Vesper returned, her pants wet to her knees. “Closed. But not for long.” She opened her shell map, and they saw all up and down Emblem Island’s west side, villages and cities dotting the coast.
The village Engle had spotted up ahead was labeled Gargyle. Tor had never heard of it. He glanced at Melda, and she shook her head—she didn’t recognize it, either.
“Never seen a town like that before.” Engle said.
Gargyle was built completely on docks that jutted far out into the water. There were dozens of them, crisscrossed, and built not on a grid, but wayward, as if a giant in the sky had dropped a handful of bridges from the clouds, and people had decided to make a town of it.
Tor moored the ship awkwardly in the mess of a harbor, squeezing dangerously close to a shop that was located on the end of a neighboring dock. The building drooped low, heavy with what looked like clocks, just a few pounds away from falling into the sea.
A woman peeked her head through the shop’s window, smiling widely. She had her hair still in curlers and wore an apron, like she had just been in the middle of baking. “Nice to see you, might a timepiece be of interest? We have clocks that cluck, clocks that talk, clocks that walk—useful if you have a hard time getting out of bed—clocks that tell you the wrong time, if you’re in the habit of being late. Clocks that sing, clocks that ding, clocks that ring, clocks that bring you coffee, clocks that—”
“No, thank you, we’re quite all right,” Melda said, holding up her arenahora.
The woman frowned. “Now sand isn’t my first choice, but, to each their own…” She was about to leave when Tor spoke.
“Is there a ship repairer here?”
She pointed a finger across the way, then firmly closed her window.
Tor went to the place the woman had indicated while the rest stayed on board—everyone except for Engle, that is, who wandered into the town despite Melda’s insistence he stay put. Even reminders that he didn’t have a single dobble in his pocket didn’t stop him.
The man in the ship repair shop had a reed sticking out from his mouth and tipped precariously backward in his chair when Tor walked into his shop.
“You need my help, I presume,” he said arrogantly, straightening.
Tor nodded. “My ship is badly damaged on one side, sliced open.”
The man grinned. He had yellow teeth, some much sharper than others. Tor looked quickly for an emblem, but didn’t see one. “Now how did that come to be?”
“Just some rocks.”
The man still smiled as he nodded. “Just some rocks… Let’s see…”
He followed Tor down the docks, to the ship. Melda and Vesper now leaned against it. The waterbreather’s enchantment was just about to run out, the crack widening before their eyes.
The man let out a low whistle. “That’s a bad break you have there. Might not be worth fixing at all.” He turned to Tor. “Why don’t you let me take it off your hands? I’m afraid this looks beyond repair. I’m in a giving mood. I’ll pay fifty dobbles, just because I feel bad.”
Melda scoffed. “You’re joking, right?” She looked around. “Empty harbor, lack of customers? Not our fault. Don’t think you can con us.”
The man turned to face her. He looked around, then bent so he was her height. He grinned, rotten teeth on full display. “Right as you may be about a lack of customers…” He turned to his left, and right, dramatically. “I don’t see another shipfixer in this town, either.” The man laughed as he regarded the gash in the hull. “And you won’t be sailing anywhere else to get another quote, with a tear like that. Best take my offer. And now, I’m thinking I’ll pay forty.”
Melda seethed.
And, just as the man opened his mouth again, he fell into the water, the planks below his feet suddenly shrinking to an inch across. Vesper took a step forward and smiled at him through the new hole in the dock. The man cursed loudly, drenched and covered in the trash that had accumulated underneath the pier. “How’s the water?” she said. “I’ve been dying for a swim.”
Just then, Engle walked up, laughing hysterically. He peeked into the hole, at the shipfixer still cursing as he tried to climb out, and laughed some more. “You made her angry, didn’t you?”
Melda had a very small smile on her face as she glared into the hole. A moment later, she sighed. “What are we going to do now?”
As terrible as he was, the man was right. He was the only one in town who could help them, and their ship wouldn’t make the journey to another.
Engle shrugged. “Lucky for you, I’ve already scouted the place.” He cupped a hand to the side of his mouth. “Mean people here, wouldn’t even give me a taste-try of fudge!” He shook his head, disgusted.
“And…” Melda said pointedly.
“And I think I have an idea! Vesper, shrink the ship, will you?”
Melda looked unconvinced, but Vesper did as Engle said.
He led the way down the dock, which dipped too far into the water for Tor’s liking in some places. The dock split into two. One side led across the stretch of sea to another mess of overlapping docks, and that was the way they took, right onto a floating dock that had to be pulled by a man on the other side using a rope. He tipped his hat at them as they passed.
Finally, they reached a small cluster of shops, all crowded together on the same pier.
“How on Emblem did you find this place?” Melda asked.
“I just…explored,” Engle said, lifting a shoulder.
In front of them sat three buildings. A small gallery, with paintings that were multilayered, enchanted so that they held multiple works of art that played on a loop. Most of them, unsurprisingly, depicted the sea
