On the sixth day, I opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. It read:

  Go to Ar’Sha’In

  Travel east to the foot of the Dragons Teeth

  Venture north

  “Well,” I said, “that’s succinct.”

  I left the letter on my desk. I didn’t think I’d have any difficulty remembering the directions.

  Three or four blocks down the hill towards the Academy was a small clothing shop, tucked between a bakery and a haberdashery. As I entered, a small bell over the door jangled. Behind a counter, a middle-aged man clad in a leather apron was repairing a vest with awl and thread. He seemed familiar, and I tried to place him.

  “Healer,” he smiled, “how may I help you?”

  “Good day. I’m looking for some traveling clothes: nothing fancy, but strong. Good for walking.”

  “Ah.” He scratched his head. “Dress, or trousers and shirt?”

  I hesitated. “Can I see the trousers?”

  “Certainly.” He went to the back and rummaged through a chest. “Here.”

  To call them trousers was a bit misleading. Rather, they resembled a Japanese hakama: almost a skirt split into two wide legs. I held them up to my waist and looked down doubtfully.

  “Do you have something a bit shorter?”

  “I can hem them for you in a few minutes.”

  “Please.” He measured the length on me, and then I walked back and forth through the store while he worked. I found a decent enough blouse made of a coarse weave that looked indestructible. Finally, I picked out a broad-brimmed hat. I laid my choices on the counter just as he finished.

  “How much?” I asked.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “I’ve been trying.”

  There was a series of dull thuds over our head as someone ran across the floor above.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked, “that’s my son, Keln. You treated him two months ago when he had an infected foot.”

  “Oh, yes—” I nodded, “—and you are Ronat. He had a swollen groin and a fever.”

  “Not after you cared for him. And you never charged us, Lady Circe. Not a copper.” He pushed the stack of clothes towards me. “Your money’s no good here.”

  When I returned home, there was a carriage with a footman in Royal livery waiting at the curb.

  “Lady Circe?”

  I nodded.

  “I have a delivery for you, my lady.” He lifted a long box from the back of the vehicle. ”May I carry it for you?”

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  “Thank you.”

  I had him place it in my study. When he had left, I opened it, curious to see the contents. Inside was a bundle of fabric wrapped in some light paper, and a flat wooden box. On top was a cream envelope. I tore it open. There was an unsigned note inside. It read:

  A small token of my gratitude and affection.

  I opened the bundle. Inside was a dress, made of dark green fabric that felt soft as butter and glowed in the afternoon light. Silver threads cascaded down the front, and the neckline plunged to the waist. The sleeves terminated just below the elbows.

  In the box was a necklace of gold, set with a cluster of small green gems in an oval pendant. I held it up against the dress.

  “Aelyn would like this,” I thought before I caught myself.

  Then I put my gifts away in the closet and shut the door.

  My old backpack was hanging in the back of a storage space. On the floor was a canvas bag with my old cooking gear, blanket and tarp. I put my kit together piece by piece, rechecked the packing, and added a spare loincloth, shirt, and pads. I changed into my traveling clothes and slung the pack over one shoulder.

  The tide would be going out in two or three treks. I walked out the door and headed down to the harbour.

  The Merchants’ House was busy. A large floor overflowed with barrels, bundles, pallets, and wooden boxes. Traders leaned over desks and signed papers or brokered deals. On one side was a counter where shipping agents bargained with ship’s officers and chandlers. I made my way there and picked out an elderly man with a stack of documents before him.

  “Good afternoon,” I said.

  “Mistress.” He tipped his head at me. “Do you have a message for me?”

  “No. I’m looking to book passage to Ar’Sha’In. This evening, if possible.”

  He looked at me doubtfully. “Traveling with someone else?”

  “Alone.”

  He shook his head. “Couldn’t recommend it, Mistress. Rough crowd, merchant sailors. Try down the other end of the harbour where the passenger vessels berth.”

  “Is there one such leaving for my destination?”

  “Not this tenday. Perhaps next.”

  “That won’t do. I need one now.”

  “Can’t help you.” He looked at me and sighed. “Mistress, I have a granddaughter your age. I put you one of these ships, and I won’t be able to face her again.”

  I raised my hand and conjured a small fireball, careful to shield it from the crowd behind us.

  “Oh.” He stared at me. “My Lady Mage, I am sorry. I simply thought—”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Master Agent. I appreciate your concern.”

  “Well.” He shuffled papers. “Bright Rendak is casting off in two treks. Two docks down to the east. First port of call is Ar’Sha’In. The Master is Brand. He treats fairly, if hard. But my Lady—” he met my gaze, “—watch his son and mate, Dorn. Not one to turn your back on, if you take my meaning.”

  “I do.” I made to pass him a silver, but he waved it away.

  “Goddess with you, my Lady. A fair price for the passage is seven gold.”

  “Will that she watches over you. And thank you for your help.”

  The crew of Bright Rendak was finishing the loading. The cargo seemed to be a mixture of wood and fabrics, with a couple of barrels of oil as an afterthought. They were being berated by an older man in coarse shirt and wrap. None of them seemed to be taking the abuse too hard.

  “Master Brand?”

  “Aye?”

  “I’m seeking passage to Ar’Sha’In this evening.”

  “Are you.” He looked me up and down. “I doubt you can afford it.”

  “Single cabin, locked door. Meals. And why don’t we skip the part where we bargain back and forth for a trek and waste each other’s time. Seven gold.”

  He spat in the water. “Been speaking to Tard, have you?”

  “Who?”

  “Shipping agent. A little hair, all of it grey. Scarred nose.”

  “That’s him.”

  “Huh.” He snorted. “That man has cost me more than I can count.”

  “I’m sure you can count just fine. And he just sent you a paying passenger.” I passed him the gold.

  He grunted, then raised his voice. “Dorn!”

  “Aye?” A man in his twenties leaned over the rail above our heads.

  “This is—” he looked at me.

  “Circe.”

  “Show Mistress Circe to the guest cabin.” Dorn started to smile. “The one to port, you hear?”

  Dorn scowled. “Aye.”

  “And then get right back here and help finish the damn stowage. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be cooling our asses at the wharf for another night. And paying the dockage.”

  Dorn beckoned me towards the starboard gangway. He pointed towards the bow.

  “After you,” I said.

  He led the way over to a hatch and turned to slide down a ladder. I climbed down each rung and found myself in the darkened interior. It smelled of tar, salt, and fish. Dorn stood at the entrance to a corridor that led down the left side of the ship, partially blocking the way.

  “Down here,” he said, “Third hatchway to port.”

  I pointed to the ladder. “Thanks. I can manage from here.”

  He waited, and we heard a bellow from his father. Dorn walked over to the exit.

  “Perhaps we’ll talk on the voyage.”

  “Perhaps not,” I said.

  As I stowed my pack, I heard the crew casting off the lines and felt a lurch as the ship began to move.