Arik led Fahon along a dirt road, winding its way through the wetlands. Divinity bobbed along behind Fahon, cobalt shell shining in the reddish light of the Twins.

"I'm surprised you're wearing boots," Fahon said and cast a glance back over the shoulder. "Not a pair of those whacky shoes you go out in."

"Shoes say something about a man. Having the right pair of shoes in the right situation is invaluable. Like, I'm wearing boots right now. The night of the assassinations I was at the fight clubs, where sometimes you step in human viscera. Now, we’re in an endless swamp. It happens boots were best in both situations. I'm an incredibly lucky man. And you're lucky too, that the store had shoes."

"Hey! I wear boots every day. Now I wonder if I should sleep in them." Fahon grunted as one of his shoes got stuck in the mud. The suction almost ripped his shoe off, but one sucking kick he got it free, flinging mud into the air.

Arik snorted. "Or at least wear socks to bed, you savage."

Insects buzzed in the brush and amphibians chirped. Waterfowl scattered into the skies, honking, swarms of tiny black birds dodging around them. Carrion birds wheeled overhead. Fahon had passed a few reptiles lounging lazily in the sun on the road.

Willowy drooping trees with roots like long fingers rose out of black muck. Dark pits, pools of muddy water, curled around islands of reeds, banks decorated with basking crocodiles.

Arik slowed, face red and slick with sweat. They both wore their jackets off, tied around their waists. The muggy temperatures were unpleasant for Fahon. After marching for kilometers with a concussion, a headache, and lack of sleep was wearing at him.

They had ditched the vehicle when they reached the border. The traffic had been clogged for twelve kilometers. After finding a small village off the highway, they found a farmer who agreed to give them a free ride, dropping them off at the dirt road. Not a single vehicle had passed them since.

"I'm surprised, you of all people, know about smuggling routes between Ophan and the Free States."

Arik puffed, stopping a second to catch his breath. He dabbed his moist brow with the bottom of his shirt. "I had a brief job as a smuggler. Before I found my real calling."

"First Sect-less, smuggler, and then gambler. Your reputation gets worse and worse. " Fahon's mouth was dry as a desert. What he would do for a glass of water at this point. "And you know, why gamble when the house always wins in the end?

"Ah, but each game is a system. And any system can be exploited by a crafty and curious mind. Despite my successes, I am still a student of the craft. I've made mistakes and lost. Isn't that how everyone learns their craft?"

Fahon shrugged. It still felt like a silly waste when Arik could use his talents elsewhere. He couldn’t argue with logic. The truth was Arik was doing what he wanted with his life, the way he wanted it. And Fahon had chosen to do the same. Fate could be a twisted monster.

He remembered his mother telling him when he was little: You can't run from your own shadow.

To him the meaning was simple. Your problems will always find you, no matter how fast and far you run from them. If fate landed him here, so be it. What made a man was how they handled their problems. He would see this to the end.

They continued, the Twins beating their backs with hot rubicund rays.

"Hey!" Arik pointed to the bank of a large pond beside the road. "I remember the rusty red barrel in the mud there. We're getting close."

Fahon wished for a place to scout using his Bond-sense. A smattering of hilly mounds rose out of the middle of the swamp, but it mostly endless flats as far as the eye could see. He would climb a tree, but none of them looked capable of supporting his weight. The geography texts he read never mentioned how flimsy the trees in this region were. Maybe he would make a personal annotation on the Repository. Those sorts of personal touches, added by those with experience, enhanced every record. Let them age like wine.

"I see something ahead," Fahon said after a few minutes more of trudging along. He strode past Arik.

Arik squinted beside him and shook his head. "I don't see anything."

The road ended in front of what looked like a dwelling behind a wooden palisade fence, encircled by trees and bramble. The rusted metal gate out front was agape, no guards posted at the entrance. He could make out the glint of parked vehicles in the yard, and what looked like a sturdy log cabin behind it.

"Wait…" Fahon grabbed Arik's shoulder. "No sideroads, no intersections, it's one straight path. Is this a driveway?"

"You expect smugglers to live on a main road?" Arik said still straining his eyes.

"It's the Caster with all the power. We only command it," Fahon hustled, which left Arik straggling, jogging in bursts to catch him. After a short while Arik tired more, and he lagged to a stop, cursing, and complaining. Sighing, Fahon slowed again to match his slow pace.

"What I need is a cold beer," Arik muttered beneath haggard breaths.

A tiny seeker-drone buzzed from the dwelling. Fahon twinged, ready to shoot it down with a Phasematter bolt. They had seen a few seeker-drones sweeping over the marshes to the south. None had been close enough to capture them on camera. Even the best drone pilots would struggle to find anyone out here. How could you with all the overgrowth?

Fahon waved at the drone as it went past overhead and circled around. As they approached the gate it descended inside and stopped buzzing.

Three tanned men in camouflage hunting outfits stepped out. They wore reflective military style sunglasses, had wide brimmed hats, and dirty blonde hair. They pointed semi-automatic shotguns at Arik and Fahon. Two of them seemed in their thirties, at the most. The last, and tallest of the trio, was wrinkled and hardened, maybe in his late fifties. All three had the same boxy nose, so they were related.

Fahon urged Divinity forward, so the orb was visible to all three. He didn't take kindly to having weapons leveled at him. If they dared to shoot, they would meet a swift end.

Arik clapped. "I am delighted to be greeted by all three Sovends: Toron, Roron, and old man Guster."

Divinity orbited around the group, scanning the Sovends with its red laser. Roron looked at his body as it passed over him, face struck with marvel.

"Arik," Toron said. He took a few steps forward and sniffed, "we told you not to come around here again. Especially after what you pulled"

Fahon groaned. "What did you pull?"

Arik offered a sheepish smile. "It was a misunderstanding, right fellas?"

Guster growled and clicked the safety off on his shotgun. "Oh, I'll give you a misunderstanding."

"Look." Arik waved his hands rapidly. "You all know I’m a man of opportunity. I reach out and seize it. I know I've done wrong by you in the past, but I wouldn't come here without restitution in mind."

Toron shouldered his shotgun and eyed Arik suspiciously. "Restitution?"

"He means he's going to pay us," Roron said. It was more a threat.

"I have a lucrative business arrangement for you." Arik pointed at Fahon. "Do you know who this man is?"

"A Bonded. Maybe a Knight," Guster said. "By that Caster there."

Arik clapped Fahon on the shoulder. "Guster fought in the Scarl Rebellion."

Guster puffed his chest with pride. "Aye sir. Brothers of Honor, first division, second battalion. Served under Silver Dragon himself, Sovereign Drakk. Promoted to master sergeant before it was over."

Arik wagged a finger. "Ah, you've ever been a patriot, Guster. By transporting this man, your new Sovereign, to Zele you will earn plenty of money and get a chance to serve your nation once again. You see, we're on a top-secret mission. I assume you've heard about the assassinations. Even out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Yeah!" Toron puffed his chest. "We got the Repository out here. We're educated. Not your average frog-sucking bog dwellers."

Roron shoved Toron and slapped him on the rim of the hat.

Guster squinted his eyes and studied Fahon. "You mean to tell me he's Fahon Drakk?"

Fahon nodded. "In the flesh."

"Let's talk pay," Guster said, lowering his shotgun. He clicked the safety back on. The younger two lowered theirs too, following his lead.

They followed the Sovends through the gate. Fahon fell in alongside Arik. Leaning in he whispered, "I'm surprised you didn't fabricate a story. You told them the truth and got what you wanted."

Arik slapped Fahon's back. "I'm a gambler, sometimes a criminal, but I'm not a liar. It's why I was never meant to be a leader. Good thing our House always has you."

"I'm going to have to have to pay them a lot, aren't I?"

"Yes, you will."

#

Fahon poked at his mystery soup.

"This is delicious," Arik said. He slurped a spoonful. "Toron, is this a hint of cinnamon I detect?"

Toron grinned, sunglasses sitting on the top of his head. His skin looked leathery in the dim cabin light. "It balances out the spice."

Fahon placed another spoonful, with a substantial chunk of white meat, into his mouth. The broth had the briny taste of the ocean mixed with a peppery heat. The meat wasn't fish or chicken. It was rubbery. Perhaps some sort of local reptile?

The cabin was a single room, treated timber walls and a high ceiling. Even with the high ceiling the place was cramped, with junk crammed in every nook. Like a garage, three bedrooms, and a living room all hobbled together. They reclined on chairs beside a wood stove, flames crackling gently. The dry heat added to the stuffiness, but the Sovends were clearly used to it.

The soup had been served from a giant grease-stained pot. Arik drank the rest of his broth and rose, getting seconds. Fahon wasn't hungry. He forced himself to eat for energy. No telling when his next meal would be. He had no marks on him and couldn't withdraw any from his bank account, not without his location getting flagged.

Guster sat at a dusty old computer console across the room. It had a cracked viewscreen and a tiny dish antenna sticking out of the top. Fahon had never seen a model like it before. "Radar shows drones buzzing around." He tapped keys at a snail's pace with one finger. "We can't leave until night. We'll bring the deflectors. Once we get past the border we don't have to worry, Skyforce won't fly over foreign territory. It's considered an act of war."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Arik said between slurping mouthfuls. "They think the Free States are in league with the Syndicate and see the assassinations as an act of war anyway. They might just do what they want."

Fahon finished off his soup and rose. Divinity orbited around him with a clicking sound. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

Arik used the ladle to scoop himself another helping from the pot. "You don't want your soup?"

Fahon shook his head and meandered through the cluttered cabin, opening the front door. Outside he was met with searing heat. The Twins cast oppressive rays. The air was thick with humidity, like a sauna. The south was closer to the equator, far warmer than central Ophan. It didn't even snow during the brief winters when the Twins eclipsed each other.

The yard was like the inside of the cabin, except the junk was bigger. A half dozen cars, some rusted out, others missing tires or doors, sat clustered together near the front gate. Electric motors and battery packs were piled on top of each other, looking scavenged for parts. The pile of bulbous cyberminds, some ancient and massive, sat inside a trashcan. Drums, crates, and stuffed sheds sat clumped against the palisade wall. A large a sheet metal shanty, used as a garage, was nestled alongside the docks at the water's edge.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He found a patch a patch of grass in the shade of the garage and plopped down, in exhaustion and with a throbbing headache. His body was dragging bricks at this point. Divinity floated close by, zipping around the piles, red laser scanning them, as if taking an inventory. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the rusted sheet metal wall.

"You look like him," Guster said.

Fahon started. He had drifted asleep for a moment. He stood and smoothed out his clothes.

"Didn't see it at first," Guster said, motioning to Fahon's face. "On account of all the cuts and bruises. But the resemblance is uncanny."

"My mother says I'm a spitting image." Fahon swung his arms, stretching his back and shoulders.

"We lost a great man when he passed," Guster continued, his wrinkled eyes gazing afar. "Fetrik bled for his nation, and it changed him. Damn Scarls." He spat to the side. "Traitors the lot of them. Greedy monsters. We all would have fought on to see them defeated. Old Fetrik got tired of the bloodshed, second guessed every decision. The reaping takes its toll after a while. Commanding men to give their lives. He saw too many deaths. Let the Scarls go to end it. The lot of good it did the slime. Look at Scarleon now, the place is a shadow of its former glory."

Gave a solemn nod. Many veterans from the Scarl Rebellion felt that way. Ophan lost a piece of itself and so many heroic lives were lost. "I've never fought in real war. I hope to be half the leader he was someday."

"Hate to break it to you, you're in a war now. Soon as an enemy attempted to kill you." Guster removed his hat and wiped the sweat off his bald head. "Not all wars are between armies or last a decade." He put his hat back on and scratched the white whiskers on his chin.

"Thank you for your service." Fahon said and gave a respectful bow to the veteran. "And for agreeing to help."

"I mean you're the one paying, Your Excellence. I expect Sovereigns to keep their word." The sobering thought of him being Sovereign washed over him like ice. Now people would no longer refer to him as Your Highness. Now he was Your Excellence. "Plus…I haven't smuggled you out yet. We never had to deal with security this tight. The frog may spot the fly before the end."

#

Darkness enveloped the marshes. Guster lead them to the docks with a bobbing flashlight. With the heavy fog it did little to help to guide their path. Still, Guster knew where he was going.

Having spent most of his life in Whitestone, with all the light pollution, it was never dark like this. If not for his enhanced vision, he wouldn't be able to see through the mists himself and feared he would plunge straight into the murky waters.

The night sky was visible in the city, but it was hard to see details without a telescope. Out here in the middle of the wetlands, the glittering stretch of Milky Way Galaxy illuminated the sky. Haven cast her saffron glow, looming over Promise like a stern parent. He could also see other moons in Haven's orbit, tiny dots of shimmering light, bigger than the distant stars.

"Check it out." Arik nudged at Fahon to draw his attention back from the heavens.

Guster approached a parked boat, covered in a camouflage tarp. He whipped the tarp off in one swoop, handing it to Roron and Toron to fold.

Arik swooned. "Ah, how I've missed this baby."

The boat beneath the tarp was unlike any Fahon had ever seen. It had an arrowhead shape, like a submarine fused with a stealth bomber-drone, all hard angles and sweeping lines.

Done folding the tarp, Roron and Toron attached reflective panels to the vehicle, adding regrettable bulk to its aerodynamic hull.

Arik rested his hands on his hips. "Ever seen one before?"

"Never," Fahon replied.

Roron proudly slapped a hand on the boat's hull. "She's a Nightskimmer. Once hunted supply barges and sea freighters along the southern coast during the Unification Wars. We found her in bad shape and put her back together. Best stealth boat ever produced. Purrs like a kitten."

Guster pressed a hidden button on the roof and a large panel slid back, revealing the crew cabin. It had two seats, for the pilot and co-pilot. And cramped compartment behind them with padded benches along the wall.

Fahon furrowed his brows. "…What exactly are you smuggling in this? There's barely any cargo room."

"The most precious and profitable of cargos," Roron said, swinging into the boat. He plopped into the copilot's seat and flipped switches.

"Passengers," Arik said, as if he had been reading Fahon's thoughts. He hauled himself in with surprising grace, landing on the metal floor; like he had done it a thousand times.

"Smuggling criminals?"

"No." Guster looked offended at that question. "People pay well to get out of poverty and oppression. We offer passage to Ophan, to a better life.

"Hum. Well, I'll have to investigate that.' Fahon dropped into the boat, stumbling as it rocked in the muddy waters. Divinity chirped as it chased him, coming to rest on his lap as he sat on the bench and strapped himself in.

"Please don't, Your Excellence," Guster said. He took a careful route, the ladder. One in the pilot's chair, he punched a button on the dashboard and turbine engines whirred to life. "It's bad for business."

The boat backed out of the docks. The top slid closed, bathing the cabin in darkness for few seconds. The engines whined as the vessel accelerated over the muddy waters.

The sleek vessel didn't move through the waters, instead skimming across the surface like a whisper and shadow. Watching out the front viewport the marshes blurred past at astounding speed. The headlights were off and the only thing guiding their way was Haven's yellow planet light. Guster threaded the needle and the vessel shot over small embankments or dense patches of reeds. Every time Fahon was certain they were about the crash into one of the islands of trees and mangroves, the Nightskimmer would bank hard out of the way, throwing him back against his seat.

The boat wasn't navigated by a cybermind, like most vehicles on Promise. It was piloted by Guster's own two hands and surprisingly keen eyes. Fahon studied him and realized he was wearing a pair of goggles, most likely giving him night vision. It provided a little relief to his anxiety.

"We're an hour out from the border," Guster called out over the sound of the hull slapping the water.

Across from him Arik was smiling like a child in a toy store. "Don’t you love this?"

"How fast can this thing go?" Fahon asked.

"We're going one-hundred and sixty kilometers per hour," Roron said from the co-pilot's seat. "It's not even max speed, but we're running for efficiency. We don’t want to drain the battery. Zele is a long trip you see; we'll have to skirt around the southern coast."

Toron tossed something without warning. Fahon caught the object out of midair without looking. It was a canteen. Toron was wearing an amused smile and was shaking his head in disbelief.

Fahon smirked, unscrewing the top and taking a long guzzle.

Toron slapped his thigh and laughed. "What they say is true! Bonded can see everything."

It wasn't quite true. Bonded still had some blind spots. But it was better people thought elsewise.

"And we can hear without our ears." Fahon tapped the top of Divinity's cobalt shell. "Casters lend us super-human hearing and sight, through the Bond."

"Grandpa said before the Conflagration people had robotic eyes and mechanical limbs. They could live for five hundred years and never get sick."

"The wonders of the ancient colonists," Arik and yawned, of all things. Meanwhile, Fahon was doing his best to hold onto the mystery soup from earlier.

He studied his cousin for a long moment. "Tell me, what did you do in the smuggling crew?"

Arik chewed on his battered lips. "I was in…sales."

"And he gave everyone discounts, Your Excellence." Toron sneered at Arik, who forced an uncomfortable smile.

Fahon glanced out the front viewport again, a huge mistake for his motion sickness. The Nightskimmer whipped through the swamp encrusted ruins of some ancient starship. They blurred past sinking sections of rusted hull, like the ribs of some great beasts, and tangles of vine coated machinery.

He closed his eyes, holding back vomit from motion sickness.

The south, in particularly the Free States, had tens of thousands of such wrecks and ruins. These skeletons of the ancient colonists were constant reminders of the Conflagration and all humankind lost.

After the hour or perhaps an eternity, Roron turned to face them from the co-pilot's seat. "We're close to the border now. We have to cross the Stretch and we'll be free."

The entire Goldmarsh was the delta of the Goldwater River. It meandered, getting increasingly wider as it descended from the Striped Mountains in the northeast. The Stretch was the largest section of open river, the other side being the invisible border between the two countries.

The swamp peeled back revealing an open gulf of muddy brown freshwater. Fahon felt immediately relief, at least they weren't going to run into anything out here. The river sprawled out as far as his enhanced eyes could see, a huge expanse rivaling the biggest lakes in Ophan.

A loud beeping sound emitted from the dashboard. Roron opened a hidden viewscreen in front of him, display springing to life with information and charts.

"Two scout-drones approaching from the northwest," Roron said, voice thick with fear. "They're following the river, probably on a patrol."

"Will they be able to see us?" Fahon asked.

Roron scratched the side of his head. "I mean, we are shielded from infrared scopes, and we have a low radar profile."

"We're still an object moving across open water at high speed. If they don't see us, they're blind," Guster said and punched the accelerator.

The electric motor shot the boat forward in an instant. Fahon's safety harness jolted as he was thrown back with powerful G-force.

"Uh…they're headed in our direction," Roron said, voice wavering. He was straining against the force of acceleration too.

"Coming to investigate," Guster said in a cool manner. The man no doubt had lived through hundreds of moments of danger, with the war he fought in and being a smuggler afterward. "Their drones fly light. There's no weapons on those scouts."

Fahon sighed with relief.

"We'll slow down when we get p-"

The surface of the river ahead of the Nightskimmer exploded with a blinding flash. The sudden shockwave displaced the river water outward in a giant wave. Guster yanked on the controls, whipping them sideways. The wave crashed into the vessel with violent force. The boat flipped three times through the air. In a miracle, it managed to land upright.

Fahon fought the sudden dizziness and retched.

Despite how shaken everyone was, Arik's had his eyes squeezed shut, Guster punched the accelerator again. The Nightskimmer ripped back on its path with a great jet of water.

Roron tapped his finger on the display. "Uh…These are fighter-drones!"

Fighter-drones all the way out here? Why?

"It was a warning shot." Guster's confidence had retreated. He sounded grim. Their lives were threatened now.

Fighter-drones were typically equipped with a devastating cannon, rockets, and air-to-air missiles. They were nearly as big as single passenger airships.

Fahon spotted an overhead hatch. He inhaled deeply to steady his nerves and then unbuckled his restraints. "I'll take the drones out. Guster, you keep us moving."

Toron unbuckled himself to help, popping the hatch open for Fahon. Wind howled inside the cabin. Fahon removed his own harness and stood, steadying himself against the constant bobbing. The Nightskimmer flew across the water like a skipping stone at this high of speed.

Fahon pulled himself onto the roof of the Nightskimmer. Divinity followed and he expected the wind to blow it away. The Caster simply floated there, as if tethered to the roof by a rope. Strange.

His shoes slipped and he nearly plummeted into the brown river water rolling past them. He Phase-crafted a set of blue crystalline boots with sharp cleats. The hyper-sharp Phasematter punctured the roof, stabilizing him in place. He turned his attention to the sky, straining with his enhanced perception to get a bead on the fighter-drones.

A hissing rocket with a bright a tail of fire was headed straight for the Nightskimmer.

Divinity, without a command, summoned a blue crystalline dome of Phasematter around the vessel. The rocket burst in the air above the Nightskimmer, which was largely shielded from shrapnel by the dome. Fahon was thrown back by the blast wave, his makeshift cleats keeping his lower half lodged in place. He fell onto his rear. The dome dissipated in a quick flash of blue flame.

Grunting, he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling for a second as he stabilized his position with clenching leg muscles. The first fighter-drone was easy to spot, following the smoke trail from the rocket. Focusing with his Caster, everything slowed, including his target. He locked on, judging the trajectory of his projectile. He had to time it perfectly.

He suddenly knew the exact location to throw it. Like he had calculated it in an instant. Except, it wasn't him doing it, Divinity was providing him a targeting solution.

He Phase-crafted a long spear of hyper-sharp Phasematter and it flew as a blue streak straight towards the fighter-drone. The tip of the weapon pierced through its left engine, impaling the drone. The engine exploded a few seconds later in a blinding flash and a fireball. Debris rained into the waters as the drone careened, ending with a massive splash.

The second drone was obvious, as it had dropped low and was skimming over the waters as it attempted to get a bead on the Nightskimmer. A rotary gun under its nose opened fire, spraying a stream of armor piercing rounds.

Fahon materialized a massive blue triangle of Phasematter and spiked it into the roof of the Nightskimmer. The massive rounds peppered the triangle, flinging blue chips, and creating a precarious web of cracks. Concentrating, he poured his Caster's power into reinforcing the shield. After a few moments of pelting Phasematter uselessly, the gunner adjusted aim. The rounds plunked into the water behind them, inching closer to hitting the engine block of the vessel.

Fahon quickly dismissed the triangle shiel. This time he Phase-crafted a cluster of tiny blue sphere, flinging them like a shotgun blast at the narrow profile of the chasing drone.

The drone took at least half a dozen of the pellets, embedding deep into its armored hull. It stopped shooting and swayed in the air precariously.

Fahon growled and sent wave after wave of shining blue spears at the drone to take it down. Smoke streamed from multiple holes and a wing broke free, spinning backwards into the dark. The drone tumbled out of control and hit the water, splintering and exploding as it tumbled across the surface.

A moment later Fahon dropped back into the cabin. Divinity zipped inside chittering excitedly and Fahon closed the hatch with a bang. He dropped onto the bench and quickly fastened his harness, his ears ringing from the explosions. Toron and Arik were staring, mouths agape, at him.

"Good work, Your Excellence." Guster's voice thick with pride. "Your grandpa would have been proud."

Fahon grinned and settled back in his seat, surprised at his own actions as well.

Roron cheered a few moments later. "We made it past the border!"

Guster guided the Nightskimmer along the river's edge, finally turning on headlights, now they were safe. They slowed to a steadier pace and the ride smoothed out. The marsh eventually peeled back to a brackish bay. They followed the coastline passing hundreds of small islands, some tiny sandbars with seabirds standing sentinel in their great flocks.

The land beside them peeled away from swampy flats into rolling rainforest covered hills. Steep jade mountains slumbered in the distance beneath Haven's glow. As the Twins rose in the east, their light painted the clouds a blazing purple. The Nightskimmer pulled into a small inlet and anchored. Guster shut down the engines and let them cool.

The vessel bobbed on the waves. The roof slid forward, opening them to the humid morning air. Nearby, spotted dolphins played and splashed in the water.

Everyone unbuckled and stretched, looking at their surroundings. Toron opened a storage compartment and tossed everyone ration bars. Arik looked like he wanted to be sick as he bit into his and gnawed on it. Fahon stuffed his bar into a jacket pocket. Better to conserve food, for now.

Fifteen minutes later, Fahon finally spoke, "What are we waiting for?"

"Your ride." Guster gnawed on his ration bar.

"The 'Skimmer doesn't have enough charge to take you all the way to Zele," Roron explained. "We know a nice guy, a fisherman, who will bring you the rest of the way. Should be a peaceful trip."

"Speaking of fishing," Toron said, opening a floor compartment. He pulled out an angling rod and tackle box. Fixing a wiggling lure to the line he cast it out into the open water, where it plinked beneath the waves.

The morning pressed on, light of the Twins growing hotter and hotter. Fahon had never been this far south. He didn't know how intense the suns were this time of year. They were nearly sitting on the equator at this point.

A smudge appeared on the distance and Roron began waving his arms and shouting. The boat, with huge crane arms, grew larger as it bobbed across the waves in their direction.

Arik motioned at Fahon. "Hide the Caster."

Fahon nodded and snatched Divinity, putting it in his pocket. It had been busy chirping every time a dolphin jumped out of the water.

The boat pulled into the inlet and alongside the Nightskimmer, dwarfing it. The crew aboard, grizzled looking men with leathery skin and salt-stained coveralls, tossed a chain ladder. Everyone climbed to the deck.

Guster spoke quietly with the captain, a man with a long beard, large belly, and a tight orange knit cap. Fahon couldn't help looking around suspiciously at the boat and its crew. Arik, catching on, set a reassuring hand on his forearm.

"The captain and his crew are good men. Guster won't tell them who you are. Come on, let's go below and get some rest. We won't arrive in Zele until the evening."

Fahon thanked Guster, Roron, and Toron. They shook hand and followed Arik below deck.