It was a bright night. The moon, near full, hung in the clear sky, its light enough to obscure the stars nearest it. More than that, its light, reflecting off the snow and ice floes, made it like a dim, hazy day.

It should have been day, anyway.

Sinitïa clutched at Meleng’s arm, huddling close to him in the bitter cold. “What time is it now?”

Meleng shrugged. “Getting close to noon, I think.” That was the best estimate he could manage, as he wasn’t sure how to tell time here. He was pretty certain that, in a couple more hours, the sun would creep over the southeast horizon, rise to a low height in the southern sky before disappearing again in the southwest just a couple hours later.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Sinitïa said.

“I’ve tried to explain.”

“And it still doesn’t make sense.”

He shrugged again. “It’s just the way it is.” He’d known about the odd days and nights here. He also knew why they happened the way they did, but trying to explain it to Sinitïa had been a mistake. She hadn’t even realised the days and nights in Arnor City didn’t stay the same length all year round. But knowing it happened and how had not been enough to prepare him to experience it.

His breath crystallised in the air in front of him and on the thick wool scarf wrapped around his face and mouth. He had to keep brushing bits of ice off it. His eyes stung in the bitterly cold air, provoking tears which froze on top of the scarf. He was worried they’d freeze on his skin or even in his eyes before they’d had a chance to drip down.

Another thing he’d known about, but hadn’t been prepared for.

He’d thought he knew cold. Arnorin winters could be harsh, but they were nothing like here. He’d known Sinitïa had not brought adequate clothing; he had not realised he hadn’t either. Luckily, Captain Gen had extra furs and blankets, and had been willing to give them to Meleng and Sinitïa.

“Jorvanultumn should have warned you,” Gen had said.

Jorvan, however, hadn’t realised, and Meleng couldn’t really blame him. Isyar didn’t experience cold the same way humans did. Jorvan just hadn’t known the clothes Meleng and Sinitïa had brought would be insufficient.

As the air had gotten colder and colder, and the nights longer and longer over the past couple weeks, Meleng and Sinitïa had stopped going up on deck much. Not that it was much warmer below deck, but at least they were shielded from the wind. He knew there were stories amongst the crew about what he and Sinitïa got up to alone in their cabin, since Jorvan was always on deck, helping keep the Lustrous Rose sailing. Meleng had seen the looks and smiles, and heard the whispered comments whenever he had come into the mess hall, especially if Sinitïa was with him. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: that the rumours existed or that the looks he got were all approving.

Now they stood on the cold quay outside of Chithishtheny. With Sinitïa huddled against him, it must look like the rumours were true. But it was no matter. Let people think whatever they wanted.

But the cold, the rumours, the messed up day-night cycle—none of that could take away from something bigger and more amazing.

They were in Isyaria.

“It’s beautiful,” Sinitïa said. “I want to paint it.”

Ahead of them, the mountains rose up, dark shadows in the bright night. In the opposite direction, past the Lustrous Rose, were the dark arctic waters dotted with the brighter ice floes, and past them, the mountains of the northern tip of the Arnorin continent.

Technically, they’d entered Isyaria when they reached that northern tip and the tiny settlement there named Zorlo. The Isyar there maintained it as a place for Arnorin ships to resupply and pick up an escort—an Isyar ship that would guide them through the difficult-to-sail waters of the arctic. However, they had been there for only a few hours, and Meleng and Sinitïa had never left the ship, so Zorlo didn’t really count. Only now were they truly in Isyaria.

On board the Lustrous Rose, the deck was awash with activity—but not by the crew. Isyar enchanters were using magic to unload the cargo. Meleng looked away quickly. He would have liked to watch what they were doing, but they were too far away to study from here. Besides, Isyar did not share their secrets with humans—evident from the fact that, immediately upon coming aboard, they had requested that any human wizards on board should move to the quay.

That was why he was shivering here now with Sinitïa. They had kicked her off too—after staring in awe at her for a while—not believing that someone with so much magical talent couldn’t actually cast spells.

But that didn’t matter either.

The sight before him was too amazing, too beautiful, and he was too excited about being in Isyaria for all the other stuff to bother him much. Besides, he would have just felt inadequate watching the Isyar anyway.

Sinitïa sniffled. At first, Meleng assumed it was because of the cold, but then she started to sob. He turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were barely visible under all the shawls and hoods over her face. Her eyes were red. The rest of her face was completely obscured.

“What’s wrong?”

“I told you. I want to paint the mountains.”

“That’s fine. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too cold! I can’t use my hands when they’re all wrapped up like this.” She let go of him and held up her hand in front of his face. Then she put her arms back around him—or as best she could given their heavy furs—and hugged him tight. “It’s not fair.”

“I’m sure we can find a way for you to paint,” Meleng said.

“You think so?”

He nodded. “Even if it’s just from inside and looking out a window.”

Sinitïa sniffled again, but nodded.

Something rubbed past Meleng’s leg, then pushed between him and Sinitïa.

“Jeanne!” Sinitïa let go of Meleng and bent down to grab hold of the shaggy dog. “You must be so cold.” She hugged the dog against herself.

“Believe me, she’s doing better than we are.” Captain Gen strode up to them, the packed snow and ice crunching beneath his boots.

First Mate Ting was right behind him, obscured at first due to the Captain’s greater height and bulk of his clothing. Somehow, Ting was wearing half as many layers as anyone else. “That dog can survive any environment.”

Sinitïa heaved and lifted Jeanne off the ground. “She’s shivering, so she’s still cold, and we all feel warmer when we hug others. She just wants to be hugged.” She held Jeanne tight against her chest.

“Your body heat won’t help much through…”

Sinitïa hugged Jeanne tighter.

Ting sighed and shook their head. “Oh, never mind.”

Meleng glanced back at the ship. Amongst the various figures moving about on deck, he hoped to pick out Jorvan, but no luck.

“If you’re looking for Jorvanultumn,” Gen said, “he’s talking with a couple other Isyar. I couldn’t follow most of what they were saying—Isyarian is a...complex language; I’ve never been able to master it—however, I did pick up that it was something to do with his fomase. He might be a while.”

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“What’s a fo...fo-what?” Sinitïa said.

“Fomase,” Meleng said. “It’s kind of like a fiancée.”

Sinitïa’s eyes widened. “Jorvan has a fiancée?”

“Soulmate is a closer translation, as I understand it,” Gen said. “Isyar don’t have the same concept of marriage we have. It’s more...well, it’s complicated as is so much about Isyar.”

“Jorvan says human romantic customs are more confusing,” Meleng said.

“That does tend to be the response of all cultures to the different ways of other cultures,” Gen said. “It comes from growing up in the culture. You never find your own culture confusing. However, I can assure you, theirs is the more complex. Has Jorvanultumn told you about the fomaze?”

Meleng took a moment. Had he said fomase or something else?

“You just told us,” Sinitïa said.

Gen shook his head. “Not fomase. Fomaze. It’s related, but different. Isyarian has some subtle pronunciation differences. Trust me, it’s very embarrassing to mix up fomase and fomaze.” He chuckled. “At any rate, a fomaze—” he pronounced the word slowly, emphasising the difference in the last syllable— “is...well…” He sighed. “No, Jorvanultumn can explain it if you want to know.”

“Will we get to meet her?” Sinitïa was hopping about on her feet, and almost dropped Jeanne.

“Who?” Gen asked.

“Jorvan’s fiancée.”

“Fomase,” Gen corrected.

“Whatever. His fomahsa then. Will we get to meet her?”

“Probably,” Meleng said. “Eventually. We should let him see her first though. They haven’t seen each other in a couple years now.”

“Let’s let Jorvanultumn be,” Gen said. “Come. I’ll show you into town. I’ve been here a few times before and can give you a little tour if you like. It might not be as in-depth as Jorvanultumn himself could give you, but he can always fill in any blanks I leave later. This way.” He strode towards the path at the end of the quay.

Jeanne squirmed in Sinitïa’s arms. After a moment, Sinitïa released her grip and the dog leapt from her arms, running after Captain Gen.

“What about our supplies?” Meleng asked.

“I’ll see that they’re delivered to you soon,” Ting said.

Meleng nodded and offered Sinitïa his hand, but she took his entire arm again. She looked back at Ting. “Coming too, Miana?”

The First Mate shook their head. “I need to stay and watch the ship. You two lovebirds go ahead. I’ll be along later.”

“We’re not lovebirds,” Sinitïa said, but Ting was already walking back to the ship. Sinitïa sighed.

Gen was some distance ahead of them, Jeanne bouncing along at his side. He wasn’t looking back to see if they were following, so Meleng and Sinitïa hurried to catch up. The path from the quay was ice and had an upward slope into the foothills. Surprisingly, it wasn’t very slippery—Meleng guessed it was due to the extreme cold—but it still made catching up to Gen difficult.

After a while, they gave up. The man walked too fast. He would disappear over the top of a hill and then they’d see him again when they reached that same summit, by which time he’d gained more ground on them. There was only one road, so they’d catch up to him once they reached Chithishtheny.

The small quay was out of sight quickly, and so was the sea, so only mountains were visible in every direction. The wind came and went, whipping at them one moment, then vanishing the next. Moving helped a little against the cold, but Meleng soon felt like he was about to freeze solid.

“There’s another one,” Sinitïa said.

Periodically along the side of the path grew small grey...plants. Meleng wasn’t sure they were strictly plants, but he didn’t have another word for them, and Jorvan had once spoken of the “plants” of Isyaria, commenting at the time that he was only using the word because there wasn’t a better one in Arnorgue. Meleng couldn’t remember the Isyarian word.

The plants were long and spindly, but stretched along the ground instead of growing up. They could almost be mistaken for roots sticking above the ground if it weren’t for the flat, circular...leaves? fruit?...sticking out at intervals along the body of the plant. For the most part, the plants grew to the side of the road, though this latest one stretched across it.

“I wonder if you can pick them,” Sinitïa said.

“Probably best if we don’t,” Meleng said. “Not until we know it’s safe.”

Sinitïa stepped carefully over the plant. “I didn’t say I was going to. I was just wondering.”

Meleng stepped over to join her. “Let me guess, you want to paint one.”

Her eyes brightened and he imagined her smiling under her scarves. She linked arms with him again. “Of course. You’re sure it will be possible and not too cold?”

He shrugged. “Maybe not out here, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

With a light squeal, she pulled him along faster.

They had been walking for maybe half an hour when the road brought them around the bottom of a rocky, icy hill. Up ahead rose a pair of large objects like giant cubes with rounded corners and edges. At first, Meleng took them to be stone, but they glinted in the moonlight, like they were made of, or coated in, ice. As they got closer, it became apparent the glinting was not just reflected moonlight and starlight, but also light shining through windows from the inside. They were buildings.

The road continued between the buildings. Captain Gen stood waiting for them, Jeanne lying at his feet. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was noticeably shivering. He spread his arms as they approached. “Welcome to Chithishtheny!”

Sinitïa looked about. “It’s just two big blocks?”

Gen chuckled. “Oh no. These are just the visitors’ lodges. The rest of the town is up ahead, round the next bend and literally up. We’ll stop here to get our lodgings settled and then I’ll show you the town. Miana and the crew will be along shortly.” He looked at Sinitïa. “How should I introduce you?”

After the incident in Beldrum, Meleng, Sinitïa, and Jorvan had told Gen and Ting the truth about Sinitïa’s identity. They’d pretty much figured it out anyway, and Meleng running around on deck screaming, “Sinitïa!” had confirmed it. That had been an embarrassing moment in retrospect.

In the meantime, he, Sinitïa, and Jorvan had decided they would be honest about Sinitïa’s identity in Isyaria. While most Isyar wouldn’t care whether she was a princess—they would be far more interested in her magical talent—there could be problems if they discovered a deception. The Isyar might not appreciate being lied to. No Isyar was likely to try to turn them over to Arnor otherwise.

“Tell them the truth,” Sinitïa said.”

Gen nodded. “Follow me.” He set off along the road between the two buildings. Jeanne jumped to her feet and bounded along at his side. When he reached the other side, at a point where two smaller paths branched off, each going to one of the buildings, he stopped and crossed his arms again. With his right hand, he pointed to the left, and with his left, he pointed to the right. “Left or right? I can never remember which.”

“Does it matter?” Sinitïa asked.

“Oh yes. It matters a great deal. The Isyar won’t mind if you get it wrong out of ignorance, of course, but knowing will impress them. And if, like me, you should already know…” He sighed. “I should have double-checked with Miana. They’re better at remembering these kinds of details.”

Meleng peered to each side to compare the buildings. They looked identical. Each had a single archway providing entrance in the exact middle, and various windows in the exact same positions on both.

Gen clapped his hands together. He turned to the left and began walking again. “This way!” After a moment, he spun round again and nearly stepped on Jeanne, who leapt to the side. “No, sorry, this way.” He strode down the path to the right.

Sinitïa looked at Meleng, who shrugged. She followed Gen, and Meleng followed behind her.