2 – Villains and Knaves

  The living ship’s ascent into space was something Ward didn’t think he’d ever forget. As it climbed higher, the view through the windows revealed an increasingly expansive horizon, with the planet’s curvature growing more pronounced by the minute. The first time the ship performed an "aether fold," they were about a thousand feet in the air. After a surge of bright colors streamed past the windows, they were suddenly ten times higher, and the landscape below had smoothed out, the elevation gradients no longer visible.

  The crowd in the observation gallery “oohed” and “ahhed,” and Ward couldn’t blame them. He was dumbstruck by the beauty of the planet as they pulled away from it—great white peaks, expansive blue seas, and then, as the ship rose so high that only a partial view of the planet’s curve remained, he saw a line of fire stretching from pole to pole. Considering how high they were, the fire had to be a hundred miles or more in width, flickering like an orange thread stretched across the world.

  At some point during the ascent, Trent Roy moved off to speak with another party. Ward was glad to see him go. He knew he’d been impulsive to accept the challenge, but he had to come to grips with the fact that his inner wolf considered itself an alpha. Backing down wasn’t in his nature—not unless he was certain the person issuing the challenge was his better. Trent Roy didn’t give him that impression.

  When the planet was no longer visible through the windows and only twinkling stars and distant, colorful planets filled the view, Ward walked over to the bar and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. True and Haley joined him soon after, and when True grimaced, rubbing her knee, Ward cleared his throat and turned to the young man on the nearby stool. “Excuse me, would you mind letting the lady sit? Her knee’s bothering her.”

  The fellow, neatly dressed in a suit complete with a cravat-style tie, hastily stood and turned to True. “My apologies! I didn’t see you there, or I certainly would have offered.” He nodded to Haley, too, stroking his wispy goatee. “Milady.” Turning back to Ward, while True grunted her thanks as she took her seat, he offered his hand. “Roger Blume, at your service, sir.”

  Ward sipped his whiskey, eyes widening at its smooth, smoky flavor, then nodded, taking the fellow’s hand in his. “Ward Dyer.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Roger,” True said, fishing her lighter out of her coat pocket. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, me and the gentleman there need to ’ave words with each other.”

  “Oh.” Roger swallowed, looking from True to Ward to Haley, who wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation at all. “Pardon me, then. I’m sure we’ll meet again! It’s a long voyage.”

  “Right. Thanks again,” True said, sparking her lighter.

  “See you, Roger,” Ward said with a sigh, certain True was about to give him hell for getting mixed up in a duel already.

  True looked at him and frowned. “Did you have to—”

  Ward interrupted her before she could get any further. “You’re not my mother, and I don’t work for the Assembly.”

  True clamped her teeth down on her pipe, staring at him for several seconds before looking at Haley. “What’s got into him? I was only going to say he didn’t have to kick that lad off the stool for me.”

  “I think he’s irritated about that man... Roy.”

  True nodded, puffing on her pipe, sending the weird, almost sweet aroma of her tobacco into the air. “Oh, right. Good old Trent Roy. You reckon that feller upset him with that challenge, do ya?”

  Ward tried to ignore them, sipping his drink, feeling more and more foolish for his outburst. Finally, he grumbled, pushing his way closer to the bar so he could lean an elbow on it and look more directly at True. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

  “Nah, it’s all right. I lied anyway. I was going to give you grief about getting yourself into a duel five minutes into our journey.”

  Ward sucked his teeth, but, in the end, he chuckled and shook his head at her. “You’re a piece of work, Marshal,” he chuckled.

  “That I am, that I am. Anyway, the man’s within his rights. At least he doesn’t want a duel to the death, and since we’re on a vessel, no spells can be used—it’s the law. That’s an advantage for someone as sturdy as you, anyway.”

  Ward’s grin widened as he set his glass down on the bar, empty except for a few small ice cubes. “I didn’t know that about spells being off limits. Anyway, that’s why I said we should fight until yielding. I’m not confident I can land the first hit, but I’m pretty sure I can take more than he can.” A tingle ran down his spine, and a warm, fuzzy sensation tickled the base of his skull. Ward slapped his hand to his neck, rubbing the spot and blinking several times until the sensation passed. Was it the whiskey? Part of him knew it wasn’t; he’d felt something similar—though less intense—each time the ship performed its strange aether folding method of travel.

  “Something wrong, Ward?” Haley squeezed in, pushing between him and True. She had to; the bar was packed with passengers clamoring for drinks to celebrate the start of the voyage.

  “Don’t you feel it when the ship does that folding thing?”

  True knocked her knuckles on the bar top, catching the eye of one of the tenders. “Another for ’im and two beers besides.”

  At the same time, Haley glanced toward the windows, where colorful streams of light flowed past, signaling they were in the middle of another aether fold. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “Me neither,” True added, blowing out a perfect ring of smoke. “What’s it like?”

  “A tingling, fuzzy sensation. I’d think I was having a stroke, except it happens every time the ship does that.”

  “You’re so dramatic.” Haley nudged him. “A stroke?”

  “Well, it’s a damn strange feeling!” Ward shrugged, spinning his glass in a puddle of condensation. “So, twenty-seven days on this ship, huh? What are you two going to do to pass the time?”

  “Gopah,” Haley replied immediately.

  “Oh, I imagine I’ll do some reading and smoking. Maybe I’ll take in a few shows. I heard the acting company they ’ired on is quite good.”

  Ward nodded. He’d overheard similar chatter while waiting for the ship to dock. “Yeah.” He looked at Haley. “Lucky you can do your Gopah without a partner. I could practice alone with my sword, but it’s just not the same.”

  “There’re more than a thousand folks on this ship; I bet you can find a sparring partner.”

  “Right you are, young Haley,” True added. “Besides, the grumpy bastard’s already got one lined up.” She smirked, and Ward couldn’t help chuckling along with her.

  “Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point.”

  One of the bartenders slid a fresh drink his way and set two big ceramic mugs of beer in front of True and Haley. They commenced drinking, laughing, and teasing each other for the next hour or two. After a while, True said she wanted to put her foot up, and Ward agreed that he could use a couple hours of rest before dinner. Together, they made their way back to their rooms.

  The moment Ward closed his door, Grace appeared, breathless with excitement. “You’re having a sorcerer’s duel!”

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  “All right, don’t start.” Ward unbuckled his sword, shrugged out of his coat, and kicked his boots off near the door, then walked over to the bed.

  “I’m not going to lecture you! I think it’s exciting. I’d be more worried if it was to the death, but that Trent Roy guy seems like he’s kind of… Oh, I don’t know, he seemed rather foppish.”

  “Foppish?” Ward stacked the pillows up so he could recline in a sitting position.

  Grace nodded, turning in a slow circle and waving her arms in imaginary sword strokes. “Yeah, like a dandy. He doesn’t want to risk his life. He’s a Tybalt, not a Mercutio.”

  Ward sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back into his pillows. Another wave of tingles ran down his spine, signaling the ship was folding aether again. “You’ll have to explain that. You’re talking about Shakespeare, right?”

  “Romeo and Juliet!” Grace groaned. “Couldn’t I have gotten a host who enjoyed the arts?” When Ward didn’t take the bait, she continued. “Tybalt is a by-the-book duelist. He’s measured and performs his movements perfectly. Mercutio is an artist. He fights with flair and skill—a natural. Tybalt only wins because Romeo distracts Mercutio. See?”

  “No, not really. What’s that got to do with Trent Roy?”

  “I just think he’s a dandy—he likes the idea of a duel. Like Tybalt, he’s quick to challenge when he thinks he can win. He chose first blood, likely because he’s quick and talented. But I think if you’d said you wanted to fight to the death, he would have backed off. Let’s not test my theory, though. No sense risking your life.”

  “Sure, Grace. You got it.” Ward yawned, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Don’t go to sleep! Come on, Ward! I’ve been cooped up in your head, watching. I’ve had to keep quiet for hours! I wonder what’s going on with those tingling sensations. They’re weird, aren’t they?”

  Ward opened one eye. “You can feel them?”

  “I feel everything you do. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I wasn’t sure this was an actual feeling, though, or something weird to do with magic.”

  “The ship does use magic to travel. Maybe… If you hadn’t already started a fight with him, I’d suggest you talk to Trent Roy. Perhaps he feels something, too.”

  “What, just because he’s a sorcerer?”

  “It’s worth investigating.” Grace snapped her fingers. “Wait! I saw a few other pairs of glowing eyes in that crowd. Maybe you could make a friend for once instead of picking a fight?” Ward growled, ready to defend himself—he hadn’t started any trouble with Trent Roy—but Grace giggled and put her cheek on his shoulder, suddenly lying beside him. “I’m teasing, Ward. I know that wasn’t your fault. I’m serious about making friends, though. Maybe someone will trade spells with you. Not everyone’s as stodgy as Lisa.”

  Ward closed his eyes again, nodding. He’d tried to get more spells out of Lisa before they’d parted ways, but the green-eyed sorceress had put him off, delaying again and again, until finally admitting that she didn’t want to. She claimed guilt over breaking those oaths, but Ward couldn’t tell if it was an excuse. Either way, he’d given up and let the matter drop.

  “No comment?”

  “I’ll try to make friends, Grace,” he sighed.

  “What’s the matter? Did I upset you by bringing Lisa up? She wasn’t herself, Ward. None of that was your fault. Everyone would have died if not for you.”

  Ward grumbled, pulled his arm out from under her, and tucked it under his head. He opened his eyes and frowned down at her where she lay, curled up beside him. “You’re like a cat who has no sense of personal space.”

  “Gah!” She poked him in the ribs. “You were supposed to tell me everyone lived because of me!”

  “Really? Haven’t we all thanked you enough times?”

  “No!”

  “Well, will you let me take a little snooze? I intend to eat enough for four or five people at dinner, so I need to gather my strength.”

  By way of answer, Grace nuzzled into his shoulder, her breathing evening out. Before long, Ward’s breathing synced with hers, and he drifted into slumber. Since awakening his lycan bloodline, Ward’s dreams had grown increasingly vivid, often featuring long chases through dark woods. In those dreams, Ward was always the chaser, and his prey was usually some woodland animal or another. Sometimes he got distracted by the moon, howling and singing to it; other times, he sensed predators watching and waiting.

  During his nap that afternoon, Ward’s dreams were different. He drifted through colorful air, thick enough to feel with his fingers yet easy to breathe—rich with oxygen and something else that left him rejuvenated. He heard songs in the taffy-colored wind, very different from those of his wolfen brethren—deep, sonorous, and filled with profound meaning he could only begin to fathom.

  When Grace shook him, rousing him from a slumber that felt too deep to be a simple nap, Ward knew he was waking from a dream. He tried to focus on the glimpses of secrets from the songs, determined to hold onto them. But even as he opened his eyes and tried to explain them to Grace, the wispy tendrils slipped away, and his silvery tongue fumbled for words. “Something… something to do with oceans or… or maybe clouds—” Ward blinked, frowning. “A calamity that happened or, no… that’s going to happen? Secrets in the wind, the places…” He trailed off, nothing but raw feelings left over from the dreams.

  Grace looked at him quizzically. “What?”

  Ward rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn. “What did I even say? I think I was trying to remember a dream.”

  “Nothing that made much sense. Next time, keep a journal beside your bed.” Standing beside him, she tugged on his arm. “Come on. You’ve got to shave before dinner.” When Ward frowned at her, still trying to grasp the fleeting dream, she reassured him, “I remember every word you said. We’ll write them down later in case you dream again, okay?”

  “Thanks.” Ward got up with a grunt and spent a few minutes freshening up for dinner. He’d told True and Haley he’d stop by their room at seven, and when he walked into the corridor, he was only two minutes early.

  When he tapped on their door, Haley opened it almost immediately and slipped into the hall, closing the door quietly behind her. “True wasn’t up for it. She’s sound asleep.”

  “She drank a lot earlier.” Ward mimed drinking from a mug, making Haley giggle.

  “I think it was that and her leg. It was really swollen where the clockwork meets her skin.”

  “Is that bad?” Ward gestured down the corridor, and they began walking.

  “She said it was normal. She has a cream she’s supposed to apply twice a day until her body adjusts and the, um, melding process is complete.”

  “Well, no wonder she was grouchy.”

  “She wasn’t. You were!” Haley laughed.

  Ward waved a hand, dismissing the topic. “I hope they have a lot of food on this boat.”

  “It’s not a boat—”

  “I know, I know. You get my meaning. Are we only getting three squares a day? ’Cause that won’t cut it for me. You’ve seen my appetite since I woke up my lycan bloodline.”

  Haley nudged him with her elbow. “Stop trying to be silly. I’m already in a good mood.”

  “You are, huh?”

  “Yes! Isn’t this ship wonderful? Can you believe we’re going to Primus? I never thought I’d go so far. I’ve heard the capital has towers that stretch into the sky—clouds gather around their tops! And the Citadel! All the great heroes study there. I didn’t want to believe it was really happening, but now we’re on the ship. We’re flying through the void! It’s truly happening.” She grabbed his arm, squeezing, her hands as warm as baked potatoes—typical these days thanks to her constant Gopah practice.

  “Now you’re getting me pumped up, Haley!” Ward laughed. “I don’t know shit about Primus, but hearing all that… yeah, I’m excited too.” Ward frowned, considering. “What about the challenges, though? I thought they got harder and harder from world to world. Won’t they be too hard for us there?”

  “Oh, you really don’t know much, do you? Primus is the largest and oldest world. Historians say the architects—the mysterious builders of the challenges—originated there. On Primus, you can find all manner of challenges—from simple puzzles even a child could attempt to grand catacombs and towers where few who enter ever return.”

  “Shit, no kidding? Why wouldn’t everyone go to Primus?”

  Ward already knew the answer. True had mentioned how expensive their tickets were. The living ship they were on was one of only two scheduled that year to journey all the way to Primus, simply because the cost was so prohibitive. More than that, it would make several stops along the way, and only a handful of people who embarked on Cinder would make the entire journey.

  “You know about the cost, but there’s usually an application process. People who arrive on Primus have to pass through the Gatekeepers to gain approval for entry—few are granted permanent access and, of course, when a person is sent away, they’re forced to pay for their passage off-world.”

  Ward slowed to a stop; they were nearly to the stairs leading down to the main access corridor. “What the hell? Seriously? What if you can’t afford it?”

  Haley shook her head, looking up at him. “Then you’re sent to Ferris to work for your passage. I don’t think the Gatekeepers turn many away, but the risk is enough to keep most from trying. Imagine spending your life’s savings to travel there only to be forced into hard labor on the forge world.”

  “Ferris is the... fourth world, right?”

  “Right. Because of the strange orbits of the Vainglory worlds, though, it’s closest to Primus.”

  Ward nodded and turned toward the stairs, moving again. Haley’s excitement was infectious, but Ward couldn’t shake his unease. He liked the marshals he’d met so far, and they were agents of the Assembly, so he’d been casting the distant government of the Vainglory System in a good light in his mind. But now he was starting to glimpse the darker underbelly. Was Primus overpopulated? If not, why were they so selective about whom they allowed to move there? Was it about power, economics, or prejudice? Or maybe it all boiled down to class and caste.

  As they descended the steps, he looked at Haley and, keeping his tone even so as not to dampen her good cheer, asked, “Do people from other worlds look down on folks from Cinder?”

  “I… I think they probably do, yes. Many of the great fictions—those telling the stories of heroes who travel the system, conquering the challenges—seem to cast folks from Cinder and Ferris as villains or knaves.” She frowned, and Ward almost regretted making her dwell on the topic.

  He nudged her with his elbow and chuckled. “Well, that fits us nicely, doesn’t it? A couple of villains and knaves at your service!” Haley laughed, her voice bright and her pale eyes crinkling with genuine humor.

  “That’s right, good knave—let’s stuff our faces!”