message.”
Bone had visions of the tiny paper flying away on a high-altitude gust. “Let’s go below,” he said, heart pounding. “Qurca may want a little food. I’ll bet he’s come a long way, eh? Ha, ha.” His voice sounded lunatic in the moonlight. Carefully they returned to the gondola and explained what had happened. Walking Stick and Joy had returned to the scroll, but the others gathered around. Even Haboob seemed interested.
The note was written in Roil, the language of the Eldshore and much of the West. It read:
He is in the Bladed Isles, upon the one called Fiskegard. Tell Northwing and Haytham to join me there. The Fox.
“Swan’s Blood,” Gaunt said when he’d read it aloud. “The Bladed Isles. Farther even than we’d thought.”
“What does he think he’s doing there?” Bone said. “That’s no place for a . . . well, anyone. Barbaric, piratical . . . what are you smiling at, Flint?”
“Well, you, a thief,” said the explorer, “outraged at a den of pirates and brigands. There’s a bit of irony in that.”
“In my line there’s considerably less blood.”
“Ah, my friend, but less glory, they might say,” Haytham put in.
“They’re welcome to the glory,” Bone said, “especially if they leave their gold unguarded.”
“That’s the spirit,” Gaunt said. To Haytham she asked, “Can Al-Saqr get us there?”
“Can the mosquito make the lion’s eye bleed?” replied the inventor.
Northwing coughed. “ Al-Saqr can get you there, if I direct the wind.” The shaman paused. “And I will. Of course I must return to my liege. Qurca’s arrival is a reminder how long we’ve been away from Steelfox, Haytham.”
“Of course!” said Haytham. “I would be literally lost without you, Northwing. Ah, such an adventure lies ahead of us, worthy of Layali of the Tales. We shall brave the northern seas, albeit with a stop in Loomsberg to sell the Antilektron Mechanism.” His hands played gingerly upon the edges of the brazier, the smoky form of the efrit favoring him with a cold stare from blazing eyes. “I am being justly compensated, and the journey is interesting. We will likely part ways once I find my patron Steelfox, of course—”
“But tell me about these Bladed Isles,” Snow Pine interrupted, “and why they have such a bad reputation.”
“They make the Karvaks look genteel,” Bone said.
“They raided my homeland for over a century,” Gaunt said. “To the degree they’ve stopped, it’s because they’ve interbred with us so much we’re all kin, and half of them have adopted my island’s religion. But we remember—the dragon-prowed vessels slicing the sea, the warriors who would prey on helpless monasteries, their blood sacrifices and their fury.”
“They sound like a challenge,” Mad Katta mused. “Souls that could benefit from the healing words of the Undetermined.”
“Good luck with that,” Bone said.
“But they’ve changed somewhat, no?” Flint asked. “They’re still known for piracy, but not quite the same degree of brutality, eh?”
“In a long life of thieving,” Bone said, “wherein I’ve heard much of their gold, I’ve gone nowhere near them. Make of that what you will. I trust a peaceful Bladelander as much as I trust a complacent shark.”
“They are perhaps no worse in their slaughter than any other land,” Gaunt mused. “But they are more proud of it.”
“What’s your son doing with them, then?” Snow Pine wondered. “With all his power, will the Bladed Isles make him into someone really dangerous?”
Gaunt and Bone hesitated.
“There’s an age, I think,” Gaunt said, “when a young man likes to test himself against danger and trouble. Those are lands where it’s easy to do so. I worry what they will do to him, in more ways than one.”
“But who knows?” Bone said. “He may be having the time of his life.”
CHAPTER 2
OTHERFOLK
Innocence had only just stoked the stove in the dark of the
Bone had visions of the tiny paper flying away on a high-altitude gust. “Let’s go below,” he said, heart pounding. “Qurca may want a little food. I’ll bet he’s come a long way, eh? Ha, ha.” His voice sounded lunatic in the moonlight. Carefully they returned to the gondola and explained what had happened. Walking Stick and Joy had returned to the scroll, but the others gathered around. Even Haboob seemed interested.
The note was written in Roil, the language of the Eldshore and much of the West. It read:
He is in the Bladed Isles, upon the one called Fiskegard. Tell Northwing and Haytham to join me there. The Fox.
“Swan’s Blood,” Gaunt said when he’d read it aloud. “The Bladed Isles. Farther even than we’d thought.”
“What does he think he’s doing there?” Bone said. “That’s no place for a . . . well, anyone. Barbaric, piratical . . . what are you smiling at, Flint?”
“Well, you, a thief,” said the explorer, “outraged at a den of pirates and brigands. There’s a bit of irony in that.”
“In my line there’s considerably less blood.”
“Ah, my friend, but less glory, they might say,” Haytham put in.
“They’re welcome to the glory,” Bone said, “especially if they leave their gold unguarded.”
“That’s the spirit,” Gaunt said. To Haytham she asked, “Can Al-Saqr get us there?”
“Can the mosquito make the lion’s eye bleed?” replied the inventor.
Northwing coughed. “ Al-Saqr can get you there, if I direct the wind.” The shaman paused. “And I will. Of course I must return to my liege. Qurca’s arrival is a reminder how long we’ve been away from Steelfox, Haytham.”
“Of course!” said Haytham. “I would be literally lost without you, Northwing. Ah, such an adventure lies ahead of us, worthy of Layali of the Tales. We shall brave the northern seas, albeit with a stop in Loomsberg to sell the Antilektron Mechanism.” His hands played gingerly upon the edges of the brazier, the smoky form of the efrit favoring him with a cold stare from blazing eyes. “I am being justly compensated, and the journey is interesting. We will likely part ways once I find my patron Steelfox, of course—”
“But tell me about these Bladed Isles,” Snow Pine interrupted, “and why they have such a bad reputation.”
“They make the Karvaks look genteel,” Bone said.
“They raided my homeland for over a century,” Gaunt said. “To the degree they’ve stopped, it’s because they’ve interbred with us so much we’re all kin, and half of them have adopted my island’s religion. But we remember—the dragon-prowed vessels slicing the sea, the warriors who would prey on helpless monasteries, their blood sacrifices and their fury.”
“They sound like a challenge,” Mad Katta mused. “Souls that could benefit from the healing words of the Undetermined.”
“Good luck with that,” Bone said.
“But they’ve changed somewhat, no?” Flint asked. “They’re still known for piracy, but not quite the same degree of brutality, eh?”
“In a long life of thieving,” Bone said, “wherein I’ve heard much of their gold, I’ve gone nowhere near them. Make of that what you will. I trust a peaceful Bladelander as much as I trust a complacent shark.”
“They are perhaps no worse in their slaughter than any other land,” Gaunt mused. “But they are more proud of it.”
“What’s your son doing with them, then?” Snow Pine wondered. “With all his power, will the Bladed Isles make him into someone really dangerous?”
Gaunt and Bone hesitated.
“There’s an age, I think,” Gaunt said, “when a young man likes to test himself against danger and trouble. Those are lands where it’s easy to do so. I worry what they will do to him, in more ways than one.”
“But who knows?” Bone said. “He may be having the time of his life.”
CHAPTER 2
OTHERFOLK
Innocence had only just stoked the stove in the dark of the
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