by Chris Miller
“No, not you!”
“Then who did you say it to, lad?”
“The voice,” I answered.
“Oh, I see,” Stoney nodded. Then, suddenly realizing what I’d said, he asked, “What in the blazes? You’re hearing voices?”
Just then a gentle wind began to blow through the deckhouse, accompanied by a steadily growing light. Boojum winced immediately and ran away to a darker part of the ship before it became too bright for him to bear. The medallion lifted itself away from my chest, and the Flame within emerged into the cabin with us. The four of us watched in wide-eyed wonder as the Flame formed itself over the desktop, turning from a low ember to a brilliant yellow.
Let me, the Flame said.
“Let you what?” I asked.
Let me lead the way.
“Of course, why didn’t I think of that before?” I said.
“Think of what?” Stoney said. “Is anyone else confused by this, or is it just me?”
“Hunter can hear the Flame speak,” Trista replied.
“The Flame?”
“Yeah, it was Petrov’s. He told us to protect it and carry it with us.”
“A boy that can talks to flames, eh?” Stoney said. “That’s a new one.”
The Flame floated out into the night sky. It hovered in place for a moment and then curved back to the right side of the ship, leaving a twinkling trail of light in its path.
“Captain Stoney!” I beamed. “We have our bearing…follow the Flame!”
Chapter 16
Torpor
In only two days’ time, the Flame led us straight to Torpor. Trista was the first to spot it, though Stoney would claim he had tasted land in the air long before then. It was a glorious sight, and the first time I felt at home seeing a floating land mass hovering in the clouds. I couldn’t wait to set foot on solid ground again. We were all so excited that even Rob, who normally would never step near the edge of the ship, pressed himself against the railings at the sight.
“We made it, we’re actually here!” Trista said, hugging each of us with excitement.
The first thing we began to talk about was food, what we would eat and how much of it we would have. As Captain Stoney brought the ship level with the shard, I caught my first glimpse of its terrain. I don’t know what I was expecting exactly, but the tropical paradise that met my eyes was surely not what I’d thought.
Our journey completed, the Flame returned to the medallion and let Stoney finish the job. We passed through a series of lush mountainous ravines that led to a glittering city nestled in a broad crater. In the center of the crater was a turquoise blue lake with soft golden beaches on every side.
The air was hot and humid, a welcome change from the breezy gusts of the Void. Our senses were pleasantly stirred by the sweet fragrance of flowers.
As we approached the crater’s ridge to dock, we all gathered at the deck rails to admire a fleet of significantly larger (and cleaner) sky ships already tethered there. Their regal trimming and brightly polished wood told any common observer that these ships were about important business. Green and blue flags snapped smartly from each sky ship’s mast.
Stoney let out a low whistle, being particularly taken with the striking vessels. “What I wouldn’t give to take to the skies in one of those beauts!” He studied the fleet with a glint of envy in his good eye. “Not that I’m complainin’, old girl,” he quickly acknowledged, patting the helm of the Bridesmaid tenderly and returning his full attention to navigating his own ship once more.
Easing carefully alongside the other ships, Stoney docked the Bridesmaid against the crater’s edge. We were met by a couple of bronze, shirtless dock hands with flashing white smiles and eager waves. Stoney tossed them a tether, and they immediately set to work tying off the ship. I helped Stoney lower the ramp from the ship to land once more. Rob was the first across, desperate to get solid ground under his feet. Our first steps on land were welcome ones but also surprisingly dizzying. Trista nearly fell over when Rob leaned into her.
“Ain’t got your land legs yet,” Stoney said, laughing at our plight. “In time you’ll get the hang of it.”
“Good rest, my friends!” a man’s voice called out from a small hut a few yards away. “Welcome to Ensor, the jewel of Torpor. From where have you traveled?” He was a tall man, dressed in a white poncho shirt that was open on both sides. It looked as if someone had simply taken a square of cloth and cut a hole in the center to poke his head through. Wrapped around his waist, over the shirt, was a red sash. His pants, which extended to just below his knees, were also white.
“From Galacia actually,” Stoney said happily. “Didn’t think we’d make it, to be honest with you. Bit of a rough go out there, I’m afraid.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” the man said, bobbing his head as he spoke, “but today is a new day. Can I be of assistance?”
“Yes…er, uh…where to, Hunter?” Stoney muttered out of the side of his mouth to me.
“We’re looking for Captain Saris,” I said boldly. “Do you know him?”
“Captain? You must speak of the Resistance captain, yes?” he inquired. “I have heard of him, but I don’t know where he is. I am sorry. Still, you should try asking for him in the City Circle. His people have been known to mingle there at times. You may have better luck there. Shall I arrange for a transport to meet you at the base of the crater and take you in?”
With nowhere else to go, we accepted the offer and exchanged our blue gemstone for Torporian credits. Stoney balked at my suggestion to pay him anything for the passage he had given us to Torpor; instead, insisting his reward was in simply being along for the ride and seeing how the Author would work next.
We followed one of the dock hands over to the inner ledge of the crater where a wooden cage was suspended from a thick rope, winding down along the crater’s slopes through a series of towers and pulleys. It was somewhat like the gondola we had ridden back at the Destiny Fair, only much, much worse for Rob. The primitive design left a lot to be desired for safety, with an ample supply of cracks in the slatted floor for him to “enjoy” the nerve-wracking view. While he curled up in the middle of the “death cage,” as he called it, the rest of us took in the sights from the window openings as we were slowly lowered down to the crater floor in a semicircular arc. The white city sprawling out below us was quite plain, yet breathtakingly beautiful in its setting, encircling crystalline waters. It reminded me in some ways of the city of Sanctuary, only not nearly as fortified.
The hub of activity was easy to spot, the City Circle, which boasted the largest building of all. It was a regular palace with bulbous golden domes crowning its halls. Stoney explained that it was where King Zagzabarz lived, the leader of Torpor.
“King?” I asked. “Do you think Captain Saris would be in the palace, then?”
“Not likely,” he replied. “The Codebearer captains have little political power these days. He has some interaction with those in the palace, but he wouldn’t live there. Most likely they have a meeting house nearby; not sure where, to be honest with ya.”
“Oh,” I said lamely. For some reason I had imagined each of the captains having more sway with their people. The shift in thinking took some getting used to.
We were met at the base by a man on the back of a massive turtle, large enough to seat us all. Its shell was painted over with advertisements for local merchants. The man was dressed much like the man at the top of the crater, only with a different color for his sash. His tan, pox-eaten face bore a large black beard, which was tied in numerous knots that extended to his stomach.
“Good rest, my friends. You are looking for passage to the City Circle, are you not?”
Eyeing the turtle warily, Stoney answered dismissively, “No thanks, already taken care of. The dockmaster said he’d send word for a transport to meet us here.”
/> The man bobbed his head cheerfully. “Yes! This is why I am here. I take you now, yes?”
Stoney was not impressed. “Eh, don’t you have anything snappier? Where’s the Uguas?” He was referring, of course, to the large breed of domesticated lizard-like creatures that were quite effective for covering long distances in a short amount of time. I had used one the last time I was in Solandria on another shard.
Indignant at the mention of his obviously superior competition, the driver insisted, “Oh, I can assure you my services are most snappy. She is a snappy turtle, yes.” He grinned widely as he rubbed the bulky turtle’s sponsor-covered shell affectionately. “You would not be getting Uguas today. The Emissary’s visit has used all of them, yes. You ride with me. The walking will take too long for you.”
Emissary, huh? I noted to myself. Guess that explains the fancy fleet we docked next to.
Confident he had earned our business, he began assertively reaching for our things. “Yes, yes, hop aboard then.”
“Hold on, I ain’t going on that beast until you tells me what your fare be.”
“Of course, of course,” the man cast a passing glance over our group and added with a wave of his hand, “only ten credits should suffice. Please, hop aboard.”
He extended his hand to Trista who took it without hesitation.
“A turtle, what fun!” she said.
“Wait,” said Stoney, before she was up. He narrowed his eyelids at the man. “Is that ten credits each or for the whole lot of us?”
“I am not running a charity, my friend. Ten credits each is more than a fair price for such a journey as this. My family, we are very poor. We need every small amount I can manage to feed ourselves these days. Especially, my aging mother who is not in good health, I’m afraid.”
“Right, I think we’ll walk then,” Stoney said bluntly. “Come along you three.” He motioned for us to follow. We collected our things and started to leave when the man hollered out after us.
“Twenty for all. That is half of what I have quoted before, a good price. Please come join me for the ride.”
“You’ll give us ten or we’ll walk.”
“Fifteen, then,” the man said, “my final offer.”
“Please, Stoney,” Trista begged. “It looks like fun.”
“It is great fun indeed,” the man said, jumping at the chance to seal the sale, “and it will help my family. Did I mention my mother is very ill?”
“Yes,” Stoney said, knowing a ploy when he heard one. “We’ll pay ten credits and not a bit more.”
“You drive a hard bargain, my friend. But I will do this for you since you are from out of town. Please, please, hop aboard.”
We finally accepted the offer and climbed atop the turtle with our things. Trista brought her bow while I had my backpack with Boojum tucked safely inside. Rob carried the Author’s Writ, wrapped in a blanket for safekeeping. I was certainly glad to have Stoney along and marveled at his ability to negotiate such a bargain—he just saved us thirty credits for the ride! But as soon as the driver tapped the shell with his driving stick to kick off our journey, it became painfully clear that this ride was not what we had bargained for. The turtle inched forward at a pace half the speed of a brisk walk—a rip-off at any price.
All the way the man rambled on about the city, how it sat above a dormant volcano, and other useless bits of trivia. I wasn’t listening much; instead, I was wondering why there weren’t many people on the streets. The entire city seemed to be in a daze. There were plenty of buildings, but it lacked the activity of a normal city its size.
“Where is everyone?” I asked at last.
“Ah, this is one of the hours of Solace, a time for personal reflection and relaxation. Our people are never in a hurry, we believe that life is not to be rushed. You’ll find things move at a different pace here in Torpor.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Rob muttered loud enough for only us to hear. We all fought back a chuckle as the turtle transport crept along.
An hour later we arrived at the City Circle. The noon hour was near, and we were famished from the journey. We begrudgingly paid the fare and dismounted the turtle. The man counted his money with greedy eyes and watched us as we left.
“Hungry,” Boojum said as we walked away, the aroma of food reaching his nose at last.
“I agree,” I said to everyone. “Let’s eat first, then we can figure out where to go from there.”
Everyone agreed.
Aptly named, the City Circle was a circular marketplace that boasted restaurants and vendors of all kinds around its perimeter. Unlike the rest of the city, it was slightly busy. On one side of the circle was a long road that stretched to the palace doors, the other side bordered the lakefront.
Stoney ordered up a meal from one of the merchants, and we indulged our appetites on one of the local delicacies, boiled snails on a stick. At first Trista refused, but after Rob and I had eaten more than our share she gave in and tried them as well. Surprisingly, she said they weren’t as bad as she thought, especially with enough sauce.
Boojum was the only one who wouldn’t touch the stuff. Whenever I’d pass food into the backpack, he would toss it out. We were just about to finish our third helping of snail-kabobs when a small commotion near the lakefront drew our attention.
“There they are, over there,” someone yelled, pointing directly at us. We saw the turtle driver speaking to a tall man dressed in a scarlet uniform and cape. His wrists and ankles were trimmed in yellow, as was his sash, and a golden Z was pinned over his heart. On his head was a matching yellow turban, and he was armed with a jagged saber (resembling a somewhat stretched out Z with a little imagination.)
“That’s them, the ones who cheated me out of my credits!” the driver claimed loudly so that everyone could hear. A small crowd began to gather around us to watch the scene unfold.
“Here now,” the scarlet guard said as he approached, “what’s this I hear about you paying half what you owe?”
Stoney replied sharply before I could think of a response, “We paid exactly what was agreed upon, and not a credit less.”
“He lies,” the turtle driver complained. “The fare was for four riders. They had a fifth one hidden inside the boy’s pack. If I had known that it would have remained at ten credits each.”
The logic made no sense at all. Clearly, the man was trying to weasel his way into more of our money.
“Well then,” the guard asked, pointing at me and the backpack beside me. “What do you say to that? Do you or don’t you have anyone in the pack?”
The word “pack” was accompanied with a shower of spittle from the guard’s lips. I wiped my face on my sleeve and considered my words carefully. As far as I was concerned, we had already been ripped off once by the turtle driver; I wasn’t interested in letting it happen a second time.
“Well, speak up!” the guard prodded, showering us again.
“Yes, it’s my pet…” I said cautiously, “but he never said…”
“Well, that settles it. Hand it over,” the guard said, not waiting to hear the rest of my statement. “Ten credits for each of the five riders is fifty credits. You still owe the man forty for the ride. Settle up…now!”
“We’ll do nothing of the sort,” Stoney argued, stepping between us. “We’re not the thieves, this man is. Clearly, he’s trying to line his pockets with our money. I expect any fair man can see it. Or perhaps you stand to make some money on the deal as well, is that it?”
I cringed at Stoney’s lack of tact. He had called the guard a thief, a mistake that would likely land us all in jail. The guard was a whole head taller than Stoney, but he was skinny in comparison and much less intimidating.
“Alright, that’s going too far!” the guard shouted, locking eyes with Stoney in a silent challenge. “You four…er…FIVE are going to have to come w
ith me.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Swift,” a new voice emerged from the crowd. “May I make a suggestion?” A young man dressed in a grey hooded cloak stepped forward. As he lowered his hood, the face looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place it—curly brown hair and dark brown eyes with a look of wonder in them.
The guard, Mr. Swift, answered the boy in a decidedly friendly tone, “Ah, Philan, my friend. Good rest to ya.”
Philan. The name brought back memories of a boy in Sanctuary who had bested me in a footrace when I first arrived—a seemingly fearless boy who also led the charge to rescue me from Venator’s fortress. Could this really be the same Philan I had encountered before? I examined his features and determined right away it was, but it was no wonder I didn’t recognize him at first; he seemed much younger the last time I saw him. Though it had only been three years, Solandrian time, Philan seemed to have grown up almost overnight. He was taller than me now, perhaps seventeen and spoke with an authority well beyond his years.
“Good rest to you as well, Mr. Swift,” Philan said with an assuring smile. “I was wondering if the good driver, Mr. Niparret, might allow me to pay the fine in their stead?” As he said this he opened his hand toward the turtle driver with forty credits extended his way.
Mr. Niparret replied suspiciously, “And why would you do that?”
Philan explained, “It just so happens I have some work to do at the old monastery, and I am in desperate need of help. I came to town to see if I could hire some extra hands. Forty credits is exactly what I expected to pay.”
“So what?” Niparret asked, not following the logic.
Philan laid it out for him plainly, “So, I’ll pay you the credits now for the chance to put these four, or five as it may be, to work. It’s a fair trade all around…and Mr. Swift won’t have to waste any effort on hauling them off to prison.”
The unscrupulous driver didn’t need any more convincing. “As long as I have my forty credits, I don’t care what you do with them.”
“Then it’s settled,” Philan said, quickly handing over the money before the man’s mind changed on the matter. “Oh, and I do hope your mother is feeling better, my friend.”
