Borne on a cold wind, the storm of the season swept towards Lhaz. Revel pushed past the pain of Fish’s wicked kick and bore down on the oars. They’d tarried too long on the atoll, and now, Revel had to out-row the shipbreaker.

A gray sheet rolled over the sky and cast Moricone Bay into twilight. Cold wind whipped the waves into whitecaps and churned the water dark as wine. Fish’s dinghy was but a cork, bobbling atop the tumult and Revel’s guts churned. At the bow, the mariner stared out with the horizon mirrored in his eyes. If the old man was afraid, Revel couldn’t tell. The lake had spit him up once, why not try twice?

“Rough one,” Revel ventured. He hoped for some reassurance.

“Row,” Fish replied.

Revel leaned into the wind and rowed, though he’d have liked to heave the rotten old reprobate overboard. After a time, bay and sky turned the same color, so the boat seemed motionless no matter how Revel rowed. Privately, he feared they were being blown backward, into the deep lake.

At last, Lhaz appeared on the horizon. Revel let out a silent sigh of relief. Home. The low jumble of Tinkerton scabbed around the harbor and the three districts of the upper city climbed behind, along the white cliffs of Wey. His eyes rose to the stately spires of the Quartiere.

One spire rose above them all, the Tower of the Unraveller. The crystal cupola caught the last rays of day and blazed like a beacon. Revel followed that star, his prize waited within. Drawn by thoughts of El Sha La, his thoughts grew confused and close, desire tangled in disgrace. Arath’s daughter was at the root of all that had gone wrong. Too soon, the gray ramparts of Ruptor Keep appeared. The reminder dashed his spirits completely.

Home no longer.

Revel wished he could cast the oars aside and let the storm swallow them both. A wave crashed against starboard and soaked them both.

“Row!” Fish grunted.

Miserable, Revel obeyed. In a single season, he’d gone from prince to galley slave. Months of rowing in the blinding sun. Months of seeing assassins in every shadow. Beaten, bruised, berated, and humiliated and it was all for nothing. He’d never landed a single touch. Revel squinted against the spray, sunk in a fathomless funk. Each stroke brought him closer to a city that hated him.

All he could think was:

How did I get here?

* * *

The drama began well before Revel V Ramos was born. At sixty-six, Duke Timonos III Ramos was more than thrice the age of his third wife, Giania of Aran. The court churned with controversy, but Timonos dismissed the whisperers with a knowing grin. When the babe was born, the resemblance was undeniable.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Vindicated, Timonos threw the grandest party Lhaz had ever seen. The jubilee raged for weeks in rivers of wine and cartloads of hors d’oeuvres. Timonos insisted on inviting everyone, even those who’d mocked him.

Then, one bleary morn, the grand finale came. Duke Timonos and Duchess Giania donned their full regalia and held court in the throne room. Immaculate, the pair loomed in their thrones and watched as each noble who’d called Timonos cuckold and Giana whore was dragged before them.

With the trueborn heir at her breast, Giania allowed each captive to beg her for mercy. Some supplicated, some shrieked, some snarled and spat. None were spared. The watchmen made great sport of stripping the naysayers naked as jays. Then came the tar, then the feathers. The unfortunates wept, but Timonos had just begun.

The duke pressed a silver fife to his lips. At pike-point, the miserable flock was forced to follow the Timonos the Piper and his duchess through the streets. The shameful parade was pelted and jeered at every step and led downhill to Hawker’s Hoop, where an enormous crowd waited.

Atop the herald’s pulpit, Timonos held the babe high and proclaimed him Revel, named for the citywide celebration he’d inspired. The applause nearly thundered him off the pulpit. Next, Timonos turned to the flock of prisoners and let them squawk for mercy.

The duke addressed the crowd:

“Shall we set these feathered fools free?”

“NO!” the crowd roared.

“Then I strip these slanderers of all lands and assets. They are outlawed. I give them to the people’s justice.”

How they howled! The crowd went wild, and the guard ushered duke, duchess, and babe away in great haste, for the mob was beyond all control. Screams followed them for blocks and blocks, and the story spread to every corner of the lake. In the nearly twenty years since, no one had dared defy the duke.

No one, but Revel.

* * *

“I said row, damn you! What are you doing?” Fish hissed.

Revel blinked. As his mind drifted, the current had turned against him. For all his efforts, they were still a long way from home. Now they were against the wind, his arms were nearly spent. They could not make it back to Lhaz.

“My arms are done. I’m steering us to shore. We’ll have to walk,” Revel panted.

“Bah! Give me those oars, weakling.”

“You’ll drown us both, old man.”

“Switch,” Fish ordered.

“The storm’s almost here. I don’t think you can make it,” Revel warned. It was ridiculous. For all his sinewy strength, Fish was half his size. But the mariner would not be denied. The boat rocked as they shuffled seats.

Fish yammered on all the while.

“You think? What you call thinking is what landed you in this shit predicament. It’s naught but hollow echoes in an empty gourd. Hear me now, boy. The future is fixed, and you are but a pawn. Fate placed her bets and cast you on your path. Your steps are writ in the stars, you shall land as she intends.

“If the Most High desires you reach the dock, there you shall stand. If she wants you on the bottom of the bay, there you’ll lay. Now, give me those oars, you spineless cur. I’ve got better things to do tonight than watch you fail.”

Fish snatched the oars from Revel’s hands. Revel sat and watched, eager to see the old man flop. The mariner paid him no mind and put oars in the water. The difference was stark.

Fish needed none of Revel’s big digs or great heaves. He worked with slow, skimming strokes and tacked back and forth against the wind. Soon, they were underway again. With half the effort, Fish drove the boat faster than Revel at full bore. He caught Revel’s look and cracked a crooked grin.

“Keep thinking.”

“I’ve been rowing wrong all summer,” Revel realized.

“Yup.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“When I asked you if you could row, you said yes.”

Revel blinked. He was astounded anyone could be so petty.

“A whole season! You let me flounder for an entire fucking season!”

“I said I’d teach you swords, not oars. If you weren’t a fool, you’d have figured it out yourself. Now, stop gawking, grab that bucket, and bail. I don’t need more dead weight.”

How bitter it was! Revel took the bucket and bailed the whole way home.