And that was exactly what they were going to do.
Perla’s harbor stretched across an entire mile of coast, capable of hosting over a hundred vessels. Ships three times the size of theirs perched merrily in their own dedicated slots, each carved from luxurious wood that looked smooth and new. He noticed they were grouped by figurehead. Some ships had a roaring lion, plated in what looked like gold. Nearby, there was a small fleet of vessels helmed by horses. Then, warriors. Great serpents. And, finally, birds.
Perla’s port was bustling with trade, the market starting far out into the docks. They disembarked and took their ship with them, only to meet a variety of merchants, each one yelling louder than the last.
“Fresh cod, the flakiest on Perla!”
“Oysters, the best you’ll find on Emblem Island!”
“Rare tiger-striped mackerel, with lemon slices included!”
“Genuine enchanted fishing rods, guaranteed to catch you dinner tonight!”
“Fried fish with fried potatoes and purple pickles!”
“Does Perla have a queen, like Zura?” Engle asked Melda, eyes wide with hunger as he surveyed the stands of food.
“No. Perla is run by the five top merchants, who are said to hoard the best enchantments in Emblem Island, imported from every coast.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not surprised the pearl’s here. It’s probably in one of their palaces.” She pointed up at a cliff that framed the city. Five palatial houses were built in its side, each connected by a bridge.
“How on Emblem are we supposed to get up there?” Engle asked.
Tor didn’t know. It looked like the houses were well guarded. “Let’s just keep following the compass.”
Vesper held it firmly in her hand, glancing down at her palm every few seconds. The needle led them down the docks and past luxurious seaside apartments and town houses, made of striking white marble. It was a city of wealth. The streets were perfectly crafted in stone, not a crack in sight. Shops lined the streets at the bottom floors of town houses, their products neat and simple inside. Through windows, Tor saw spider silk clothing, jewelry made from gems the size of small potatoes, a hat shop with hats enchanted to do all sorts of marvelous things, like whisper into the user’s ear the name of approaching strangers or warn the wearer of impending danger. Or so the man standing outside advertising them claimed.
Everyone in Perla wore a hat, some in strange shapes, like bows and birds. Each in a range of colors: lavender, butterscotch, indigo, violet, blush, and juniper.
Someone with an illusion emblem stood in the center of the road and painted the sky with an invisible brush, creating floating ribbons and balloons that burst, only to appear once more. By the looks of it, Perla was preparing for a celebration.
“They certainly like chocolate here,” Melda said. Every block had a chocolate shop, with prices in the windows that made Engle’s eyes bulge.
“Ten dobbles for a chocolate bar?” he yelled. “It better be made of gold!”
“It is,” Melda said, reading the sign.
“The City of Seekers,” Tor said softly, remembering what Captain Forecastle had called it.
Melda smirked. “Indeed.”
“This way.” Vesper turned onto a narrow side street, and they followed, squeezing past women wearing dresses that took up practically the entire block.
Melda studied them, fascinated. “I’ve never seen fabrics like these,” she said quietly. “They’re enchanted.” One of the dresses turned from ice blue to pink, then shortened to its wearer’s ankles when she encountered a small puddle on the road. Another grew sleeves and a cape when the woman complained of the slight breeze.
Vesper turned again, this time onto a street lined with pubs that looked nothing like the Crusty Barnacle. She stopped, and Tor ran into her back. “It’s…moving a lot,” she said.
The needle whizzed this way and that, as if confused, before finally settling on a direction.
“That means the pearl is moving,” Melda said.
Tor nodded. “Which means someone has it on them.”
Vesper walked faster now, almost running down an alleyway. Perla’s chatter and fine music fell away as they traveled to its seediest part, which, even then, was nicer than most villages.
The streets were nearly empty. The shops all looked closed. Even the sun seemed to shine less here, blocked by the taller buildings closer to the harbor. Tor spotted a sign on the corner of a street, marking the place as Galaway Lane.
“Seeking something?” A man wearing a fine long coat stood behind them. He wore a hat that had real flames burning on its rim, yet somehow the fabric remained unscorched.
“No,” Melda said firmly. And they continued past him without another word.
Engle swallowed. “I don’t like this place.” He looked around, squinting into the distance. “I feel like someone’s following us.”
Tor wished they could turn back around. He felt uneasy, too, like they were all being watched. Yet, the compass’ needle continued to lead them farther down the street, deeper into the darkest part of the city.
A scream echoed down another alley, not far away. Followed by another.
Melda winced, her hands in fists. “There are rumors,” she said quietly, “that the city is so rich because it runs on the profits of dark enchantments.”
Tor’s mouth went dry. He had heard about dark enchantments once, from a classmate who had gotten sent home after the teacher had heard him talk about them. They were born from pain—usually from forcing someone to enchant an object. And they always required blood.
The compass swung toward an alley.
Everything in Tor screamed to run. But they had made it this far. They were so close. So they walked down the alley, only to find a solid wall at the end. Nowhere else to go. And no sign of the pearl.
The compass needle stopped moving.
“What happened?” Engle asked. Something dripped nearby. A rusty door creaked. Smoke billowed from the building next door.
Vesper shook the compass, trying to get it to work again. But the needle went limp. “I don’t know. I didn’t do anything
