The waves of the Imperial Sea gently rocked the Legacy. Varsis, standing on the deck, was glad that they had finally reached open water. The Legacy was not a river craft, and made had made horrible time to the Makini lands as of yet. The flood of refugees, who were now, thankfully, all but gone, had not helped the process.

Varsis’ hands folded behind his back as the ship rocked up and down. Once, he had been affected by seasickness. But no more. It had been a side effect of his metal hand’s implementation, the metalweavers had said, and that he should be thankful such a thing had happened. Curiously, Varsis did not share their point of view.

“Are we ready?” he shouted to Salko, who stood a distance away, near the coffin.

The coffin was the best that could be made, under the circumstances. Materials had been picked up at the Legacy’s various port stops. It was wooden, but weighted with metal so it would sink to the bottom. An etching of Graven’s face, noble and composed, had been carved into the wood.

The coffin was as grand as any that might have been given to a great warrior, and because of this, had raised some heads amongst the crew, but Varsis had insisted. If Graven had successfully completed his mission, a great deal of suffering would be prevented.

Varsis stepped up on a pedestal, and turned from the waves to face the throng. All on the ship had come for the burial, except those crewmembers necessary to keep the ship running.

“Graven was a good man,” Varsis announced, and then he stepped down. There was nothing more to say. Graven had been a warrior, not a noble, so there was no long list of family etymology that had to be spoken.

Varsis signaled to Salko, and Salko in turn signaled to his men clustered around the coffin. With a heave, they lifted it off the ground, and gently slid it off the side. There was no noise for a moment, and then a splash. It was gone. Graven was gone, sunk beneath the waves. Varsis would have waited for a proper burial, back at home in the lands of the Makini, if there had been a choice, but sadly, there had not been. The journey was too long, and the body had to be buried in a week.

So now Graven’s remains would forever rest at sea, though in life he had never had a connection to the water.

Most of the funeral attendants turned and went their separate ways, the refugees to their cabins, and the sailors back to their duties. Even Varsis’ personal attendants left him. That was, all except one, who had been leaning off the railing of the ship.

She, Ana, walked over to him.

“Do the waters tell you something, my dear?” Varsis asked her. Perhaps he would marry her, and perhaps not, but the fact remained, they had been together for over a year, now.

“Yes,” the water-witch replied. She had been born a noble of House Makini, in a family with a close relationship to Varsis’ own, but she had left to study the waters. A year ago, she had returned.

It was a curious relationship, the one she and Varsis had together. They were both children of powerful families. When they were young, Varsis had been an awkward second son, while Ana had been the girl at the center of many a young noble’s desires and dreams. Back then, Varsis had never entertained the notion that someone like he could end up with someone like her.

But as he had waxed, accomplishing things greater than his parents had ever hoped, Ana had waned. It became apparent to all that Ana wanted something more out of life, than just being a seductive temptress. Three years ago, she had left for the northern waters, to be with the sirens. To become a water-witch.

When Ana had returned, she found that no longer did men want her in the same way. She was now a part of their nightmares, not their fantasies. For all knew what she had become. And so Ana had come to Varsis, knowing how much he had once wanted her. And with him, she had not been rejected.

In the year they had been together, Varsis had always thought it odd, that both he and Ana had assumed names. Ana was what the sirens had called her, and it was a name she had kept. But that mattered little.

“So, what is it you wish to tell me?” asked Varsis.

“The spirits of the waters tell me things of Graven’s death. Things you may not like to hear.” said Ana, lapsing into a trace. Her words grew lyrical, and the seaweeds she wore as clothing rustled. “Graven failed in the task you gave him. Princess Maiako as Arathou was saved, and your Graven was killed, by a man, who wore the colors of darkness. I feel for you.”

Ana shook her head to clear it, and the aura of power that had been so clear before around her faded. She fell into his arms, and Varsis knew she was tired from the exertion.

“Thanks be to you, my little water-witch,” said Varsis. He tried to push aside the implications of what Ana had said. The few times she had provided him with information in such a manner, it had always been correct.

“I’m no witch,” said Ana, dreamily, her eyes closed. “I am a Singer of the Waves, one of the few to be human. You should appreciate me more, and insult me less.”

“Ah,” said Varsis. “But if you left me, no one else would have you, my love. At least no one you would want.” Around them, the Legacy gently rocked.

“True enough,” said Ana. She was short, and her head rested on Varsis’ chest. “Why do I think that the only reason you put up with me, is because you want me in bed?”

That was actually one of the least of Varsis’ reasons for retaining her, but it was best for her to be humored. “Perhaps,” said Varsis. “Perhaps.”

At that very moment, Captain Salko walked up to them. “If it’s not too much to ask, sir, one of my crew has requested to speak with you.”

Varsis had identified the man by his voice, and only now did he look up. “Is there a reason for this?” he asked.

“I do not know, sir,” said Salko. “He only said that it was important, and that he needed to speak with you.”

Varsis was somewhat intrigued. “I will speak with him.”

“Follow me sir,” said Salko, and Varsis did, leaving Ana. He led the way to a portion of the deck where on crewmember stood and did nothing, as his fellows worked all around him.

“This is Roin,” said Salko, inclining his head to the idle crewmember.

“My lord,” said Roin, bowing his head.

To Varsis, something about Roin differentiated him from the other crewmen, but Varsis could not quite figure out what.

“I have but one thing to say, and it requires only a moment, my lord Varsis,” said Roin. “When this ship docks in the Makini lands, I wish to come with you, to serve as well as I am able.”

If any other crewman had asked this, Varsis would have laughed him off. But there was something about Roin, even though visually he looked little different from the other sailors. And Varsis had always prided himself in finding new and unorthodox talent. “We shall see,” he said.

And with that, Varsis left, and retreated to his cabin. His cabin was spacious and well lit, and through a window, Varsis could look down upon the sea below.

Varsis rolled up his sleeve, exposing all of the metal that had replaced his left hand. It was shaped as a gauntlet, and looked as such, as if one could just pull the gauntlet off, and find a normal appendage underneath. But such was not the case. Varsis looked at the metal hand, and tried to put things in perspective.

It would take a week to get to the Makini capital if the ship was lucky. There was nothing for Varsis to do. But all he could think about was that Graven’s death had been for naught.

Varsis took out a short iron bar, no more than half a foot long, or an inch thick from a drawer in the room, as he often did when he was angry, and placed it in his left hand. Then he squeezed.

With an audible noise, the metal bent as Varsis pressed down on it with all his might. When Varsis opened his hand again, what was left was mangled. He put what he had created back in the drawer.

Who is the dark-cloaked man? Varsis wondered. Does he know what he hath wrought? All Varsis had wanted to do was extinguish the life of one innocent, so that thousands of others would be saved.

For any to kill Graven, Varsis reflected, they would have to be a powerful fighter. So Graven’s killer was formidable. But he will not be formidable enough.

Not yet did Varsis know how, but he knew that the dark murderer would die. And so would the princess, so that others might live.