The next morning, he reached Adno. It was a port city—much bigger than his own. In fact, many in Adno had argued that Glenn was more a farming town than a city. Now Angus understood the argument.

Adno was enormous. Spires split the horizon line, domes gleamed, and an intricate system of canals could be seen from the hill above. Angus gaped. It was almost too much to take in. He was familiar with stone buildings, architecture even, but this was taking it to a new extreme. The docks held enormous boats, which he couldn’t have pictured before. The streets, even, were better—smoother, more sophisticated than the one going to Glenn.

Angus closed his mouth. “Do you see that?” he asked Anazeka. She whimpered. He fed her some more cheese. “That’s—that’s insane! We’re supposed to go—there?!”

He swallowed, fed Anazeka cheese, then headed down the hill.

The closer he got, the more the air stank. Angus wrinkled his nose. It smelled of unwashed bodies, old soot, and urine. The walls were covered in moss and some parts of it—on this side—had crumbled or wobbled tenuously. It made him nervous. If Glenn wasn’t a city then that was for the best. He couldn’t imagine Redmond’s beautiful estate being crammed into this elongated beast of stone and innovation.

Guards stood leisurely at the west side’s gate. The gate itself had once been pretty, Angus was certain. It had winding snakes carved into its posts, and a maiden Orpah lay on the lintel. However, the Orpah was covered in moss—appearing almost more like an old woman. The scales on the snakes, likewise, were coated thick with grime. One of the snakes’ heads had fallen clean off.

Angus passed through it with a shudder. He felt as if the Orpah was watching him.

Feeding ‘zeka turkey jerky now, he wandered into a fetid maze. Children ran barefoot in the streets. Others sat with no feet on street corners. Still others sat with no eyes, or hands, or sanity. All of those on the corners had some kind of nothing, like a shared drink they passed from one to another. No job, no respect, no families—or perhaps they wouldn’t be in such a situation—no love, mayhap, whatever it was, the lacking was on all of their faces. Angus put food in the first few hats, but soon he knew there would never be enough to fill all that need, and he had to save some for his own journey.

He had some money and a map of the city set aside in his pack. He pulled out the map, careful not to betray his cash. He’d chased off two thieves already, and hated to think what those he hadn’t caught had filched.

Anazeka hated the city as well. She yelped at all the noise, and eventually hid entirely in his pocket, yipping occasionally at loud noises.

There were many noises she could have yipped at. Horse and carts ran willy-nilly in the larger streets, threatening to crush pedestrians who came too close, and riding so close they were sure to bump into one another. Men shouted and bustled and crowded, creating an enormous noise—as if the roar of one mighty beast, instead of many. Women, too, chattered although more quietly. They stood in shop doors with one another, waiting for the traffic to let up. Or they stuck their heads out of windows and chattered across a brief span of wall. Or they created their own crowd, which elbowed and pushed its way through the primary one, like a school of fish creating its own current in an ocean. But not only human things made noise—horses neighed, dogs barked, cats yowled, rats skittered and growled, and even the birds added high calls to the raucous. Only the children were silent, as they scuttled through the streets. Sometimes they stole wallets. Sometimes they ran from one doorway to the other, or out of alleyways and into shops. They didn’t want to compete with it all, it seemed, only to use it for their own ends.

It all made Angus’ and Anazeka’s heads spin. Obviously country bumpkins, they followed the map to the less crowded shipyard.

Angus put his map away. He made his way to the port’s main office and waited in line, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. Pulling out his city map, he turned to the instructions on the back that Redmond and Sean had written. They’d gone over the instructions with him before he’d left, but Angus read them again while he waited.

Ask for Peadar. Look for a job as a cook or a cabin boy. Don’t take a job from Aodh or Iollan, and work with Kevin if you can. It should take you three months tops—don’t sign a contract.

At the bottom was something he hadn’t seen before. It was in Cerias’ handwriting.

The journey is long

But to everything their song

The song of the river

That chuckles through

The rocks to the pond

And the song of the wind

As it runs through the trees

The song as your feet

As you come home to me.

He blushed, and tucked the map away

“She loves me.” He told Anazeka quietly.

“Got a love letter?” The man right behind him grinned at him.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah—from an old friend.”

The man didn’t notice his discomfort. “I’ve got one of those myself.” He said, “Smatter o’fact I’m going home to her now.”

“That must be nice.”

“Where’re you going?”

“To see my aunt and uncle.”

“While you’ve got a girl waiting?”

Angus wilted. “It’s complicated.”

“Maybe not as much as ya think, though, eh?”

“Well—I, I don’t know. It seemed important when I left.”

“Nah, I getcha—everyone ought to see the world. That’s what I was doing. Mind you, I wasn’t going to see an auntie, I left to make cash.” He grinned, “And I succeeded.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah.”

Angus was glad when he reached the front desk. A bored looking man sat there with his feet on the desk.

“Name.” He said, “Request.”

“I need to see Peadar.” Angus said.

“Peadar? What’re you, a regular?”

“No, but I have a friend who is.”

“Friend of a friend then. Look.” He took his feet from the table and leaned forward. “You leave here and go in this building through the back entrance, next to the privy, eh? Okay.”

Angus left. He supposed he would just ask for Peadar at the back door, then. Who was Peadar, really? A black-market ring leader? But then, Redmond wouldn’t send him to one of those—but Sean might.

Shaking the outgoing crowd, Angus circled around to get to the back. It took him a moment to find the privy, but once he’d gotten past it, he spotted the back door. It didn’t look like the entrance of a black-market hidey hole…

He knocked anxiously.

A man with black hair and a cleft chin opened the door with an irritated expression. It quickly faded into surprise.

“Carrick? They told me you were dead!”

“Um, no—I’m Angus. His son.”

“Coooeee, who could guess. You look just like him. A little smaller, mind you—but the same… eyes, I guess. Come on in—what’s up?”

Angus stepped, a little dazed, into a sparsely furnished room. The one exception was a large bookcase and desk at one end of its rectangular self.

“Erm,” Angus began, “I need a ride to —just to Acht, really. A boat ride.”

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“Ah. Going to see relatives?”

“Yeah—I mean, how do you know—”

“A lot of words pass through a boatyard, if you catch my drift.”

“Ah. Yes, I do.”

“Smart lad. Now, boats, boats, boats.” He went over to his desk and went through a file. “You are willing to work, right?”

“Absolutely. What I’m bargaining on.”

“Excellent.”

“Alright-y.” He flipped through a little more. “So, there is a boat that leaves tonight—need a cook. Can you?”

Angus laughed. “My mother made sure.”

“Smart woman. She hasn’t, er, remarried, has she?”

“No.”

“How’s she supporting herself?”

“Caring for a local clansman—Redmond’s-- daughter.”

“Ah, your lady love.”

Angus was beginning to be irritated with Peadar’s vast knowledge.

“Some think that, yes.”

“And it’s true?”

“That’s for me to decide, and for you to guess.”

Peadar chuckled. “Testy.” He wrote something down and handed him a paper. “A recommendation, sir Angus.”

Angus blushed. “You do know—”

“That you’re not a clansman? Just a matter of time, boy. I’m counting on it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Angus took the paper, and put it in his front pocket. Anazeka stuck her head out and whined sleepily.

“Oh, sorry Zeka.”

Peadar looked surprised. “You’ve got a dog.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Angus asked smugly.

“Nah, probably get you a real salary, actually. Just not a very, Draibias thing to do.”

“I might have Carrick’s blood, but I’m my own person.” Angus reminded him, then left.

The docks had a different kind of crowd from the rest of the city. Men sweated and swore as they worked, and women were hardly to be seen. Children—barefooted boys, for the most part—still ran about, but now they chattered and shouted.

The recommendation was to Captain Kevin, to Angus’ relief. He’d never been on a boat before, and wanted things stacked in his favor. He asked around until he found the ship.

It was a tight-seamed boat and it rode high in the water. Its figurehead was a gorgeous water person—with long, webbed hands, the face and torso of a young woman, and frog-like legs. She wore a dress which rippled realistically, as if being blown by a wind. It covered her amphibious feet almost entirely. Her hair blew silently as well. She stared straight forward, as if she could see you.

“My bonny lass, the sea.” A man whispered beside him.

Angus must have jumped a good foot into the air. “Excuse me!”

“Angus, right?” he hadn’t been whispering at all, he just had a soft voice. “May I see your letter?”

“Why does everyone here know me?”

“Not you, your father.”

“Ai, but why?”

“You talk like a bumpkin. Letter.”

Angus handed it over. The man read it, then nodded.

“I’ll pay you ten ---- for every day—assuming that squirming creature in your pocket is a cat.”

“No, it’s a dog.”

“Nine, then. Come aboard.”

“Ai, sir.”

“Bumpkin talk.”

Angus rolled his eyes. The man reminded him strangely of his mother. Then he followed Kevin up onto the ship.

Zeka took to ship life immediately. For Angus it was a little more gradual.

For one thing, Kevin was a little frightening. It wasn’t that he gathered information, like Peadar did. He was just really good at guessing. Angus suspected that was part of how he’d gotten such a nice ship—information, among merchants, was as good as money.

But it was a nice ship. He enjoyed his work, and after a while Kevin ceased to be frightening. The crew were rowdy bunch, and he enjoyed their company as well.

So, Angus too, took to ship life as well.

When he wasn’t working, Angus would tease Zeka with an unusable piece of knotted rope, or watch her hunt mice with other bored crew members. One of the men started to help him train her, as well.

“Train her to drop it first,” He was an older sailor, with craggy hands and a craggy smile. His name was Ronan. “After housebreaking, of course. But you already knew that.”

Everyone on the ship tried to have a knowing air about them, but Angus believed Ronan had earned it. He was, as Ronan said, ‘old as Pharas and his whore storms,’ and had more stories than Angus could count. He played cards with Lorcan and Aod, other wizened sailors, in the evenings and they invited him to play with them. Angus didn’t know how to play Black-Jack, or Poker, or even Rat-Trap, but they taught him patiently. They taught him a lot of things with a similar patience. They taught him to spit properly—he’d been doing it all wrong, according to Aod. They taught him dirty street-fighting techniques. They taught him better swear words, and advised him on how to use them. He found his poker face, too. He learned a lot of things.

They spun tall tales as they played cards, or with the other men after supper. Usually one of them had Zeka on their lap, and they all were chewing tobacco. Someone usually offered Angus some, but seeing the poor condition of their teeth, he politely refused. He couldn’t kiss Cerias with that kind of mouth. Assuming she’d want to kiss him at all.

The kind of tales the sailors told were utterly separate from the ballads Angus’ knew. They involved wild stories about poorly defined sea creature and spirits and half-women. Often sailors used the same name, then described entirely different animals.

“Angus, why don’t you tell one.” Ronan told him one evening, after the game had begun. The other sailors nodded approvingly.

“Well, I’ve never done one before—”

“Now is always a good time to start.”

“Here I go, then.” Angus swallowed. “I was sailing from Gloir to Strazni Vez, one year—”

“That’s a good start,” Aod encouraged.

“Let the boy speak,” Lorcan told him.

Ronan gestured for Angus to continue.

“So, I was sailing.” Angus said pointedly, and a few men chuckled, “And a great storm came up, just before we reached the point-- blowing us out onto the wilder seas.” The men shuddered.

“Once there, we drifted for days—the storm had destroyed our mast. Finally, we came across an island—lush and uninhabited, by the looks of it. The captain ordered the longboat to shore. As the cook, I was one of the few who stayed behind—my trusty good luck charm, Anazeka, by my side. She’d been too frightened to get on the boat. It should have been seen as a bad omen.

The long boat went out. The men stepped ashore. All seemed well.

Then—suddenly—the island shook itself. It was a huge Kraken, which had sat so long dirt had formed, and trees grown up on its back. But a Kraken can feel the tread of man, and hates him with an unrelenting…”

“Hatred.” One of the men offered.

“An unrelenting hatred. So, the Kraken, for the first time in a millennium stirred. Many men died as the land they stood on tried to shake them off, but as many men as made it onto the longboat lived. The Kraken was old and blind, you see, and although the water flew in six-foot high waves, they made it back and we just barely survived. Just after that, a ship sighted our distress beacon and rescued us from that living deathtrap.”

“Hey, easy on the living deathtrap stuff.” Kevin said. “Not on my ship.”

“Of course not, sir.” Angus said.

“Good. Glendon, it’s a good time for you to tell.”

“Yes sir.”

Kevin wandered off to his cabin. He’d only been passing by, really.

“That was a good tale, laddie.” Ronan told him. “Just unlucky you stepped on the Captain’s toes.”

“Ai—thank you.”

Lorcan smirked. “Ai.”

“Ai,” a few other men sniggered.

Then Glendon began his tale. The evening moved on, unfolding as reliably as the tide.

When the trip ended, Angus was several inches taller, and several shades darker, and almost teary at the thought of leaving. Anazeka didn’t like all the hubbub. She whined, hiding behind the stove. It took him nearly half an hour to tempt her out with a hunk of cheese. He thought she understood, at some level, what was happening. He picked her up tenderly, and put her on his shoulders. She’d been too big to put in his pocket for some time now, so he’d put his map in it. She fit perfectly between the pack and his head, so he decided to carry her until they were out of the city.

Acht was shrimpy when compared with Adno. It was more spread out and had no grand walls. The biggest thing in the city was the dock. There were only a few ships, there, but business looked tight. There were also flat little river boats tied there, who seemed to be hauling just as much cargo—albeit, in smaller chunks. Angus saw wool, spools of thread, cloth, good leather and furs being hauled by the rivermen. He supposed wealth didn’t always have to manifest in high walls and intricate buildings. In fact, he rather liked the place. He wondered what Cerias would’ve thought of the funny hats many of them wore.

He said a long and regretful goodbye to Ronan, Lorcan and Aod. Then he shook everyone’s hand. When he reached Kevin, the languid man rolled his eyes.

“Handshakes are for goodbyes, boy. We’ll see you some other time.”

“Thanks.” Maybe Kevin wasn’t so bad, after all. “I’ll see you then, I guess.”

“Ai.” Lorcan said, smirking.

“Ai.” Angus sighed. The mockery was one thing he was glad to escape.

With all the goodbyes said, he stepped off the dock onto the hard-packed earth. He would get a ride up the river, later, but for now he got out of the way and watched them work, feeling forlorn.