The conversation with Master Gheran continued to sink in over the next few days as Therelin came to terms with the possibility—or even likelihood—that Master Myandin had kept such secrets from him.
All Therelin wanted to do was live well, not taking part in the operations of sinister factions or be associated by ignorance. To study beneath Master Nolicrin without knowing what schemes Nolicrin was involved in carrying out, would have been to be blind to the very thing that Therelin hoped his exploration of magic might stop. He had trained for the better part of the last decade with the hopes of allying himself with the right magicians. But the more he investigated this Conclave, the more he realized these were not them.
Master Gheran’s words voiced something that Therelin had already been feeling, but had been unable to speak out loud. It was the feeling that he should already have known about the Conclave. Why hadn’t Master Myandin told him? Either Therelin’s original teacher was immensely oblivious to these clearly widespread forces, or he had not valued Therelin as a friend and colleague enough to share what he knew. In so doing, Myandin had left Therelin vulnerable to the very sorts of manipulations he had feared in his exploration of Gethra’s magic community.
As Therelin left the Lowtide Tavern—perhaps for good—he knew with certainty that Myandin was the only person he could speak with in order to have these questions answered. Therelin had finished healing Master Mos’yim a week ago, but he only had enough money for a few more days at an inn. If everything went according to plan, the Smith’s Trove would line his coin pouch a little before he arrived. But Therelin’s final destination on this voyage was not some port along the inner coasts of the Grey Sea. It was Keth, his home.
Everything did not go as expected. No sooner had Therelin reached one of the dozen docks built in the streets of the Cobblestone Bog than he realized something was afoot. Captain Marzey and the crew of the ship, whom Therelin only knew from a brief meeting after signing up at the job stall, were standing near their rowboat in a state of disarray. Instead of working with the nearby wagon of crates ferrying goods to their ship, they loitered around, conversing or playing dice games.
“Captain,” Therelin said. “I’m reporting for the job as agreed, but… what seems to be the delay?”
Captain Marzey was a slim-shouldered man, with long thin legs and a thick seafarer’s beard that didn’t seem to fit with his lanky physical proportions. He raised his hands in frustration and told Therelin, “I’m waiting on some extra rations. We have to sail much farther now.”
“Farther?” Therelin asked. He had been planning to only sail with the Smith’s Trove to Starath, then use Journeying magic to send himself the rest of the way to Keth. “Why’s that?”
Marzey pointed out to the sea where a number of vessels were anchored. “Two men arrived in a rowboat today. Crossed half the Orrish in their little dingy to get here.” He sighed. “They confirmed what the rumours had already been suggesting—siege. A fleet of pirate vessels surrounds Starath and troops have set up camp on the north-western side of the isle.”
“Siege?” Therelin asked. “From the Great Isle?”
The Captain inclined his head. “Indeed. We stopped seeing ships from that way a few weeks ago, but today is the first day that news of siege has arrived. And, by the gods, it has spread like blood in the water.”
“So where will you sail?” Therelin asked. He separated himself from the question now. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to accompany them—if their voyage still cut around the Great Isle, how safe could it be? Starath, under siege? I hope Keth is faring better…
“We set sail for Bellasa on the Great Isle,” Marzey said. “There’s regular news from that port despite all the chaos on the Grey Sea. They face siege by land, but, by all accounts, their harbour is still secure.”
Therelin rubbed his trimmed beard. “Really? Bellasa?”
Captain Marzey jabbed his thumb toward the rowboat. “Toss your things aboard. We’ll be off as soon as the rations arrive.”
With one hand, Therelin pulled his pack off his shoulders, but then he hesitated, standing beside the captain with his bag dangling beside his waist. He needed the money, but sailing around a pirate-infested ocean was seeming more and more daunting. He was planning to Journey to Keth partway along this voyage anyway, but he wouldn’t earn a coin until they were anchored in a harbour.
“Well?” Marzey asked. He looked down at Therelin’s pack and then raised an eyebrow at the magician and workman.
Therelin rubbed his forehead. If the ship was to be lost at sea, it could take Therelin years to reappear in Keth. And teleporting with knowledge of impending death was… daunting to say the least. It did require some focus, after all. He looked at the captain again and frowned. “I must apologize, sir. Please, forgive my wasting of your time. But I cannot go anymore.”
“Starath has been harassed by pirates since the time it was called Star’s Wrath,” Marzey said, trying to dismiss the ill tidings that had come to Noress-That-Was. The Captain smiled reassuringly. “We’ll make it to Bellasa—we always do.”
Therelin shook his head. “I have other business I must attend,” he stammered. “I’m sorry.” He backed away and shouldered his pack once more.
“Bah,” the Captain said. He spread his hands. “On your way then,” he grunted, perturbed.
At least he had not grown livid. Therelin bowed awkwardly at the waist and turned to march off the dock. He passed a sailor laden with supplies on the way and dismissed it as quickly as possible. He felt bad for abandoning his position on the Smith’s Trove, but he couldn’t let it affect him. Journeying was his focus now.
Let’s begin, he thought. From Noress-That-Was, he would sail to Sheld, then Saanazar—briefly—and finally find a ship to Keth. If there was not a ship in Saanazar bound for the remote port, he would board the first vessel to Kedar Port, skirt the rocky isles, and land in Keth in nearly the same amount of time. He would need to work aboard each vessel to earn passage, but he would apply himself with all his might. His diligence would lend itself to the efficiency of each ship, but it would also earn him some wealth. If he encountered storms, or if the threat of corsairs in the Grey Sea grew substantially during the two-month voyage, he would use that excess coin to secure passage aboard a more defensible ship, a galley perhaps.
He continued walking, barely noticing the decayed fronts of the houses in Cobblestone Bog. Splashing through a flooded avenue to the next boardwalk disturbed his trancelike state a little, but not much.
And if we’re boarded? Therelin pondered. He would dive overboard if need be. He would swim half the Grey Sea, until his arms and legs could move no more. If he found himself marooned, he would just Journey to safety. If he found a port, he would start working aboard a merchant vessel immediately. He had not time to dally or learn about that port, whatever it might be. His only priority now, was reaching Keth—the humid shorefront, the rounded rooftops, the buzz of the jungle insects, the warmth of the sun spirit….
Therelin stepped forward to begin the easier part—he reached through his mind, through his Crux, to give the world that little twist that was magic. In mid-step, he Journeyed away from Var Nordos. Pack, staff, and man vanished quicker than anyone around could blink.