opening his eyes, the priest replied, “I’m afraid not.”
The Zephyr was headed southeast, and the first light of the coming dawn pinked the horizon just above their port bow. The sloop glided swiftly across the calm surface of the sea, her soarwood runners barely kicking up any spray. Ghaji didn’t particularly care for sea travel, but this trip was so smooth he was actually beginning to find it boring.
“We need to do something,” Ghaji said. “We’ve been sailing for hours without any sign of the Black Fleet. It’s a big sea, Diran. I doubt we’ll just happen to bump into Onkar and his crew out here.”
“Of course you’re right,” Diran said, eyes still closed, “but then we won’t need to. Since we’ve left Port Verge, our mysterious benefactor has been heading on a steady course southeast into what, on the seacharts, at least, is open water, but I believe Yvka has a specific destination in mind.”
Ghaji turned to look back at the elf-woman. She sat in the same position as she had for hours, one hand on the tiller, the other resting in the depression on the arm of the pilot’s chair that allowed her to control the air elemental that powered the Zephyr.
“Is this true?” Ghaji asked. “Don’t bother lying to me. I’m tried and hungry, and the only thing meaner than a tired and hungry half-orc is a tired and hungry full-orc.”
“It’s true,” Yvka confirmed. “When we didn’t pick up the Black Fleet’s trail right away, I realized we’d need some help to locate them. I’m taking us to see a friend of mine who might be able to provide us with some useful information.”
“Thanks so much for letting us know when we first set sail.” Ghaji’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I’m not one to indulge in idle conversation,” Yvka said.
“Idle?” Ghaji growled. He reached for his axe as he started to stand, but Diran, still not opening his eyes, gently took hold of his friend’s wrist.
“Unless you know how to control an air elemental, I suggest you sit back down.”
Ghaji ground his teeth, but he removed his hand from his axe and did as his companion suggested.
“So we just sit here like good little boys and allow Yvka to take us wherever she feels like?”
“Unless you have a better suggestion.”
Ghaji glared over his shoulder at the enigmatic elf-woman, but she merely looked back, silent and unconcerned. He turned back to face the bow, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. “Wake me when we get there.”
“Ghaji, we’re here.”
The half-orc’s eyes snapped open, and he regretted it as they were stabbed by bright daylight. He half-closed his eyes again and squinted at Diran. The priest was shaking Ghaji’s shoulder and none too gently, either.
“Danger?” Ghaji asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
“No. Nothing immediate, at least.”
Ghaji nodded and slowly opened his eyes all the way once more and took in their new surroundings. The blue sky was filled with puffy white clouds, and a cool breeze blew across the water. He and Diran were still aboard the Zephyr, though there was no sign of Yvka. The sloop had dropped anchor a few dozen yards from mound of black rock the size of a small island, perhaps one hundred yards across, one hundred twenty at the most. Other vessels surrounded the tiny island on all sides-one-masters, mostly, like the Zephyr, though there were a few two-masters and even one three-masted frigate. The craggy obsidian surface of the island was bereft of plants and animals, but it was hardly lifeless. A few dozen sailors crowded the tiny island, most standing about and talking, but some had set up small wooden tables and were loudly hawking one product or another. Gulls floated on the breeze, circling the island and keeping a sharp eye out for any morsels of dropped food they might be able to swoop down and snatch.
“Flying rats,” Ghaji muttered.
Many of the people on the island cast interest-filled glances at the Zephyr, while others gaped at it with undisguised avarice. Could be trouble, Ghaji thought. They’d have to keep a close eye on the elemental sloop as long as they remained anchored here.
Yvka stood in the midst of the crowd, talking to a gnome dressed in the white shirt, black pants, and head scarf of a common sailor. Yvka evidently asked the gnome a question, for he pointed toward the water, and she nodded. The elf-woman then turned away from the gnome and began picking her way through the crowd toward shore. When she reached the water’s edge, she dove in without hesitation and swam over to her sloop. She treaded water on the vessel’s starboard side as she spoke to them.
“My friend’s here, but he’s out fishing right now. We’ll have to wait a bit.” Without pausing for them to reply, Yvka turned and swam back to the obsidian island.
“Looks like we’re going to get wet, my friend.”
Diran took several daggers from their hidden pockets in his cloak and slipped them into his boots. He then removed his cloak, rolled it into a bundle, and stored it in the open compartment under his seat. He then sat on the port railing and allowed himself to fall backward into the water. Diran might have been taken from the Principalities as a child, but he still possessed a Lhazaarite’s grace in the water. He swam quickly and confidently to shore, barely disturbing the water as he went. As Diran climbed onto the island’s craggy surface, he glanced back at Ghaji and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Ghaji sighed. Best to get this over with.
He removed his breastplate and slid it beneath the seat next to Diran’s cloak. He then climbed up onto the railing and jumped off. As he hit the water, sudden shock ran through his body, for the slate gray sea was so cold here that it felt as if he’d plunged into the deepest depths of an arctic ocean. The splash he’d made upon entering the water was so loud and the spray so voluminous that everyone on the obsidian island turned to look. One wit shouted, “There she blows!” and laughter rippled through the crowd. Cold seeped into Ghaji’s bones as he swam for shore, and his limbs began to feel slow and heavy. He emerged from the frigid sea, swearing and shivering.
Both Diran and Yvka stood waiting for him, and the elf-woman gave him a look as Ghaji joined them, cold water dripping off him like freezing rain.
“Don’t say a word,” the half-orc snarled through chattering teeth.
“Not a peep,” Yvka said.
Neither Diran nor Yvka seemed affected by their time in the chill water, but then both were Lhazaarites and presumably used to the cold sea.
“If the water’s this bad in summer,” Ghaji said, “what’s it like in winter?”
“Deadly,” Diran answered without the slightest trace of humor. “Winter storms churn the sea, and the water is so cold that if one falls in unprotected and isn’t quickly rescued, death occurs within moments.”
“Delightful,” Ghaji muttered and tried not to shiver anew as a breeze wafted over his wet body. He noted a number of rowboats that had been pulled onto the shore around the small island, the craft no doubt having provided passage for those from the larger vessels anchored nearby. Not everyone was forced to swim to shore. Lucky bastards, Ghaji thought.
Waves lapped at the shore, and the black rocky ground was littered with bits of seaweed, shells, and the carcasses of small crabs.
“Depending on the tides and the season, the isle is sometimes submerged,” Yvka said, stepping over a dead eyeless fish. “Don’t worry, though. This time of year, the isle won’t be underwater again until nightfall.”
“What exactly is this place?” Diran asked Yvka.
“Nowhere,” the elf-woman replied.
“If you’re trying to make a joke,” Ghaji said, “it’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking. That’s what this place is called: Nowhere. As Diran guessed earlier, it appears on no chart, not because it’s unknown to mapmakers, but because the Lhazaar princes wish it that way.”
Diran frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“This small isle is neutral ground and has remained thus for centuries. Legend says that Lhazaar herself originally established it as a place to meet in secret with other princes, as well as to broker political and business deals with representatives of other powers. Anyone can come here to talk about anything without fear of discovery
