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The boat rocked and swayed on the waves, and Asp lay on the cot, her arm dangling over the side. Home has never been further away, she thought. No matter where I’m deciding to call home. She thought of Iris and imagined that she could feel the kitten curled on her stomach. She fell so far into the fantasy that for a moment, she was certain she heard purring, and she glanced down toward her waist. There was nothing there.
Asp sighed. She swung her feet over the side of the cot and sat, collecting her thoughts. She pulled out her mirror and checked that it wasn’t apparent she had been crying. After several moments of intense scrutiny, she reluctantly nodded, stashed the mirror, and hopped onto the floor. It pitched as she landed, sending her forward into the door. She managed to turn the knob as she fell into the door, hoping to soften her impact. The door swung quickly open and–a thud and a muffled “oof.” The door stopped halfway open, and she tumbled to the floor.
“Pretty good sea legs, huh?”
Asp scrambled to her feet and closed the door. Solana stood there, gingerly rubbing her nose where the door had struck her. She was smiling.
“I’m so sorry!” Asp cried. She reached into her bag. “I’ve got something for you if it hurts.”
Solana laughed. “I hope it’s not that tree bark you slightkin chew on. The taste is worse than the pain.” She tapped her nose. “Besides, it’s not bad. I can take it.”
Asp considered her. How much of this is politeness? She shrugged to herself and assumed a smile. “Okay, if you’re sure. I really am sorry.”
Solana laughed, shaking her head. “Relax, relax. You’re safe and among people you can trust. When’s the last time you could say that?”
I thought things back in Strey were like that, but then there’s Oslo . . . She realized she had taken too long to answer. “I don’t even know,” she said. “Good point. Still, I’m sorry about your nose.”
“Not to worry. Hey, I was coming to get you because our navigator let us know there’s some kinda space thing tonight–I think she called it a ‘beadier shower.’” Solana frowned as she used the phrase. “Or something like that. I think the night sky is great, but I’m no scientist. Anyway, if you wanna come watch–if you’re not too tired–”
Asp nodded, her eyes wide. “A meteor shower?”
Solana pointed a finger in the air. “That’s it!” She furrowed her brow. “How’d you know about that?”
Asp smiled and shrugged. “My mom was always really into stargazing. Mostly, the only times I could get her to talk to me about anything besides yelling at me was if I asked her about stars and stuff. I guess I learned a lot, and I do love to look at the stars, but I never got to see anything like that.”
Solana smiled, though her eyes looked sad. “This way,” she said, leading the way down the hallway to the stairs up the main deck.
On the deck, Asp found that it was stirringly dark apart from a few lanterns and torches, but the stars were brighter than she had ever seen them. She craned her neck, trying to take it all in. She tried to apply names to the stars, but there seemed to be more of them than she had seen before, and she ended up guessing based on the intensity of the stars’ light. In a corner of the sky, she sighted a mass of colorful clouds that weaved in and out of space.
“Nebula,” pronounced Asp carefully.
Solana bellowed in laughter. “You do love to look at the stars.”
Asp blushed and shrugged. “I’ve just never seen one.”
Solana laughed again, this time more mildly. “No, not that. We got up here, and you were silent for fifteen minutes, and then you said, ‘nebula’ as though I’m gonna know what you’re talking about.”
Asp chuckled. “It’s been fifteen minutes already?”
Solana’s eyes twinkled in the darkness. “I’m glad you could lose yourself for a while. That means you know you’re okay.”
Asp cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not accusing you of anything here, especially not since you’ve been the best help I’ve had in a long, long time–and I’m not taking that for granted.” She frowned. “But the thing is, I have repeatedly reassured people that they’re safe or okay or loved or whatever. And the reason I did that was because it was a lie, and I had something else in mind. So, every time you try to tell me I’m safe, it makes me think I’m not safe.” She looked at Solana with a mixture of apology and pleading.
Asp expected her to look frustrated, so she was surprised when Solana looked at her almost–but not quite–pityingly. “I’m sorry, kid. I forgot. It’s been a while since I had that fear in me. But I do remember it. Look, I know having a reason I’m saying it might only sound like a further lie, but telling the truth here is all I really got. I want you to know you’re safe so that you can be ready.”
Asp looked confused. “Ready for what?”
Solana sighed, smiling. “For what’s next.” She glanced to the sky and pointed dramatically. “There’s one!”
Asp spun and studied the sky. One or two meteors streaked across the sky here and there, then more until their brilliant arcs began to light up the ship. And when it seemed it could not grow more dazzling, three meteors, larger than the others, tumbled through the sky, circling around each other, and dozens of the smaller meteors orbited around the three. Gradually, the swarm of meteors diminished, and the night sky became inky black again, lit gently by the twinkling stars.
A few of the sailors clapped their approval, and one shiphand moaned, “Awwwww, already?”
Solana laughed. “An hour wasn’t enough for you?”
Asp turned to Solana, stiff. “An hour?”
Solana laughed again, harder. “Asp, I think you’re gonna be alright.”
Asp smiled and turned back to the stars. “Why are there extra stars now? Is it because of the meteor shower?”
“No, this is how they always look.” Solana sounded both surprised at Asp’s ignorance and amused by it.
Asp furrowed her brow. “No, they definitely don’t. Look, right there.” She pointed towards an especially bright star above them. “That’s Bellisin, the true light. It forms the base of the constellation Quillaren, the crone. The star immediately to the south of Bellisin is supposed to be way over here,” she said, pointing to her right, “but there’s at least four stars in that space.”
Solana was quiet a moment, and when Asp turned to look at her, she was also staring up at the stars. She sighed. “This is how they always look when you don’t have city lights to deal with.”
Asp thought back to the many trips from Thistlewade out into the country. On the late night trips, she had noticed that the stars were somewhat brighter and seemed more plentiful in an impossible to quantify way. But this was an exaggerated form of it–it was like a different sky.
“Wow,” she finally managed to say. “Thanks for bringing me along.”
Solana patted Asp’s shoulder lightly. “Now that I see how you like the night sky, I would have been a wreck if I hadn’t.”
The realization that so much time had passed had made Asp feel suddenly tired. She yawned delicately. “I’m gonna turn in, I think. See you in the morning.”
“Good night,” called Solana as Asp retraced her steps to her room. “Sleep like the sky, wake like the sea.”
Asp lay down on the cot again and closed her eyes, and as she drifted quickly to sleep, the celestial lights she had seen danced in her vision. She fell into a calm sleep, wrapped in the radiance of a hundred soaring meteors.
—
Asp woke in the morning to the sound of sea birds baying overhead, and she flopped onto her side. She stared at the door of her room and was motionless. It does seem like I can trust these people. But something just feels off. What reformed criminals want to help out an active one? What if they just hold me until Afira guards come for me? She shivered despite the warm temperature, rubbing her wrists as though manacles weighed them down. You’re already on the ship–you can’t do anything about it now. She pushed herself into a sitting position and kept staring at the door. I don’t really have to leave. Her stomach grumbled. I’m not that hungry. It gurgled ferociously. She rolled her eyes. Fine. But I talk to no one.
She climbed down from her bunk and left the room, headed for the middle decks. She passed through a short hallway and turned toward the smell of food, arriving in a modest space with tables and a small serving area, where there were the remains of a meal–hard biscuits, dried pork, and a few small apples. Asp approached the counter, grabbed a lumpy biscuit and the smallest apple, and sat alone at a table in the corner.
It was the first she had seen of the ship or its crew in daylight. It seemed that nearly two-thirds of the crew dressed in simple, functional clothing: the breeches and tunic that sailors are depicted as wearing in stories. But the remainder of the crew, Hrothgar and Solana included, wore finer garb. As she watched, a group of mostly sailor-clad people chatted over the crumbs of breakfast, and a more finely-dressed human man about seven feet tall swept in, which brought the others to quick attention.
“There’s a storm gathering to the east,” said the most ornately-dressed towering human with a very deep voice, all business. “We fight the current to the west for a while to be safe. Raven says we’ll be arriving half a day late if all goes well.”
The rest barked their approval, and the towering man walked through the opposite door out onto the deck as the group left in the other direction. Asp noted that the ship really was as large as it had felt to her; the massive man hadn’t had to bend to get through the oversized doorway.
Asp turned back from watching the sailors leave and noticed that one person had stayed behind. He was a curious-looking person, and to most people, he would have been quite intimidating, if not terrifying. He had the frame of a Ronan’el, and he had blue and green scales glittering on the visible parts of his body, but his eyes were not reptilian. Rather, they seemed to literally have fire inside them–Asp swore she could see the wavering of flames in his eyes. And deep blue horns came twisting up out of his head, turning a few corkscrews before pointing threateningly ahead. Thick, leathery wings sprouted from his shoulders. He stared listlessly down at his plate, which had a bit of dried pork left on it. A Ronan’el. He’ll know about Afira.
“Morning,” Asp said, quietly enough that it wasn’t clear if she was speaking to the man.
He looked up and over at her, narrowing his eyes. After a quiet moment, he turned back away.
Asp frowned and chewed her biscuit. I don’t wanna bother him if he wants to be alone. She watched as he stared at his mostly-empty plate as though it had something to say. She took another bite of biscuit and stood. Approaching his table quietly, she tried again.
“Morning,” she said sweetly.
The man looked at her. “Morning.”
“I don’t mean to bother you–”
“Now’s not great,” he interrupted.
Asp blinked. “Sorry.” She turned and went back to her table, scooping up her apple and heading back towards her room.
Something about the man’s dismissal pestered Asp, and she tried to convince herself not to worry about it. I’m avoiding talking to people too. I get it. It’s fine. She entered her room, closed the door, and ate the apple on her cot. I do need to figure out Afira, though. Anybody could fit in in Strey, but I have no idea what Afira is like.
There was a knock at the door. Asp climbed down from the cot and opened the door to find Solana.
“Morning!” she cried cheerfully.
Asp donned a smile. “Morning!” she said, matching Solana’s tone.
“Sleep well? Get some breakfast? Hear about the delay?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” replied Asp.
“Stupendous,” said Solana. “Need anything? Food? Booze? A brilliant conversation partner?”
Asp started to shake her head no, but stopped short. “Do you know much about Afira? Where we’re landing?”
Solana shrugged. “Lo’Torrin? A bit, I guess–more than most.” She grinned and narrowed her eyes. “What do you want to know?”
Asp waved a hand casually. “What people are like, what kinds of businesses are common, how do people feel about slightkins and newtkins, things that offend people . . . You know, just keeping a low profile stuff.”
Solana nodded, her eyes looking upward in thought. “Low profile, huh? Well, have you been to Strey?”
Asp nodded. “Lived there for a few years.”
Solana lifted her eyebrows slightly. “So, imagine Strey, but the elven quarter is basically the whole city. Lots of what you’d see there in terms of businesses and people. They divide it into districts–you’ll be most at home in the foreign quarter.” She paused, scratching at the back of her neck. “I’d say . . . look, elves don’t hate hiskin more than anybody else, but they also don’t really trust anybody but elves, either.”
Asp nodded. “I know some of you–some of them can be like that.”
Solajna laughed and shook her head. “It’s a lot worse on Afira. Lo’Torrin’s pretty progressive–the most of any elven city, really–but outside there, you’re gonna encounter some prejudice.” She paused and brushed a stray hair off her frilled shirt. “The elves are basically always in conflict with the Ronan’el, who live on the northern part of Afira. I heard they’re considering sending troops to the border, actually.”
Asp’s shoulders slumped. “So I picked a bad time to move there.”
“It’s not that, exactly.” Solana smiled. “It’s always like this in one way or another. You just found them on an upswing.”
“And things that offend people?” asked Asp.
Solana laughed and shrugged. “It’s easy to offend most elves. There’s too many little rules for me to tell you about, and I don’t know all of ‘em anyway–it’s been years since I lived with other elves.” She smiled, her eyes faraway. “You just have to be as respectful as you possibly can. But you seem like a polite lass–you should be fine.”
Asp smiled genuinely. “One last question: what are the laws like?”
Solana smiled slightly for a moment before answering. “All those other questions were to set you up for a new life of crime, weren’t they? That’s why you asked the one that would give you away separately.” She laughed to herself. “You’re good, kid.” She stared at Asp for a time, then smiled. “Tell you what: you still want to know that when we sight Afira, I’ll tell you. But for now, let’s not make every choice before we reach it.”
Asp was wearing her ‘you caught me’ smile, which she only ever flashed when she didn’t mind that she’d been caught. “Thanks, Solana.”
“You wanna come up on deck? I could introduce you to the crew.” Solana smiled, the light in her eyes again.
Asp glanced back into her room. “You know, I think I’m just gonna go over plans right now. But I’ll take you up on that later.”
Solana nodded. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said meaningfully, then turned and walked away.
Asp returned to her cot. She withdrew her notebook and inkpen and began to write on the last page. She wrote down every con she could conceivably pull off alone, what range of coin could be expected from each, and what props and tools she would need for them. Underneath, she began constructing a list of expenses: an apartment (with overestimated cost since she didn’t know the market yet), food, the necessary equipment, enough savings that she could breathe easily. She scribbled furiously and finally stopped. To make enough to get started and be safe, I need one hundred twenty-three crowns. And if I can pull off four or five jobs without a catastrophe, I could have that. She breathed deeply. Four or five jobs. C’mon. You used to do five jobs in a week. It’s all going to be fine.
Asp sat and rehearsed her cons, trying to keep all the details in mind at once, and again, she lost track of time as the ship bobbed over the waves into midday.
—
In the late afternoon, Asp stirred in her room. She had planned as much as she possibly could without firsthand knowledge of Afira, and she had grown restless. She climbed down from her cot, left the room, and headed to the main deck.
Above deck, the ship was a flurry of activity. Shiphands moved sails, and the ship banked gently left. Asp looked right and saw dark clouds and choppy waves in the distance. A sailor in the crow’s nest stared into a spyglass at several points ahead, and the massive human in the fine clothing bellowed from his cabin’s window. A sailor tried to cut a rope, but the pitching of the ship caused him to slice into his hand instead.
“Hrothgar!” called the sailor, holding his hand in front of him. Sailors further away on the deck echoed the call, and a minute later, Hrothgar emerged from belowdecks. The injured man waved his intact hand, and Hrothgar hurried over. He murmured something, and a bright white light exploded between him and the injured sailor. The sailor flexed his hand and smiled; Hrothgar, expressionless, returned belowdecks, and the sailor resumed his work.
Asp spotted the horned Ronan’el-like man at the edge of the ship, leaning on the railing. She walked over and stood at the same railing fifteen feet away.
A minute passed, and eventually the man turned and noticed her. “Hello again,” he rumbled.
Asp nodded deferentially. “Sorry for bothering you earlier.”
He sighed. “No, it’s fine. I just had a lot on my mind.”
Asp laughed weakly. “I understand.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You understand?”
Asp’s eyes opened wide. “Not like that! I don’t know you, and I don’t know your situation. I just have a lot on my mind, too.”
The man smiled faintly. “I suppose a lot of us do.”
Asp turned from him to look at the sea. “You from Afira?”
The man laughed bitterly. “In a way.”
Asp cocked her head to the side. “In a way?”
He turned to her, his eyebrow raised. Shit–he looks suspicious. Act natural. Asp kept her eyes on the water. “I’ve never seen a Ronan’el with horns before.”
There was a pause. “I’m Infern’el.”
Asp did her best to sound polite. “Inf-what?”
He laughed. “Infern’el. You haven’t been to Afira before, have you?”
She shook her head. “Are there more of you there?”
He grinned sheepishly. “More, but not many. It’s a complicated story.”
Asp crossed her arms. “I’ve got time.”
He shrugged. “So, uh, years ago, the elves were searching for the ultimate warrior. Training and tactics could only take them so far, so they decided to make a stronger warrior instead. They dabbled in some stuff that they probably shouldn’t have.” He faced the sea and breathed deeply. “They took their troops and filled them with spirits. Ancient stuff, things we can’t understand or control. They were called–”
“Infern’el!” finished Asp.
He chuckled. “Not yet. They were the Kalashtar, the most fearsome elven fighters of all time. And so of course the Ronan’el had to match them. They bred themselves with ogres, the Ogran’el.” He sighed. “And hornkin. Infern’el.”
Asp managed to not gasp. “Horn-hornkin? I heard they were born in the pits of hell.”
He shook his head. “Not like that. I’m not a hornkin. I’m just this . . . thing.”
“You’re not a thing,” said Asp with the tone of a parent. “You’re a person. And people have names. What’s yours?”
He looked at her, bemused. “I’m Brokk. You?”
“I’m Asp,” she said quietly. “So you were made to fight?”
Brokk laughed bitterly. “That I was.”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry. That must be awful.”
Brokk shrugged. “It wasn’t always bad. Being able to protect myself and the people I choose is nice. Having a purpose.” He spat. “At least until you realize the purpose is garbage. And then even though you fought like a dragon to leave the place that did this to you, you end up going back anyway.”
Asp furrowed her brow. “Wait, that’s a good point. Why are you going back to Afira after all that?”
Brokk sighed. “I don’t think you’re gonna understand.”
“I’ll understand,” she said flatly.
Brokk stared at her. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re just an average slightkin girl. What is there to keep you from fitting in?”
Asp looked back out to the waves. “I don’t get to be myself with people very much.” She traced a counterclockwise circle on the railing. “And I’m not really an average person.” She snorted. “At all, really.”
Brokk shrugged. “I mean, I know nobody’s totally normal, but c’mon–you don’t look like much, no offense.”
Asp sniffed, enjoying the sea air. “What if I told you that I was a renowned con artist, guilty of hundreds of unsolved crimes across three continents, and that I am about to start over in a land where I don’t speak the language, know the customs, or anything else?”
Brokk laughed. “It’s a little outlandish. Hundreds? Sounds like a kids’ book.”
Asp looked at him severely. “See? I tell the truth, and people don’t believe me. This is part of why I lie.”
Brokk grinned wide. “Shit. Yeah, I think I can see how you’d have a lot on your mind and feel like an outsider.”
Asp laughed. “Yeah. So tell me–why are you going back to Afira?”
Brokk chuckled. “You ever deal with magic?”
Asp managed to keep her expression neutral as the blast between Melwi and Gunther flashed in her mind’s eye. “A bit, yeah.”
“So you know it can do things that don’t make sense?”
Asp smiled as she thought of Iris, the eternal kitten, and then her face fell. “Yeah.”
“There’s magic that’s making me go.”
Asp shuddered. “Making you go?”
Brokk shrugged. “I can’t completely explain it. I can feel that I want to stay away. I can feel that something else, something foreign, wants me to go.” He closed his eyes. “The worst part of it is, I can tell that knowing it’s not me wanting to go back isn’t going to change anything.”
“Shit.” Asp stared blankly out at the sea. “Maybe you were right, and I can’t understand.”
Brokk chuckled. “You said crimes on three continents, right? You’re running to Afira because you have no choice. And knowing that doesn’t change it.”
Asp froze, then slumped, laughing. “Correction, friend: I think I understand.”
Brokk fell silent, and Asp let herself just watch the waves.
“It’s good to commiserate sometimes,” mumbled Brokk after a while.
Asp grinned. “True. But you know, being an outsider can be good.”
Brokk furrowed his brow. “In what possible way?”
“Being different can slow us down, but it can never hold us back. We get too many strengths from it to fail.” Asp’s voice felt distant, like it was somebody else’s. And it sunk in like it couldn’t have if she had recognized her own voice.
Brokk let out a quick breath–something like laughter unexpressed. “I like that. I hope you’re right.”
Asp laid a hand delicately on Brokk’s. “You’re in luck–I usually am right.”
Then Brokk laughed hard, and he turned and smiled at Asp. “Hey, good luck. I hope everything comes out right for you.”
Now you’re not in luck–nothing comes out right for me. “Thanks, Brokk. You too.”
Asp noted the failing rays of the sun and headed for the mess hall, leaving Brokk to watch the waves and sky darken together until they merged.
—
The following morning, Asp sat in the mess hall at a table away from the sailors; Brokk sat at a nearby table by himself. Asp considered joining him, but Solana entered the room and slid in next to her at her table.
“Morning,” Solana said, chipper. “Last full day of the journey! How are you feeling? Rested? Relaxed? Ready to restart?”
Asp donned a smile. “Resolutely.”
Solana cackled. “Good. You have any questions–any burning curiosities?”
Asp glanced around the room at the sailors. “Nothing important.”
Solana laughed. “We got time.”
Asp smiled again, genuinely now. “Who is everybody? I know that really tall guy seems to be the captain–”
“That’s Kraken,” explained Solana. “He’s lived quite the life. I bet you wouldn’t believe a lot of it if I told you. But I wouldn’t. That’s his place.” She smiled dangerously. “I will say, though–he can be a passionate man. If you know him well enough.”
Asp nodded, ignoring Solana’s intrigue but noting the implication. “And he seems to talk to that woman in the dark clothes a lot. Hrothgar too.”
Solana nodded. “Raven, our second mate and navigator. She’s the dark-clad one. One of the best in the business,” added Solana proudly.
“Who’s first mate?” asked Asp.
Solana cackled. “Me, silly!”
Asp laughed in surprise. “Oh! Thanks for seeing me around. Is that part of your duty?”
Solana fought back laughter. “No, I just like trouble.”
Asp blushed. “Who’s after Raven?”
“Hrothgar is our third–he’s in charge of all the supplies on the ship, plus a few other responsibilities.”
Asp furrowed her brow. “But if Hrothgar has all kinds of responsibilities to the ship’s safety. . . why did he let me on the ship? I’m trouble.”
Solana looked amused for a second, and she flashed a wild smile. “He knows the score. We’ve all been where you are, or at least somewhere similar. He must’ve thought you were worth the risk.”
Asp squirmed in her seat. “Uh . . . okay.”
Solana smiled again, boldness dancing in her eyes. “There’s voyage left for you to figure it out. You know,” she said, turning, “we’re gonna be passing by some small islands today. Uninhabited–as far as we know, anyway– but really beautiful. You wanna see? We’ll be passing them around noon.”
“Maybe,” Asp said, looking closely at her empty plate from breakfast. “I need to do some sewing and get my clothes in good shape. It’s been forever since I had time to mend them.”
“Okay, good luck. Let me know when you get bored.” Solana rose and patted Asp’s back. “Happy mending!” She left the room the way the captain had, disappearing out onto the front deck.
Asp settled back in and noticed that Brokk had gone. Oh well. We ended on a good note–might as well keep it that way. She took her plate to the counter, left the mess hall, and returned to her room.
She glanced in her pack. The mending thing was just an excuse, but I was right–this stuff does need some help. I can’t really be Penelope, the dignified diplomat, if the seams are coming apart. She sighed. Everybody trusts someone who looks clean. She withdrew all of her clothes, a few needles, and some spools of thread and got to work.
Penelope gets a cross stitch, she thought to herself as she sewed little green Xs along a torn section at the shoulder. She methodically moved the needle through the fabric, flipping the shoulder inside out and back again to ensure perfect stitching. It took an hour, but Penelope’s dress looked in proper condition. She laid it on a shelf coming from one wall and looked at it.
Penelope, you’ve been with me the longest. You were my first big score. You let me be someone who people thought was important enough to listen to. Her eyes moved along the carefully-laid floral pattern strips on the torso as though her gaze could hurt the garment. Without you, I would have been stuck doing little jobs forever. Thank you, Penelope.
She picked up Gilbert’s cape and began to sew up where it had torn when it had been stepped on. Gilbert gets a whipstitch. She began to work the needle again, creating what appeared to be adjacent lines but which truly spiraled through the edge of the cloth. She did the same with a tear in one leg of his trousers and a split in his vest before laying it next to Penelope’s dress.
I don’t exactly like being you, Gilbert. But whenever a man wouldn’t talk to me, I could say the same thing, but as you, and everything would work out fine. You let me have authority when I couldn’t make it happen on my own. She looked over the costume with its bold colors and accessories and shook her head. Without you, I would have faced so many dead ends. Thank you, Gilbert.
She went for the last piece of clothing, the green-and-red dress for Delia she was wearing, and settled down on the cot. Delia gets a slipstitch, she thought as she began to fasten together a torn area of the skirt, intermittently pulling the stitches together to ensure that the thread could not be seen. She took the reporter’s cap and patched the top with more careful stitching, and finally placed the outfit beside the others.
Delia, you have changed me. You helped me escape home, you helped me to really gain people’s trust, and you gave me someone I actually enjoyed being. She shook her head and laughed quietly. Without you, I would be in a lot of trouble. Thank you, Delia.
She sat back on her cot and considered the outfits. They looked good–the repairs had done their job–but something felt off about them. They’re empty. They’re just clothes. Just fabric that I can reshape with simple tools. And yet they give me so much power. Is that right?
She laughed to herself. Right? Who am I? She shook her head and carefully folded the outfits before placing them back in her bag and slipping back into Delia’s dress. She removed the written plans she had developed the day before, reading over it quickly and nodding. She returned to the cot and lay restlessly for a while.
We should arrive tomorrow morning. I’m ready. I’m gonna take Lo’Torrin for all it’s got.
Smiling to herself, she slipped off into a gentle sleep.
—
A knock at the door woke Asp. She crept to the door and opened it to find Hrothgar.
“Come with me,” he said stonily, one hand behind his back.
Asp smiled politely. “Okay. What for?”
Hrothgar grunted and faced down the corridor.
Asp looked back to her room. “I mean, I was about to turn in for the night.”
“Not tonight.” He pulled the hand from behind his back. It held a fine glass bottle with raised diamonds across the surface. Inside, an opaque orange liquid sloshed with the bobbing of the ship. “Citron,” he whispered. “Special reserve.” He grinned slightly, as though the liquor’s existence were a secret. “Come on.”
Asp laughed and shrugged. “Okay. Lead the way.”
Hrothgar took Asp deep into the ship to a small room with only a ladder inside. He climbed, gesturing to her to follow. She did, and after a bit of a climb, she emerged on a small railed platform. A large lantern above them illuminated the sea below. Judging from the shape of it, they were at the bow of the ship.
“Good view,” he said, sitting down next to the railing. The ship crashed into high waves, and salty water sprayed across Hrothgar and Asp. She wiped her face dry with the sleeve of her dress.
“Wow,” she said. “This is at the bow?”
Hrothgar nodded. “Just us and the sea.” He uncorked the bottle and produced two steel cups from inside his cloak, pouring the orange wine into them. He passed one to Asp and took a small sip from the other.
Asp took a sip too. It was a dazzling taste–it reminded her of Thimblefull Vineyards’ fruit wines, but they had never had oranges. She smiled with the memory and the lingering taste of the Citron. It warmed her throat and then her belly. “Why are we here?”
Hrothgar grunted. “Drinking. Talking.”
Asp lifted her cup to her lips again. “About?”
Hrothgar grunted again. “Things,” he said after a moment.
Asp laughed harder than she meant to. “What kinds of things? I mean, I appreciate the Citron, but . . . what did you want to talk about?”
“Oh, just things.” He stared out into the water.
Asp sat silently for a minute, then turned to Hrothgar. “Tell me about yourself, then.”
Hrothgar grunted. “Not much to say.”
Asp laughed again, freely this time. “You’re partially in charge of a massive ship with a talented crew, you can magically heal people, you’ve got a criminal past–you’ve gotta have stories. Or something.”
Hrothgar was quiet for a time. Eventually, he said, “I had a family once.”
Asp smiled. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Tell me about them!”
Hrothgar moaned. Hmm. Not a grunt. But also not good. She waited.
“I had a family back when I was in Hammergrad. Got mixed up in some bad stuff.” He paused. “They killed my family. As punishment, as a message. They left me alive to make a point.”
Asp gasped. “I’m so sorry!”
He grunted in response. “I left Hammergrad. Went to the Northreach. Tried to leave the Myriad. Boarded by pirates.” His tone became gentler despite the bad news.
“Pirates?”
Hrothgar grunted. “Kraken’s crew.”
Asp gasped again, this time in surprise. “You were pirates?”
Hrothgar snorted. “After I convinced them I was better crew than a prisoner.”
Asp smiled. “And you like the crew?”
Hrothgar was silent. “They’re like a family. In a way.”
Asp thought of the gang back in Strey, or at least, what she remembered of it. “In a way is sometimes all we get.”
Hrothgar grunted again.
Oh great, she thought. Back to just grunts. I thought we were getting somewhere. Should I just turn in? Maybe if–
Hrothgar stirred slightly and spoke. “Are you worried about the balance?”
Asp breathed in sharply. More than anything else right now. “A bit, if I understand you right.”
Hrothgar breathed quietly for a moment. “So what are you going to do?”
Asp shrugged in the darkness beside him. “I dunno. Be more careful, I guess.”
“Careful of what?” Hrothgar’s voice had a slight challenge in it.
Asp laughed. “Of getting caught.”
It was Hrothgar’s turn to laugh. “Getting caught follows breaking the law.”
Asp rolled her eyes. “You mean to say that if I didn’t break the law, I wouldn’t be in danger of getting caught.”
Hrothgar grunted.
Asp shook her head, smiling. “That was an affirmative grunt?”
Hrothgar grunted again the same way.
She sighed. “That’s true. But this is who I am. This is all I know. Besides, taking a little advantage is nothing compared to what governments do to their people, or what any leader does.”
Hrothgar scoffed. “Not Kraken.”
“Okay, so not Kraken, but that’s one guy in a group of too many to count. I’m not the villain–I’m just part of a different story.”
Hrothgar was silent.
“You disagree,” ventured Asp.
Hrothgar grunted.
“Okay, okay,” said Asp. “So crimes are bad, so what? If crimes are bad, I’ve got a lot to pay for.”
Hrothgar pounded the floor with a fist. “Exactly.”
Asp furrowed her brow. “I know that already. I spent . . . I spent a year trying to pay for it.”
Hrothgar chortled. “One year of making up for a lifetime of guilt?”
Asp frowned. “It wasn’t doing anything. Breaking laws might be bad, but punishing crimes is bad too a lot of the time.” She thought of the dwarf who had been hanged back at the prison in Despair and shuddered. “The whole thing’s broken–it’s not my fault.”
Hrothgar turned himself to face Asp. He sat silently, staring at her in the dark, for a few minutes. Then he took a big breath and began to speak.
“Fault, guilt, and blame are all complicated. We could argue forever about it. It would never resolve; it would be an endless debate with no answer.” He sipped his Citron. “What we can answer is whether what we do will balance things. Your plans in Afira–do your plans seem like they’ll balance things?”
Asp didn’t answer.
Hrothgar continued more quietly. “If they don’t, you need to ask what will. Do you feel bad for what you’ve done?”
Asp didn’t mean to answer, but the moan that escaped her as she thought of Gunther’s limp corpse answered for her.
“We used to be criminals,” he said wistfully. “It seemed like a good life, but it nearly got each of us killed. A good life wouldn’t do that. What we do now . . . it’s better. We bring the balance closer to level every day. Maybe giving you passage will be something that helps.” He sighed. “But that’s all in your hands. What are you gonna do?”
Asp sighed. When Norman had encouraged her to be good, it had seemed like the naïve ramblings of an overgrown child. But when Hrothgar spoke of leaving her life behind, she encountered something she didn’t like: it was hard to wave him away. She could feel her ideas being pressed up against a wall.
They sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Asp spoke up. “Thanks for the drink.”
Hrothgar reached out his hand for the cup, and Asp handed it to him. She started to stand, and he grunted. He uncorked the bottle a second time and poured another round for both of them. “Don’t thank me yet.”
She resumed sitting and simply watched the tumbling waves for a while. The Citron warmed her despite the persistent breeze, and the occasional spray of ocean water cooled her to a not uncomfortable temperature. She looked up at the stars overhead and marveled again at the number and intensity of the lights.
Hrothgar stirred. “Do you understand me?”
“I think I do.”
“What am I telling you?” he asked, his voice stony.
Asp laughed lightly. “You’re telling me that a good action will help me and a bad action will hurt me.”
Hrothgar shook his head. “It’s not math.”
Asp cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Hrothgar frowned at the prospect of having to express himself again and grunted. A moment later, he said, “It’s not a scale. It doesn’t matter which way it tips. It matters that you’re doing the best you can.”
They were silent for a time, once again watching the waves. Asp finished her Citron.
“It’s a nice thought,” she finally said. “I’ll think about it.”
“Do about it,” he countered sternly.
“I’ll think about it, and then I’ll do about it.” She sipped again at the Citron. “You know, Hrothgar, I don’t really know why, but it just feels like something is different. Like everything ahead of me isn’t . . . set in stone.”
Hrothgar chuckled. “I’m a dwarf, kid. Even things set in stone can change.”
Asp smiled, and the bobbing of the waves paired with the buzzing of the Citron made her sleepy. She excused herself, climbed down the ladder, crossed the ship, and made it to her room just in time to collapse on her cot, sweet orange on her tongue and the image of a scale clattering to the ground in her mind. She slept restfully into the morning, and she kept sleeping until the ship arrived in Lo’Torrin.
You can read the next chapter here!
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