Boasts are naught but stirred air. Only deeds matter. By that reckoning, Caeorn had been vindicated: it had been a run to rival Fyre's Breath's epic sail from pole to pole. Driven by high winds at its back, the ship reached Fsisbon's port in less than a week. Algidon and his swirling cloak of storm languished far behind them in the depths of the Sanguinolent Sea by the time the mists of Sickle Bay swallowed the ship.

We’ll need every minute of the time, Gerard thought nervously. Every wave that passed the prow relieved him, putting more distance between them and the storm. Yet each league took those in his care further from Tom and Maggie. Fsisbon lay, quite literally, across the world from Hiehaven. One the furthest points in Æronthrall he could possibly take Maggie’s children away from her. The children he’d promised to return to her as soon as the storm passed.

For the thousandth time, Gerard regretted his path. And for the thousand and first time, he reassured himself that their duty to all people outweighed his duty to a few. The wisdom of that conclusion did nothing to ease the bitterness. The unkept promise was as ash in his mouth.

But their path had been set and sailed. All that remained was to see it through. For that, he’d need all of his focus. Gerard needed answers—and quickly—to questions that had remained unsettled for thousands of years. He had to pry those answers from the fists of the most ambitious and secretive plyers in Æronthrall. His assets were desperation and an arcane hammer.

His liabilities? Gerard looked at the two mute plyers, barely a month or so into adulthood, and the two squabbling siblings not yet reached it. Arrad and Tomyko had not seen eye to eye on the sail. All of them were exhausted and afraid. Glim still had bloodstains in his tunic, and the desolation in his gaze did the boy no favors.

They’d make a fine party of supplicants, to be sure. Nothing about them would command the interest of the world’s wisest sages. In the best of circumstances, they had their work cut out for them. Gerard had heard stories of the arcane capital. Nothing moved quickly there except tempers and bruised egos.

The closer they drew to that secretive city, the less he liked their chances.

Their first challenge had been docking the ship. Buoys bobbed in the mists, casting multicolored streaks of light across the water. Caeorn guided them surely, but came to a halt against the harbormaster’s fleet. The trio of men who boarded the ship immediately set Gerard on edge. Two bored guards flanking a reedy man with immaculate robes, a gaudy hat, and stern spectacles.

“State your business,” he asked sharply, turning up his nose when he saw the passengers.

“Delivering these, er, ambassadors here,” Caeorn said.

“From?”

“Hiehaven.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” the man said dismissively.

“You soon will,” Gerard said smoothly, putting on his most charming voice. “We have news of the approaching storm. It’s urgent.”

“Yes. Most assuredly. That’s the dozenth time I’ve heard that today. Have you anything more… tangible to report?”

Gerard stared at the man, unsure of what he meant by that. But Glim straightened and walked over with a poise Gerard had never seen from the boy. He matched the man’s bluster, sneer for sneer, and casually reached a hand into a pouch at his side. With a bored expression he passed a brass cylinder to the deputy harbormaster. The man took the Elderkin trinket and his eyes widened.

“Of course, news of the storm must be delivered as quickly as possible. Berth nine should suit. Follow us in.”

The morning sun revealed a city of immense grandeur. Fsisbon featured a haphazard jumble of every architectural style Gerard had ever seen or dreamed of. Ruins crumbled against the bases of sleek towers. Orderly walls of stone mingled with organic metal shapes. Torchlight, gaslight, and multicolored light with no obvious source colored the buildings. Slight nausea welled within Gerard. All of it seemed so foreign to the timber cabins and natural surroundings he preferred.

The moment of vertigo fit his situation. A week ago he'd been planning a trip to the foothills to replenish his stock of salvestem root. Now he found himself the impromptu guardian of Maggie's three children, plus a half-mad soldier with formidable, unstable power. Soldiers are a bother to begin with. Always thinking with their spears.

That's precisely why Gerard had chosen Hiehaven. To find peace and tranquility among the fields and forests.

Now he'd sailed to another continent through a divine storm, to visit a city he knew nothing of, to seek a snippet of ancient myth that might not even help them.

Gerard's confidence flagged.

“Ahh, Fsisbon has an odd kilter, does it not?” Caeorn commiserated, misreading his expression. “A bit of advice. Keep a reign on these charges of yours. Plying within the city is fine, but using essentiæ to fight is not. The city itself will thwart those who ply against another. I've seen it myself. Both lads swallowed up inside an enormous sphere before they plied the first hint of essentiae. Don't know what happened to them.”

Theirs was not the only ship seeking entry into the busy port. Merchant vessels of every description jostled each other and awaited their turns at the docks. The muffled sounds of shouts and thuds floated to them across the water. When Caeorn finally berthed and guided them down the ramp, he seemed sorry to see them go.

“Good travels, Caeorn.” Tomyko grasped the arm of the older man and held it for a moment before turning away.

Gerard also clasped arms with him and thanked Caeorn for the quick and safe passage. For just a moment, Gerard detected a flicker of sheer terror in Caeorn's eyes. Perfectly understandable, for the man had to turn around and sail past Algidon. What lay at the heart of that storm?

Gerard watched his charges surreptitiously as they assembled on the dock and moved into the city. The shouts and thuds sounded far louder here, and scents clogged his nose. Rotted seaweed and salt. Acrid everbrown pitch coating the ship hulls. Simmering stews, way overpriced, but enticing nevertheless. Arrad observed the scene coolly, while Tomyko smiled with glee at each new sight his eyes encountered. Lhani and Glim hung together, absorbed in their silent, unfathomable troubles. Strain etched their faces, but all told, their spirits seemed in remarkably good condition.

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

Perhaps Maggie would not entirely kill him. Perhaps merely string him up in the town square for a day or two and pelt him with rotten fruit.

No reason to stand around. Gerard hurried them into Fsisbon. None of them had ever been in a city, himself included, and it showed. Each of them seemed overwhelmed, if their expressions were any guide. Gerard felt the same way. Only Glim remained the same.

As they cleared the docks and the wind shifted, the scents of spices, incense, and soot mingled in his nose. Did he detect salvestem? The irony bemused him. In Hiehaven he needed to plan a three-day trip to get it, and here he could simply walk up to a stall and buy it.

Hawkers pushed fantastical wares on him. Another irony, for Gerard had no ability to ply whatsoever, while it coursed wildly through the veins of the rest. Gerard shook his head over and over, rudely cutting one woman off before she even spoke. She shrunk back, stunned by his rancor.

When a fortuneteller promised to reveal the mysteries of love and wealth to him, Gerard finally snapped.

“Tell me where the Freesquare is. Now.”

Beside him, Arrad and Glim closed in, while Tomyko picked up a cheap-looking dagger from a souveneir stall which spewed flame when he waved it around. The fortuneteller blanched at the set of their faces and pointed behind him. Gerard pushed through the street in irritation. They came to a quieter avenue of shops and imposing buildings. Clusters of robed figures whispered to each other and paid the newcomers no mind.

Gerard looked around, expecting to find the Freesquare, but saw only rows upon rows of towers and shops. Gerard hailed a man walking by with robes swishing the stones and a parchment clasped in his hand.

“Where is the Freesquare?”

“I'm headed that way.”

As they walked, Gerard's urgency emanated from him like heat from a flame. Their guide mistook it for tourist overload, and chatted with Gerard as they walked.

“Most of the secret societies in Æronthrall are headquartered here. My own, the Faction of Symmetry, is just there in the black and white building. Incantus Troix lays at the end of the street. They'll research any matter of lore for you in four to six months, though it will cost you a fair sum.”

Gerard could not hide his consternation. “I have more like four to six hours, and no coin. I need an answer soon, else this city may be rubble before day’s end.”

“Ahh… a doomsayer, are you? Good luck in the Freesquare. You will be heard. I cannot promise you will be listened to.”

Their guide led them into a wide plaza whose scale and beauty arrested even Gerard's impatience. He looked up as fires blossomed from brass urns above him in the shapes of giants. Nearby, ice sculptures of animals moved as though alive. A trio of women sang, causing trinkets to appear and disappear. Lhani waved her hand through the air between the singers. One of them smiled, perhaps recognizing a fellow Winder.

Behind him, Gerard heard Tomyko gasp and spun, concerned that something had happened to the boy. But Tomyko stared, rapt, across the plaza at a sculpture that dwarfed the rest. A fountain surged into the air, where the plume of water froze with an audible crackle. Gerard heard a shrill rush of wind and the spire broke off at the base and floated sideways. A massive pillar of fire erupted and the spire of ice hissed and steamed into vapor.

Then the pillar of flame was itself drawn by the wind, curving into an arch of fire. Just as it reached the other side, the fountain surged again, dousing the flame before it froze. Gerard felt a warm mist on his face.

“Impressive, isn't it?” the mage said. Their guide led them past the plaza to a wide arena in the shadow of three old towers. Neat tiers of stone stepped down to meet a flat triangle of marble. At each corner stood silver spires with concentric rings at the top. Glim and Lhani looked at each other in panic. Gerard could only surmise that something about the totems reminded them of Algidon.

A young man in robes slightly too large for him stood on the stage speaking an incantation in an old language. The gathered sages looked bored. A bald man in spectacles, apparently some form of arbiter, interrupted him.

“You need to work a bit more on that incantation, my lad. Bring it to us again when you've perfected it.”

His eyes cast around for another speaker. Gerard strained to catch his attention, his desperation returned in full.

“You, sir. Do you wish to address the assembly?”

Gerard nearly sobbed with relief. “It is essential that I do so.”

“Very well. Step down and be heard!”

The young man shuffled off the square as Gerard walked down an aisle in the stone ledges to take his place. Gerard steadied himself and tried to step onto the triangle. But he could not. No matter where he tried to step, some unseen force around the stage would not admit him.

The arbiter took off his spectacles and wiped his hand over his eyes.

“Daft man. You must ply essentiæ to step onto the Freequare!”

Gerard felt foolish and looked to the others for help. Tomyko hurried to his side.

“I shall try.”

Tomyko tried to step onto the square. A tiny wisp of silver light sputtered from the nearest totem. Several of the assembled sages laughed. They poked each other and perked up, enjoying the sport as Tomyko strained to walk onto the stage.

Glim's jaw set and his eyes grew hard as he strode past Gerard. At his approach the totems hummed and sputtered silver strands. When he grew close, the totems shuddered and billowed massive clouds of silver light. Tendrils writhed in the air towards each other, wreathing the square in a brilliant ribbon of light. He stepped through it, his hair crackling with static as wisps of energy trailed in his wake.

Every spectator in the square stared. By the wonder and fear on their faces, Gerard could tell they'd never seen such a reaction before.

His guess was confirmed as lances of light rose from the totems to the heavens. Not just in Freesquare. All over Fsisbon, beacons of silver light streamed into the sky. Alarms clamored around the city. A pulsing hum rose around them, turning the air itself into energy. The assembly clapped their hands over their ears, looking around in shock. The maddening pulse finally settled to a background hum, but Gerard felt it pulsing in his chest.

Glim stood in the center of the triangle and turned in a circle, surveying the crowd. He pointed at his throat, made an X with his arms, and stabbed his finger at Gerard.

“You may address us!” the arbiter yelled in a panic.

Gerard straightened his tunic and walked onto the stage to join Glim.