by P. D. Kalnay
“Let’s go there then. We need to see what supplies are left. Maybe some of it is food.”
The Fae had no doubt taken the most valuable stores with them, and raiders had picked over what they’d abandoned. I had no idea if anything useful awaited us below. Without having to hide or peek around corners, it only took an hour to make our way to the bottom level. Ivy knew which streets were blocked and which were clear of rubble, so there was no backtracking involved. I tried to remember the route and generally memorise my surroundings as we went. Normally, I have an excellent sense of direction, and a good memory, but there were too many distractions.
Grim or not, exploring ancient ruins is pretty darn cool. The architecture looked alien, like the furniture in our apartment. It was also remarkably varied as we moved through the city. Individual neighbourhoods had clusters of similar buildings, but overall there was nothing consistent except the building materials. Dark stone was a popular choice. Possibly, there’d once been wooden structures too, which hadn’t survived a thousand years of fire. Even in neighbourhoods that were mainly demolished, the empty doorframes punctuated the alien quality of the city. One section had front doors that small elephants could have passed through. For me, the tiny doors were more interesting.
We passed through a neighbourhood that was largely untouched by the surrounding destruction. The doors and windows were on a scale that would have made living in the homes impossible for One, Two, or Three. I stopped our progress to examine a few that were more intact than the average. An intricate miniature village surrounded us. The houses were narrow, pressed up against each other, and none had a roof higher than my head. I got down on hands and knees, pulling the remains of a round front door open. The room inside was empty, but still cool in its ridiculous tininess. It was as if an army of dollhouse makers had teamed-up to craft a mediaeval village.
“What are you doing?” Ivy asked.
“This is amazing,” I said. I saw the remains of the furnishings inside. Miniature trim and carvings still decorated the home’s front hall. There were even tiny, tarnished brass hooks along one wall. “Everything is so tiny…”
Ivy shook her head in disgust.
“What?”
“It’s a pixie house. Pixies are tiny, so are their houses.”
She said it slowly as if she were explaining that the sky was blue; which, incidentally, it was.
“I’ve never seen one before. Do you think pixies will come to live here again?”
Ivy shook her head and continued down the street.
“I suppose we can dream,” she called back.
There was nothing subtle about Ivy’s sarcasm, and I scrambled to my feet and hurried to catch up.
“What’s wrong with pixies?” I asked.
“I’ll let you find out for yourself.”
***
Before I knew it, Ivy led me onto the main, central road of Havensport, which led to the one intact pier. Mr. Ryan had told me the road was named Embassy Way, back in his day. He’d added that the long winding road, connecting the three tiers of the city, had contained significantly more drinking establishments than embassies. We were at the intersection where I’d seen my first goblins when Ivy turned north, taking us down the gentle slope towards the harbour. We stopped to look inside the first warehouse we came to. The building stretched so far back that most of it was in darkness, and the part we could see from the wide doorway contained only bare shelving and a few empty barrels on their sides.
“I guess the closest ones to the pier are the least likely to have anything left,” I said.
“These are always emptied first, Master,” One confirmed. “They are the most conveniently located.”
“It’ll be hard to explore without a light.” I hadn’t thought of that. Marielain’s apartment had handy magical lighting, but, given how impressed Ivy had been by the fiery globes, they weren’t commonplace. “Maybe I can find something to make a torch out of.”
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Ivy said. “I just assumed…”
“Assumed what?”
“That, with you being petrathen, you would be able to see. Petrathen can see in the dark.”
“I did notice that my night vision was better last night,” I said, “but I couldn’t see more than vague shapes in my room with the lights off.”
Now that I thought about it, I realised it shouldn’t have been possible for me to see anything in the completely dark room.
“I can keep us from bumping into things, but I can’t see well enough to search through stuff.”
Ivy looked up at me intently.
“You are only half petrathen,” she said. “And your eyes look entirely winathen now. I’ve never met a half-breed before. The tribes of our people don’t often mingle.”
“Never?”
“Almost never.”
“And florathen and winathen can’t see in the dark?”
“No. However, we have our own methods.”
“For example?”
“As I understand it, winathen can feel how the air bounces off of objects, and find their way by navigating through the currents.”
“What if there’s no breeze? Like in a closed room?”
Ivy gave me her you’re-a-moron look. It had been almost a year since she’d graced me with that look. I was half irritated and half happy to see it again. Somehow, it made things seem more normal.
“What?”
“They—flap—their—wings.”
“Oh, how do florathen find their way?”
“We can see life, the auras that living creatures emit. Even the rocks in a deep cave will typically have something growing on them. So I too can keep from bumping into things. Neither of our abilities will be good enough to search the warehouses.”
“Master?” One said.
“Yeah?”
“We can provide light, Master.”
The others nodded happily beside him.
“How?”
“Our eyes, Master.” One and Two spoke in unison.
All of their eyes were empty sockets filled with the dimly flickering, and distinctly golden, light of the World Tree. Each was as bright as a candle on a birthday cake. Enough light to escape a dark place, but not a genuinely useful amount.
“I think we’ll need more light than that,” I said.
One’s eyes flared blindingly bright, becoming more electric welding arc than candle flame.
“That’ll do One, that’ll do.”
I received quizzical looks all around. Ivy must not have watched that movie.
“Let’s start further away from the pier,” I suggested.
***
We walked a quarter of the way around the Havensport harbour before we found a warehouse that didn’t look picked-clean from the front doors. Dozens of empty buildings had preceded it, and my stomach rumbled again. We’d had a drink of water from a still-flowing fountain. The fountain itself was mainly destroyed, spilling water across the street in a steady stream. I couldn’t tell what kind of creature had originally been spitting, pouring, or peeing out the water, but the cool water tasted pure, so it didn’t matter. By then we’d found nothing, and I was ready to ask Ivy to do some magical food growing.
The next warehouse wasn’t empty, and my hunger was temporarily forgotten. Big, lumpy bundles, wrapped in coarse brown fabric, were visible on the closest shelves.
“Fire up your eyes,” I told One. “We’re going in.”
Twine held the bundles closed, and I untied enough to get a look inside. The first bundle contained neatly coiled rope. The rope was bluish green with a slight sheen making it appear slick. It felt rougher than it looked and was a little thicker than my thumb. The rope wasn’t twisted, but woven instead, reminding me of the bowstrings Ivy had made.
“This is balsilk rope,” Ivy said. “There is none finer. It’s made from the strands of the balynce vine. This rope came from the valley of Mirical, near to the place I was born.”
“How can you tell?
”
“The pattern of the weave,” Ivy said. “It’s the rope maker’s signature.”
More identical, lumpy bundles filled the shelves around us.
“We won’t run out of rope any time soon,” I said. “Let’s look further back.”
The whole place was full of rope. We weren’t in the market for rope at that point, and I was about to suggest moving on when I spotted something against a wall. A wooden handcart stood abandoned at the back of the warehouse, and that did look useful, so I took it, along with a single bundle of rope, because I figured that eventually rope always comes in handy.
Next-door, our scavenging took an upward turn. Most of the building was empty, but nine sealed casks had been left behind. An abandoned pry bar lay on top of one. I didn’t recognise the three-leaf pattern burned into the sides of each cask, but Ivy pushed past me excitedly.
“I think they’re still good!” she said. “Hurry, and open one.”
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
I wedged in the chisel shaped end of the bar and pried downward. The lid of the cask came slowly free, sluggishly breaking a thick wax seal around its edge. Ivy tossed the lid aside and took something flat and triangular from the top of the cask. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in what looked to be light green tissue paper. Ivy tore off the wrapping like a spoiled child on Christmas morning, letting the pieces fly. As soon as enough was gone, she shoved the edge into her mouth and took the biggest bite her little mouth could manage. She chewed and grinned up at me as a few crumbs escaped from each corner.
Ivy’s eyes had no hint of sharing in them, so I took out my own triangle from the cask. After peeling back the wrapper, I took a sniff. It smelled nutty, and/or fruity, and felt like pita bread. The yellow cake tasted like none of those things. That it was food was unquestionable, and I felt surprisingly satisfied after a handful of bites. Eating the whole thing, which was only as big as a small pizza, left me stuffed. Ivy only got through half. Even when I’d finished I couldn’t say what the taste was. It wasn’t unpleasant, but not good either. Ivy loved the stuff. I placed it somewhere between grapefruit and marzipan with an aftertaste of fresh cut grass. I said it was weird.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Ivy asked when she’d finished eating.
“I’m not sure wonderful is the word I’d use. Based on the taste, I’m guessing it must be very nutritious.”
“More for me then.” Ivy carefully re-wrapped the other half of her cake. “Your petrathen tongue probably can’t appreciate the subtleties.”
“I’m guessing you want me to add a few to the cart?”
Ivy looked at the waist-high casks and considered.
“Do you think more than one barrel will fit?” she asked.
“You want to bring back a whole barrel?”
What was I, a pack mule? Those cakes were nowhere close to tasty.
“I’ll want all of them.”
Ivy placed her half-eaten cake in the open cask and set the lid back on top. She didn’t even help load it on the cart. My little princess waited outside. Then we moved on to the next building with me towing a much heavier load.
Over the course of the afternoon we looked in over a hundred warehouses on the eastern side of the city. Many odds and ends had been left behind, and it would have been a real windfall in a regular survival situation. Since we already had adequate shelter and theoretically limitless food and water, it was mostly just interesting. At Ivy’s instruction I took along several sacks of seeds, two big bags of ‘something like flour’, and a few bolts of cloth, since we both had only one set of torn clothing. We found spools of thread in the same warehouse as the cloth, but I’d have to improvise needles.
The only other thing that interested me was a warehouse containing sawn planks of wood. Ivy said that the wood was of a rare species of tree, prized for its durability and beauty. I took a short plank outside so I could examine the rich reddish-brown colours and dense, even grain in the sunshine. I didn’t know what I would make from the treasure trove of fine lumber, but I was definitely going to make something… when my hands felt better. Simply towing the cart was painful.
Fruit for breakfast, and a funky sponge cake for lunch, left me with a desire for a meat-based food product.
“Any chance we’ll find cans of meat or jerky in one of these?” I asked.
“No.”
I’d feared as much.
“People do eat meat here, don’t they?”
“Of course they do. Although, florathen do so rarely, and winathen mainly eat bird flesh.”
“What about petrathen?”
“They eat everything.”
“Are there animals on this island?”
“None worth hunting.” Ivy looked up at the sky. “There are the sea birds…”
So far I hadn’t seen a bird bigger than a seagull. I looked out at the enclosed harbour.
“What about fish?”
“There are fish of all sizes, but I know nothing of fishing. Our people usually trade with merfolk for fish if they want them.”
“You never said anything about mermaids!”
“They don’t live in the middle of the Endless Sea, Jack. It’s impossible we’ll have any contact with them. Besides, you never asked.”
“I didn’t know they were real!”
“There’s a picture of three of them on the bottom of the pool,” Ivy countered.
“I thought it was just a picture, of mythical creatures.”
“They’re real enough here, and they guard their territories jealously.”
“Do they grow legs if they come onto land?”
“That’s ridiculous. Where would you get such an idea?” Ivy shook her head sadly.
I was sure we’d watched The Little Mermaid; Ivy loved cartoon princesses, but maybe not. Two years later—it all seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Come along, Jack.” Ivy walked off towards the next building. “You can be so silly. Next, you’ll be asking if it really is better… down where it’s wetter.”
I knew we’d watched it. Ivy’s laughter spilled out as she walked away. Hilarious.
Chapter 3 – The First Cut
The sun rested above the western arm of Knight’s Haven. We’d had a long, dusty afternoon and a profitable one. I was about to suggest that we call it quits for the day when I spotted a warehouse at the most eastern edge of the district. That warehouse stood out for two reasons. First, it was the only one in the area in good repair, and second, it was smaller than any of those we’d passed or explored.
“Let’s check that one and then go home,” I said.
“We can search it tomorrow,” Ivy said. “We have no shortage of time and all the food we need.”
“Don’t forget the rope.”
That got me a tired chuckle.
“And rope,” she agreed.
“Something’s different about that one,” I said. “Why would they have repaired a place this far from the pier? There are dozens of closer ones they could’ve used. It’s inefficient.”
“I don’t know, but that building isn’t going anywhere.”
“I’m just gonna take a quick look. You can wait here with One and Two, OK?”
“If you must.”
Ivy sat on the edge of the cart, slumped to one side with her eyes closed, and her chin resting on her chest.
Three fell in behind me as we walked to the end of the last block. The warehouse was only a fraction of the size of some we’d explored. I’d be able to browse through in a few minutes. Up close, the building looked practically new. The doors showed no sign of forced entry (a first for the day). There was no sign of a lock either, so maybe the raiders hadn’t needed to break in. I noticed a dark smear on the cobbles in front of the door, but thought nothing of it. The whole island had a charred quality.
As I reached for a door handle, Three leaped onto my leg, wrapping his arms and legs around me like an over-amorous dog. Instinctively, I tried to shake him off, while he hel
d on for all he was worth. I didn’t know what he was trying to tell me, but it seemed to be important.
I need to finish him, so he can speak, I thought. Distracted by Three’s strange behaviour, I let my hand fall to the handle.
Heat from the ground below my feet and from around the building gathered into one focused point—the door I stood in front of. The trap closed in an instant, but I saw it coming and knew what it was. Knowing saved my life. I flapped my wings hard and did something that made the surrounding air thicker. That pulled me back to the edge of the blast zone. Bright red flame shot from the ground at the place I’d stood. I only caught the edge of the blaze, and the front half of my clothing burned and fell to the ground as white ash. My belt partially survived, but I’d be throwing it away later.
“Jack!”
Ivy sped ahead of One and Two, quickly closing the distance between us. Three lay on the ground beside me. He got to his feet, looking undamaged. I covered up as best I could.
“What happened?” Ivy was out of breath, and understandably worried.
“A booby trap,” I said. “It looks as if anything that touches the warehouse gets burned. I didn’t get a good look, but it’s kind of neat.”
“Did you injure your brain? How is getting burned to a crisp, neat?”
“I meant the way it works. Turn around for a second.”
“Why?”
“So I can fix my clothes.”
Ivy glanced down at my hands, flushed quite prettily, and spun around.
I used the remains of my tunic to fashion a ragged kilt, held together with my belt.
“You can turn around again. I wonder why this warehouse has protection, and the others don’t? There must be something good in there!”
“No,” Ivy said, “there must be something valuable inside. Not the same thing.”
I turned and walked back near the warehouse.
“Jack!”
“Stay back, I’m just looking, but stay back anyway.”
