders coming to Fairlow of their own volition, unless they were here to buy slaves. Our D'ahvol heritage would give us away in that—we did not keep slaves or condone the practice. Maybe they feared we were here to start trouble. Well, I wouldn't say no to a good fight.

  Estrid stopped to buy three bright red apples from a vendor, and then we waited around while a smithy polished all our weapons for just one coin each. He ground my ax against the whetstone with expert precision that not even I could match. When he returned it to me, just a touch with the tip of my finger brought blood welling to the surface through a small cut. I gave him an extra coin just for that, and then hurried to catch up with Erik and Estrid who had already rounded a corner up ahead.

  They were easy to catch, though, because they'd come to a stop at the edge of a large crowd.

  The market had been mostly empty, and now I knew why. "Looks like we found all the people," I said.

  "What is this?" Erik asked, mostly to himself.

  Estrid tapped a man on the shoulder. "What's going on?"

  He turned around, already looking annoyed, but when he took in the sight of us with our freshly polished weapons, he took a step back, knocking into the elf in front of him. "The auction."

  T
he slave auction, I surmised. "Come on, I don't want to see this." I tugged on Estrid's sleeve, but Erik was already moving forward, cutting through the crowd. No one protested. In fact, most of them moved aside to let him pass, so Estrid and I hurried behind him in his wake. It wasn't until we were to the front and I could move aside and see the auction block that I saw what had him so worked up.

  Standing there, on the raised auction block in a brown muslin dress, was Aysche Luthair, Governor Luthair's niece and all-around terrible bitch. My hand covered my mouth in shock. She looked even worse than she had the last time I'd seen her, after the fight with the ur’gels, when she had cursed me as I'd walked away. What had happened to her since then? She was skinny, her curvy figure reduced to bones, and her hair was dark and stringy with grease. To make it worse, she was looking down at her feet, without a spark of her former defiant attitude. I hated Aysche, that was true, but no one deserved to be sold into slavery, not even her.

  Before I could even decide whether or not to try to do anything about it though, Erik had rushed forward in true Frida fashion, swords blazing. The man I assumed was the auctioneer opened his mouth to object, but Erik had his blade to his throat before he could get a sound out. The rest of the crowd was frozen.

  So was I, shocked into stillness, but Estrid was not. She rushed forward, cutting Aysche's bonds with her knife.

  "This woman is not a slave," Erik announced. "Where did you get her?"

  The auctioneer stuttered, waving a document in the air. Erik snatched it, read it, then crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into one of his pockets.

  Estrid had already freed Aysche, but the girl wasn't moving. There was a commotion to my left and I saw a platoon of red-coated guards trying to shove their way through the gathered crowd.

  "Come on," I hissed. "Now." I could only hope that Arun was done with Mr. Trisfina and ready to beat a hasty retreat.

  Estrid took a step forward but Aysche didn't move. She didn't even look up, or object, or throw any rude remarks at us. She was a shell of her former self.

  Erik saw and tossed the auctioneer aside. The blundering man scrambled for his spectacles, which had fallen into the dirt somewhere below the dais. Then my brother put his shoulder to Aysche's waist and lifted her over his shoulder. The Aysche I'd known in Barepost would have never let him do it, but this Aysche just hung there limply as he jumped down from the dais and joined us.