Chapter 33

“Fuck off,” Hannah groaned, squinting against the bright sun.

“That bad, huh?” Noah grinned, noting she was still wearing the clothes she’d fallen asleep in.

He set the large box of supplies he’d bought from the general goods store on the dock, then hopped onto the deck of The Winter’s Debt. Ignoring Hannah’s scowl, he turned, picked up the box again, and carried it toward the stern. She narrowed her eyes and followed slowly, shaking her head.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked.

“Well, when you didn’t get up for breakfast, Ciri and Ken got an early start. They hired that carriage company you recommended to take us to Crownspire,” he said, beginning to unpack the box.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Well, their only free carriage needs a wheel repair and won’t be here until noon at the earliest. So I figured I’d make good on my promise and fix your tiller.”

She scowled as he lifted a hammer. “You’re about to use that thing, aren’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why else would I have bought it?”

“Can you…not? My head already feels like someone’s been hitting it with a hammer. I don’t need the sound of actual hammering to add to it.”

“This might be the last time we see each other for a while,” he reminded her, setting the hammer down and gesturing to the oar still lashed to the tiller. “Are you sure you want to sail around with this makeshift repair?”

She groaned. “I hate you right now.”

“Why don’t you go down to your cabin and put some cotton in your ears or something? I’ll do the hammering first and get it over with.”

She muttered as she moved toward the hatch. “I think I’ve got a bottle of frostmead down there somewhere…”

“Try water!” he called. “Trust me, it’ll help a lot more!”

She slammed the hatch shut in response, making him laugh as he finished laying out the supplies. He began untying the knots he’d used to secure the oar, freeing it so he could attach the longer plank. Once ready, he stuffed a handful of nails into his pocket, hooked the hammer into his belt, and positioned the plank over the old tiller.

Sorry, Hannah.

He set the first nail and struck it cleanly. Then another. And another. The repetitive rhythm let his mind drift.

I hope he’s still alive. He’s probably moved on to another city by now… but for the first time in a long time, it feels like we’re getting closer. I want him to meet Ciri and Hannah. He’d like both of them.

When the new tiller was secured, he wrapped a strip of leather around the end and tied it down, forming a comfortable handle. He tested it, nodded in satisfaction, then moved on to replacing the wooden shivs and tarring the joint to waterproof it.

Hannah’s head popped up from the hatch. “Are you done making noise?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

She climbed onto the deck and held out a dark bottle. “Here.”

“I’d better not while I’m working.”

“It’s water,” she said, shaking her head. “You should drink. It’s getting hot.”

He took a sip and handed it back. “Thanks.”

She drank as well, then slumped beside him. “Why aren’t you as hungover as I am?”

“I’m probably…what, forty percent heavier than you?” he said, pulling out the shivs. “And drinking is practically a rite of passage in engineering school. I built up a tolerance.”

“Is that where you learned how to do…this?” She gestured at the repairs.

“Sort of. They teach you how to think about problems. Working after school taught me the rest.”

She fell quiet for a moment. “Where are Ciri and Ken?”

“Ciri found a bookstore. Ken went with her.” He chuckled. “I don’t expect them back until noon.”

Hannah cracked a smile. “I guess some things never change.”

“It seems like you’ve known her a long time,” Noah said as he worked.

“Since we were kids. I didn’t grow up in the tribe—I lived with my dad outside a little human village south of Rookhaven. But every year or so Ken and his wives would visit, and they’d bring little Ciri along.” She took another sip. “I never thought she’d leave that village. She seems happy, though.”

“Seems like Ken took quite an interest in you.”

“Yeah. He knew my dad somehow. Refused to tell me how.”

“He does that sometimes.” Noah tapped the last shiv into place. “You described Fae assassins once. I think he was one of them.”

“Ken? Not a chance.”

Noah paused and looked at her. “Why not? How else do you explain the knife skills, the military tactics, breaking us out of that brig, killing several guards—”

“Okay, I know how that looks, but trust me. I know Ken. He doesn’t even think Fae assassins exist.”

“Has he ever said that? Directly?”

She frowned. “I…think so?”

“All I’m saying is it fits the facts. And denying it without outright lying would be the perfect cover.”

“I still don’t think so. He can handle himself because he’s married to Aelya. Have you seen her with a knife?”

“Fair point,” Noah admitted, brushing tar over the shivs.

“I know what you mean, though,” she conceded. “He won’t talk about his past. I think he did something he’s embarrassed about and doesn’t want people to know.”

“Maybe.”

She shook her head. “We got sidetracked. That’s not why I asked where they were.”

“Why did you ask?”

“I asked because I wanted to talk to you alone.”

Sensing the shift, Noah set down the tin of tar and the brush, turning fully toward her. “About what?”

“You and I kissed last night.”

“I’m glad you remember.”

“I also remember you not taking advantage of me, then going next door and making Ciri scream.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“I guess I want to say… thanks. For everything. The stuff in Tarn’s Reach, the mess with Ohnar, the repairs to my ship…” She let the words trail off.

“That sounds an awful lot like a goodbye,” Noah said, brow furrowing.

“I don’t know if we’ll see each other again. Once you leave to find your brother, I’ll probably take a job here, and then I’ll be off to some other port.”

He moved a little closer, resting a hand lightly on her hip. “I’m not asking you to come with me — that wouldn’t be fair. But I know I’ll end up back at the tribal village eventually, and you visit often enough.”

“And then what?” she challenged. “You know I can’t stay there. I’d go crazy in a week. This won’t work.”

He grinned. “Then maybe I hop on your boat, and you show me more of this world.”

She held his gaze for a long moment. “You’re not joking.”

“I’m not. I might not be as adventurous as my brother, but I’m sure there are things you could show me.” He paused. “But Ciri has to come too. We’re a package deal.”

“I don’t take on crew as a rule,” she said slowly. “But for you, I’d make an exception. For her…” She shrugged, though a smile tugged at her lips.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I’ll make you scream like she did last night.”

Without thinking, his lips came down and pressed against her neck in a wet kiss. She moaned and dropped the now-empty bottle before wrapping her hands around his waist. He trailed kisses upwards and across her jawline before finally pressing them to hers, lingering there for several seconds before pulling away.

“Deal.” She whispered.

“Glad we came to an agreement.”

“Shut up. I need to give you something to remember me by until then, and I can’t do it when you keep talking.” She replied.

She kissed him again after that, her lips lingering on his. Their hands travelled up and down each other’s bodies, squeezing and caressing shamelessly. When they parted they were both panting, eyes wild and grins on their faces.

“I’ll make sure it’s worth the wait,” Noah promised.

“I look forward to it,” Hannah replied.

The next thirty minutes passed in a flurry of activity. Noah finished tarring the tiller just as Ciri and Ken strolled up the dock to announce that their carriage had arrived. Together, the four of them loaded their luggage onto a black carriage—easily the size of a large SUV—pulled by a team of four dray beasts. On either side there was a faded red silhouette of a wyvern in flight.

Once everything was secured, they said their final goodbyes to Hannah. Noah shared a brief, chaste kiss with the half‑Fae captain before turning to join the others at the carriage.

“You’ll probably want to sit up with the driver,” Ken said as they reached it. “There’s more to see from up there.”

Realizing he was right, Noah diverted, grabbed his crossbow for safety, and climbed up beside the driver — a stocky, tanned human man in a beige shirt, brown pants, black boots, and a grey beret, who introduced himself as Davan. The man furrowed his brow when Noah settled onto the bench, but brightened considerably when Noah explained that he “wasn’t from around here” and just wanted to see the scenery.

“Ah, that’s great!” Davan said earnestly. “Too many passengers sit inside the whole ride. They miss all the good stuff!”

“You’ve done this route a lot, then?”

“Just about every day since I was old enough to hold the reins,” Davan replied proudly. “Worked for a fair few carriage companies along the way. This one’s the best — might not be the biggest or fanciest, but the Crimson Wyvern treats us drivers well enough.” He whistled sharply, prompting the team of dray beasts to start moving and the wheels to start squeaking.

Noah nodded, trying to take in the entire city at once as they rolled through it. “How long’s the ride?”

“Eight hours, give or take. Dray beasts aren’t as fast as horses, but once we’re out of the city we’ll make good time. We’ll reach Crownspire around sundown.”

As they passed a massive building with onion-shaped domes — similar to the one he’d seen in Tarn’s Reach — Noah asked, “Mind if I ask some questions while we drive? I’d love a local’s view of the world.”

“Sure, but I’m not a learned man or anything. Might not have all the answers.”

“Great,” Noah said with a grin before pointing. “What’s that building there?”

He gave Noah a sideways look. “You’re really not from around here, are you? Even an Unmarked like me knows a temple when he sees one.”

“Nope. Can you help me out?”

“That’s a Temple of the Almighty,” Davan said.

Noah stared blankly. “Let’s assume I don’t follow religion. Can you explain it?”

Davan scratched the back of his head. “Well… I’m not exactly religious either, but I can try.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Temple’s where folks go to pray to the Almighty.”

Magic is real here. No reason gods can’t be, Noah reminded himself. “And does the Almighty…answer?”

Davan shrugged. “Sometimes? The Almighty’s not really a…person.” He frowned, thinking. “My mom always said the Almighty was a force — like a hurricane or a forest fire. Doesn’t have emotions the way we do.”

“And what do people pray for?”

“Balance. Temple folk are all about balance. Light and dark, life and death, all that.”

“And you said you’re an…Unmarked?”

“That’s what the Seekers call me, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t go to temple regular and I don’t give to charity every year. I still fast on Year’s End, though. Light the candles at home too.” He noticed Noah’s blank expression and added, “For remembering folks who passed.”

“Ah. I see.”

“They’re good folk, the temple. They’ll help you if you’re in need. ‘The stranger deserves the same protection as the neighbor,’ they say.”

“And they’re the only religion in Therondale?”

Davan chuckled. “Not by a long shot. Just the biggest. Some people take the teachings too far — think our coming here threw off the balance and it’s on us to restore it. Others think the Almighty speaks through patterns — coincidences, dreams, that sort of thing.” His tone darkened. “And some cling to the older ways. Think we’ve gotten too loose and need to stick to the exact words on the page.” He shrugged. “Then there’s the Fae, who believe in different gods altogether.”

Noah kept the questions coming as they passed through the city gates and into the surrounding farmland. The squeaking wheels gradually became background noise, allowing him to tune them out and focus on the conversation. As Davan talked, Noah realized that religion here had evolved the same way language, culture, and ethnicity had over centuries.

It coalesced, he thought, recognizing familiar elements. Like Christianity had a baby with Islam, and that baby was raised by Buddhists, Jews, and Pagans.

They’d been riding for almost an hour, chatting about everything from weather to trade routes, when Davan suddenly fell quiet, shoulders drooping.

“Never get used to this part,” he muttered.

“What part?” Noah asked.

Davan pointed ahead to a pair of wooden stakes in the ground, surrounded by several burned-out trees. “One of our drivers died on this route with his passenger about two years ago. Rennick. They buried what was left of them both there.”

“I’m sorry,” Noah said. “Did you know him?”

“Oh, sure. Went drinking with him on paydays most weeks. Left behind a wife and kid. Now that’s all that’s left of him.” Davan shook his head. “He was so excited, too. Got to take a traveller. From the old realm! Can you believe it?”