The Missing Traveller

Alister sat on a white stone chair in the garden of The Kite’s Way, his eyes fixed on Lark’s Seal Card. The night before, Ronan’s wings were well enough to fly and he became restless, so Alister let the bird out for the night. Ronan had been well-trained by Lark, so Alister trusted he would return just before sunrise. He did, waking up Alister as he flew in through the window. Alister practiced Elin-tor uninterrupted as the sky lightened in the morning. His muscles still burned from the torenn, but Alister’s mind was fixed on Deemstun.

The Tahner inscription was nothing but a jumble of dots to Alister—reading the script was something he was due to learn at his last year of the academy, interrupted when he left Rindor—and although it wouldn’t take much effort to discover Lark’s original name, it would be unwise to announce to a city full of Defenders he was associated with the man Deemstun held. The card itself was made of a strange paper with a slight sheen. What kind of tree bark is it made from? None he knew from Rindor. Regardless, Alister couldn’t make his own and get away with it. Even if he could make the card, the Deemstun Seal itself was a thick maroon wax which was heavily detailed and impossible to imitate.

Alister’s eyebrows furrowed. How far should he be willing to go to rescue Lark and stop Baudouin? Already since he’d left Rindor, he’d lied countless times, and avoided the keepers of the law. There has to be a way to get in legally. If I could get a job that allowed me to work in Deemstun, then maybe…I could be an archaeologist, like Tarael. How did she manage to become an archaeologist at such a young age? If only they had spent more time together, he might’ve found out.

“What’s got you smilin’ at it, Ali?”

Ethan sat beside him and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Alister shook his head and pushed Lark’s Seal Card into his pocket. “I didn’t realise I was smiling.”

“You must’ve been thinkin’ somethin’ nice, then.” Ethan grinned.

Alister laughed once and shook Tarael out of his mind. He’d only seen her twice, and she was headed back to Zyrusdale in the east, while he planned to go to the opposite side of the Union to Deemstun. Who knows what will happen then?

“Hmm. I suppose I was.” She did say he was handsome. For a village boy, a part of his mind added begrudgingly. But what a forward thing to say.

Ethan stood and weeded the plants surrounding the pathway. “Alright, alright. You ain’t got to tell me what you were thinkin’ if you don’t want.” He laughed. “So what time did you wake this mornin’? I’m often the first one about, but I saw you finishin’ your torenn from the kitchen window.”

“I woke up just before sunrise. It would’ve been at about…” he trailed off as he stared at his empty wrist. “Where…” Bewildered, he glanced at his other wrist, which was also bare. “I didn’t take it off…”

Ethan looked up from his weeding. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ve lost my timepiece.” Alister’s eyebrows pulled together. “I was sure I tied it with a climbing knot, and it was a strong leather cord, so it couldn’t have fallen off…” His chest tightened as he searched his pockets in vain.

Ethan arched an eyebrow. “You said you were from Illeryan, right?”

Alister nodded and he felt only slight remorse for his dishonesty. What a horrible habit, to grow used to lying.

Ethan sighed. “Bastium’s a mighty big city, and you don’t know what to look for. Ali, you got pickpocketed. You’d think you’d be expectin’ that, as a traveller.”

Alister stood, and his voice raised. “But it wasn’t even in my pocket! I think I would’ve noticed if…” He smacked his thigh in frustration. “That boy with the cap. He helped me with directions. He took my hand.”

“And your timepiece. Yeah, people don’t just offer their help in Rogier streets ’less you have a shiny they can take in return. And some are real desperate they don’t ask permission to take the payment.”

“But he was only about ten!” Alister pushed his messy hair out of his eyebrows and paced. At least he hadn’t carried his money with him, as well. “So it’s lost to the fires?” Ethan stared at him with a raised eyebrow. That’s a Rindor expression, he reminded himself. “I mean…I can’t get it back somehow?”

He shrugged. “Not unless you track down the mutt.” He raised an eyebrow. “You can get yourself a new one from a clothin’ store and the like. They’re only about a fifth.”

“My father gave me that when I turned sixteen.” Alister stood with a frown. “It was an heirloom.” And the closest I’ll get to my father for who knows how long. The thought of his parents made his chest ache.

“Oh. That burns.”

“Yeah.” Alister grimaced. “I’m going back inside. See you later.”

Ethan waved him goodbye, and Alister dragged himself inside. It was a trivial thing, but that timepiece was one of his only connections to Rindor, and to his father.

He let Fillion Platt pass him on the stairs, and just rounded the corner to his room when a loud bang echoed up the corridor. Alister looked back down. Fillion Platt lay at the base of the stairs, his body shaking and crumpled.

“Fillion!” Alister hurried down the stairs and pushed the man so he sat up against the wall. Tears rolled down Fillion’s face, and his body seemed to shake uncontrollably. His head slumped, and when Alister threw a hand out to hold it up, he touched something damp.

He removed his blood-stained hand and raised his voice. “Ethan! Someone, help!” Alister turned to Fillion. “It’s alright, it’s okay, don’t worry…”

A woman dashed around the corner, a kitchen towel tucked into her apron. Her eyes widened at the sight of them, and at Fillion’s blood dripping down the wallpaper, and she seemed to wobble on her feet.

“Throw me your towel!” Alister yelled, unable to keep the panic from his voice. “And get Ethan!”

She did as he ordered and ran off.

Alister took deep breaths and he pressed the towel to Fillion’s wound. His eyes flickered to Fillion, whose sobs joined his tears.

“Fillion, what’s wrong? Is it the pain?”

The man didn’t respond as sobs wracked through his body. Alister’s eyes widened as he pressed the towel harder to Fillion’s skull to stop the blood loss. He’d never seen such violent weeping from a grown man. Fillion couldn’t even meet his eyes.

Alister pulled his shirt over his head and used it to bandage the towel to Fillion’s skull. He didn’t seem to have enough hands to pull it tight enough.

“Ali!”

Ethan stood at the other end of the corridor, his eyebrows pulled upwards with worry.

“Can you hold the towel down while I wrap this around?”

Ethan rushed to his father’s side and did as Alister asked. He didn’t speak until Alister finished the job, and then his voice was small. “Did he fall?”

“I think so. I don’t think he can hear me.”

Ethan pressed his lips together and shook Fillion’s shoulder. “Pa! Pa, can you hear me?” Fillion continued to weep. “Father, look at me. Bane of the—Please look at me.”

Ethan stared at his father, heaved a sigh, and glanced at Alister, his brown eyes dark. “Help me get him on his feet, would you?”

Despite Fillion’s shaking body, the two boys managed to stand Fillion up, and walk him through the inn and through one of the doors next to the lost room. They helped Fillion down the stairs, and laid him on the large bed in the corner. The innkeeper still sobbed, and Ethan covered him with a blanket and went back up the stairs. Alister followed, with one last glance at the shaking man.

“Ethan, what—?”

One of the other men who worked at the inn approached them.

“Errol, can you find Laune and tell her my father’s hit his head and needs attendin’?” Ethan said in a quiet voice to the worker. “And ask Sarila to clean the blood off the base of the stairs.”

The broad-shouldered man’s voice was deeper than Alister expected. “Sarila’s preparin’ breakfast.”

Ethan muttered a vile curse. “Maurice’ll need help servin’ then, I expect? Bane of the bloody bleedin’ blight.”

“I’ll clean up the stairs,” Errol said. “And then help with breakfast. Don’t worry ’bout it.”

Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but Errol strode off in the opposite direction before he could.

Alister stared after the man. “What—?”

Ethan ignored Alister and went into the lost room, and Alister followed again.

“Ethan, what are you doing? And what…what happened to your father?”

The innkeeper’s son didn’t respond, and Alister didn’t push him to answer. Ethan stood with his back to Alister, his shoulders hunched as he sorted through the clothes in the lost room.

After a minute, Ethan threw something at Alister and turned around, his arms folded across his chest. It was a long-sleeved shirt with an upturned collar. Alister put it on at once; he’d forgotten his was around Fillion’s head. He almost cursed; anyone who walked by would’ve seen his tattoos. But helping Fillion was more important than protecting a tradition no-one in Bastium recognised, he decided.

Ethan crossed his arms and glared at the wall. “My father’s ill. Two years ago, he started gettin’ weaker and thinner, even though he was eatin’ right. The candra healers in Al’Estar were the only ones what could tell us what was wrong, and it cost us three months earnin’. It’s a slow-workin’ disease that’ll seize up his muscles, ‘til he can’t breathe. I quit the academy to look after him and the inn.” He drew a shaky breath. “The cryin’ thing’s just started last week.”

“That’s awful.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

“Is there a cure, or medicine?”

Ethan gave a hollow laugh. “There’s somethin’ what slows the disease, and it costs more than we make in six months. I been tryin’ to save up, but…” He cursed. “The healers will come back in about a week to check up on him; it’s part of what we paid for two years ago. They come once a year.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, thanks for helpin’ him. I owe you one, Ali.”

“It was nothing.”

Ethan shook his head. “No, really. Anythin’ you need, you just ask.”

The innkeeper’s son left him then, and Alister walked back up to his room. Errol, the broad-shouldered worker, scrubbed hard at the blood on the wallpaper, and Alister realised just how much there had been.

As Alister made his way through Sarila the cook’s incredible dinner, Ethan sat next to him. The solemn boy who dealt with his father’s injury now had a mischievous glint in his eye, and a grin pulled at his mouth.

“You got the time?”

Alister frowned at the reminder of his missing timepiece, and glanced around the room for a clock. There were none. He sighed. “No. My timepiece was stolen, remember?” He went back to his meal with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, you mean this?”

Alister’s head snapped up. In front of his face hung his father’s timepiece. He laughed with relief and took it from Ethan. “What! How did you…?”

Ethan gave a sly grin. “I used to know a few thieves ’round Joan Canal. I managed to track down yours with the help of an old friend.”

Alister raised his eyebrows. “How did you used to know the thieves?”

Ethan chuckled. “You don’t grow up in this here neighbourhood not knowin’ the local thieves.” He hesitated. “And I may’ve been one of them, before my father put me in the Rogier academy.” At Alister’s widened eyes, he hastily added, “don’t worry, I don’t steal anymore. Got switched enough from that it still hurts to sit down.” He laughed at his joke, and his grin dropped to an amused smile when Alister didn’t laugh. “Anyway, you got your timepiece back! No harm done.”

Alister couldn’t help the grin that came to his face. “Thank you, Ethan.”

The boy shrugged. “My way of sayin’ thanks to you for earlier. Oh, and hey…what’s them markin’s on your shoulders? Some Illeryan tradition?”

Alister’s grin fell slightly. “Something like that.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Alister sighed.

“All the boys get tattoos on their shoulders when they turn sixteen, kind of a rite of passage into adulthood. But nobody’s meant to see them—”

“Then what’s the point?”

He hesitated. “It’s meant to only be for the eyes of my wife, someday.”

Ethan blinked, and his mouth pulled into a grin. “That’s…adorable.” Alister scowled and shoved Ethan’s shoulder, and Ethan barked a laugh. “No, really. Very cute.”

Alister rolled his eyes. “I know it sounds silly, but I’m trying to uphold at least one tradition from—from Illeryan.”

Ethan stifled his laughter and nodded with as serious an expression as he could manage. “I get it, I really do. But Ali…”

“What?”

Ethan looked about to burst into more laughter. “Does that mean I’ve got to marry you, now I’ve seen them?”

Alister couldn’t help but laugh, then. Amongst all his joking with Gale and Louis about the tradition, they never said anything like that. “That’s a good one, I’ve got to admit.”

Ethan took it upon himself to teach Alister about the city, and the two of them walked around the streets of De’Rogier the next day.

He wouldn’t have left his father’s side—the innkeeper wasn’t doing much better than the day before—if not for Errol. The broad-shouldered worker all but pushed Ethan out of the inn, insisting the boy get some fresh air. Alister watched from inside with a poorly-concealed smile.

“The air’s plenty fresh inside,” Ethan grumbled and attempted to cross Errol. The bigger man shoved his shoulder, and Ethan stumbled back. He glared at the other man. “There’s things what need to be done here.”

Errol’s deep voice was about as menacing as his flexed muscles. “I’ll handle it.”

Ethan threw his hands up in protest. “What am I meant to do out here? My pa won’t like it if I go back to stealin’!”

Errol raised a bushy eyebrow. “Neither will I.” At Alister’s chuckle, he swung around and grasped his coat. Alister’s smile fell as the large man pulled him to the doorway by the coat as easily as he would a kitten. “Take this one and teach him how to keep a hold of his belongin’s.”

Errol flung a wide-eyed Alister out the front door, and slammed it behind him. Alister staggered to his feet and brushed the dirt off his front, with a wary eye on the door. “That man is terrifying.”

“The burned bharal thinks he’s to take care of me.” Ethan stalked down the street, and glanced back at Alister. “You comin’, or what?”

Alister followed, still a little shaken by Errol’s strength.

Despite his grumbles about Errol, as they walked through De’Rogier, Ethan’s spirits lightened.

“Don’t accept no unpaid help,” he was saying, “and if you do, keep a tight watch on your things.”

“Unpaid help?” Alister laughed. “You mean like yourself?”

Ethan grinned at him. “You’re payin’ to stay at my inn. ‘Sides, if I stole from my guests then we’d be out of business. Anyway, don’t go talkin’ to strangers all together. Don’t walk with your nose in a map, don’t walk slow, and don’t look lost. Travellers are easy. If you’re out ‘til late, get a carriage home. You’ll find worse’n thieves lurkin’ ‘round then, and you’re better off payin’ for a ride’n gettin’ stole from or worse.” He cast a sideways glance at Alister. “Usually, I’d say trust your instincts, but I’m thinkin’ your instincts tell you everyone is as friendly and decent as they’d be in a small town.”

Alister raised an eyebrow. “When did being trustworthy become a bad thing?”

Ethan shrugged. “When you get your pa’s timepiece stolen. I mean, sure, there’re honestly nice people.” He gestured at himself with a grin. “But don’t never assume everyone is trustworthy. Anyway, don’t get involved in no street gamblin’, I can tell you now you’ll never win…”

After his spiel, Ethan instructed him to wait on the corner for a minute, and came back soon after with two sticks of fried meat. “I’m friendly with the hawker,” he explained to Alister, and Alister raised his eyebrows when he accepted the food. Ethan’s history of a thief made him doubt his new friend’s honesty.

They stood on the edge of the pathway, looking around the street as they savoured the fried meat. A group of men sitting on the corner of the street caught Alister’s eye. They shuffled around some cups on a small table for some people walking by, with dirty grins on their faces. After a moment, the walker-by pointed to a cup, and the man opened it to reveal an empty table. The walker-by cursed and flipped a coin over to the man, before going on his way.

Ethan followed Alister’s eye and chuckled. “Those are the street gamblers. They’ll let you win one time out of twenty, but you’ll lose all your coin tryin’ to best them.”

“So they cheat?” After his timepiece had been stolen right off his wrist, a street gambler who rigged his own game didn’t come as a surprise.

Ethan chuckled. “‘Course. I got real good at throwin’ the pellet under my sleeve and puttin’ it back under a different cup when I was younger, but you really need to be an Enchanter to do it perfect.” Alister stared at the street gambler as he shuffled the cups again. Was he using candra to move the pellet without touching it, like Ethan said? The gambler was quick, though, and to Alister, it seemed as though the pellet was never anywhere but its original cup.

Shaking his head, Alister looked around to the other side of the street. A couple of street performers played a stringed instrument with a bow, and a vessel flute which seemed to have twice the amount of holes as Eugene’s. Together the musicians played a song that made Alister drum his fingers on his leg in time. If he knew how to dance well, he would’ve felt the urge to at this music. An upside-down cap lay in front of the musicians, with no more than a dozen coins to weigh it down from the gentle breeze.

The street itself was old cobblestone, dotted with missing or broken tiles. Where in Evon, carriages weaved around the streets, Alister had only seen one roll by in Rogier. The two-wheeled devices—cycles, Ethan said—were more common. It seemed every family had at least one cycle. When Alister asked about wind-chasers, Ethan laughed and said “I wish”. In Rogier, a wind-chaser wasn’t too far away if it needed to be borrowed, but it was only in the other districts where households would own one or more. Despite this, dozens of shadows from wind-chasers passed over the street, and since they stood there, two people dashed down the cobblestone to take off in their wind-chasers. Sometimes, a person would take off from the top of a flight of stairs on their kite.

The tall buildings still seemed odd yet marvellous to Alister, with their glass paned windows and slanted roofs. Sometimes the glass was stained into amazing patterns and seemed to glow. Rogier may be the least expensive district in Bastium, but compared to Rindor, even the streets seemed fit for a palace. Despite the amazing architecture, Alister found the people walking by to be the most interesting to watch.

Even in Rogier, the people seemed to have a tight grasp on what was the latest style, and the variance in clothing choices, especially for the women, meant Alister hadn’t seen two people who were wearing the exact same thing.

After they finished their possibly-stolen food, they wandered back to the inn.

“Hey, I’ve been thinkin’.”

Alister looked over at his new friend. “Yeah?”

Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets. “You can’t stay long at the inn, can you? ‘Cause it’s too pricey. And I’m strugglin’ to get all the jobs done that need doin’, and it’ll just get harder now my pa’s gettin’ worse. So how ’bout I charge you a fifth less each night, and in return, you work with me ’round the inn?”

Alister’s heart pounded. At the current rate, he’d only be able to stay at The Kite’s Way for four more nights. But if it cost a fifth less each night…

He hesitated. “But you need every trace to pay for your father’s medicine.”

Ethan’s frown deepened for a moment, but he shrugged. “I ain’t nowhere close to affordin’ that. And anyway, I’d probably need to hire a new person to help. Might as well be you.”

“Look, I don’t know…”

Ethan laughed and shoved his shoulder. “It ain’t often I’m generous, Ali. Take the offer.”

Alister’s mouth pulled into a smile. “Well, if you insist. Thanks, Ethan.”

And Ethan returned to his cheerful self.