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(Authors Note: the formatting for the Interludes doesn’t hold up well in Substack, but hopefully they are still readable and enjoyable. They are not essential to the story, but they serve to color in the world. Also some of the most over-the-top and ridiculous voice work is in the interlude spaces, so enjoy that.)

Excerpt, ‘Unions of the Cleave of Coldor’

Tashyün, earliest recorded leader, who created the Rule of the First, declaring that the first born shall rule only after being united in marriage, else they shall cede the title, whose end Vésh brought at an unrecorded time

Bälebinn, firstborn of Tashyün, inherited leadership upon marriage to Gidita-Jula of Filkash, who remained leader of Coldor 24 years, during which time was created the Rule of Cleaving, and whose end Vésh brought at age 68 and 70

Rule of Cleaving: rendered authority equally split between the married rulers

Cleave Petváhol, firstborn son of Bälebinn,

& Tilshün of Coldor, whose rule lasted 21 years, during which time Saintstone was discovered, and whose end Vésh brought at age 71 and 70

Cleave Miltagg, firstborn daughter of Petváhol,

& Kurrtau of Coldor, whose rule lasted 30 years, during which time their firstborn passed at a young age, and whose end Vésh brought at age 61 and 77

Cleave TauTarrlam, secondborn son of Miltagg,

& Ewelnümé of Coldor, whose rule lasted 16 years, until the breaking of union vows by TauTarrlam, whence he was banished to Flatrock

The Great Schism: when the Fāy-Núl Tör seceded from the Sanctum of Souls, occurred during the 13th year of Cleave Tautarrlam Ewelnümé’s leadership

Cleave Ewelnümé, upholder of the Cleave, who ruled for an additional 6 years, during which time she became the oldest recorded Coldor, whose end Vésh brought at age 92

Cleave Hesünenum, firstborn daughter of Ewelnüme,

& Yáslōyun of Coldor, whose rule was the longest recorded 45 years, during which time their first two daughters chose not to marry, and whose end Vésh brought at age 73 and 75

Cleave LoFāycol, thirdborn daughter of Hesünenum,

& Dellokurr of Coldor, whose rule lasted 19 years, during which time the Saintstone Fields of the North were discovered, and whose end Vésh brought at age 76 and 79

Cleave Véshash, firstborn son of LoFāycol,

& Jitsil of Filkash, whose rule lasted 8 years, during which time the northern berg fields were explored, until the tragic death of Véshash in an ice bridge collapse

Cleave Jitsil, upholder of the Cleave, who ruled an additional 20 years, during which time Windrock Cairn was commemorated in memory of Véshash, and whose end Vésh brought at age 58

Cleave Thünévahtas, firstborn son of Jitsil,

& Páhsmüni of Coldor, whose rule lasted 22 years, and whose end Vésh brought unexpectedly at age 47 in the Strange Sea, followed by the end of Páhsmüni from heart sickness

Empty Throne for two years, during which time great unrest began, until the arranged marriage of Holsháh

Cleave Holsháh, firstborn daughter of Thünévahtas,

& Setfāynum of Coldor, whose rule lasted 4 years, during which time unrest continued, until the unexpected death of Setfāynum

Cleave Holsháh, upholder of the Cleave, who ruled an additional 22 years

Cleave RilshRüne, only child of Holsháh,

& Halmishfakit of Coldor, whose rule lasted 19 years called the Rilsh Years, and whose end Vésh brought at an unrecorded time

Cleave Wōdewōnüyun, firstborn daughter of Rilshrüne,

& Dodum-Gor of Coldor, whose rule lasted 29 years, during which time alliance talks with Dintash and Broadfell were begun, and whose end Vésh brought at age 68 and 70

Cleave Nünéwoan, firstborn daughter of Wōdewōnüyun,

& Höalám of Coldor, whose rule lasted 5 years called the Saintstone Years, during which time the Alliance of Nations was signed

From The Lineages of the Four Nations, written by Maliabar Handwell in the 93rd Reckoned Year

Excerpt, ‘Unusual and Unique Sea Life’

Ghost fish are similar to a millie fish in that they are translucent and bear thin stinging tentacles. The ghost first has also been commonly called a willie by sailors because of it’s ominous shape gives sailors “the willies”. It is at least 6 feet in length and glows a translucent green, likely due to a preferred diet of gipp which are of the same verdant hue. The internal organs of the ghost fish, which do not glow, are arranged in such a way so as to resemble a wailing face. Ghost fish are more common in the green sea than anywhere and are more frequently spotted during the blacksmith's moon.

Pinchfast Crabs are 3 feet in length on average, standing no higher than a man’s knee. They are very uncommon to find, though this is likely because they maintain their bottom dwelling habits in all phases of the moon except for the cobbler’s phase. All we know of them is from specimens dredged up in trawler nets. They resemble an elongated crab with an assortment of colors on their tough exterior. The marked difference is their four piercing orange eyes and their two forelimbs. These two limbs are tucked against the body and can explode forth at such a prodigious rate as to cut away an unwary fisherman’s hand before they even realize the crab has struck, hence the name. There is an old myth in Broadfell Keep that the sky was woven by one of these crabs. The myth says that it moved so fast as to miss the thread at times, leaving holes in the fabric which are only visible when it pulls the black veneer over Yath at night. This is why, in the Keep, pinchfast crabs are referred to as knitting crabs.

Kermar Worms are a dangerous parasite that latch into the skin of any large fish. They can be found by the tell-tale boil, commonly called a kermar boil, that forms around them after they have embedded in the skin. There are exceedingly rare instances of fisherman being afflicted by kermar worms, but it is most common in large fish and whales. The worms typically insert themselves in the skin near the mouth of any large carnivorous fish and feast on the scraps of whatever meal their host acquires. It is notable however that this worm applies a non-toxic paralytic to the host prior to embedding itself. This paralytic is what is currently used to create the numbing agent doctors occasionally use before performing certain procedures. It is extremely expensive since each worm only secretes a small amount.

Diving Bell Beetles are similar to kermar worms in that they are parasitic, using a host for food. This is where the similarities end however, as the bell beetle is a water dwelling insect. The bell beetle lays its eggs in the stomach of fish. It does this by getting itself eaten, then attaching to the roof of the mouth on its victim. The poisonous bite of the bell beetle sends an increase of energy into the fish, causing it to swim sporadically. The desired effect is to get the fish eaten by a bigger predator. It will then lay its eggs inside the eaten fish to hatch. When the eggs hatch, the young then appear to consume the dead fish and live in the stomach of the predator. When they are ready to mate, they expel themselves from the host fish and swim to the surface to mate, then dive down to begin the cycle again. Like the kermar worm, the bell beetle’s sting is used recreationally to waken the user and revitalize them with energy, hence why it is also commonly called a “wake-me beetle”.

Rilshmoad are the smallest known crustaceans, hundreds easily fitting into the palm of a hand. They are often called simply “rilsh” and are carrion feeders that execute the invaluable job of consuming the dead creatures of the sea. They have no noticeable pincers or stingers and cannot bite humans due to their insubstantial size. They are present in every sea and can be easily found almost anywhere. It is unknown how the creatures survive when there are no dead to feed on, but they do often gather in forests of tower vine, leading scholars to postulate that they consume algae or plants when in need. Even more fascinating than this is that the tower whale, the largest known species of whale, feeds exclusively on rilshmoad.

Vine-gilled False Fish are a strange and elusive fish that have proven extremely difficult to study. This is because they hide within different plants and coral, blending in extremely well. They are able to change the pattern, color, and texture of their skin, all to match their surroundings. They also bear two short tubes resembling seaweed on the sides of their heads that function as gills. They are called false fish because they will sometimes try to look like a fish, in order to hide from or scare off predators. They do not possess any fins whatsoever, but rather a dozen grasping tentacles lined with suckers.

Revised Entry: A final entry has been written for the mythical Deepfoot, as they are so widely believed in and supposed sightings are so pervasive. The existence of such a creature is improbable to say the least, as the sheer size would be unsustainable in the Yath ecosystem. However, the attributes of the deepfoot are listed here. It must be restated that such a creature has never been reliably verified to exist. The belief is that the deepfoot resembles an immense snail, elongated over thousands of towers, stretching farther than a ship can sail in a day. A common belief is that no matter where you are on the ocean, there is likely a deepfoot below you. They are said to be as large as the mountains of Broadfell, with shells of iron and rock. There are religious ties and significance to this myth, which is likely why it persists today.

From the Filkish Text, Sea Life of Yath, written by Remull Mawgard in the 100th Reckoned Year and Revised in the 124th Year

Excerpt, ‘The Greatest Structures of the Nations’

…While I was disappointed by some of the natural structures I visited, I still maintained an excitement for my visits to the man-made structures. The first place I visited was the South Tower Roost, which is the currently the tallest structure in any nation. I felt immense pride in the accomplishments of my country as I stood upon the topmost balcony. What an incredible feat of skill it is to build such a structure. It is this traveler's recommendation to visit the Roost whenever possible but be wary on breezy days.

My next destination was two-fold, as one rests atop the other. I refer to the Flooded Markets which float over the ancient Shipwreck Straits. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “But Teller, the Shipwreck Straits are a natural phenomenon” — not so! The shipwrecks themselves are manmade structures, and they do make for a fascinating display. The only trouble is you can hardly see them at the bottom unless it’s a perfectly lit day, with none of the three suns casting a glare on the surface. When you do catch a glimpse of the wreckage, it is fleeting and ambiguous, often distorted by the wakes of nearby ships.

It is this traveler’s recommendation to simply focus on the Flooded Markets. This was a sight worth seeing! Imagine a bowl where market stalls and shops are all built into the curving interior wall as it rises to near vertical levels. The sheer weight of all that commerce has caused the mass to bowl down in the center, to the point where there is a veritable lake at the bottom! Truly a marvel, and it is this traveler's recommendation to make this stop a priority. I can think of no more impressive market than this, not to mention the goods are top quality and exotic.

My next destination has excited me ever since hearing of it in a tavern, the Hot Baths of Frozen Fill. They were more glorious than I had heard. On the northwest side of Frozen Fill there are large wooden bathing tubs, fit for a dozen men, each filled with steaming water and many sweet smelling plant oils. The secret to the warm water is speculated to be Boiler Shark heating glands, though I suspect there is a simpler answer to this marvel. Simple or not, it is this traveler's recommendation to visit the Baths, especially during the Cold Season, so as to maximize the lovely effect of the warm water. It was so lovely, I had a hard time moving on to my next destination.

The famous Windrock Cairn, which juts up high up from the sea, some several towers. This attraction compelled me to dive into its history, and what I found, dear reader, was very mysterious indeed! The stone itself is perfectly even in length on all sides, exactly 4 towers across. It is also extremely smooth, though there are imperfections brought about by time and weather. When I asked some local merchants if they knew anything of the Cairn, they become cagey and not a bit unfriendly. And I dare say this attitude put me off guard, and that night I did have the strangest dreams and restless sleep. While the Cairn is a very fascinating structure, unknown in origin, it is this traveler's recommendation to simply see it from afar or pass it by altogether.

My next intended destinations were the Mines of Vohfay however, when I arrived in Broadfell and inquired about a visit, I was turned down rather swiftly. In all my past dealings with the Fellbin people, they all seem to greatly fear giving forth any sort of information, so I simply bought a fur coat and booked a charter northwest for my final destination. The Cloudborne Bridge that connects the larger ice mass of Coldor to the smaller one where the Cleave resides. This long narrow bridge is suspended high above the sea over an impossible distance. When I inquired as to the materials used to build such a magnificent structure, I was met with veiled answers and shrugs.

Eventually I was able to ascertain the bridge was built with something called Saints stone. I was assured that the material was stronger than any other and yet lighter than the lightest wood. I must say, dear reader, I do not believe it. Never during my entire stay did anything so much as a billypug move across that bridge. Even if it is a clever ruse, the bridge is a marvel to behold and it is this travelers recommendation to do just that, but if offered a chance at traversing it’s height, I wouldn’t dare.

From An Honest Travel Guide, written by Teller ‘Tell All’ Delkinmast in the 3rd Reckoned Year

Excerpt, ‘Boldifar Strong Oar’

Hear of Boldifar, strong Boldifar with sharp oar. Cut through water, impale the sea, did Boldifar. Bury oar in the sea, to pull ocean below his ship. Move worlds beneath his long ship, did Boldifar Strong Oar. Crossed the ocean in one pull of his strong arm. Boldifar did rend the world with his sharp oar.

Called to distant seas, Boldifar began, called by the moon to fight the waves. To help tame the tides, Boldifar did set out on his long voyage. The sea made strong currents to keep him away, try to keep back Boldifar Strong Oar. But the moon gave aid to Boldifar, made flat the sea within his way. Now the wind, strong blowing wind, tried to push Boldifar back. Fought with the wind, strong Boldifar held fast with his thick arms. The moon did distract the wind, made the stars to twinkle and dance. The fierce wind was distracted, blew the wrong way and pushed Boldifar fast across the sea.

The sea grew angry, roiled and thrashed, sent big whales to stop Boldifar. Tall whales swam to Boldifar, did beat his boat with their strong tails. The moon saw but could not help. Strong Boldifar, wise Boldifar, reached down his sharp oar into the sea. Stuck his oar into the rock, cut the water, impaled the sea, did Boldifar Strong Oar. Pulled the sea below and moved the sea and rock beneath. The rock did give under the strong arm of Boldifar, did get pushed out of the sea. Boldifar Strong Arm escaped the tall whales, sailed quickly to the distant seas.

To tame the tides, the moon called Boldifar. Struck the sea and stabbed the water. Swirled the sea with his strong oar. Boldifar Sharp Oar put a hole in the sea, swirled the waters to drain down. Tamed the tides to aid the moon, did Boldifar with his sharp oar. Gave a name to him, called him Broadfell, for the broad sea fell before him. Blessed him and his kin, did the moon, blessed Boldifar with great strength. Now all know the name of Boldifar ‘Broadfell’ Strong Oar.

From Fellbin Folklore, Author Unknown in the Unreckoned Years

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1st Day in the 1st of Delód’s Months, Rainy Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 127th Reckoned Year

The Vánüm language, or the Elder Tongue: Núl, sometimes stylized as Nul or Null, definition: disharmony, unbalance, or disunity

From ‘Captain's Log’ of the Painful Lady, written by Captain Chapel in the 120th Reckoned Year

A steady wind has been blowing for the past few hours, as if the Dead Ships sought to expel the Lady from their waters. Gray clouds have been building on the horizon ahead, tumbling over top of each other in eager anticipation of spilling their long-held rain. Petsune and The Big Man are sitting around the crate typically used to play Runny. The crew has been quieter since they met with the Hollow Tree, but Petsune doesn’t think the mood is sad or wary, just respectful.

“You know what I mean, Pet?” The Big Man says.

Petsune returns his wandering mind to the conversation. “I’m so sorry, Benafield. I’m afraid I got lost in my thoughts.”

“Hah, that is okay. I could see it in your eyes.”

“What were you saying?” Petsune asks.

“I was saying that the Hollow Trees make me uneasy.” The Big Man says, looking deep into the grains of wood in the crate.

“I agree… they are very strange. They seem to know too much.” Petsune muses.

“Aye, that’s it. They know too much. I don’t like it.”

Petsune thinks for a moment before responding. He is always careful to broach the subject of the divine with Benafield. Cautiously he begins, “I think… I think perhaps that is a healthy attitude to have. According to the, um, legend, it told me, Hollow Trees came from the Thünadín – the deepfoot and were given divine wisdom. To me it makes sense to be made uncomfortable in the face of something divine, because it isn’t of any familiar mold — it is… other. Does that make sense?”

Benafield doesn’t respond right away, instead gazing out over the clear, flat ocean around them. When he speaks, he sounds quieter than usual, as though he is speaking to himself. “It makes sense, aye. And I think you are right…”

“But?” Petsune prods lightly.

“It’s not only discomfort of the divine,” The Big Man says, “I do not wish to offend, Pet. It is hard to talk of these things to you, because you are a priest, and I trust you. I like you. But I do not trust most.”

“I understand,” Petsune says softly, “I have been hurt by the churches as well, it’s part of why I was excommunicated by the Sanctum and eventually asked to leave the Order. It has taken a long time for me to see past that hurt.”

“How did you manage it? Because I have heard and seen the voice and hands of the church do terrible things, all in the name of their Saint. And I don’t know how to move past it.”

“For me, I learned to lean on the words of the Saints rather than the words of people. I don’t know what will work for you. I wish I did.” Petsune says, regretfully.

Benafield looks just the slightest bit sheepish, then he looks away and speaks. “And what if the words of the Saints hurt too?”

Petsune bends his smile into a forlorn shape, and he answers. “Then… well, then I pray to understand them…” The Big Man gazes out at the water and points off to the encroaching wall of storm clouds. “Rains are coming. We’d best be heading inside.”

The Big Man rises but Petsune raises a hand to stall him, “Wait, I was actually hoping to see the rain come in. I have never seen the rains from open sea.”

“Oh, aye? Suppose you’ve not. Well, I will stay with you ‘till you go below decks.” Benafield says, sitting back down.

The General appears then and tries to warn them inside. “Tut-tut, my friends. Best be heading inside, the rains will be here within the hour, I should say.”

“Aye, we see them,” Benafield notes, “but Pet here wishes to see the rains come in.”

Petsune nods, but Tarlatan appears baffled. “Good grief, whatever for? If you want to get wet, why not just hop overboard.”

“I’ve lived my entire life on Thune Mass,” Petsune explains, “so this is my first chance to see the rains on the open sea.”

The General considers the notion. “Mmm, I see. Well, perhaps I’ll join you then, if you’ll have me. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Hah,” The Big Man rumbles, “‘course we’ll have you, General.”

“You may even be able to add some insight to our conversation, General.” Petsune says.

“Oh? Mmm, I’m not sure how much insight this old man has left, but I’d be happy to try.”

The General takes a seat on the empty barrel at the Runny table. Petsune looks at him and is glad to see that he seems to be doing better. The General is the first to speak. “So, what are we talking about, men?”

Petsune doesn’t wish to set the topic to words, so he allows the Big Man to respond. “We were talking of the church and the hurt it has done us both — something you might relate to, General.”

“Mmm, I see,” The General says quietly, “It’s not an easy thing to face condemnation from someone claiming to be backed by the Saints.”

“Aye,” the Big Man agrees, “it is not.”

Petsune decides that it may be wiser to allow space for these two to talk, rather than pushing the conversation somewhere. He listens contentedly, staring out at the gray clouds and the wall of hazy rain below them. The General’s face is thoughtful as he speaks. “Benafield, have you thought at all of the Hollow Tree’s story for you?”

“Not much, why?”

“Mmm, well,” Tarlatan muses, “they always tell particularly pointed stories, aimed right at their target. And this one was aimed at you. It may have been about this very thing.”

Both Petsune and The Big Man consider this thought, and Benafield responds, “Aye, it may. The young painter need only ignore those that criticize his work, just as I need only ignore those priests in the Sanctum.”

The General casts an askance glance at Petsune, but continues the conversation, “Indeed. The Hollow Trees have a way of knowing things. Doesn’t feel proper, but there it is. Perhaps it saw your internal conflict with the words of these True Souls?”

“Aye, they do have a strange way of knowing…” The Big Man says.

Tar and Benafield both stare off toward the storm front, and Petsune decides to add to the conversation. “I think that’s part of it, but I also think it goes deeper than that.”

“Aye?”

“Do go on, Pet,” The General says, waving a hand casually his way, “you’ve proven wiser than me, I should think.”

Petsune says a quick prayer to the Saints that his words aren’t misunderstood and that he can convey his intentions. “I think you’re right, we should all ignore the hateful things people do in the name of the Saints, or even more than that — we should condemn them. It’s—”

“Yeah, It ain’t right when priests are mean. They’s supposed to be all love-y all the time.”

The Big Man, General Tar, and Pet all look up in surprise. Sprig’s youthful face and messy hair are poking out from between the railings of the quarterdeck. The General is the first to react. “You ought to be below decks, Sprig. The rains are coming.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sprig says casually. He looks up at the storm wall, much closer now, then looks back down at Pet. “So, you’re like a devil-worshiper or somethin’? You worship death? That’s how’s I heard it.”

The General again reacts first. “Sprig! You of all people ought to know—”

“No, no. It’s alright. Children have a way of speaking plainly that we could all perhaps learn from.” Petsune smiles at Sprig, receiving a raised eyebrow in return. Petsune changes focal points as he speaks, looking at each of them individually, though he directs the conversation at Sprig. “I can’t say for certain, as I’ve never actually been to Coldor. But the way I understand it is not a worship of death, but a respect of it. An understanding that all things must end.”

“Still seems weird.” Sprig chimes in.

Petsune looks back up to his snaggle-toothed grin and says, “Think about it, Sprig. Everything ends. If it didn’t, then there would be no change or growth or anything. An ending is a symbol of completion and wholeness, and without one, things would likely go poorly.”

“… what?” Sprig says with a quizzical look.

Petsune is about to try and explain again, but The Big Man speaks before him. “Aye, that is well said, Pet. But there are those things that are ended abruptly — incomplete because of the ending. Would you not agree?”

The General murmurs in assent, and Petsune agrees as well. “You’re right. And I don’t know why this is, but I know that it is so. I do not have an answer, but I believe in the goodness and wisdom of the Saints and that all things are in their control. For me, that is more comforting and convincing than the possibility that some things are beyond their reach. But you’re right, Benafield. And I do not have an answer as to why some things are brought to an early end. I wish to the Saints that I did.”

Sprig breaks the silence with another leap in subject. “I miss Harlan…”

Petsune responds without really thinking. “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” then realizing what he’s said, he hastily adds, “I don’t mean because, well, I just meant — I’m surprised since you always said he was no fun.”

The General makes a sort of harumph noise, and The Big Man laughs lightly. Sprig responds without seeming hurt by Petsune’s words. “Yeah, he weren’t no fun. But he made it more fun to steal stuff ‘cause he were so keen-eyed. He always seen me somehow. Made it funner.”

The group goes quiet at Sprig’s words, and Petsune is again reminded of the immoral habits the crew is fostering in the boy. In the vacancy of conversation, a faint sound can be heard in the distance. They all hear it and look to the advancing wall of storm clouds and rain. It is a faint drone, light in pitch but unvarying and constant. The Big Man gazes out fondly. “Reminds me of the Great Unpass in the north of the Keep. The cliff face is so vast and tall there that the clouds cover the top. Aye, some have taken to calling it the Stone Storm Wall.”

The General looks at Benafield. “Do you ever miss it, lad? Your home.”

“Aye, at times. I do miss the feeling of rock beneath my feet,” The Big Man says, “but when I left Broadfell, it was a hostile place to be.”

The General looks intrigued. “Mmm, oh? How’s that? Seems rather a calm place.”

The Big Man nods. “From outside, aye, it does seem calm. The Great Schism has been boiling there for many generations now though. There is much fighting between the Tör and the Sanctum.”

The storm wall to the south flashes and grows closer. The pelting of rain against the surface of the ocean is a soothing sound from afar, but it is quickly becoming louder. Petsune thinks of Harlan and the Fāy-Núl Tör, pondering the words he said. “sometimes the most effective way to eliminate an enemy is not to cause pain or suffering, but to give them what they want most.”

Petsune becomes lost in his thoughts, as he often does, and misses the General asking something of Benafield. The deep Fellbin voice draws Petsune back in. “No, it is not something many know. Fellpost HelBenledore does try to hide the division, but it is there. He has tried to stamp it out for years, but it has only gotten worse. There was—”

“Here it comes!” Sprig cuts in. Petsune looks up and the storm wall is nearly upon them. A rushing line of splashing water extends as far as the eye can see. The once serene vista of motionless ocean is supplanted by a cascading downpour of water. It rolls over The Painful Lady in a roar, immediately drenching everything in the deluge. After a few moments, General Tar calls out loudly through the haze. “Right, we best be inside then!”

They move quickly to the Captain's cabin, but Petsune pauses to gaze back out into the torrential rains. He can see the ocean become restless and begin to roil up in waves and swells, the peaceful place of the Straits giving way to the frantic rains. Once inside, the noise grows infinitely louder, an almost deafening roar against the wooden planks above their heads. Sprig is met with two bundles of careening fur that proceed to lap the water off his dripping wet face. Inside the cabin, Chapel is sitting at his desk amid delicately floating feathers; Shushilah is gazing at the map on the wall; Pickett is seated in a corner with a large stack of thick tomes, his nose buried in one of them; Bor is mixing some type of cold dish with coin-cut padada slices on top; and Sprig’s bird is contentedly cooing in the rafters.

Petsune brushes off his Deepblood robes, which he recently converted into a more sea-worthy outfit. He girded the large open bottom into two leg holes, then hemmed it into loose capris, then he cut the baggy sleeves off, and added sewn in half-sleeves that were much tighter. He looks more like crew now than ever, and whenever he sees his reflection in the water, he briefly pauses in confusion. As he wipes the water from his altered Deepblood habit, he sees Chapel rise from his down covered chair and stand on the desk to shoo away Sprig’s bird. Chapel makes shooing motions toward the bird, and it flies over toward the upside-down bucket attached to the ceiling. Chapel dismounts the desk and Petsune watches the Captain climb the same shelf that fell last time. Petsune calls out, “Chapel, wait! That shelf isn’t—” but it gives out and the Captain ends up on the floor of the cabin amid guffaws and hollers from most of the crew. Sprig’s bird attempts to land neatly on Chapel’s head but doesn’t care for the moving target. The bird flies off to land in his recently vacated, and thereby warmed, chair.

Petsune approaches and gives Chapel a hand, stifling laughs rather poorly. That is until he sees a worn leather parcel amid the debris of the broken shelf. Petsune points to it. “What’s that?”

The Captain dusts himself off and grabs the leather bundle. Most of the crew have stopped laughing, instead becoming intrigued by the satchel. When Chapel opens it, Petsune sees his eyes go very wide. “What? What is it?” Petsune asks, concern creeping into his voice. Chapel carefully closes the satchel and hands it over to Petsune, again displaying that new attitude of reverence he had on earlier. Petsune hesitantly takes the leather bag and opens it as Chapel speaks. “You asked if this ship had any more secrets — looks like we just found one.”

Petsune sees what is inside, but he is confused at the significance. As he begins to understand, however, he looks up at Chapel with a teary-eyed expression of wonder.

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30th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

Saint Wōde appeared, disguised, to two wise men and he asked them both, “Is Truth beyond us?”

The first man answered, “No, it is not beyond us because we can know Truth, if we seek it out.”

The second man said, “Yes, it is beyond us, because it stands upon the divine, not the human.” Saint Wōde nodded and went on his way.

From ‘Saint Wōde and the Wise Men’ Parable, King Wonum the Wise in his 5th Year of Reign and 6 Years Pre-Reckoning

As The Painful Lady drifts closer to the Hollow Tree, Petsune can see that it is a mossy green color, bearing no leaves. The branches spread out and into the air in a symmetrical pattern, and the trunk is thicker than a man. It isn’t overly large, but it is bigger than one of the trees in the Floating Forests. Chapel is standing atop the root again, but now he’s consulting his captain's log, looking from the tree back down to his book. When Petsune approaches and looks over his shoulder, he can see simple drawings of trees with descriptions. Chapel closes the logbook and says to Petsune, “This is a new one, I’ve never encountered it before.”

Petsune considers the tree, finding it rather simple and almost unimpressive. He has always wanted to see one but finds himself underwhelmed. The marvel of the surrounding still ocean seems to have raised the bar for what is intriguing. Mavis calls out from the helm to drop anchor. Benafield made a temporary anchor by tying the anchor line on to a cannon. Before they drop it, Chapel calls out “Belay that, we don’t want to disturb the Dead Ships.”

Petsune realizes then that this place, the Shipwreck Straits, is the final resting place of Chapel’s mother. Now Petsune understands the Captains solemnity and respect of the water.

With no anchor to halt her, the Lady drifts right up to the Hollow Tree and then stops, as if ordained.

The ocean remains as static as glass, reflections attached to the Lady and Tree as though they were roots. Nearly the entire crew is gathered at the starboard gunwale to look at the rare floating Hollow Tree. Petsune has read stories spoken by Hollow Trees, and always been intrigued by them and their wisdom, but he never dreamed he would see one himself. Mavis leaves the helm and joins the rest of the crew, coming to stand beside Petsune. Petsune sees the Hollow Tree moving and shaping its branches into a new pattern and for some inexplicable reason, he thinks the pattern looks inviting. Pet watches Chapel walk as far out on the root as he dares, and then without asking or thinking, Petsune follows. The crew doesn’t question Petsune as he stands and walks out on the adjacent root. The Tree seems to have been waiting for Pet, because once he sits, the Hollow Tree begins moving. For all of his knowledge regarding Hollow Trees, Petsune never understood how they spoke: was it with a voice, with signs, aloud or somehow in one’s head? He always wondered about this and finds himself holding his breath anxiously as the Hollow Tree moves.

All of the Tree’s branches stem from a crux at the top, save for two shorter branches that stem from halfway up the trunk — almost like arms. These two branches begin to bend inward, and then tap on the trunk, each tap becoming a word or syllable that seems to echo from the hollow inside of the trunk. The voice of the Hollow Tree is breathy, punctuated by the rhythmic tapping against its trunk. The words seem to blow across the water to Petsune’s ears. “Who approaches Nutil-En-Eli-Tun?”

Chapel looks over at Petsune and nods toward the Tree, so Petsune speaks hesitantly. “Uh, Petsune and Captain Chapel of The Painful Lady.”

The upper branches of the tree all stir slightly, rattling with dry, hollow sounds of wood, then reform into a new pattern. Petsune isn’t sure how or why, but he thinks this new pattern feels respectful? The Tree speaks, “Petsune, Son of Hope, child of Nünéwoan and Höalám,”

Petsune looks at Chapel and quietly asks, “What does that mean?”

Before Chapel has time to speak however, the Tree continues. “and Captain Chapel, Place of Worship, child of Tiradel and Devishaw.”

Chapel speaks at a normal volume and responds to Petsune, now that the Tree is silent. “The Hollow Trees are fascinated by names, best I can guess. They always tell me what my name means — Chapel: place of worship.”

Petsune vaguely recalls the phrase from somewhere but can’t place where. “And that other part? Were those… my parents' names?”

Chapel turns to look questioningly at Pet, “Of course—” then realization strikes him. “Oh, Pet… you didn’t know, did you?”

Petsune’s eyes quiver as he quietly says, “How could I have? No one speaks of the North War. But… how did the Tree as…”

Chapel answers the half-spoken question with a half-veiled answer. “Nobody knows.”

Petsune recovers himself and speaks in a normal voice. “So, why does my name mean Son of Hope?”

Before Chapel can respond, the mossy green Hollow Tree begins speaking again.

There is the creaking sound like a ship's hull, and Petsune swears he can see the trunk shifting in size and shape with each syllable. “It is a Vánüm name: Pēt, for child, daughter, or son — and So͞on, for hope, future, or wish. A good name.”

Petsune’s eyes widen at the revelation and Chapel smiles in surprise as well. The Hollow Tree continues rattling and tapping its trunk, and the windy whisper carries easily across the still sea. “To the one with an old name, I will tell a story. And to the one who is a place of worship, I will tell a story.”

Petsune looks over at Chapel, but he merely shrugs. Hollow Tree interactions are unpredictable, sometimes they tell a single story and sometimes they speak conversationally — each Tree differing in personality. Chapel looks back to the Tree but Pet watches him still. Something seems different about the Captain. Pet isn’t sure if it’s something that changed since Chapel committed to being a better captain, or if it’s the presence of the Hollow Tree. Either way, the Captain appears uncharacteristically respectful, almost reverent. Petsune looks back at the rest of the crew at the railing, each face featuring an encouraging smile, except The Big Man who stares skeptically at the Tree. The Hollow Tree’s upper branches clatter and shift, clacking together with empty, reed-like noises, reminding Petsune of wind chimes. The branches reform into a pattern that give Petsune a new impression, a feeling of preparation and solemnity – like an intake of breath before a momentous endeavor. The two shorter branches begin tapping against the trunk again with their finger-like sticks, giving a voice to the Tree. “Listen well, you who would hear, to Nutil-En-Eli-Tun, Speaker of Stories. For the Child of Hope, a story. Listen well, for I am long in the telling.”

Petsune sees Chapel sitting down on the root, and he glances behind to see some of the crew get comfortable on the railing, while a few wander off. Chapel’s attitude of respect permeates the crew as they look on. When Pet turns back around, he notices Chapel is preparing to write in his logbook. A cool wind blows from the south then as the Hollow Tree speaks, Petsune feels his skin prickle.

“Before there was anything, there was the cold wind. A cold wind that blew through the empty void — a breath of life. But this breath needed speech to create. And so it Named itself the Nüm, ‘Breath, Life, Near, Everywhere, Air, and Wind’. From it’s name, it formed the Vá-nüm speech. Vá, ‘Voice, Sound, and Word’. The Nüm spoke and things were brought into being by the living Vánüm, each word being given form and life.

“First named was the void: Yáš, ‘Darkness’. And the Yáš was given life. Then Nüm spoke: Ründ, ‘Bend, and Warp’, and Yáš was molded into a form. And Ründ was given form and life. Then Nüm spoke: Delód, ‘Change, and Shift’ and the Yáš became solid. And Delód was given form and life. Then Nüm spoke: Wōde, ‘Steal, Take, and Replace’ and a portion of Yáš was taken, leaving it still and solid and separate. And Wōde was given form and life. These were the first great words.

“Then Nüm spoke: Wōsán, ‘Water, and Liquid’ and the still and solid Yáš became filled by the Wōsán. Then Wōde was reversed: Edów, ‘Give, Gift, and Lend’ and the Yáš that was taken was given to the Wōsán. And the Wōsán began to move and roil. Nüm named the darkest part of the Wōsán: Thüne, ‘Depths, and Deep’. These were the second words spoken.

“Then Nüm spoke a new kind of thing: Thün-a-Dín, ‘Depth dweller’. And a great, shelled creature was made to move along the ground of the deep. Then Nüm spoke to the Thünadín and said: Hól, ‘Calm, Quiet, and Wise’ and the great Thünadín began to move slowly through the deep. Then Nüm spoke: Hól-Völ, ‘Wise Plants’ and on the backs of the Thünadín grew trees of great wisdom. These were the third words spoken.

“Nüm Edów the Vánüm to the first of the creations: to Yáš, to Ründ, to Delód, to Wōde. With the Vánüm speech, Yáš spoke and filled itself with Völ, ‘Plants’, and with Vöh, ‘Rock and Earth’. Wōde loved the Wōsán and wished it to be filled. And so Wōde spoke: Fás, ‘Fish’ and the Wōsán began to teem with all manner of life.

“Delód loved the Thüne of Wōsán and wished it to be filled. And so Delód spoke and filled the Thüne of the Wōsán with Dōm-Fáss, ‘Big Fish’ and the Thüne began to teem with all manner of life. Ründ loved the Vöh that was not of the Wōsán and wished it to be filled. And so Ründ spoke and filled the Vöh with Ané-Vöh, ‘Animal Earth’ and the dry Vöh began to teem with all manner of life. These were the fourth words.

“Now it was that Ründ, Delód, and Wōde wished for a new kind of thing, a living thing that would love their creations as they did. And so they each spoke together: Gōr, ‘Body, Blood, and Flesh’ and a form was made in their own image. But the form was lifeless and without Nüm. Then the cold wind blew and Nüm saw what had been made. Nüm spoke: Cól, ‘Energy, and Essence’ and filled the form. All saw the Cól-Gōr, and all were pleased by the making. These were the fifth words.

“And it happened that Nüm watched all that had been created and felt that it was good. Yet one thing lacked still. The Fás swam endlessly in the Wōsán, the Dōm-fáss lumbered unceasingly through the Thüne, the Ané-vöh crawled indefinitely upon the Vöh, and the Cól-gōr lived unending lives upon Yáš. Nüm saw all of this and spoke a final word: Vésh, ‘End, Finish, and Complete’ and the final great word was spoken. And Vésh was given form and life.

“Vésh saw all that had begun upon Yáš, and all that was continuing to begin, but did not see any ending. And so it was that Vésh gave to all things an ending. Nüm saw this and felt that it was very good. But the great words became bitter at the ending of their beloved creations, and they shunned Vésh for the deed.

Petsune finds himself yanked back to the present. He is pulled forcefully from the grips of the Hollow Tree’s story as it ends abruptly. He knows without asking that the story is one belonging to the Cleave, and he wishes he could hear more. Instead, the Hollow Tree shifts it’s upper branches into a new pattern that feels theatrical, almost grandiose.

“For the one who is a place of worship, a story. Listen well,”

Chapel stops writing down the Vánüm words from the first story, instead paying complete attention to the new story. The Tree begins tapping its trunk and words form from deep within.

“There was once a tree that was friends with the sky. The two delighted in the beauty of the other. The tree would say to the sky, ‘You are so wide and so blue, you cover all that can be seen, and yet you are not bound to the earth. I wish I were more like you.’ Then the sky would say to the tree, ‘You are wide enough to shade the land beneath you, green enough to stand out from afar, and a refuge for many animals. Do not try to be what you cannot. You are a tree, and I am the sky.’ The tree did not listen however and sought to become more like the sky. Seeking to become blue, the tree sloughed all of it’s leaves until nothing but bare branches remained.

“The tree looked at it’s reflection in the lake below and was pleased. The sky saw this and said to the tree, ‘Why have you done this? Now you are no longer green, and I can no longer play among your leaves.’ But the tree simply stated, ‘I will be more like you.’ The sky responded with the same words as before, ‘Do not try to be what you cannot, or you will lose what you have.’ But the tree did not heed the words of the sky.

“Next, the tree sought to become as wide as the sky and cover all that could be seen. It stretched it’s branches wider and wider, until they became too heavy to support. The branches broke and fell to the ground. The sky saw this and said to the tree, ‘Why have you done this? Now you are no longer a place for birds to rest, and you provide no shade or shelter. I can no longer play among your leaves, and now I cannot even rattle your branches with my wind.’

“The tree felt saddened by the loss of it’s branches, but it simply stated, ‘I will be more like you.’ The sky watched the tree with pity. Only a trunk remained where the beautiful tree once stood. Finally, the tree sought to remove itself from the earth to be free like the sky. The tree pulled up its roots from the ground, but soon toppled over onto its side.

“The tree was greatly saddened at its pitiable state, and now it began to wither without roots in the ground. The sky saw the tree and grew very sorrowful, ‘You wished to be what you were not, and now you have lost even that which you were.’ The tree simply said the same words, ‘I will be more like you.’ and continued to wither away.”

Chapel begins mulling over the story once it ends, sensing an intentional and knowing touch on the story. He stands as Petsune does likewise, until they begin to hear the Tree rattling again. Petsune looks to the remaining crew at the railing with a questioning look on his face. Shushilah just shrugs but The Big Man continues to watch the Tree skeptically. The upper branches rearrange again with rattling shakes and tremors. This time the pattern appears almost sad, or perhaps pained in some way. The Hollow Tree’s shorter limbs begin clacking against the trunk, causing that strange, breathy speech to emanate from inside. Chapel is reminded of a wooden branch filled with rolling beads that he saw in the Oullman once. The Tree begins telling another story,

“For the one that bears the Tradition of Names, a story. Listen well,

“A master painter, respected across the seas, painted a simple scene. It was of a ship that was moored at a dock, with a man carrying a crate across the gangway. People came from far away to marvel at the master painter’s work. All who saw it loudly proclaimed it’s quality. Soon the master painter sold the work for a small fortune, and all agreed the price was fair.

“At the same time, an amateur painter, with no experience or teaching, painted a complex scene. It was of the dozens of royal navy ships floating in the harbor, with expert detail in every ship and rope. It was as though he had been painting for years and been taught in the finest of schools. Only a few ever saw the painting, however, and those that did gave it only a passing glance. After years of display, someone finally purchased it for a meager sum, and even then, complained of the price.

“The two painters were equally skilled and painted almost the same thing, yet one sold for a fortune and the other, a pittance. When the amateur painter finally sold his own, he recalled the master painter’s work. The amateur quit painting that very hour, never again lifting a brush. And so, the world was deprived of his work.”

The Hollow Tree ceases moving its branches, going completely silent and still. Petsune looks back at The Big Man and sees conflicting emotions playing across his face. It seems that the unexpected story meant something to him, though Petsune cannot say exactly what. Somehow the Tree knew that he was there, almost as though it could sense the need for a story. Pet and the Captain both climb over the railing and back onto the deck, meeting the Big Man at the railing. He seems lost in thought, so Pet attempts to break the silence. “That was a strange experience…” Pet says as he glances back at the Tree, “seems like we have some thinking to do. Perhaps some talking too.”

Benafield doesn’t meet their eyes, still seeming lost in thought as he mutters out a response. “Aye, it does seem so…”

Chapel appears thoughtful, then calls over Mavis and The General, giving the order to change the sails from blue to green. The Big Man and Mavis appear the slightest bit shocked, but The General sees the tactical advantage immediately, “Mmm, yes. We’re already stopped and out of sight of the Haul. A sound decision, I say.”

Chapel doesn’t smile or wink. Instead, he appears very introspective, then he simply walks away. Petsune watches him go, looking at The Big Man, who shrugs and walks off to help change the sails.

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30th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

…The anger of a boiler shark, like blood in the water.

A love of hurt and death and pain, caught the son from his fisherman father.

He hooked his prey and he slew his enemy; he made the sea to boil.

He baited the kind and he kicked the weak; he sowed ash into soil.

He beguiled the sea and had not a friend to speak of.

Vengeance for his fisherman father was all he could think of…

From Act I of ‘The Boiler Shark and the Fisherman’s Son’, Finger Weaver tale, written by Tragedy Mill in the 75th Reckoned Year

The last four days have passed as a blessedly uneventful routine. Petsune would rise, help with the standard maintenance of the ship, see to his daily duties which were on a rotating schedule, and pick someone to learn more about. After the loss of Harlan, Pet became determined to know this crew, not merely be comfortable with them. Could he even call them family until he truly knew them, and they, him?

Four days ago, he had chosen Cheese, though the only thing Pet learned about her was that she came onto the crew recently and has a pension for pranks. He remembers a subtle impression that her name had a story Chapel didn’t wish to tell, and when he asked, she simply said, “When I’m three sheets to the wind, it sounds like I’m sayin’ ‘cheese’, ‘stead of ‘cheers’”.

Curiously though, when Pet asked The Big Man, the answer was completely different. Benafield said she was called Cheese because when Chapel found her, she was marooned on a newly made Mass, only about a tower wide, and the first thing she asked for was cheese. Shushilah said she used to have a pet rat that would frequently bite her, as if it thought she was cheese. He asked each crew member, save for Chapel, and he received a completely different answer each time. He gave up trying to figure it out, instead enjoying the enigma that was Cheese. The day after he tried to become better acquainted with Cheese, he sought out Sprig.

It turns out that Sprig and Pickett came as an inseparable unit. They had run away from a horrible orphanage on a place called Balehorn Mass in the lower southeast region of the Sea of Saints. When Pet asked Pickett what a Balehorn was, he explained that it was a seahorse roughly the size of a man, capable of splitting rock with the horn on its face and was known to carry a specific rock in the curl of its tail for the duration of its life. Sprig hadn’t seemed in the mood for more questions, so instead Petsune learned about sea life from Pickett. He learned of the nine different species of sea turtles, of which he now only remembers three. He learned about the boulder and pebble claw crabs, as well as something called a pinchfast crab which sounded very fascinating. The only other creature Pickett mentioned that Pet remembers by name was something called a feverweep, which is eel-like and can unhinge its mouth wide enough to swallow a small sailboat, whole — hard to forget that one. The day after learning about new horrors in the deep, Petsune spoke with Bor and learned a great deal about the art of food.

Bor seemed very cagey about his craft, but Bor seems reluctant to talk in general. Eventually Bor deigned to lecture Pet on all the finer points of cooking: the time, requirements, and final test all seemed grueling to say the least. Anyone working under the title of Bor must have been trained by one of the eight WinBor’s, who all take on one apprentice a year. It then takes five years of study and cooking, which all culminates in the Final Feast: a test in which your master WinBor and two others eat a meal created by you, judging whether you have earned the title of Bor. After the long-winded lecture, Petsune understood why Bor went by the title rather than his name. Yesterday, Petsune pried into the mind and life of The Big Man.

Pet had the minor ulterior motive of learning why Benafield had such anger in his eyes a few days earlier. He cannot ever remember seeing the Big Man upset or even agitated, thinking of him more as gentle than angry. Benafield was easily forthcoming about his time in the mines of Vohfay, and even spoke freely on the loss of his family, but something happened after that and before the Lady. Pet only came to this conclusion after careful questions and a willingness to listen. They surprised each other for inverse reasons: Benafield was surprised at Petsune’s willingness to simply listen and not interject, while Pet was surprised The Big Man wasn’t more hesitant to speak. Pet resolved to return to this conversation with The Big Man at some point. Today however, he planned on speaking with Shushilah.

Despite the rations getting progressively worse, Pet finds his mood improving each day, unlike Bor who has to endure the Haul’s larder. The simple schedule and the familiar environment have helped him regain some lost peace. His positivity is occasionally beset by attacks whenever he remembers where they are sailing and why, but he tries not to let that ruin his trip. One thing that does concern him is the Shipwreck Straits. They should be sailing into the unsettling stretch of water any moment now. Petsune finishes the dishes and begins seeking out Shushilah to pass the time. He finds Shush in the crow’s nest on lookout duty. When he climbs into the nest Shushilah seems pleased to see him. “Hello, friend Petsune. You are coming for the view, I’m thinking?”

Shushilah gestures out toward the southern horizon off the bow. Pet responds while turning to look. “No, I actually just wanted to talk with you and…” Petsune’s words die off as he sees what Shushilah meant. At first, he thinks his eyes are playing a trick on him. Just ahead, the water changes in color, shifting from a deep vibrant blue to a very light sky blue with patches of barely discernible green, yellow and red. This isn’t too surprising, many seas seem to possess their own color pallets: the Slick Sea of Broadfell has pinkish tones from the red whale oil, the Green Sea of Dintash is verdant with tower vines, and the Strange Sea in the uncharted south is said to be black as night. No, what Pet sees now is a preternatural stillness. The water isn’t moving at all, it is perfectly still and undisturbed, not even a ripple on the surface.

The Painful Lady glides into the Shipwreck Straits as Petsune cautiously rises and stares down at the eerie sight. “What…”

Despite not finishing the thought, Shushilah answers the unspoken question. “Nobody knows why the sea is so still here. Is a question many have asked. In the Oullman, we call it the Still Sea. And another thing: no salt. Is just water.”

Once the ship passes fully into the Straits, Petsune realizes with a shock that the water isn’t the color of a light sky blue, it is simply reflecting the sky like a vast mirror. But when Pet looks down, leaning far over the edge of the crow’s nest, he doesn’t see only the sky's reflection. Behind the thin reflection on the surface, Petsune can see straight down to the sea floor. His eyes go wide in amazement as he gapes at the sight. It is as though they are flying, and towers below he can see solid ground — the bottom of the sea. Pet has never been to Broadfell Keep, and so he has never seen solid ground before. There, far below the hull of the Lady, are swathes of green and red plants growing in sweeping patches amid yellow sands and dark colored rocks. Pet climbs out of the crow’s nest, completely forgetting Shushilah for the time being. He climbs down the ropes slowly, finding it hard to take his eyes off the unmoving water. It is silent, the still waters not lapping at the hull or causing the ship to sway and creak. Even the prattlebeaks roosting in the branches of the ship have gone uncommonly quiet. Some of the crew are on deck, looking out at the Straits ahead, but no one makes a sound. The atmosphere is a mixture of equal parts reverence and unease.

Petsune makes his way to the starboard railing where Chapel stands atop one of the roots that descend to the water. Pet climbs over and stands on the whaler's platform that wraps around the ship. He leans over, holding on to the root above, and he looks straight down. The shadow of the boat affords Pet a perfect view through the surface to the world below. He reaches out slowly, intending to touch the water but Chapel touches his shoulder. Petsune looks back and up at Chapel who shakes his head. “We don’t touch the water here.”

“Why? It seems so odd.”

“A lot of people died here in the aftermath of the Shot, so I try to be respectful whenever I pass through. Some say the souls of those lost that day somehow stilled the waters permanently, others believe a deepfoot died here. Nobody really knows why the waters are still.”

Petsune looks back to the glassy ocean. “I’m surprised I’ve never heard of this…”

Chapel looks out at the waters as well. “People don’t like to talk about the Shipwreck Straits, mostly because of what happened here, but there’s a superstition around this place too. Not good, but not really bad either. Just a place with a… strangeness.”

Petsune stares down through the window-like surface, and he begins to see debris on the bottom. First, he sees chunks of unknown objects, wooden debris, and the shapes of cannons. As they sail further into the Straits, entire ships begin appearing on the bottom, some sunken during the North War, others more ancient and mysterious.

The shipwrecks are teeming with life: forests of lush, green, tower vine stretching to the sun and swaying gently the slight movements of fish; fields of lumpy, brown snag weed; thickets of long, twisting sharksbane; yellow bushes of dogfur reeds; large, spidery trees of fickle willow; and the bulbous, red mouths of enticing blisker leaf pitchers. Swimming over and through the flora and flotsam are innumerable creatures of all colors, sizes and shapes. There is a swirling school of muckfins being herded carefully by several large wakefolders; there are sudden glints of shimmering runnkykits as they dart in and out of various plants; there’s a slow moving group of four rockshell turtles and two of the larger bulkhead turtles swimming closer to the surface and casting roaming shadows down on the sand; and there are slick skin sharks patrolling the wreckage, searching for an easy meal. Petsune stares down in awe at all of this and more, a world teeming with life and color. He doesn’t recognize many of the fish or plants and thinks of Pickett, finding the expanse of his knowledge all the more impressive.

Petsune looks up at the horizon as the Lady continues gliding soundlessly above the active sea life below. The glassy sea makes for an unusual horizon, boating a nearly perfect reflection of the sky above. The clouds morph and coagulate into shapes as Petsune watches, until something catches his eye. There is a single blotch on the horizon that stands out, an odd dark protrusion into the invariable line of sea and sky. Pet is about to point it out to Chapel when he hears the Captain call out loudly. “Hollow Tree, straight off the bow.”

Petsune reluctantly climbs back onto the main deck where Chapel is. Pet asks, “What's going on?”

“There’s a Hollow Tree ahead, and I always stop when we see them.”

The deck is bustling with energy and activity as the crew furls the sails and makes ready to stop when they reach the Hollow Tree. From the glimpses he catches, Pet is given the impression the crew looks forward to these encounters. Chapel begins walking off toward his quarters, and Petsune follows him. The Captain appears thoughtful as they enter his cabin and Petsune asks him a question as he grabs something off his desk. “How many Hollow Trees have you come across during your years of roaming?”

Chapel considers, “Hmm, well, let me think… there were four, plus the one by Windrock, oh and the one in the Strange Sea — so six, I think?”

“In all these years, that’s it?”

“Yeah. They’re very rare and they move, so you never know where they’ll be.”

Petsune thinks about this and then considers something. “Shouldn’t we flag down the Haul, tell them we’re stopping?”

“Witt will understand. He said he trusts us to get there, and we already split the rations up.”

Chapel says all of this without his characteristic pluck and mirth, and Petsune wonders if it is simply the loss of Harlan weighing on Chapel, or something more. They exit the cabin and can see the Hollow Tree is closer now. Pet feels a buzzing energy as he begins to discern the shape of it.

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25th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

…There are those with the sea in their eyes and the wind in their hearts. They breathe the sun and speak the language of ships. They stand in the deep and swim through the shallows. Their name is earned and cannot be given, it is felt more than it is spoken. These are those that we call Captains, and to them we say, ‘May the Saints fill your sails and the sea find your star.’

From ‘Christening Speech’ for the first King’s Fist, delivered by High Priest Lombit, transcribed by Scribe Yuldo-Lan in the Unreckoned Years

Both the King’s Haul and The Painful Lady bob gently on the surface of the water in the early morning light. They are lashed together using the tether that saved the Haul, preventing the Lady from drifting away due to its lack of anchor. They sailed as conjoined ships far enough away from the Flower to ensure a peace of mind, then they dropped the Haul’s anchor. After consulting his own maps and sextant, Wittkinson ascertained where they are. The Flower appears to have spat them out into the Slick Sea, home of the red whale and the Broadfell Navy. The Kingdom of Dintash is closely allied with Broadfell, so Wittkinson isn’t concerned about being in foreign waters. He is, however, distraught over not only having been delayed in reaching the Royal Mass, but also becoming farther from it than a few days prior. When Chapel boarded The Painful Lady last night, he was told the news of Harlan’s death. It was the first time Petsune saw him cry, and it made Pet feel guilty for not being more upset by the news. Once they lashed the two ships together to sleep for the night, Chapel held a small funeral by the light of the second Saint’s moon, and Pet carried out the rites that he had seen Father Haltur enact a few times before. He said some words he wasn’t sure were true for him; about losing a family member and friend, and so on. They each tied a deadweight to Harlan’s spear, and let it sink ceremoniously off the side of the Lady. It was a bittersweet night of reunions and grief, and Chapel was grateful to Wittkinson for giving them time to mourn and rest before striking out again.

Petsune fell asleep as soon as he laid his head down, but now that he is awake, he recalls a fitful rest. His dreams were strange and elusive, yet familiar. He remembers standing alone in a strange building yet feeling like he should know the place. Standing in front of him was an ageless man dressed in ragged cloaks and a crafty smile. He spoke, but his mouth did not move. “They have stolen from you, Son of Hope.”

A soft, cold breeze blew through the room and suddenly Pet was deep underwater, sinking. Above him, silhouetted against a cobbler’s moon, was a featureless woman, familiar yet unknown. She had no features but was instead a surface of changing light and shadows. She too spoke into his mind. “They have changed the story, Son of Hope.”

Pet looked below him into the very depths, and the darkness seemed to crawl and move. The movement wasn’t the ground, but a passing deepfoot, unbelievably colossal. The sheer size of its shell made it seem like the very ocean floor was moving. A low throaty rumble sounded from the ancient and mythical deepfoot, echoing through the primordial sea, reverberating through Petsune’s bones. It was like the sound a groaning ship’s hull makes, but infinitely deeper and louder. When Pet looked back up, the woman was gone, and he was suddenly on an empty floating mass. This time in front of Pet was a wizened old man, his back bent with age and his dress ornamental and glowing. More words sounded inside Pet’s head. “They have bent the truth, Son of Hope.”

The old man pointed a gnarled finger behind Pet, where he saw the ocean. A storm flashed and cracked overhead, and the waters roiled. Time seemed to freeze then, and the waves stopped moving. The woman of darkness and stars appeared on the frozen surface then, reaching below the water with her pale hand. She pulled out a figure from the depths and began leading them away, out across the impermeable water. Petsune could be wrong, but he thought it was Harlan. She sent the figure on without her, turning to speak into Petsune’s soul. “They have ended their faith, Son of Hope.” And that’s all he remembers before waking up.

Petsune emerges from the crew quarters, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The Saint’s sun is only half above the horizon, and it shines a blinding pink light across the water from the East. Shushilah is already awake, staring out at the first sunrise and the light glittering off the sea. Petsune approaches and asks Shush, “Have you seen the Captain?”

“Which one? They are all on the Haul, I’m thinking. Plotting a course, yes?”

“You have some medical background, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes. A little bit, from my father.”

“Would you mind coming with me to check on the injured soldiers?”

“Of course, Pet. Of course. Will be keeping me busy, I’m thinking.”

Petsune does a casual sweep about the Lady looking for Chapel, all while ruminating on his strange dream. When he doesn’t find the Captain aboard the Lady, he and Shush decide to check aboard the King’s Haul. When they step off the gangway, they are greeted by Bungle and Tussle. “What are you two deviants doing over here?” Pet says. But they scamper off dragging a worn leather boot. Most of the soldiers seem to be sleeping while they are allowed. Pet hears voices coming from Officer Wittkinson’s quarters, so the two of them begin walking that way. Petsune’s mind swirls with thoughts and emotions, but he is certain everyone else feels the same way.

Chapel, Wittkinson, and Mavis are all in the captain's quarters of the King’s Haul discussing what to do. Petsune and Shushilah enter the room, but they don’t interrupt the conversation, instead heading to the two injured soldiers set up near the stern. Chapel continues speaking. “Well, we could sail to the west, around the Flower, but my ship emptied it’s stores before leaving the Misty Shoals. We’ll run out of food before we reach another Mass.”

Wittkinson speaks up, “There is no Dintish Mass or Fellbin Post between here and the Royal Mass. The nearest one is Red Post, north of here, in Fellbin Bay.”

Mavis doesn’t speak, instead he seems to try to keep himself from saying anything, so Chapel responds. “What if you let us go to Red Post to resupply, then we met you at Dintash Mass?” Wittkinson looks about to object, so Chapel preempts his argument. “If we don’t show up within three days of you, you can have us branded enemies of the crown — put a bounty on us.”

Mavis speaks up in a heated growl, unable to contain himself any longer. “We saved your life, Officer. But you’ve already cost us one of ours.”

Chapel defends Wittkinson, “This isn’t his fault Mavis, he —”

“Yes it is! It is. He insisted we tempt the Flower, pushed for this route, and against my better judgment, I followed. Maybe if I hadn’t…”

Wittkinson looks away in a wince, feeling the stinging truth of Mavis’s comment. Chapel pats Mavis on the shoulder and tells him to get some fresh air, so Petsune walks out of the cabin with him. Chapel looks back to Wittkinson. “I’m sorry, he and Harlan —“

“It’s alright,” Wittkinson says coldly, “He’s right. It was my decision.”

Wittkinson stays quiet, then Chapel speaks. “We will stay with you. We can share rations, or fish along the way. We’ll figure out something.”

“Are you certain?” Wittkinson replies, surprised at Chapel’s statement.

“Yeah. I need to get to Dintash Mass as urgently as you, but for different reasons.” Chapel gives Wittkinson a soft smile, much more reserved than his usual self, then he nods to Shushilah and walks out of the cabin.

Petsune and Mavis are standing at the portside railing, though they don’t seem to be speaking. Chapel joins them without saying a word. Mavis is the first to speak. “It just doesn’t seem right, Captain.”

“I know.” Chapel says.

“We’ve never lost a crew member before. I’d forgotten what it’s like…”

Petsune hesitantly speaks up. “I… I had a thought earlier.”

Chapel glances to Pet. “Well? What was it?”

Petsune sees that the normally jovial air of Chapel has been beaten down, or subdued and it saddens him. He speaks somewhat hesitatingly, “If this is the first time you’ve… lost someone, maybe we ought to get the crew together and talk about — for Sprig’s sake. He’s bound to take this hard, and he hasn’t worked through this process before.” No one speaks for a few moments, so Petsune hastily adds, “I don’t know, I just thought maybe we should talk it through. That’s what we did in the Order, and it seemed to help…”

Mavis sniffs quietly and says, “I’d do it for Sprig.”

Chapel seems to think about the idea for a moment before speaking. “I think it’s a good idea, Pet. Not just for Sprig, but for all of us. Plus, there’s something I wanna talk to everyone about.”

Petsune raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask any further questions. Mavis straightens up from leaning on the railing, discreetly wiping his eye. “Right. Well, I’ll go gather the crew. Where do you want us, Captain?”

“Thanks, Mavis. Let’s do the captain's quarters. I’ll be there in a bit.”

Mavis says, “Aye, aye, Captain.” then walks off toward the gangway linking the ships.

Petsune waits a moment with Chapel, silently watching the light on the ripples in the sea. The Saint’s sun has risen and begun casting a blinding light across the water, causing oily rainbows to appear on the surface and reflect in shapeless patterns. Petsune senses that Chapel wants a moment to himself, so he walks back over to The Painful Lady. Chapel is left alone at the railing for a few minutes before the soldiers rise. He watches the streaks of pinkish rainbows in the red whale oil on the surface of the calm sea. He sees a small rockshell turtle swimming by, only about 15 feet across, it’s shell refulgent in the light. Seeing the creature makes Chapel seem to decide something internally. He then walks back over to the Lady as the first few soldiers begin waking. He passes by Bungle and Tussle having a tug-of-war match with some nondescript item. Chapel whistles and they both drop the item they were shredding, bounding along behind him toward the captain's quarters. Chapel opens the door and finds the crew in the middle of various activities, some mirthful but most are subdued. Bor is positioning a tray of sweetbread and grapples; Cheese is devouring an enormous hunk of whale fruit and sitting on Chapel’s table; Mavis, the Big Man, and Shushilah are all sitting in the chairs around the table, staring off at nothing. Petsune is looking at the map on the wall.

For a second after Chapel enters the cabin, he can see Sprig sitting under the table staring at the floor. It twists Chapel’s insides to see, until Bungle and Tussle charge into the room and bowl over the only thing on a level playing field. Sprig is pushed over by sniffs and licks and seems the slightest bit cheered up. Chapel stands for a second before speaking. “Alright. Family meeting. There’re some things I want to tell all of you and I wanted to open it up for everybody to have the chance at speaking.”

Everyone is attentive as Chapel begins. “I realized something while I was aboard the Haul: I haven’t been a very good captain.”

When Chapel says this, there is an immediate disquiet, but only General Tar speaks up. “Now, just wait a drowning minute. You’ve been a fine Captain and —”

“No,” Chapel says, and the General quiets, “no, I haven’t been. I’ve been a decent friend, maybe, but not a great leader.”

The General doesn’t say anything this time. Petsune feels his opinion of Chapel increase rather than decrease. Chapel finishes speaking. “I’ve been avoiding my responsibility because it scares me. I don’t want to become my father… but from now on, I will do better. I will be your captain, if you’ll have me.”

Everyone stands one at a time, giving forceful Aye’s until Sprig is the last one left sitting on the floor. Chapel crouches down with one hand on the table, staring at Sprig until he looks up. Both Bungle and Tussle are huddled under each arm, staring up at Sprig. When he looks up at Chapel, his youthful eyes are quivering with unspent tears. Sprig simply chokes out, “But it was my fault…” Chapel pulls him out into a hug and soothes him.

The rest of the crew is there in a blink, each squeezing Chapel and Sprig, until the Big Man gives them all a tight squish. Chapel speaks softly to Sprig. “It was not your fault, Sprig. It wasn’t. Mavis told me what happened. You were doing a good thing, trying to help these two,” Chapel pats Bungle and Tussle’s heads, “Harlan cared so much for you, why do you think he was always keeping an eye on you? He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he didn’t do everything in his power to save you.”

Mavis speaks to Sprig then, with a hitch in his voice. “An he wouldn’t have wanted you to feel responsible, lad. He was proud, and he chose to do what he did.”

Sprig sniffs loudly and wipes his face on his sleeve, which Bungle begins licking at. Chapel let’s go of Sprig and everyone returns to their place. It becomes quiet, and a slight tension begins to creep into the room. Petsune breaks the silence and the tension ebbs. “I also have something I want to say. It’s not really related, or at least not directly, and I’m sorry I haven’t told anyone really until now, though some of you know already, and I just, um, I wanted to uh —”

Shushilah cuts off Petsune with a reaffirming word. “Is okay, Pet. Take your time.”

Petsune breathes out a long sigh then tries speaking again. “I wanted to tell all of you this, but was afraid you would treat me differently. I know I was wrong to think that. I wanted to tell all of you that I am Coldor… but it’s more than that.” Pet pauses briefly, then says it at last, “I’m the heir to the Cleave. My parents were responsible for the North War.”

There are shocked murmurs and a few wide eyes. The Big Man speaks softly. “Oh, little Pet. I am so… so sorry. You must be feeling many things since the proclamation of war against your people.”

Petsune isn't surprised at the reaction, and yet there is a noticeable feeling of relief that accompanies speaking the truth. He knows these people, he thinks of them as family, and yet part of him still wondered what they would say.

Petsune wipes tears from his eyes and speaks through a wide smile. “Thank you, Benafield. That means a lot.” The Big Man walks over and squeezes Petsune in a tight hug, and Pet feels as though he is being juiced. Perhaps it is just Pet, but the room seems to radiate a sense of bonding, everyone drawing in closer emotionally. When Benafield releases Petsune from his intense hug, he doesn’t walk away. Instead, he searches deep in Petsune’s eyes, and they seem to plumb the depths of each other's souls. The Big Man speaks softly, but in the low soothing rumble of his Fellbin voice. “Belief is no excuse for hate…”

Yet when he says this, Petsune feels as though he sees a smoldering hatred in his eyes. There is a deep-seated hurt there that Petsune empathizes with and wishes he could explore, but now isn’t the time or place. Chapel speaks to the room in a clear voice. “Well, alright. I think that’s about it. From here, we’ll sail south across the Dead Ships and arrive at the Royal Mass around the same time as the rains.”

Cheese speaks up from the side of the cabin. “Aye, that ain’t it? What we doin’ to help Pet? In case you forgot, there’s a war gonna happen.”

Chapel says, “Well, we’re doing the only thing I could think to do. Trying to stop the war. If I can convince my father to talk to King Feyaz, maybe we can help that way.”

Chapel seems to hear how fragile his plan is, and he twists his mouth in debate. The General speaks next, though he seems hesitant. “But… if the Coldor truly did kill Bornidin the Young, would the Dintish not be justified in seeking retribution and such? I don’t mean to blame your people, Pet, I’m merely trying to voice both sides — Vésh’s advocate and all. Ahh, wait — I’m sorry, Pet. You must forgive an old goat his missteps.”

Petsune nods in appreciation for the consideration and gives The General a smile showing there’s no harm done. Shushilah responds to The General’s concern. “And why start the fighting again now? They started the North War, and now they are starting another, I’m thinking. What has changed? Is a good question to be thinking about.”

Chapel appears to be done with his internal debating and he speaks again. “I think… there may not be a simple answer, but regardless. Whatever we can do to help Petsune directly, I think we will all agree is a worthy action.”

The entire crew murmurs in assent.

The family meeting becomes a mingling of conversations as Chapel walks toward Petsune. The Captain motions him aside and says in a quieter voice. “I wanted to tell you one other thing, something that I have failed to say a few times now. You just showed a lot of courage, and I think I owe you the same.”

“Okay?” Petsune says hesitantly.

“See, I knew a lot about you before we met. I told you how your mother died, ending the North War. But I never said how I knew a baby was taken when she was killed.”

Petsune knows it before he says it, and it still feels like a deadweight that was dropped onto his chest. Chapel appears despondent when he looks at Pet. “My father is the one who killed her. He ended the North War, though at the time, he would’ve preferred to continue his… campaign.”

It seems to pain him when the Captain says it, but Petsune is surprised to find it doesn’t hurt him. Instead, he says, “What happened? Why’d he stop?”

“King Bornidin the Young called the navy to return. The Oullman was all too happy to end the fighting after the previous leader died in the war. Fellpost HelBenledore was going to surround Coldor from the north while Dintash attacked from the south, but he was forced to withdraw as well. King Bornidin the Young had already lost his father in the war, so I guess he felt that Dintash had given enough.”

“I see… War does tend to take from all sides,” Petsune says, “but I feel as though I gained something too.”Chapel looks up, surprised, and Petsune lays a hand on Chapel’s shoulder. He speaks comfortingly. “I never would’ve met all of you. And despite what you might think, you’re not your father, Chapel.” The Captain looks at Pet for a moment, then bows his head in recognition of Pet’s sagacious insight.

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(Previous Chapter Twenty-Nine) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-One)

24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

Tradition is a love and respect of the past,

and defiant ignorance can be much the same.

Contentedness is a gratitude for what is in the present,

and complacent slothfulness can be much the same.

Hope is a desire and yearning for the future,

and ungrateful greed can be much the same.

From ‘Sayings of Saint Wōde’, Order of Loss, Written by Saint Wōde in the Unreckoned Years

Mavis steers The Painful Lady frightfully close to the edge of that ancient wonder, the Flower. None of the crew balks at the daring maneuver or the imminent danger, they all have loss weighing too heavily on their minds. No one could have survived long in the churning waters below, even Harlan. The entire crew has thrown themselves into the task of manning the ship, following and preempting Mavis’s orders. The Big Man has returned to the crow’s nest, and the rest of the crew remains on the main deck. The Lady begins to lean heavily to the port side as they sail a precarious line across the inner swirls of the Flower. Benafield is forced to place his feet on the sidewall of the nest to keep from falling out. The rushing noise of falling water has made it difficult to hear Mavis’s calls, but the singular mindset of the crew affords them an intense focus. Back in the crow's nest of the King’s Haul, Petsune can hear Officer Wittkinson call out to the helmsman. “Take the ship as far to starboard as our leash allows.”

Soon, Pet begins to faintly hear what the crew of the Lady hears; a rushing noise, like a strong wind blowing across his ears, but distant. When he looks out from the crow’s nest, off the portside prow of the ship, he can see it in full: the Flower. It is an immense and awe-inspiring sight, terrifying in its scale. A huge swirling pool of ocean that dips lower, as though there were a valley in the sea, until it falls away into blackness at the unfathomable center. It is probably hundreds of towers wide, making the Painful Lady look like a twig about to be sucked down into a washtub drain. Clouds of mist rise out from the center, hardly visible in the darkening dusk. Petsune shudders as he takes it all in. It does resemble a flower — an enormous and living flower that hungers to consume the entire ocean, churning and devouring anything unfortunate enough to be caught in the currents.

Ahead, Mavis holds the Lady’s ship wheel tightly and can feel the surge of speed as they ride the currents northward alongside the dark pit that is the center of the whirlpool. Petsune watches The Painful Lady from his vantage point. It is so horrifyingly close to the center, being pulled toward that bottomless pit — toward the ravenous mouth of the Flower. The sails and mast of the Lady have begun tilting further toward the swirling whirlpool as it speeds across the inner layers. The Lady rides the current across, picking up momentum and drawing the rope tighter between the ships: the King’s Haul behind and to the east of the Painful Lady. Petsune cannot see his face, but Mavis stares ahead, undaunted, holding the Lady in an unyielding northward line. Mavis thinks he sees white flashes in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t spare them a glance or a thought, instead fixating completely on the task of saving the rest of the crew. Aboard the Haul, Chapel and Wittkinson both feel the shifting in momentum: from drifting to the west and into the Flower, to being discernibly pulled ahead to the north. The entire crew of the Haul feels the sudden tug and Wittkinson shouts orders to the crew. The momentum won’t last long, and they need to utilize it.

Mavis continues to pilot the Lady in a straight northward line, passing the zenith of possible momentum and beginning to fight the Flower’s raw strength. Now the current works against Mavis, dragging at the side of the Lady’s hull and pulling them to the southwest. The rope that binds the two ships has become the slightest bit slack as the Haul continues to ride the momentum of the current and the Lady’s pull. Wittkinson calls to the helmsman. “Hard to port!”

Suddenly, the King’s Haul veers violently off to the west, becoming in effect, a swinging pendulum. They follow the currents west across the top of the Flower, using the Painful Lady as the rigid point that they attempt to swing around. Mavis can feel the sudden drag on the Lady’s momentum and Bor shouts out from on the main deck. “We’re losing speed.”

Chapel, Petsune, and Wittkinson find themselves sailing almost directly at the center of the Flower. They sail closer and closer, even nearer than Mavis had. Petsune is laying down on the wall of the crow’s nest to keep from falling out. He stares down into that gluttonous swirl in the ocean, watching untold amounts of water pour down into whatever unknown place lies below. The King’s Haul drifts closer to the center while The Painful Lady struggles to remain the rigid point that they swing around. The Big Man calls down from the crow’s nest in a loud voice. “Aye, Mavis! We’re being pulled back!”

Mavis begins to lose hope, seeking to drive the Lady on by sheer force of will. The King’s Haul sails right next to the Flower's all-consuming center, and Petsune cannot look away from the gaping mouth of it. He is nearly lying down, forced to stare into the impermeable depths of the roiling sea below. He completely forgets himself and the Lady, frozen in terror at the sight below. Deep in the black water, eerie white flashes from storm squid can be seen as they swim and hunt. The depths light up for incredible singular moments and Petsune holds his breath as those moments pass. Water crashes against the Haul and surges up the side of the starboard hull. Petsune stares on, silently petitioning the Saints for safety in the face of such beautiful danger. He watches, awe-struck, as the storm squid flash and swim inside the yawning maw. He can see the looming shadows through the wall of water on the distant side, the bright white flashes silhouetting the squid and their prey.

The Painful Lady has ceased struggling and begun to be pulled backward by the weight of the Haul. Mavis silently bows his head, accepting that he tried his best, but that it wasn’t enough. Just then, he feels a cool breeze on his neck, causing him to look up at the sails. They billow out and fill with wind, causing the ship to stop being pulled. Suddenly able to fight the current, Mavis yells out at the wind and the Saints. “Delód’s breath, blow! Come on!”

The Lady begins to gain ground and sail away from the Flower. In the dark, they push ahead with only gritted teeth and determination as their companions. At the same time, The Kings Haul makes a slow curving turn, keeping the tether taut and riding the swirling current as long as possible. Petsune feels the Haul turn and he watches the whirlpool grow further away as the mast begins to tip back into an upright position. Pet watches the Flower as it is left slowly behind them, unable to take his eyes off its majesty. A cold breeze fills their sails, and they sail northward. Petsune can see The Painful Lady off the starboard side, a darker shadow on the sea amid lesser dark shades. The cold wind gives both ships just enough of a boost to fight the clawing currents.

Without ceremony or pomp, both ships pull far enough away from the Flower that they exit the noticeable swirling currents. Wittkinson’s crew begins whooping and shouting as the discernible ripples of the sea recede behind them. The crew of the Lady sail into the calmer waters without celebration. Instead, they loosen their clenched jaws and find themselves feeling defeated, despite their incredible feat. It is rare that a ship strays close to the Flower, let alone the stunt they just pulled. The Haul begins to move at a normal pace, no longer facing the drag of grasping water. Wittkinson looks to Chapel and claps him on the shoulder. “It worked… I can’t believe it really worked. My crew and I owe you our lives.”

Chapel doesn’t look at Wittkinson or smile, responding in empty emotionless tones. “That’s Mavis for you, he could sail a stick through a storm.”

Wittkinson looks at Chapel more critically. “Don’t worry about the desertion charges just yet, we still have a long way to go.”

Still Chapel doesn’t look at him and responds with only a small amount of effort and attention. “No, no I’m not too worried.”

Wittkinson continues to stare at the side of Chapel’s face. “Something wrong, Captain?”

“I don’t know yet,” Chapel responds forlornly, “but I aim to find out.”

Wittkinson follows Chapel’s distant eastern gaze and finds the Lady at the other end. He speaks more softly this time. “I understand, Captain. And I believe you have earned the right to stay aboard your own vessel.”

Finally, Chapel breaks from his morose stare and looks to Wittkinson. Chapel smiles and lightly pats Wittkinson’s shoulder. “I would greatly appreciate a return to my ship, Witty. Thank you.”

Wittkinson nods in return and says, “I think I should be thanking you, but if you ever call me ‘Witty’ again, I will have you thrown off my ship.” Chapel gives the slightest of winks and walks away from Witty, speaking over his shoulder. “It’s not as bad you’d think — keelhauling.”

Petsune is still in the crow’s nest, facing the ship's stern and watching the receding swirls of water. He breathes a sigh of relief as the Flower shrinks steadily into the wake of the ship. He prays audibly to all the Saints and vows to give alms at whatever Mass they end up at next. Pet begins cautiously climbing down the ratlines and finds Chapel below him, leaning against the mast. When he jumps down and approaches, he knows immediately something is wrong. There is some kind of air, or attitude, that Chapel usually has that’s faded or been lost. Chapel walks over to the railing, and they both breathe deep sighs but neither of them speak. The entire ordeal with the Flower feels like it was both an eternity and a heartbeat. Chapel speaks after some time. “Wittkinson is letting us go back to our ship.”

Petsune replies hesitantly, sensing there is something else going on. “That’s good… I’ve missed everyone.”

“Yeah, me too,” then Chapel says, almost despondently, “but I think something has happened. I have a bad feeling…”

Petsune has never seen this side of Chapel, and he wishes nothing more than to be able to banish it — to cheer him up. Instead, he simply stands at the railing with Chapel, the two of them watching the endless horizon that now lies ahead off the bow. Their course has been changed by the Flower, and now the ship points northwest. They must be in the Slick Sea, named for all of the red whale oil trails that make the water slick and shimmery. If the Flower turned them around as far as Petsune thinks, it means they are facing Broadfell Keep to the North, and it means that he is the closest he can ever remember being to the Coldor Cleave. Pet stares out to the northwest, absentmindedly fiddling with his Deepblood talisman which he wears around his neck in a pouch. He expects to feel some type of longing for the Cleave, but his gaze is drawn over to The Painful Lady northeast of them, and he finds himself longing for that ship and that family instead.

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(Previous Chapter Twenty-Eight) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty)

24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

… because the essence of love is loss: to truly love our neighbor, we must give something up for their sake. What is love if it is easily given? It is cheap. And how much harder is it to love that which does not repay in kind? For what is love if readily received? It is commonplace. But love given out of pain and loss to ourselves, that is truly special. And what’s more, love given when only hate and indifference are offered in return: truly, that is the hardest of all.

From ‘Commentary On the Third Book of Lost Things’ , Order of Loss, Written by Low Hand Domin Fettle in the 111th Reckoned Year

The cannon shot echoes across the water causing Petsune to yell out and duck down to the deck in fright. “Why are they shooting at us!”

Chapel doesn’t duck however, instead leaning over the railing eagerly to see something. Suddenly a whizzing cannonball zips between the two masts and splashes into the sea on the other side. Chapel answers Pet’s question in an offhand way. “Because I told them to. And what a shot that Harlan is — did you see that Pet? Come on!”

Petsune is wide eyed and confused as Chapel grabs his arm and races toward the railing where the cannonball splashed down. There is shouting and chaos as the soldiers try to ascertain how they can escape the Flower. Though everyone hears and realizes the ship they are supposed to be escorting has begun firing at them, hardly anyone notices the rope that has become draped across the main deck. Petsune watches as Chapel grabs it and begins rapidly pulling it in, trying to outpace the increasing drift of the ship. Once he has it pulled in, Pet sees a strange, hooked cannon shot. Chapel grabs it and runs to the main mast, looping the rope around as many times as he can. As Petsune watches, he becomes aware of the rope pulling tighter. He calls to Chapel, “Watch out, it’s getting tighter.” Chapel seems to have noticed and does a final flourish with some maritime knot before sitting back on his heels and raising his hands up and away from the rope. Chapel simply says. “You might wanna hold on to some—” and then the rope draws tight.

The King’s Haul lurches to a stop as though it has run aground on something. Many soldiers fall to the decks and the entire ship groans objectingly, then begins to tilt. As the rope becomes increasingly taut, the railing splinters under the pressure. The hull of the ship begins to be pulled by the water, being sucked out from under the mast by the Flower. The main mast tips as the ship is pulled, so much so that it points more in the direction of the Painful Lady than it does the sky. Chapel and Petsune have both slid down the deck to the splintered railing. The increasingly uneven ship strains as it is stretched between the force of the rope and the pull of the Flower. Suddenly there is a brief release of the tension, causing the ship to be pulled a little further into the Flower. Chapel stares at the rope then looks to the distant Lady. “It isn’t going to hold.”

And as he says this, all of the tension gives way, sending the ship rocking back on its keel. The mast rights itself upward again and the shift knocks over more than a few soldiers. Chapel and Petsune recover quickly, Pet helping a soldier find his feet after hitting the railing hard. Chapel climbs a few feet up into the ratlines and looks toward the Lady. The ship has broken free from the Floating Forest and is being dragged deeper into the Flower. The Haul is acting as a deadweight tied to the Lady. Chapel curses under his breath, “Well, depths…”

As he watches, the Lady begins to spin and point toward them. Petsune is watching below and calls up to Chapel. “What’s Mavis doing?”

Chapel contemplates the maneuver and realizes his First Mate’s intent. “He’s going to try and use the Flower to gain momentum. He’ll swing us like a pendulum.”

Chapel climbs down as Petsune answers. “That might work…If they ride the current ahead of us, just around the outside of the Flower, they could get enough momentum to swing us out.”

“It’s a better plan than mine was,” Chapel says, “now we just have to convince Wittkinson to go along with it.”

Chapel jumps down from the ratlines and begins looking for Wittkinson at the helm, finding him assisting a soldier who is bleeding from a head wound. Petsune decides he would be more useful assisting the injured. His time with the Order of Loss had him dealing with a variety of injuries and ailments. Chapel walks up to the quarter deck where Wittkinson is, and Petsune wanders toward the soldier that hit the railing.

Chapel approaches but before he says anything Wittkinson speaks without looking. “Not now. I have injuries and problems that are much bigger than you right now.”

Chapel helps Wittkinson get the wounded soldier up and then they both support him down into the captain's quarters. Chapel speaks as they walk with the soldier between them. “I have a plan that might be our last chance at escaping the Flower.”

They lay down the soldier who groans in pain, then Wittkinson looks at Chapel with a skeptical look. “Your ship fired on us.”

“It was a hook shot, to try and tie our ships together and hold us from being pulled into the Flower.”

Wittkinson scowls. “All your plan accomplished was getting some of my men injured. I’m supposed to trust your next option?”

Chapel appears slightly saddened. “I’m sorry there were injuries, but if you don’t try something now we’ll all be dead.”

Wittkinson looks down at the groaning soldier. Petsune comes into the cabin with another injured soldier supported on his shoulder. Pet helps the soldier sit down and then tends to the other soldier's head. Wittkinson watches Pet care for the soldiers, seeming to lose some of his edge. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, the ships are still entwined, and my first mate is turning toward the Flower. If they can pick up enough speed by using the current around the Flower, they might be able to pull us out with the momentum.”

Wittkinson looks at Chapel and seems to speak to himself. “I knew you weren’t just the first mate,” then he speaks louder, “so your Captain, are you?”

Chapel appears sheepish. “Uh, yeah. It’s a long story.”

“I doubt it.” Wittkinson cuts back, causing Chapel to blanch and look away. The two of them walk out of the cabin and onto the main deck.

“Well, it’s at least an unflattering one,” Chapel says as they return to the helm, “Mavis was intended as a distraction while I, uh, incapacitated your ship.”

Wittkinson simply stares at Chapel, not looking away or displaying any sign of emotion. When he finally responds, it’s with less bite than Chapel expected. “Why are you telling me this now.”

“I want you to see I’m being honest,” then Chapel looks away at the encroaching Lady, “this plan, it’s probably the last chance we’ve got.” Wittkinson looks out at The Painful Lady, then to the west where the Flower greedily drinks the sea.

He stares for a moment, then looks Chapel in the eyes. “What would you have me do, Captain?”

Chapel doesn’t break eye contact with the Officer. “Sail wide of the Flower and do your best to keep the line between the ships taut. Mavis will take the Lady close to the center and use the currents to propel them out, hopefully we’ll be able to come along for the ride.”

Officer Wittkinson nods in agreement, then gives orders to the helmsman. Chapel watches as the Haul veers off to a northward heading, and the Lady soon speeds past on their portside. Wittkinson calls for the ship to maintain their course, and soon the rope is loosely hanging between the two ships. Petsune approaches Chapel and Wittkinson at the helm. “Your soldiers will be fine, though the one with the head injury should lay down and rest for a few days. He was repeating things to me while I bandaged his head.”

Wittkinson nods slightly and says he is grateful. Petsune surprises Chapel and Wittkinson by asking, “Officer, would you give me leave to man the crow’s nest? I would like to see the Flower.”

Wittkinson raises an eyebrow but waves Pet off. “Fine, just don’t get in the way and don’t fall.”

“Thank you.” Petsune says, heading for the rigging.

Chapel has his Saintstone eyeglass out and is watching his crew. He notices they are uncharacteristically downtrodden and in his gut, he knows something is wrong. He feels helpless, stuck over here while his crew faces unknown hardships without him. He tries to account for everyone visually, but there is a lot of bustling about, and he soon finds the task fruitless. Wittkinson speaks in his typical way, staring out at something and not looking at Chapel. “I could have you quartered and hanged for desertion, after what you admitted, you know.”

“I know,” Chapel says, “and if you do, so be it. So long as I get my crew out of this alive. I’ll say I forced them. I’ll do whatever you ask, just…”

Wittkinson glances at Chapel then returns to his blank stare. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because,” Chapel speaks quietly, “they're the only family I have, and this is my fault.”

Wittkinson doesn’t reply, so Chapel continues speaking, more to himself than anyone. “I think… I think I brought each of them onto my crew to try to make something right… something my father made wrong in me, but I don’t think I did any good. Just harm.”

Wittkinson sighs in understanding. “The wake of our parents can seem small when close to them, then we realize how much wider it gets as we become distant.”

The two of them stand silently, then Wittkinson tenses and Chapel sees the Lady appear to tip and sink slightly to the port side. At nearly the same time, the Small sun sinks completely beyond the horizon.

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Eight) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty)

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(Previous Chapter Twenty-Seven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Nine)

24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

…dress like a beggar and ask for a scale, dress like a king and ask for a whale.

From ‘Acceptance Speech’ of Fellpost HelBenorg, as recorded by Scrivener Fowdin-Mell in the Unreckoned Years

The Saint’s sun has just set, leaving the sky a dusky golden haze as the Second sun races toward the horizon. The Big Man watches the brightening horizon, singing confidently from the crow’s nest. His voice rebounds off the surrounding forest and the song is given an ethereal quality. The raw beauty of the strange green forest coupled with the liquid golden sunsets scintillating through the branches and rigging, all lend credence to the rumors that the Floating Forests are special places. Benafield sings on from the height of the crow’s nest, becoming engrossed in the passing beauty of the forest on the portside. He sings out a common song heard in the Broadfell navy, or taverns in the Keep:

Never to see land nor love nor port,

That’s the way of the Drowned Fisher Four

Conspiring an confiding with the vilest of sort

That’s the way of the Drowned Fisher Four

Deal me the cards and drowned be the odds

That’s the way of the Drowned Fisher Four

Spoil me my darling but don’t spare me the rod

That’s the way of the Drowned Fisher Four

Yes, That’s the way of the Drowned Fisher Four

Throw them a volley, Show them we’re jolly

Yes, that’s the way of the Drowned Fisher Four

Below, Harlan calls out in a clear, calm voice, “Mavis.” and he stomps twice on the deck. The Big Man stops singing, having heard Harlan. Under the helm, in the Captain’s quarters, Mavis has just fallen asleep after fitfully tossing and turning. Harlan’s voice rings out as though he were standing right over Mavis in the Captain’s bed. Mavis yelps out in undignified shock, “Delód’s breath! What?”

Harlan speaks loudly, though still in a calm and steady voice, so that Mavis can hear him below. “We may have a problem.”

Harlan’s voice rings out loudly from a bucket hung upside down on the ceiling. Mavis sticks a thumb in his ear and calls back unenthusiastically. “Alright, alright… Depths, lad, I’m coming.” As Mavis begrudgingly rises and rubs his stiff neck, he mutters under his breath. “… drownin’ Captain and his drowned gadgets…”

Mavis groggily approaches the ship wheel where Harlan stands. “What. What the depths is it. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have come up.”

Harlan gestures off to the starboard side where the trees are passing the side of the ship. Out past the final row of passing trees is the King’s Haul. Mavis immediately sees what Harlan means. “What’s she doing? Why’re they aiming right for the Flower?”

“I don’t know,” Harlan answers, “they made a hard turn to avoid something and now they appear to be drifting.”

“The Flower’s got them now…” Mavis says.

Harlan nods slowly and speaks with the same pace. “Should we try the Captain's plan?”

“Wait for the signal. He’ll send it up if they need us.” Mavis speaks as though he is trying to convince himself.

Moments pass that feel infinitely long, and still no signal. The King’s Haul has visibly drifted now, and the correction to the portside has not brought the ship out of it’s drift. Mavis looks at Harlan and nods, and he moves quickly as Mavis has rarely had the privilege of seeing. Harlan vaults the railing behind the ship wheel and lands lightly on his feet. Cheese, Shushilah, and the General are all playing Runny when Harlan lands on the board, scattering dice. Cheese exclaims, “Saints! What’s gotten into him?”

The General leaps into action, understanding what’s needed. “Quickly now, we must raise all the sails and drop the anchor!”

Shushilah runs over to the sail ties and begins raising canvas. Cheese runs off and shouts over her shoulder. “We ain’t got an anchor!”

The General’s face takes on a worried expression. They continue hoisting sails, while Harlan slides into the open cargo hatch that drops into the hold. When he finally reaches the cannons in the orlop, he rushes over to the one he was adjusting earlier. Above deck, nearly all of the sails are fully furled. Down in the orlop, Harlan works speedily at the cannon. Beside the gun port is the large spool of rope Shush and Tar wound up. The end of the rope is attached to a strange-shaped object: the back is a round cannonball, but the front is an anchor-like assembly of hooks. Harlan shoves the object into the barrel of the cannon and readjusts the angle slightly, aiming between the ship-sized gap in the trees. He lights the ready fuse and leans away, covering his ears. The cannon blast roars through the empty cargo hold of the ship, alerting every crew member to the situation. Beside the cannon, the spool of rope is rapidly spinning as the hook shot trails away with the lead. It soars through the air too fast for Harlan to track, but the angle of the rope tells him it’s a good shot. He had to aim much higher due to the drag of the rope.

At the helm, Mavis watches the shot while minding the ship, and he knows Harlan’s aim was true. The two soldiers, Venlott and Tonkish, come running from below deck. Pickett, Sprig, and Bor all rush up to the quarter deck. Cheese, Shush, and the General are already there, having raised all the sails. The Big Man remains in the nest, and Harlan is returning now. The only people unaware of what is happening are Venlott and Tonkish, who were left deliberately in the dark to the Captain’s plans. Mavis wisely assumed they wouldn’t take kindly to firing a cannon at the King’s Haul. “Listen up, crew,” Mavis projects his voice for everyone to hear, “the King’s Haul is caught in the Flower. Harlan just fired a hook shot at her to tie us together.”

The two soldiers gape wide-eyed at Mavis when he says this, and they are about to object but Mavis talks loudly over them. “We didn’t have much time before they got pulled too far away. It’s done now. When the line reaches its length, our hope is that we can pull them along, using the trees to hold the Lady back if she hooked more than we bargained for. I need all hands on deck and at the ready for anything. If the pull is too strong, we may get pulled in as well.”

Now Venlott yells out, interrupting Mavis. “Now wait a minute, we can’t get pulled in. We’ll die too!”

Tonkish adds intellectual weight to the argument by saying, “Yeah!”

Mavis raises a hand and amazingly, they fall silent. He stares the two soldiers down, but it’s Harlan that speaks up. “Maybe you feel you do not, but I have family on that ship.” All is quiet as the entire crew looks at Venlott and Tonkish. They don’t respond, seeming cowed by Harlan’s words and demeanor.

The Big Man yells out from above, “Brace! The lines coming taut!” Everyone below adopts a wider stance, grabbing hold of anything nearby. Benafield grabs tightly to the mast. Suddenly a wet rope rises from the sea, flinging water up in a plume of white hazy mist as it does, and becomes an almost straight line connecting the two ships. The Painful Lady is jerked slightly to the starboard side. As they are steadily pulled into the Flower by the Haul, the stout trees are pushed away from the Lady. The rope trails off into the water between the two trees, off to the distant Haul. The Lady is pulled up against their trunks. With one tree pressing against the bow and one against the stern, they are stuck like a wagon in a doorway. Mavis waits with bated breath for something to snap. There is the deep and concerning groan of lumber under strain emanating from the decking and rails. An ear-splitting crack rings out across the water, almost louder than the cannon. The crew is all tossed to the deck as the tree holding the stern snaps. Previously hidden birds of bright colors take flight out of the trees, fleeing from the sound. The Big Man is thrown from the crow’s nest but manages to catch himself in the rigging. One of the decorative roots that reach from the Lady’s railings down to the water gets caught on the remaining floating tree at the bow. The tree bends over, its boughs dipping into the sea.

Mavis, Harlan and Sprig stand while the rest of the crew finds themselves. Mavis calls out, “is anyone hurt?” There are grumbles and complaints, but no injuries. The Big Man climbs down from the rigging and catches his breath on the deck. Sprig sees Bungle, who has been thrown against the railing and entangled in ropes. He rushes over to the bow of the ship to help the poor billypug, not noticing the increasing tension on the railing. Mavis yells out at him, “Sprig, get back!” Sprig looks back at Mavis for a split second, and then the decorative root cracks and splits off from the railing with a tremendous rending sound. The Painful Lady lurches as it gives way, being rapidly pulled out into open water, and Sprig is thrown over the railing and into the sea. Mavis, Harlan, and Benafield all see and cry out as Sprig disappears over the side. The Big Man is winded from his fall and is too far to do anything. Harlan is immediately running toward the railing as the ship is rapidly carried toward the Flower. He rushes to the bow of the ship, leaping up onto the railing, removing a small blade from his sleeve, and cutting free a rope from the rigging. Harlan runs down the railing with the rope in hand and dives off the edge of the ship in a large arc, soundlessly splashing into the sea below. Mavis and others rush to the railing, all thought of the Flower gone for the moment. Neither Sprig nor Harlan can be seen, and the Lady is being rapidly pulled westward. The Flower is hundreds of towers away, and yet they are firmly within the grips of its powerful current.

Mavis is screaming out Sprig’s name, but no one surfaces. The rest of the crew look on in horror, distraught over the loss of Sprig and Harlan. Even Tonkish and Venlott watch on in dismay, saddened by the distressed faces of the crew. Suddenly, Sprig bursts from the surface coughing and spluttering. Shushilah cries out, and Cheese exclaims, “He’s there! Sprig’s there! Pull ‘em in!”

Bor, Shushilah and The General attempt to pull in the length of rope but are unable to with the strange currents of the Flower. The Big Man appears and grabs the rope, heaving with all of his strength and pulling it in hand over hand. Bor calls out as they draw in the rope. “I don’t see Harlan, where is he?” When The Big Man finally pulls Sprig up over the railing, he is alone and in shock. The rope has been tied securely around Sprig’s chest and under his arms, no doubt the work of Harlan — a final sacrifice. Sprig’s face is fixed with a look of stark terror and bewilderment. Mavis kneels beside him, wrapping him in an embrace. Bor continues scanning for any sign of Harlan, but it is getting darker with the Small sun setting quickly. He searches the open water diligently, desperately even, but there is nothing save for the rapidly shrinking tree line of the Floating Forest. Bor looks to Mavis and says, “What do we do?” Mavis appears either scared or pained for the briefest moment, doing his best not to confront what he knows: they will not find Harlan. Mavis stands and walks briskly away from the bow of the ship and his welling grief, off toward the helm.

Shushilah comforts Sprig and checks him over. “Is okay, Sprig. Is alright, you are safe now.”

Sprig looks into Shushilah’s deep blue eyes, seeing no sign of his own wide-eyed terror. “But… Harlan… is he…”

But Shushilah simply hugs him and makes soft soothing noises as Sprig begins to cry. Bor doesn’t leave off scanning the water from the bow, he strains his eyes in the dusky lighting but inwardly he knows the harsh truth: Harlan is gone. After a few moments staring out at nothing, Bor gives up the pretense. The rest of the crew hurry to follow Mavis back to the quarterdeck. The Big Man quietly asks, “What will we be doing now?” while Mavis steps behind the ship wheel. Mavis looks like stone as he grabs the ship wheel, yanking out a peg from the wheel and placing it into the smaller center wheel, freeing it to move independently. Now Mavis spins the smaller wheel one direction while turning the larger wheel in the opposite direction. Despite having no sails down, the Lady begins to spin, as though on a wheel of its own. Mavis turns the ship and his mind from Harlan, committing to saving those he can and making Harlan’s sacrifice worthwhile. Soon, the ship’s bow is pointed toward the King’s Haul and consequently, the Flower.

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Seven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Nine)

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(Previous Chapter Twenty-Six) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Eight)

24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

…Into the water,

below the waves,

secret passes,

hidden caves…

From ‘Rite of Entry’, Fāy-Núl Tör, Author Unknown in the Unreckoned Years

Chapel lounges against the bowsprit and stares at the passing clouds. Overhead, windgulls soar, hanging on the air with their large open wings. Petsune watches the Painful Lady sail behind the outermost trees of the Floating Forest, fascinated by the blurs of green against the blue sails. Pet allows Chapel time to think of a story, simply waiting for the beginning. He waits several moments then glances to Chapel’s place on the bowsprit, only to find it empty. Petsune sighs dramatically and looks around but does not see his Captain, until he looks up in the rigging along the foresail. Chapel is there, crouched precariously on a rope, speaking quietly to Sprig’s bird. The setting Saints sun cast him in a burning orange hue with a disconcerting shadow looming on the sail. The bird conjures up Sprig’s youthful voice and relays his words. “Tell the Cap’n we’re ‘bout done with his list, and we’ll be lookin’ for the signal. Okay? Got all that, bird?” Chapel nods to no one then pats the bird's head, but it doesn’t fly off. Instead, it begins pecking at his pocket. Petsune watches as Chapel proceeds to feed the prattlebeak and is startled when a voice behind him speaks. “What’s he doin’ with that prattlebeak?”

Petsune turns to find a soldier standing on the deck, gazing up at Chapel and the bird. Petsune looks at Chapel and simply says, “He’s feeding it.”

“Why?” The soldier asks.

Petsune looks down at the soldier, feigning a look of ignorance. “I guess it was hungry.”

The soldier scoffs and walks off, and Petsune breathes a sigh of relief. Chapel removes the last of the food from his pocket and hands it over to the large, round bird. He climbs easily back down to the bowsprit.

Petsune watches him the whole way, until he is once again comfortably lounging against the bowsprit they recently polished. Petsune raises an eyebrow as he looks back to the soldier, now on the other side of the ship. “You were nearly caught just now. That soldier was asking questions.”

“Nah. If you’re strange, people will write off strange behavior. It’s when the priests start feeding birds that you should worry.”

Petsune laughs, finally feeling some of the tension from the past few days leave him. “What were you feeding it anyway?”

“Sweetbread.”

“You still had some left?”

“Oh no, I borrowed it from the kitchens.”

This time Pet truly laughs, and it feels good. “Saints… Chapel you steal as much as Sprig.”

Chapel interjects, “Borrow.” and Pet just shrugs saying, “What will you tell Wittkinson if he catches you? That you were bringing it for him?”

Chapel laughs lightly. “No, no. I don’t think that line would work on him. I just won’t get caught.”

Pet is smiling now, closing his eyes as he speaks. “Right, because that worked so well when we tried to sabotage the ship.”

Chapel sits up onto one elbow and watches the water against the bow of the ship. “Could’ve been worse.”

“It could always be worse, how is that a helpful mindset?”

“Because it’s always right. And you know what I just realized: this is the second ship you were caught sneaking about on — you’re a terrible sneak thief.”

Petsune’s eyelids flick open fast enough to raise his eyebrows as well. “I turned myself in on the Lady!”

Chapel smirks but doesn’t open his self-satisfied eyes. “Only after I caught you in my cabin.”

“Well you… you lured me there! And sneaking onto this ship was your drowning idea, not mine.”

“Ah, Pet,” Chapel acquiesces, “it is too easy to get you riled up, it’s almost no fun.”

Petsune doesn’t stoop this time, opting for a subject change instead. “I believe you are avoiding your story.”

“I am not. You forget, I was brought up in the Tapestry: storytelling is in my blood. I bleed ink.”

“Alright, well, the stage is set, the audience awaits.”

Petsune leans back and closes his eyes. Chapel begins thinking aloud. “Well, let me think… you’ve likely heard all of the Hollow Tree stories, and I think I’d be hard-pressed to find a parable you haven’t read… maybe… but perhaps an old Broadfell myth?“

“I highly doubt I would know any of Broadfell’s folklore.”

“Well, perfect,” Chapel says, switching to a theatrical voice, “You shall now hear the tale of how Broadfell was made.”

Petsune’s eyes open and he looks over at Chapel, eyebrows raised in reaction to the voice.

Chapel looks up at Pet and winks. “It’s my inner Tapestry coming out. Now, this story is told in the halting speech patterns of old Broadfell, which is the only way I know it.”

Petsune leans back against the ratlines again. “I believe I’ve heard the speech of old Broadfell before, in the Book of Concerns.”

“Well, you will be no stranger to it then.”

“Though I might be a stranger to your theatrics.”

“You wound me, Pet. I could have become a full Finger Weaver, you know?”

Petsune chuckles mildly but finds his mind wandering to Sprig and the Painful Lady, and he becomes saddened. The Saints sun fully sets, and the Second sun is being tugged along behind it.

He feels a very close tie to Sprig, being an orphan and all. “How hard is it to become a Weaver?”

“It’s not too difficult, but it does take a lot of time and the mastering of certain skills,” Chapel, sensing Pet’s shift in mood, skillfully moves the conversation, “anyway, hush up now, schoolboy. I’m telling a story.”

“Ah, right. I nearly forgot.” Petsune says, smiling, grateful for the distraction.

“Now, this comes from folklore, so it’s never really been set into words — it’s up to the teller to convey the right story.” Chapel clears his voice dramatically, “Hear now, the tale of Boldifar Strong Oar,” then he adds in a quieter, less sure voice, “or maybe Boldifar Strong Arm, I don’t remember.”

“Hah get on with it, Captain.”

Chapel clears his throat and pauses to allow the quiet to blossom into anticipation.

Suddenly, a shout from above breaks through the silence and jarrs both Chapel and Petsune up out of their comfort. “Shallowback, dead ahead!” The helmsman calls out next. “Hard to starboard!”

Petsune can hear the Captain and the helmsman arguing over the need to steer around the whale, and within seconds, the ship wheel is being turned vigorously toward the west where the Second sun is descending. The Haul leans to the portside as it makes a sharp turn to the starboard. When the ship turns, Chapel slides off the bowsprit like a wet fish. He is left clinging to it with both arms overtop as the ship wrenches itself off its southward path. Petsune scrambles along the railing to reach him. He calls out for Chapel when he sees one arm slip off the freshly waxed bowsprit. Petsune reaches the Captain and finds that he is hanging easily with one arm, while the other fiddles with the rope he tied earlier. The rope comes loose and a small barrel of something falls down into the sea. Petsune helps Chapel back over the railing. “What was that?” He asks in exasperated tones.

Chapel watches the barrel bob away in the water like jetsam and he says dejectedly. “It was a millie in a barrel.”

Petsune is thoroughly confused and finds himself unable to respond, so Chapel does instead. “It was the signal if we needed help, though with that stunt at the shipwheel, I doubt we’ll need the signal.”

“Alright, but how is a millie in a barrel a signal? They would never see that?” Pet watches Chapel, who watches the water. Passing closely beside the boat is the immense sandbar of a shallowback whale. It is grazing on the abundant algae under the floating forest. Because of its size, it cannot swim below the forest, so its large body extends off from the edge of the forest, right across the course the King’s Haul was on. Petsune watches the algae and plant covered back of the grazing whale as they pass by it.

Chapel walks away from the portside toward the starboard prow. He speaks to Petsune, who follows him to the railing. “A millie fish will rise out of the sea when the weather is warm enough. They float up to a tower high before flopping back down into the water. So, I had one in that bucket to warm it more and filled it with trail oil from a red whale, so it would shine red in the sun.”

“Ah,” Petsune says contemplatively, “that’s actually quite clever.”

Chapel looks down over the railing and Petsune follows suit. Chapel says, “Sprig isn’t the only one. Too bad it didn’t work.” Petsune is struck with a thought. “Where did you get all those things? The millie, oil, and barrel?”

Chapel winks at Pet. “Borrowed them.”

Petsune looks sardonically at Chapel. “Mhm. ‘Sprig isn’t the only one’.”

Chapel just winks slightly, as amiable as ever.

Looking down, they both see the vexing signs in the water below: a sucking gap of water against the ship, and the large, warped wake that extends from the hull and off in a curve toward the northwest. The shouting from the helm indicates that the helmsman feels it too. They are being pulled in by the Flower. Petsune looks at Chapel with worry written on his face, but Chapel looks past Petsune toward the Painful Lady and the forest. A distant explosion rings out loudly, along with a puff of smoke from the hull of the Lady, and then Chapel smiles.

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Six) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Eight)

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(Previous Chapter Twenty-Five) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Seven)

24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

What is the most important part of a ship?

Is it the sails, who catch the winds?

Is it the masts, whose strength holds the sails?

Is it the hull, whose thick boards keep the waters at bay?

Is it the rudder, who steers the ship with a subtle hand?

From ‘Wisdom of Saint Delód’, the Church of the Deep, Written by Saint Delód in the Unreckoned Years

Sprig clings loosely to the ratlines as he stares out westward at the King’s Haul. “What d’ya think they’re doin’ over there anyway?”

Cheese gnaws a piece of rope until it is severed, speaking around the rope in her teeth. “Don’t know. Maybe shcrubbin’ eh decks.” She spits out some thin fibers and continues, “But I know what you ain’t doin’ here: helpin’.”

Sprig turns from gazing at the Haul and helps Cheese tie some extra rope into the rigging. Cheese looks at it and nods in approval. “There, that ought to hold. Maybe we won’t need it, if we’re lucky. That stiff — what’s his name, Wiltcher-whatever — this were his stupid idea. I’ll bet my favorite boots the Flower pulls in that sorry scrap of wood. Look at her: she ain’t even been cleaned in Saints only know how long. If I had to die on that ship, I’d be right fuming.”

“I feel bad for the Cap’n. And Pet, I guess. I kinda like him now. He’s got a funny name an’ he knows a lotta big words.” Sprig begins to climb down but just then, a prattlebeak, wearing something like a scarf, lands in the rigging next to him.

Sprig pats the top of his head and then the prattlebeak starts to speak. “Tell him we’re okay for now, but we’re drifting.” The bird finishes the message and then hops closer. Sprig pulls some food from a pocket and feeds the bird, receiving a satisfied squawk in reply. Sprig pats his head again and the bird tilts its own wide head just slightly. Sprig speaks slowly to the bird, as though it were old and feeble. “Tell the Cap’n we’re ‘bout done with his list, and we’ll be lookin’ for the signal. Okay? Got all that, bird?” Sprig feeds it another tasty morsel, then pats the round squat head. The bird flies off without delay. Cheese remarks at the sight, “Saints, Spriggy. That’s quite the ‘lil messenger ya got there. Ya oughta charge for usin’ it.” Cheese climbs down the ratlines and Sprig watches the bird fly off toward the Kings Haul.

While Sprig makes his way down, Harlan lays his face against one of the cannons below decks. The Big Man looks at Harlan, confused. “Why are you doing this? We do not need to be hugging it. Harlan remains there, face pressed against the cannon and arms wrapped wide around it in an embrace. The Big Man stares at Harlan quizzically until he eventually unsticks himself from the cast iron form. Harlan looks into Benafield’s eyes without blinking or flinching, as though he is looking through them. He speaks in his characteristically quiet and monotone voice. “I was aiming it.”

Harlan walks away and the Big Man watches him ascend the stairs up to the main deck. He looks down at the cannon and lowers his face against it. He squints one eye to judge Harlan’s aim, and finds the cannon pointed just above the King’s Haul.

Harlan walks across the deck to the foredeck at the bow. Below the foredeck, Bor and Pickett are cooking together. They appear to be entertaining a small, furry audience of two: Bungle wags his stubby tail as he eagerly watches Bor’s dexterous knife hand. A small rock-like shape sits next to Bungle, and a furry head slowly pokes out of its front. Tussle’s typically placid face has been supplanted by a voracious look. The smells wafting from under the foredeck are as magnificent as always. Pickett silently prods and stirs a spicy pot of large meaty hunks basting in various juices and spices. Occasionally, Bor will add something into the pot, but neither of them says a word. Sprig suddenly comes running up and tells Pickett, “It worked, the bird worked!” Then he runs off again. Pickett still doesn’t speak.

Sprig runs across the deck, jumping over a length of rope that is trailing across the center of the deck, snaking between the masts. General Tar and Shushilah are working together to wrap the long rope around a thick spool. Shushilah holds the spool and turns it backward to wrap the rope around it. The General is carefully laying out the rope so that it doesn’t tangle. Shushilah says, “In the North War, I am thinking: how long it was until the fighting?”

“Hmm… The Shot happened,” the General responds, “and then there was all that chaos and madness: fighting in the streets and all that. I remember the Flooded Markets were a veritable battle ground. The Coldor gave us a good bloody nose there.”

“The Shot — this is when the Coldor were trying to kill the Fellpost, yes?” Shushilah asks.

“Yes, there was a great deal of tension boiling, then the Cleave publically tried to assassinate the Fellpost of Broadfell — the current one, HelBenledore. He failed, obviously, and was killed in the process,” Tarlatan becomes thoughtful, “I believe his name was… Höalám. The Coldor people all went mad then, and they were able to beat us on land, since they live primarily on solid land. There was plenty of fighting there, but the first navy battle of the North War — or at least when we sailed against the Cleave — well, that wasn’t for a fortnight or two after the Shot. But that’s when the tides turned. Dintish prowess in the water outmatched them ten-fold.”

“Why is this?”

“Dintash has an unparalleled navy because we are the only nation with no solid land in our Borders. Both Broadfell and Coldor are primarily solid land.”

Shushilah smiles. “And Filkash does not like to fight, I’m thinking.”

“Mmm, very true. But the Oullman stretches beyond the maps and there is land they use for timber, down to the southwest somewhere.”

“I was not knowing this.”

Shushilah continues to roll the rope around the spool. “Who was leading the Coldor, when their Cleave was now dead?”

“Hmm, well the position of Cleave is held in equal parts by a married couple— hence the title — to cleave to each other and such. So, once Höalám was dead, the title fell entirely onto the wife’s shoulders. Strange really… doesn’t seem like a woman’s work. ” The General appears to become introspective, forgetting to lay out rope. Shushilah decides not to comment on the General’s poorly aging views on women.

“I was not knowing this, about the Cleave. Is an interesting thing.” Shushilah says.

The General snaps out of his thoughts. “Hmm? Oh, yes, interesting. Once she was killed, there was no Cleave at all and the North War ended, and that was that. Coldor retreated into the Northwest Waters and the Island of Three Nations was established to keep a watchful eye on the bloodthirsty beasts.”

“Who is leading them now, I’m thinking? Someone must be starting the fighting again.”

“Hmm, very true. I only wish I knew, Shush… ”

The two of them finish wrapping the large length of rope around the spool.

Two soldiers exit the Captain’s quarters and cross to the foredeck. The soldier, called Tonkish, asks, “Mealtime soon?” as he passes the kitchen. Bor simply nods, and Pickett doesn’t look up. The soldiers have enjoyed Bor’s cooking in the way a drowning man enjoys air. Tonkish nods back and walks away toward the helm where Mavis pilots the ship. The second soldier walks up onto the foredeck and finds Harlan at the starboard prow, gazing off toward the King’s Haul. The soldier, called Venlott, attempts to engage Harlan in conversation, but receives no response. Venlott speaks again, hoping to coax a response from Harlan. “So, you been crew’d up with this lot long?”

Harlan doesn’t move to look at Venlott but he does speak. “That is too easy a target.”

“What?” Venlott asks, baffled.

Sprig sighs loudly from behind Venlott and speaks with an annoyed tone. “Ahh, c’mon, Harlan. Why’d ya give me away? I coulda stole the shirt right off his drownin’ back.”

Harlan turns his head to look at Sprig over his shoulder. “If it is practice you seek, this man is too easy a target. Mavis would be more difficult.”

Venlott looks from Sprig to Harlan and then back to Sprig. Lazily, Sprig offers up a small coin purse to Venlott who grasps at the empty place on his belt. Anger brews in his features as he moves to snatch the purse. Sprig drops the purse just before he grabs it, and Venlott hastily grabs at thin air where the falling purse ought to be. Instead, Sprig laughs lightly as the purse dangles by its drawstring from the back of his upturned hand. Venlott scowls and Sprig tosses him the coin purse. As soon as he has it, Sprig scampers off. Venlott shouts half-heartedly after him. “Be gone, you weevil!”

Harlan speaks quietly as Sprig climbs up into the branches and sails. “I would count that if I were you.”

Venlott’s eyes widen as he opens the coin purse and counts out each scale. His face is relieved when he realizes all of his money is there.

Harlan walks away from the soldier as he finishes counting. He heads to the quarter deck where Mavis stands, unwavering, behind the ship wheel. Harlan stands next to the First Mate, both staring ahead with unreadable expressions.

“Did you get the cannon positioned?” Mavis asks.

Harlan responds, “I did. Though I do not think it will work.”

“You doubt the Captain?” Mavis asks firmly.

“I do not doubt him, I doubt his cannons.”

“Aye… hopefully we won’t be needing it.”

Harlan continues to stare off toward the Haul, an inscrutable depth behind his eyes. Mavis navigates the floating trees, watching as they rapidly approach the bow and then glide past the side of the ship. Down on the main deck, Harlan sees Shushilah carry a large spool of rope down into the hold. The General sits down at the Runny board where Benafield and Cheese are already seated. A thin line of something sways across Harlan’s vision, though he ignores it as it moves toward Mavis. A small glob of snagweed floats behind the First Mate, suspended on a near imperceptible string of pebbleclaw silk. Harlan continues ignoring the glob of snagweed as it slowly and delicately sticks to Mavis’s compass clipped to the side of his scabbard belt.

Mavis draws his sword, cuts the silk thread, and resheaths the blade, all in a single smooth motion. Sprig complains loudly from somewhere above. “Awww. I nearly had it.”

Mavis smirks just slightly and calls out without gazing up. “You’ll need to do better than that, Sprig. I expect more from you, master Finger Weaver.”

Mavis turns to Harlan and nods for him to take the wheel. Harlan obliges without saying a word and Mavis heads below into the Captain’s cabin to get some much needed rest. As reluctant as he is to pretend to be captain, he does enjoy the bed the job comes with.

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