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Twelve

Wendell crossed his right leg over his left and leaned back in his chair from the hunched-forward position he had occupied while the young man spoke. He hesitated in formulating a response.

-That’s all there is to it?

-Yes, Torv lied. He died not long after.

-Making his request almost a formal last, dying wish.

Wendell did not say out loud what was implied in his statement, which was that if his father was to have a dying wish, he would have had to expect to be approaching death as he sat smoking his pipe, feet in the pond, watching his son row in.

-Yes

-He must have been a very strong man, your father.

-I loved both my parents. Now you know why I ran.

-Indeed, Wendell said. Indeed. Now how do you intend to stay alive?

It was such a blunt question and put forward to matter-of-factly by the old man that Torv couldn’t help but laugh.

-It is funny isn’t it? The old man said.

-A few seasons ago my biggest concern was convincing Daisy Heartfand to kiss me.

-And did you succeed?

Torv turned red and looked into the dying embers of Wendell’s fire. His laughter had faded away as quickly and unexpectedly as it had come. He stood up to stoke the fire, even though he was uncomfortably warm.

-Is that really important now? He said, his back turned to the old man.

-I would argue, my young friend, that it’s more important than ever.

Torv shook his head disconsolately and sat back down across from Wendell. The old man was smiling kindly at him, his eyes twinkling in the newly-rejuvenated fire.

-No, Torv said. I think we were close a few times...but now I don’t see how it could ever happen.

-I’ve lived a goodly long time, Torv and I’ve found it is very easy to make irrefutable claims with words like ever in them. In fact, it’s often a consolation or a self kindness to do so. To have hope is to be in pain. But you have to trust me on this, boy. It’s always worth it. You may kiss this Daisy Heartfand yet. Let’s not give into despair on that point, lest it infect our further discussion of keeping you alive.

-I’m not good at anything, Torv said. I’m going to need help. A lot of it.

-I agree with your second statement. Obviously, you’re not bad at staying alive on your own as you’ve made it this far. While I don’t know if they have the strength to protect you, The Rebellion would likely be willing to try.

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-There’s a rebellion?

-I see The Islands’ suppression campaign is going quite well. Yes, my boy, there is a rebellion. The first of any significance in my long life.

-Okay, Torv said. I can go to the rebels.

He said it with a world-weariness of a man grown old and disillusioned with life, in spite of his still-rosy cheeks beneath the road-grime. He made no requests of the old man to explain any more about the rebellion: how it had started, why it had started, how long it had been going on. The energy to care was beyond him. He resigned himself to his fate with a despondency that did not suit him. He did not have the burning curiosity, that many leagues away, consumed Daisy as she fought to learn everything she could about her world and what it had kept from her. Wendell reached a hand forward and put it on Torv’s knee.

-Remember, no despair today. We must simply find the rebellion’s secret headquarters if such a place exists. Don’t you see how wonderful that is!

Torv admitted to Wendell that he was not entirely encouraged to find out that their location was secret or in fact may not exist at all.

-But of course it’s a huge improvement! Wendell said, standing up to pace the room, his beard swishing over his shoulder as he went. Now you have a destination. It isn’t just run run run all the time hither and thither. It is a gift. The gift of purpose. Not an easy one, I’ll grant you, but it’s what you’ll get. No, no Icarus don’t be ridiculous.

-Icarus has thoughts on the matter?

-They’re of no consequence just yet.

-Why aren’t th…

-Very well then, Icarus I will tell him, you great old featherbag!

Wendell ceased his pacing and once again stood with his back to the fire, how he had initially greeted his guest. He tucked his hands behind his back after running one through his beard to smooth it into place.

-Ahem, he said. Icarus would like it to be made known that he requests to accompany you in your quest to find The Rebellion.

-He...he wants to come with me?

-Evidently. It may prove beneficial, having wings on your side. Rarely hurts in any case.

It was only much later, weeks in fact, walking along a quiet path with Icarus on his shoulder did Torv realize what had been happening. Wendell was not upset with Icarus for interjecting his ideas. He was upset because Icarus was leaving him.

-Now, Wendell snapped after the matter of Icarus had been settled. Where are you to begin your search? I can make some educated guesses as to where The Rebellion would likely choose to make itself scarce. However, I have no doubt there are more than enough Islanders as clever as I am who can do the same. So tell me where that leaves us?

-I’m not sure, honestly.

-Nowhere different, I’m afraid. You’ll have to risk it unless you’ve got a better idea.

-Hardly.

-Then I suggest you turn your steps in the direction of The Southern Reach. Come, have a look. I’ll show you.

Torv accompanied Wendell to a bookshelf in his kitchen. Tucked among indecipherable recipes, bowls of unshelled nuts, and what looked suspiciously like owl droppings, was a rolled-up map. Wendell rolled it out over his greasy table and stabbed at a point on the map.

-That’s at least a thousand leagues South of here, Torv said incredulously. I’ll never make it.

-You’ll have to.

Torv stood for a long time staring down at the map, tracing the lines with his fingers: waterways, hunting paths, wagon roads, none of them for him. He would reside in the dark areas of the map, hunted all the while.

-They’re likely somewhere here, Wendell said, tracing an imaginary circle near the bottom edge of the worn map.

-Why so close to the coast? Seems like Island Guard patrols would be swarming all over them.

-Now that...is the most interesting bit. I believe they are that close to their enemy because The Rebellion itself began on the islands.