Child of a Hidden Sea by A.M. Dellamonica

cabinet and offering her a linen handkerchief to wrap the conch shell in.
    â€œIt’s not that fragile.”
    â€œIt names you, Kir.” Dracy explained. “A certain amount of discretion is … customary.”
    â€œMeaning what? Someone needs my name to do a spell on me?”
    â€œExactly. Lais and two of my crew have seen it already, as have I. You should conceal it from now on.”
    Sophie ran a hand over the glowing copper script on the shell, fighting a momentary urge to dash the thing against the wall. It was hardly worth it to know Fleetspeak if she was being packed off home.
    That’s not true. The inner voice, the one that sounded as much like Bram as herself, argued. The language itself is an artifact. A good linguist might make links between Fleetspeak and the tongues of home.
    Not to mention that the shell could serve as a sample of the magical writing. Cheered, she locked the conch in the cupboard.
    â€œPerhaps, too, since you’re an outlander…”
    What else had she done? “Yes?”
    â€œLais Dariach … he’s from Tiladene.”
    Tiladene. That word was on one of Gale’s coins. “You said that. So?”
    â€œThey’re somewhat … promiscuous.”
    The significant look on Dracy’s face made her want to giggle. “You mean sexually promiscuous?”
    â€œThey don’t believe in marriage—in faithfulness.”
    â€œOkay, got it. Your other passenger—”
    â€œLais.”
    â€œLais is from Friends with Benefits Island.” Planet of the Polyamorous Sluts , she thought, lightheaded. Didn’t the Star Trek guys used to go somewhere like that for shore leave?
    And then: A little shore leave wouldn’t be the worst idea I ever had. And he is cute.
    Not as cute as that guy in the rowboat.
    â€œIs there anything else I can do for you?”
    Artifacts. Samples. Lots of opportunity to learn. “I’d love to see some charts. I don’t know this area.”
    â€œOf course, Kir. This way.”
    Still carrying the camera case—she figured her battery might be good for another fifteen shots—she followed Dracy up to the pilot house, where she unrolled a map of currents and islands.
    â€œThis is our position and bearing. Stele is here…” She indicated a small hump to the north-northeast.
    â€œWe’re making for the open ocean?”
    â€œThe Fleet is on its spring tour to the islands of Greatwater; we’ll rendezvous around here.” Dracy tapped the map.
    Spring. It’s spring at home, too. “How many days until the equinox?”
    â€œSeventeen.”
    She bent over the chart. Since recognizing the moon, Sophie had been convinced that seeing a good map would orient to the geography of the area her aunt had called Stormwrack. This was some little unheard-of archipelago of islands, had to be. Yes, she’d been flung across the planet in the blink of an eye, and yes, there were some animal species she didn’t recognize. But another world? Come on.
    Same moon, same gravity, same pelicans, same Earth. Gale’s wrong.
    She knew magic existed: It made sense that the Stormwrackers kept themselves hidden.
    None of the landmarks on this map matched anything she knew, though.
    â€œDo you have anything with a smaller scale?”
    â€œA world chart?”
    â€œExactly.”
    Dracy’s brow knitted. Rummaging in the cupboard, she found a page the size of a placemat, colored with a crude enthusiasm that hinted it was a kid’s school project. “Does this help?”
    â€œYes, thank you,” Sophie said, but she was lying. There were continents at the north and south poles, all right, but the oceans between them were massive, laced with fairy-rings of islands, small and large. The biggest of the land masses wasn’t quite as as big as Australia. And Europe, North and South America, Africa … where the hell are they