The ships that had come to rest at these docks were quiet. The only ones with any crew on board were the passenger ships that were slowly accumulating customers. Sartore watched a lavishly dressed family, with purple-and-maroon stained coats of fur wrapped around their shoulders, clopping up the wooden ramp to the deck.

Maisero felt the world swimming as the water wavered under him, back and forth, pressing against the stone wall to his right and sending up a venomous spray of salt and seaweed.

And the two followed after Faori, who walked quickly for a man with such a heavy gait and stagger. Sartore and Maisero chased after him. He turned and stepped behind a kiosk cut into the stone, shoved through the waist-height wooden door. Maisero dropped the weight of his back and shoulders onto the countertop, holding it up only by his elbows and forearms.

“Got any money on you?” Faori asked as he sifted through some of the drawers by his side. Maisero nodded faintly. He placed his briefcase on the counter and opened his front pocket, removing an array of papers and pamphlets from it. He kept his hand firm over them, bracing for a cold wind that had peeled off the top of the water. He imagined one of those slips escaping from his grasp, looping in the air and landing in the ocean, in a few seconds sogged, in a few more breaking apart and sinking to the bottom to be eaten by minnows, and those minnows to be devoured by more menacing creatures.

Keep it together.

At the bottom Maisero found a collection of loose coins.

“How many of these?” Maisero asked, dropping a few onto the wood with a startling clatter seemed to break the flow of time.

“Twenty, ten for the pair.”

After some more digging Maisero had collected twenty coins exactly, gathered into a child’s poor imitation of a mountain, and shoved them with his palms towards Faori. Faori swiped them and made two pillars of equal height from them, grunted with approval, and dropped them into another drawer just behind the counter, before shutting it with a hip thrust.

“Which boat do you want? That one’s leaving in an hour, another one tonight.”

Maisero turned to Sartore, but wished he hadn’t. Although the boy had begun to open his mouth, Maisero knew what answer would come, and he fully intended to ignore it.

“Tonight. Send us tonight.” he said without looking back at Faori, and sunk deeper into the shadow of the upper lip of stone overhead. Now with Maisero’s body completely enveloped in darkness, Faori thought he looked like a beast trying to crawl over the counter, and for a moment his heart picked up. Faori pulled out two strips of paper and an old and worn pencil, then scribbled a few notes on each. A few words were entered into an open volume at his side.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Here you are,” he said, handing one slip of paper to each of them. “Bring that to the boat down at the south end here,” Faori said, pointing down the other end of the docks, where another boat of similar fashion waited.

“The ride’ll be pretty empty tonight, but I’m sure you won’t mind that,” Faori said, nodding his head and moving out of the shop window. “Now get out of here. No idling about.”

Faori swept them away with his arms, and they scurried back up the ramp and took a seat at a wooden bench near the docks with the glittering water at their backs.

Those hours passed in silence. Maisero bowed his head to passersby, while Sartore fidgeted beside him. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that either of them made any real movements. It had been at the back of Sartore’s mind all morning, and he jumped out of his seat the moment he saw the first blush in the sky. Maisero remained in his.

In a few minutes the sky had become amber, then a raging flame that stretched over the sky; but the flames died out, turning to purple then to the fading black of twilight, without a word to Sartore. The stars above seemed to blink absently at him.

“We must go now, child,” Maisero said, rising himself. “Our boat will be boarding soon, I think.” He pointed one unsteady finger down below, and Sartore saw the descending ramp of the boat as well. He saw in Maisero’s face worry and a queasy hopefulness.

“Let’s go, then,” Sartore said, clenching his throat and dashing down to the docks. Behind him, Sartore knew Maisero’s expression had only grown more worried.

But Maisero followed.

Sartore stood a few feet from the ramp up to the boat and marveled at it. There was a quiet majesty to it, the sails furled up and quivering in the wind, the wide and empty deck. Maisero, who scooted up just behind the child, could only see the ship rocking back and forth, which already made him uncomfortable. Better the sight of that than the water, he thought; for in the complete darkness below, anything might dwell.

Faori laughed behind him.

“Voyage well, Maisero, and have a good trip, child,” he said.

Sartore went first, and he rushed up the ramp easily. Maisero watched him go for just long enough to see a foot slip out from under the child. Of course, Sartore caught himself easily. He stopped at the ship’s entrance, both feet firmly on deck.

“Come on!” the boy shouted.

Maisero took a trembling step onto the ramp. It was slick and well-tread. For a minute he couldn’t uproot his other foot.

“Move it, or we’ll leave you on the ramp,” one of the sailors said.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Another step. Good. Maisero kept his head up, let his feet drag against the boards and placed them firmly enough. The travel was going well, better, even—

Masiero looked down, and down into the black waters, and screamed.