It was late in the evening before Lewis and Emily left their room at The Golden Cannonball for dinner. When they returned after exploring the market, they found the bar a lot rowdier than they had left it. For that reason, they had decided to wait before they went in search of a meal.

Now, with the bar significantly quieter, they sat opposite each other at one of the small wooden tables. Looking around the room, it seemed as if only those staying at The Golden Cannonball remained. That was except for an elderly man with greasy brown hair, whom Lewis had spotted when they first arrived. It now looked suspiciously like he had fallen asleep, Lewis thought as he looked at him slumped in a dark corner.

‘There you are,’ Cecelia said as she placed their meals in front of them on the table.

‘It looks wonderful,’ Emily said, smiling up at the woman who stood over them while Lewis examined the chicken breast that had been placed in the centre of an assortment of vegetables.

‘I get my fair share of practise,’ Cecelia laughed.

‘When we asked about The Golden Cannonball earlier, the man was in shock that we didn’t know where it was,’ Lewis said.

‘You aren’t from around here, are you?’ she asked as she began putting the vacant chairs up on the tables while she talked.

‘No, we’re both from Tristan,’ Lewis replied between mouthfuls. ‘This is really good.’

‘I know the place,’ she said. ‘Winston was from there. We first met when he came to Arcis to deliver some cargo on a ship. He spent a long time travelling between here and Whitecliff, at least until he had his accident. After that, he moved here. We got married and opened this place not long after.’

‘What happened?’ Emily asked.

‘His hand got crushed,’ she said sadly. ‘They were at sea in a ferocious storm. He was securing the cargo when one of the crates fell on his hand.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Emily said sympathetically, looking up from her meal for a moment. ‘We had a bad storm on the way across.’

‘They tend to whip up around this time of year just off the coast,’ Cecelia said, taking the final chair from the table next to theirs and sitting down. ‘So why has Edmund sent you two all the way out here on your own?’

‘He wanted us to track down his brother. They’re trying to recover the crown so that they can crown the new king before a prophecy is fulfilled,’ Lewis said, deciding it was better not to mention that he was supposed to be the new king.

‘What happened to Sebastian? He was in power for as long as I’ve known Winston,’ Cecelia said.

‘He died recently,’ Lewis replied quickly. For the second time, he decided not to share the full facts, just in case someone else was listening. He didn’t want another situation like the one they had on the ship.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Winston will be devastated to hear that when he gets back,’ she said quietly.

‘Who’ll be devastated to hear what?’ a man asked, appearing at her shoulder suddenly. Brushing his wet brown hair out of his eyes, he looked down at the three of them. As he lowered his hand, Lewis caught sight of a series of scars. This must be Winston.

‘Sebastian Vandemark died recently,’ Cecelia said gently.

For a moment, he didn’t quite seem to believe her, but when he saw the looks on all their faces, he slumped back against the table. ‘It can’t be,’ he muttered.

‘It’s true. Edmund sent these two to find his brother,’ she explained.

Contemplating the two who sat before him, Winston scratched his chin. ‘I don’t think I can help you find Edmund’s brother. No one has seen or heard from Thomas since he was exiled from Tristan years ago.’

‘According to Edmund, Thomas is living in Eraea,’ Lewis said. ‘He said you might be able to help us get there.’

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

‘I never knew Thomas was out this way. I’ll get my schedule and see what I can do for you,’ Winston said, heading for the bar.

‘How did Sebastian die? Old age?’ Cecelia asked.

‘Old age? I doubt it,’ Winston called from the bar. ‘He was only half a dozen years older than you and me.

Pausing, Lewis glanced at Emily, unsure what he should say. When she nodded, he looked back at Winston and Cecelia. ‘He was poisoned.’

‘What! By who?’ Winston shouted as Cecelia raised a hand to her mouth. At Winston’s shout, half a dozen people who were still in the bar looked up from their meals or drinks. ‘Mind your own business,’ Winston growled when he realised they were all watching him.

‘We don’t know,’ Lewis said as Winston pulled a chair off the table and sat down next to his wife. ‘No one at the castle does either,’ he added as Winston thumbed through a small red book.

‘How do you know all this if you don’t mind me asking?’ Winston said this without looking up.

‘I used to live in the castle. I was a Sister of Tristan,’ Emily said quietly, chasing the last few peas around her plate with her fork.

‘I see,’ Winston muttered. ‘Well, you’re in luck. I have to collect a delivery from Eraea in two days. You can come with me if you like.’

‘Are you sure?’ Lewis asked, relieved that, for once, there seemed to be an easy solution to their problems.

‘Of course! I was lucky to be able to call Sebastian and Edmund friends; it is the least I can do,’ Winston said. ‘As long as you’re both up and ready to leave first thing in the morning,

‘We will be,’ Lewis assured him. ‘Thank you for the food as well, Cecelia; it was wonderful.’

‘That’s no trouble,’ Cecelia said, blushing slightly at the praise as she picked up their plates. ‘Will there be anything else?’

Glancing across at Emily, Lewis raised his eyebrows questioningly. ‘No, not tonight, thank you,’ he said when she shook her head. ‘We should get some rest if we have an early start in the morning.’

‘A good idea,’ Winston agreed as he stood up. ‘It is a fair ride to Eraea from here.’

Bidding Winston and Cecelia goodnight, Lewis and Emily headed into the room that Cecelia had taken them to earlier, climbing the narrow staircase that wound its way to the two floors above the bar. Opening the door to their room, Lewis found the small oil lamp that he had lit earlier still burning. On the far side of the room, moonlight was flooding through the open curtains.

‘For once we actually got some good luck with something we needed,’ Lewis said, flopping down onto the bed. With all the travelling that they had done over the last few days, he was exhausted. Now they had another long day ahead of them before heading to Eraea.

‘Can you pass me the bag?’ Emily asked, pointing to the small brown paper bag that sat on the bedside table. Reaching behind him, Lewis grasped it, throwing it to her. ‘I said pass, not throw!’ Emily said it angrily as she lunged forward to grab it before it hit the floor.

‘What is it anyway if it isn’t rubbish?’ Lewis asked, propping himself up on his elbows as he watched her walk over to the window.

‘If you’re quiet for five minutes, I might tell you,’ she said as she drew the curtains shut, leaving a narrow gap in the middle. Taking the glass prism from the bag, she placed it on the windowsill, carefully lining it up with the strip of moonlight that was filtering through the gap. ‘Put the lamp out.’

Silently, Lewis did as he was told, leaning over to blow out the flame. As he looked back around, Emily stepped away from the glass prism. For a moment, nothing happened, and then, one by one, dozens of pinpricks of light appeared on the walls and ceiling.

‘It’s called a star map,’ she said quietly as she watched more of the lights appear. ‘I recognised it when I saw it at the market. I’ve only ever seen one of these before.’

‘Where?’

‘Locked in a high-security vault beneath the castle,’ she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘That man had no idea what he had.’

‘They’re valuable then?’ Lewis asked, glancing at the inconspicuous piece of glass.

‘Not just that. They’re extremely rare,’ Emily said. ‘Apparently they are supposed to date back to the times of the precursors.’

‘These precursors—I keep hearing them mentioned. I thought it was just a figure of speech,’ Lewis said as he sat up beside her.

‘No, according to Sebastian, they were real,’ Emily said as she stared up at the stars projected onto the ceiling.

‘Tell me about them.’

‘I don’t know much,’ she admitted. ‘Only that there was a war between two factions with different beliefs. Tristan was built away from the war. A city built by exiles, for exiles.’

‘What happened to the precursors?’ Lewis asked.

‘Supposedly they were all killed.’

‘You don’t believe that, though, do you?’ He said it slowly.

‘No. Everything we know has a way of surviving. They change,’ Emily said, her eyes still not leaving the stars. ‘We hear that they’re curing diseases and viruses all the time, but in the end they might find a cure for one, but it’s already mutated in half a dozen different ways. The original is gone, but it lives on under another name. Everything is the same, and we’re the same.

‘Look at us. You were an archer, and I was a Sister of Tristan. For both of us to survive, we had to change our lives. Now we’re just a couple of people lost in the world trying to fix something we didn’t break, something we didn’t want anything to do with.’

‘Maybe it’s a good thing that we had to change to survive,’ Lewis said slowly. ‘If we didn’t, we would never have met.’

‘Where did that come from?’ she asked, finally looking away from the stars, her eyes finding his in the dark.

‘It’s true,’ Lewis said defensively as he looked away.

‘I know,’ she said simply, leaning her head on his shoulder.