The Freerunner worked his magic and secured a room large enough for the six of them. It was an abandoned spare room above a storehouse by the port with only a dusty, unused stove in the corner. There was no privacy as they all had to sleep sitting against the wall but at the very least it was warm and the Yscian had a place to hide while they fulfilled their duties around the city.
His first task was to establish some sort of communication back to the Academy. If a Gate were to open at the Heart, the Academy would be the safest place to be with the shortest distance. The Unseeing couldn’t fly or swim (he presumed) and he had some confidence the administration wouldn’t let Bringers wreak havoc on the island.
There were five boats that frequented Academy island. When Verne and Ral set out that night, they found none of them at port.
“They usually have two here at night,” Verne explained. “Three on the island. It’s for emergency transport. How can they have none here?”
Both of them were tired from the long ride but Verne had not expected to expend much energy just talking to the boatswains. Ral helped him look along the port, past the odorous fish selling stalls that were empty at night and the handfuls of people carrying crates and boxes around.
“You should ask a guard,” Ral suggested. They tracked one down easily as they stood in pairs in incremental spots along the port. In fact, as Verne looked around, he thought there were more guards than usual.
“Guardsman,” Verne gave a curt nod to the one they were approaching. He was aware both he and Ral looked quite haggard, but he did his best to act as if he was presentable. The Guard stood up straight and saluted him. “Where is the boat to the Academy?”
“My lord,” the closest guard replied dutifully. “They have not shown all day. Our latest information is that the Academy has ordered transportation to the island be stopped.”
“Who gave that order?” Verne demanded, brow creased.
“We don’t know specifically, sir. We were told the administration gave the instruction,” the other guard chimed in. That could mean anyone.
“Thank you,” Verne said curtly, then turned away so the guards couldn’t see the troubled look on his face. He waited until he and Ral were well out of earshot before turning to his friend.
“I don’t like this,” Verne said. “This isn’t normal. Professor Yepla would never prevent travel like this, especially if he knows we’re still here.”
“Neither would Camaz,” Ral agreed. “And the two of them would convince the headmaster otherwise. Someone else is doing this.”
Verne passed a hand over his face, calloused hands rasping over his growing beard. Who else besides the highest ranking administrator at the Academy would have the power to tell the boatswains to abandon their spots? The answer scared him. He glanced over to the very center of the Heart where a beautiful pale-pink building stood. The tops of it were only visible while one stood close to the harbor. The emperor’s palace (and residence) was purposely and aesthetically framed by lush trees and an eccentric array of buildings. The surrounding buildings were occupied by the emperor’s staff and numerous concubines. At a casual glance, it looked to be just like any of the other opulent buildings in the area, but upon closer inspection, one would see the palace was embedded with blocks of Pearlstone which gave it a faint pink color. It was, of course, to give it a warmer tone befitting of Gaia.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
What he saw back in Gymor already left a bad taste in his mouth. He had considered and reconsidered telling the group about it but he couldn’t quite believe it himself. It made him a Parts-damned hypocrite and it ate at him; he had gone around telling the twins he only believed what he saw. He saw Pinnlo there, fleeing the scene of a Gate and yet…
“Verne?”
He looked up to see Ral’s concerned face. “I’m alright,” he said, then sighed. “There’s not much we can do. We can figure it out tomorrow morning. Go back to rest, I’ll bring up some food for everyone.”
The red headed man nodded but made no move to go back. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t… myself after Mikol joined us,” Ral said awkwardly. “I left you to deal with a lot by yourself.”
Verne raised his eyebrows, startled at the apology. “No apology needed,” he said. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Weelll, then this is a preemptive apology then.” Ral broke into a grin. “For when you do get sick of me and my problems.”
Verne returned the grin a little tiredly and encouraged his friend to go back to the group. Perhaps Aris and Laell would be at work already, perhaps the Freerunner would have something for him to do. Regardless, Verne felt he needed some time alone and was relieved seeing Ral retreat back to their hideout.
He understood what was happening with the Yscian. Aris had tried to be vague about it but it couldn’t be any more obvious. Verne was sure Ral wouldn’t appreciate having another person’s opinion in his ear. In truth he didn’t think Ral had any problems…
At the very least Mikol wanted him. Again, he pushed the thought away.
He went down streets that seemed crowded and sought out stalls or stores that sold food. They were well lit, the food stalls even better lit than ones that sold other products such that customers could see the quality of their food. He had to find something relatively cheap to feed all six of them and something that Aris could eat as well. He briefly wondered if the Ysican would refuse certain foods but remembered he ate anything they offered him during their travels.
Wandering around the markets and simply thinking about food served as a decent distraction. He could almost imagine they were just on a trip and he was making a food run. The jovial hawking of the merchants, the warm glow of torches, the laughter of tipsy men made it seem like everything was fine.
He got carried away exploring the night markets of the Heart, wandering further than he had intended. The shops gradually began to show products that seemed more expensive and Verne realized he had entered the area of shops that catered to the nobility.
Nothing he could buy here. He turned to return to a steamed bun stall close to the harbor when a soft voice called out to him.
“Verne…”
It stopped him in his tracks. He looked back to see his mother standing between the stalls, pale face shining beneath her dark hair. His father stood just behind her, tall and proud. And next to both of them was their long time porter, Pinnlo.