17 – Westview

“So,” Lisa said, “shall we fetch our grimoires and meet back here in five minutes?”

Ward nodded, hopping to his feet. It never ceased to amaze him how limber and strong his body was. Back in his old life, getting up off the floor would have involved some grunting, groaning, and a lot more clambering. “Sounds good.”

They walked together to the passenger deck and into the propped-open doorway that gave access to the various passenger cabins and staterooms. Lisa went one way and Ward the other, and as soon as he rounded a corner, he felt Grace’s presence before she spoke.

“Hey,” he grunted.

“Hi,” she replied, her voice a bit subdued.

Ward glanced at her sharply. He’d anticipated her chewing him out about his and Haley’s new partnership with Lisa. “Something wrong?”

“Not really. I’m glad you and Haley are getting along with Lisa. I just feel…” She trailed off as Ward opened their cabin door and slipped inside.

He looked at her as he closed the door, frowning. “Left out?”

“Yeah, I think that sums it up. It gets old just watching all the time, and Haley and you have been coming back to the room later and later each day. We hardly talk before you go to sleep, and—”

Ward walked over to his backpack and rummaged for his spellbook. “I’m planning to tell Lisa about you, so don’t worry; you won’t have to hide forever.”

“Are you?” Her voice perked up a bit. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know. I’ll probably wait until we’ve built a bit more trust. Okay? Can you live like this a little longer? She’s still a little spooked about the whole Nevkin-artifact-murder situation, you know? Let’s make it to Westview, and then we’ll see how things stand.”

“Okay, but, Ward, you’ve got to be smart about this trade. Don’t give her your best spells!”

“Which ones are those?”

“You know! You already let slip that you can ‘find secrets’ about people like Raymond Lacorte, for instance. She’s going to want that spell. That’s a rare one; I can feel it, and it makes you sort of valuable. I guess that’s the right word.” She put a hand on his shoulder as he straightened with his grimoire in hand. “You won’t trade the one Aldiss gave you, will you?”

“Hell no. I figure I’ll trade either the one I got from Maggie or the one I took from that shithead who tried to steal my book.”

“Elliot!” Grace practically spat the name.

“Right.” Ward stood and walked to the door but paused and looked into Grace’s eyes, watching the flames flicker faintly. “I’m sorry you have to hide for now.”

“It’s not so bad. I can still watch and experience things through you. I’ve been rather enjoying Lisa’s instruction. You know, you’re not my first host to use a sword. I can probably help you as I did with riding.”

Ward smiled. “That…would be pretty cool, Grace.” With that, he opened the door and strode down the hallway to the exit. A minute or two later, he sat on the quarter-deck with his spellbook on his lap. To his surprise, Haley returned before Lisa did. She held aloft a bottle of amber liquor and three short tumblers as she approached.

“To celebrate!”

Ward smiled, squinting into the sun. “Nice one. Where’d you score that?”

“Bought it from the captain. Are you and Lisa finished?”

“Nah, she’s getting her spellbook.” Ward gestured to where he saw Lisa approaching. She’d donned a floppy, pale gray hat with a wide brim.

Haley nodded. “I’ll wait over there.” She pointed to the railing and walked over to sit down, closing her eyes as she soaked in the sunlight.

Lisa sat down, a slender book with a floral-printed jacket clutched in her hand. “I see our young friend has acquired some spirits!”

“Yeah, she’s eager to toast her success with the Gopah.” Ward chuckled, shaking his head. “Seems odd to me. When I think of Gopah, it reminds me of old kung fu movies, and I can’t remember any of those masters drinking booze to celebrate their success.” He laughed. “I mean, unless you count Drunken Master.”

Lisa cocked her head, giving Ward a quizzical look. “Kung fu? Movies?”

Ward slapped a hand to his forehead. “Oof! I keep forgetting where I am. Sorry! You have theaters here, yeah? People acting out plays?”

She nodded, her eyes bright. “Indeed! I’ve seen some excellent plays. There’s a renowned theater in Westview, in fact!”

“Movies are kind of like theater, and kung fu is something a little like Gopah from my world.” Ward shrugged, leaving it at that. He nodded to her book. “Have you thought of a spell you’re willing to trade?”

“I have a couple. This is the tricky part. I bet you don’t want to tell me all your spells and allow me to choose one, hmm?”

Ward clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, it is tricky, isn’t it? Even though I consider you a friend, there are things I want to keep for myself. Do you feel the same way?”

“Of course! We wizards and witches must guard our secrets!” She winked, and Ward wondered if she was making light of the labels or the irony of the words being true. “How about this, Ward: tell me the spell you’re most willing to trade, and I’ll tell you if I’m interested.”

“Or, how about you tell me the spell you’re most—”

Lisa laughed and waved a hand. “Fine! I’ll go first, though I can’t help but count this as a mark against your chivalric honor!” When Ward just grinned and shrugged, she sighed. “I’ll tell you about my first real spell, taught to me by the very same tutor whom my father paid a fortune to over the years to give me a proper lady’s education. I call it ‘Whisper Wind,’ and it allows the caster to send or bring words through the wind over a remarkably long distance. For instance, if I wanted to hear what yonder crewmen were speaking about,” Lisa nodded toward a pair of men gesturing and laughing near the captain’s castle, “I could do so. I could also send my whispers directly into their ears.”

“Hmm.” Ward nodded, rubbing his chin. “I can see how that could be useful.”

“You don’t sound very intrigued at the prospect.” Lisa sighed and clutched her spellbook, holding it close to her chest. “Now I’ve gone and revealed a spell, and you hold all the cards!”

“Fine, fine.” Ward waved a hand. “I have a spell that can enchant weapons or objects so that they won’t miss and will do extra damage—once.”

“Oh?” Lisa licked her lips. “I could cast it on my rapier?”

“Yep. It also works on thrown items, but I haven’t tried it on a projectile, like an arrow or bullet.” Ward could see she was intrigued. She’d taken the bait; now he had to set the hook. “I think it’s worth more than that whisper spell. To be fair, your spell sounds like a first spell, you know?” A word was on the tip of his tongue, and to his delight, it came to him: “Like a cantrip.”

Lisa frowned, but she didn’t argue. “I have another utility spell that I could sweeten the deal with. I call it ‘Feather Touch.’ When you cast it, anything you touch, including yourself or another person, will become light as a feather for nearly a minute. It’s more useful than you might think; I’ve used it to jump over a tall fence. You see, your muscles will still work the same, so you can leap quite far.”

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“You’ll trade both of those for True Strike?”

Lisa pressed her lips together, clearly having a mental argument with herself, but finally, she nodded. Ward wondered at that. He was getting two spells for one, but, as she’d admitted, hers were novice-level utility spells. Did she have more potent spells to trade? Was she operating with just what she’d learned from her “tutor?” Her spellbook was quite slim, but if Ward took out the blank pages in his, it would be even slimmer. He supposed he’d seen her do at least one more potent spell when she summoned Raymond’s spirit. Even so, it hadn’t exactly proved useful.

Ward watched her for a few seconds, wondering if she’d speak, but she continued to stare, tight-lipped. “It sounds fair to me. You’re not upset, are you?”

She sighed explosively and shook her head, opening her book. “Not upset, just stressed. I’m not good at bargaining.” She did something to loosen her book’s binding and began to slide a page out. Ward watched for a moment, then turned to his own book, finding the spell he’d copied from Maggie’s grimoire. He had a pen tucked into his book's binding and lifted it out, waiting for Lisa to remove her second spell.

“Here you are,” she held out two thin pages, and Ward took them, handing her his spell. Ten minutes later, they exchanged pages back, and Ward slipped his three spells—two of them new—into his grimoire. Lisa did the same, then looked up at him. “That went fairly well. Perhaps we can trade another sometime? Perhaps one of your more potent ones?”

“Maybe.” It was Ward’s turn to wink. “Depends on what you have to offer.” When Lisa smiled, indicating she appreciated his humor, Ward nodded to Haley. “Let’s have a drink.”

They ended up having more than one drink that afternoon, and by the time they went to the captain’s table for dinner, they were all well on their way to being drunk. After dinner, Lisa talked him and Haley into allowing her to inspect the sealed metal box. When she agreed that it seemed harmless and inert the way it was packaged, she’d visibly relaxed. She’d wished Ward and Haley a good night, then left, promising to meet them, as usual, for sword practice in the morning.

That was the first time since they’d boarded the ship that Ward really let go of his stress and allowed himself to have fun without worrying about murders, betrayal, or being robbed or killed. To his amazement, he made it through the night unscathed and without losing his spells or any of his artifacts. The next day, Ward spent his time waiting for the other shoe to drop; he’d traded magic, shown Lisa the artifact, and allowed himself to get drunk and careless—surely something terrible was bound to go wrong. His dread never bore fruit, though, and the day passed uneventfully.

The rest of the journey followed the same pattern. They practiced, they ate, they drank, they slept, and one day blended into the next until, after eight days at sea, the lookout spotted land, and the big ship’s steam-driven foghorn trumpeted triumphantly over the calm waves. Ward, Haley, and Lisa moved to the foredeck and watched as they approached the busy port of Westview.

The city had a very different look than Port Granite or Tarnish. Beyond the high soot-stained walls, on sloping hills that ran to the horizon, endless fallow fields and Fall-colored orchards stretched away as far as he could see. The sea crashed against rocky shores outside the inlet that served as the city’s port. Within those calmer waters, hundreds of ships vied for space—the captains and crew shouting over the water, blowing fog horns, and generally having to fight for every few feet on their way to and from the docks.

As the ship approached the inlet, the other passengers crowded onto the foredeck as well, eager to see their destination first-hand. They talked to pass the time, but Ward’s attention was on the city. It reminded him of old movies and photos he’d seen of London or New York during the Industrial Revolution. The closer they got, the more he smelled the tang of coal smoke and hot metal drifting over the water.

The city's skyline was a jagged silhouette of chimneys, smokestacks, and spires piercing the mist. Pipes and iron frameworks crisscrossed between buildings, and as they drew nearer, he could make out the dim, flickering glow of gaslights lining the streets. It was as if the city itself was alive, breathing steam and smoke, gears grinding with every pulse of industry. Ward was torn between awe and disgust as he saw the black clouds billowing out of hundreds—no, thousands of stacks.

“It’s grimier than I remember,” Lisa remarked.

Ward nodded. “Looks like they’ve really embraced coal. It seemed like Port Granite leaned more heavily on gas and steam.”

“It’s Cinder,” Lisa sighed. “We’ve come much further from the burn, so the city has had more time to recover and rebuild. When you know everything will be destroyed in another hundred years, I think it fosters the cutting of corners—quick industry.”

Ward nodded. He’d almost forgotten about the “burn.” It still boggled his mind how a line of fire dozens of miles wide could continuously burn, circling the globe perpetually. They made more small talk as they waited for the ship to slowly make its way to port. Luckily, the captain had some pull with the dockmasters, and the emissary he sent ahead on the ship’s tender to make arrangements secured them a berth. Even so, it was nearly four hours until the cargo vessel was secured, and the crew lowered the gangway.

Captain Lemon showed them off, waving and nodding just as he did for the rest of the passengers. The widow LaCorte, Gerty, was guided away by the first mate, and Ward thought it was strange how the murder seemed to have been wholly forgotten by all but the grieving woman. The captain never mentioned it, and though he had plenty to say, Ward made himself complicit in the glossing over of the crime by keeping his secrets to himself.

When he, Haley, and Lisa stood on the sidewalk of the port’s busy main thoroughfare, Lisa grabbed his elbow and asked, “Where will you stay?”

Ward looked up and down the street, struggling to contain his desire to hold his jacket’s sleeve over his nose. The stink of old fish, sewage, and soot vied for his nose’s attention, only thinly covering the pungent, lingering odor of urine. His eyes watered from the acidic air, and though it had been sunny out on the sea, it felt like a perpetual dark cloud hung over the city. More than a few people walking up and down the street wore bandanas over their mouths and noses, and Ward decided that if they spent much time there, he’d have to purchase a few.

“Ward?” Haley prodded.

“Oh.” Ward turned back to Lisa. “I wonder if there’s a decent inn outside the city, away from some of this stink.”

Lisa smiled and nodded. “We need to move up the hill away from the port. The…better districts are northwest of here, and you’ll find that most of this smog will be blown out to sea when the weather changes a bit. Come on, we can share a cab, and, that way, I’ll see where you and Haley are staying, and we can get together to plan our next steps.”

“Right,” Ward nodded, “next steps.”

Lisa pointed out a black-enameled horseless carriage powered by a burbling brass-and-porcelain steam engine, and Ward stepped in front of it, waving to get the driver’s attention. The little cap-wearing driver pulled to the curb, the tall, narrow, rubber-lined wheels sloshing through the reeking sludge in the gutter. Ward stepped back, not wanting to get splashed, and then, when it came to a halt, he pulled the door open for Haley and Lisa.

Ward helped the driver load their packs and Lisa’s trunk atop the cab, then clambered in after them, pleased that the vehicle, at least, seemed clean and well-appointed. The seats were soft and smelled like oiled leather, their tufted upholstery contouring to Ward’s frame nicely. When the driver looked back over his shoulder, his hands resting on the brass levers he used to control the vehicle, Lisa said, “Governor’s District, please.”

“Oh, right you are, madam. A pleasure to drive ‘cross town for a change.” He pushed the lever on the left forward, and the little vehicle warbled, chugged, and then lurched forward.

Lisa looked at Ward and smiled at his rather stony expression. “You’ll like Westview once we get away from this stink.”

“Right she is, sir,” the driver chimed in. “If you’ve never visited before, the port ain’t the place to take your first impression.”

Ward nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll keep an open mind.”

“Most places we’ll want to visit are near the Governor’s District—the auction hall, the outfitters, the spire, my colleague.” She winked when she said, “colleague,” and Ward knew she was talking about the man who was supposedly one of the leaders of the Oathbound. Lisa turned toward the driver and raised her voice, “Can you suggest a fine inn? My friends have had a long voyage and are looking for something a bit posh.”

“Oh, aye, madam! The Iron and Ivy would suit your company just fine.”

“Yes!” Lisa’s eyes lit up, and she turned to Ward and Haley. “I’ve seen the place. It’s lovely, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s not far from where I’ll be staying.”

“Where will you be staying?” Haley asked.

“My cousin, Laurent DeGrace, is the Director of Commerce and Trade here in Westview, and I’ll stay at his—”

“You’re related to Lord DeGrace, madam?” the nosy driver interjected, and Ward had to chuckle at the flicker of irritation in Lisa’s eyes.

“Yes, goodman, I am. You may rest assured, you’ll be well-compensated for the drive through town.” Lisa turned back to Ward and Haley and began to talk about the city—restaurants she enjoyed, tailors and dress shops they simply “had to visit,” and a dozen other little commentaries that served to pass the time as the cab made slow, plodding progress through the busy streets.

While she spoke, Ward looked out the window, amazed at how different the atmosphere was on this side of the sea. He could see a clear delineation between the classes that hadn’t been so obvious in Port Granite and had seemed absent altogether in Tarnish. Thinking about Tarnish got him thinking about Fay, and when there was a lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and asked, “Can you help us find a messenger to bring some correspondence to Tarnish?”

Lisa smiled and nodded. “Of course! My cousin will know whom to hire.”

Ward gave a short, satisfied nod and leaned back in his seat, once again watching out the window as they slowly worked their way north, west, and up out of the clinging filth and miasma of the lower streets. The higher they rose, the more distant the chaos of the ports became, like waking from an unsettling dream. Part of him felt guilty, leaving the squalor behind, knowing he was relying on Haley’s wealth, but he knew he was capable, himself, of success. The thought stirred something deep within him—an eager restlessness to face the next challenge.