Hope and Brunhilde were travelling south to the coast. After wandering wooded forest, they had found a river, and were following the wide slow flow of it. Brunhilde tried to persuade her friend to make a raft and take a relaxing ride on the river, but the princess’s response was not friendly to the idea. So, they walked and enjoyed the freshness of the air and the quiet sound of their guide sliding to the distant coast.

Herons stood in the shallow, sleek and elegant white perched on their thin black legs. When one launched itself into the air it seemed like a different creature altogether. The long neck speared into the sky, great white wings spread out like fluttering cloth and the bird wheeled away over the water.

“If I could fly, what would I see from up there?” Brunhilde wondered aloud. She was standing tall and taking in the sights of the river and river-bank life.

“Everything,” Hope replied. She was in a mood where she rarely spoke, and paid little attention to Brunhilde’s attempts at conversation.

“Can you fly? Is that one of your magic tricks?” Brunhilde asked. She glanced back at her friend with a sly smile.

“Mmm,” Hope said. Yes or no, it was hard to tell. Her bright cloak was pulled tight around her, and she stared blankly at the ground as they walked. The sun was strong in thy sky, but large clouds scudding by masked and unmasked it regularly, giving the day a cool and fresh feel.

Brunhilde gave up on pulling her friend out of her mood. She counted the different bird calls she heard as she walked. It was an idle game to play, but it also gave her an idea of how many hunting birds there were. Songbirds, sparrows and other woodland birds sang without fear, they must feel safe in these woods. She eyed trees as they walked, marking ones that could make good rafts in her mind. They had walked by about twenty good rafts of wood already.

“Hey, look at that,” Brunhilde said. She stopped and pointed across the river.

Hope ignored her until her careless mood caused her to walk into the barbarian’s broad back.

“Ow! I’m not interested in otters or salty rocks!” Hope cried. She rapped a fist against Brunhilde like a spoilt child.

“Look!” Brunhilde urged again.

Hope gave in and followed Brunhilde’s pointing. Indeed, there was something more interesting than wildfowl or handholding otters, a barge. It was making its way upstream toward them, but there was no sight of a steersman guiding it. The large opulent looking craft came closer. The hull was painted a smooth red and the deck was edged with gold. The windows were ringed with gold frames like rings for a giant. Lantern light shone from inside, but there was no sight of crew nor passenger anywhere.

The boat edged against the current and slowed to a halt nearby. Water curled around it.

“Hey there!” Brunhilde shouted.

“It’s obviously empty,” Hope said. There was a reek of magic about the craft.

“What does it want?” Brunhilde wondered aloud.

“Passengers,” Hope said.

“Hey!” Brunhilde shouted again. She watched the windows for signs of crew.

“It’s a boat! Nobody is going to answer,” Hope snapped.

Brunhilde waded into the river to get a better look. The barge remained in place. Near the prow a ladder hung down the side of the barge. There was a boarding plank on the deck, but it remained stowed. It felt like a trap, but also a mystery. She waded in deeper, the cold river came up to her chest, and then she was at the ladder. She hauled herself up onto the deck and shook the water off.

“Maybe it can take us to the coast,” she said.

Hope sighed. She was tired of walking, and though the boat had enchantments dripping from it, there was nothing dangerous about it. She took some steps back, ran and leapt into the air. She covered a dozen swords-lengths with her jump. Her bright cloak fluttered behind her like a bird’s plumage. She landed neatly on the deck beside Brunhilde.

“Well leapt!” Brunhilde cried. She went to slap Hope on the back, but the princess raised her hand and blocked the soggy touch.

“No! Dry yourself off,” Hope said. She ducked down into the doorway leading inside the barge.

Brunhilde leant on the roof of the barge and tried to spy who was in the wheelhouse at the aft of the boat. It looked empty as well. Perhaps the boat was moving entirely by magic.

The barge moved off, pushing upstream against the current.

“No, no! South, that way!” Brunhilde shouted. She slammed her hands on the roof.

There was a pause and then the barge took a wide turn across the river. The prow turned south and they were heading downriver.

“Good boat,” Brunhilde said, and patted the roof. Then she ducked down into the low doorway to follow Hope. She had to duck down inside, whereas Hope was standing tall.

The inside was carpeted, in lush purple, with cushions along the length of the room. Lanterns hung from delicate and polished fixtures of brass. Everything spoke of leisure and opulence. Even the ceiling was a varnished dark wood like glazed chocolate. A smoky sweet incense hung in the air, and the scent of alcohol drifted from a serving bar at the far end of the room. The cushions looked ready plumped to sit amongst, the bar was stocked with bottles of spirits and wine, the lanterns were burning bright, filled with oil. But still no sign of who had prepared the craft, or who would enjoy the cruise.

Brunhilde rolled on the carpet to dry herself off. It sucked moisture into its thick weave without becoming damp. Hope left her to dry off and investigated the cabin. She could see nothing dangerous here, but pleasures back home always held hidden threats.

“This little barge was not made for hearty warriors. If we had some oars or a sail, I could take us down to the coast in a few hours. You know my aunty Elsa chased the Sun to where it sleeps, on her galley? That was a fast ship,” Brunhilde said. She was a little disappointed by the luxurious surroundings. She much preferred the feel of wind on her face, so she could smell the air currents and the weather it held. But she was adaptable. If this soft craft was made for lounging, lounge she would. She found a nice-looking nest of cushions and dropped into them like an oak tree falling in a storm. She closed her eyes and sank down into the soft embrace of them.

“Still, it doesn’t hurt to relax and enjoy some of the soft life,” she murmured. A wonderful drowsiness spread through her body.

As she dozed, she felt hands massage her, faint at first. She had felt healers work their magic on her, this touch was similar. Blood flowed into tired and scarred muscles. Her body felt like a dead petrified tree being awoken with water into life.

She opened her eyes and leapt to her feet. There was no sign of anybody else apart from Hope. Brunhilde launched the cushions away from her, grabbing one and studying it for strange magic.

“What are you doing?” Hope asked with a laugh.

“Some kind of ghostly magic, I don’t like it,” Brunhilde said. Still, she felt relaxed and strengthened, but invisible hands could be holding invisible daggers.

“Relax, this is a pleasure craft, any magic here is for luxury,” Hope said. She sat by the bar. A glass slid from an alcove in front of her, then wine flowed from a bottle like a sedate fountain into her glass.

“That’s magic? Looks like an ostentatious trick,” Brunhilde said.

“You wanted to come aboard, enjoy the ride,” Hope said. She took a sip of the wine. It was good for earthly grown grapes.

“I thought this was a real craft, with real crew. Not a toy for floating along like a fallen tree after a flood,” Brunhilde said. She looked out a window. The craft was still heading downriver, at least.

“You were dozing for quite a while.”

“I was asleep for a second or two,” Brunhilde scoffed. She looked out the window again and realised they had travelled quite a distance.

“Come and drink,” Hope said.

Brunhilde came to sit at the bar. A wooden mug slid from the alcove. She grabbed it and peered inside. Empty.

“You have to think of what you want to drink,” Hope said.

“What’s that?” Brunhilde said with a nod towards Hope’s drink.

“Just wine. The best they have,”

“Nothing stands up to the marvellous and mysterious wines of your homeland?”

“Nothing does actually. If you tasted wine drawn from cloud-drops and brewed from crystalgrape you would never drink anything else. This will have to do though,” Hope said. She downed the glass and another stream of wine flowed through the air into it. Brunhilde tried to poke her finger into the wine as it flew by, but Hope quickly swatted her hand away.

“Don’t poke your dirty fingers into my wine. You’re like an animal, the way you snuffle around like a bear.”

“That’s a compliment. If I could see like a hawk or smell like a dog… Imagine what other things there are to discover. If I could breathe like a fish, I would visit the great sunken cities of the oceans,” Brunhilde said. She frowned at her mug and a tart and musty mead spilled into it from the bar.

“What sunken cities?” Hope said.

“Everyone says there are sunken cities, everywhere we go, so there must be quite a few of them. Maybe one of the sky cities fell into the sea. Made a big splash.”

“That never happened.”

“How would you know?”

Hope ignored the question and drank her wine. Brunhilde gulped down her drink and another poured in.

“You’ll have to admit the truth one day. I know you’re from one of those sky cities. Why not confess?”

“It’s better not to know some things. Certain knowledge is dangerous.”

Brunhilde leaned forward. Her cheeks were flushed red. In her mischievous moods she often had an expression like a naughty child, and she was in one of those moods now.

“Are you afraid I’ll come and visit, embarrass you? Maybe I’ll come clambering up into your palace, ignoring royal protocol and wrestle the royal guard. Make a mistake about not knowing the fifteen greetings or eighteen ways to put your socks on.” Brunhilde downed another mug.

“There are sixteen greetings,” Hope said.

Brunhilde started to laugh. Her body shook and a tear rolled from her face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sixteen? I thought I was joking. Sixteen!” she cried. She slammed her hand on the table and her laughter erupted into roaring guffaws.

“Of course! There’s commoner to a noble, noble to another noble in private, noble to noble in court, rival to rival, lover to lover-” Hope was counting the ways on her fingers as she enumerated them. This set Brunhilde to laughing even more. She dropped her mug and span round on her stool.

Hope spoke louder. “Noble to the queen when invited, noble to the queen when not invited, child to parent, sibling to elder sibling, elder sibling to younger sibling…” Hope held her hands up so Brunhilde could keep track of her counting.

Brunhilde could hardly speak now. She pushed Hope’s hands away and wiped tears from her cheeks.

“Finger to finger? Hello finger, hello thumb!” Brunhilde puppeted her finger and thumb as if they were talking to each other. “Oh, hello left hand, I didn’t see you there. Hello right hand!” Brunhilde spoke with mock surprise and geniality as her hands recognised each other.

Hope lifted her hand and struck Brunhilde across the face with spite. The laughter stopped and Brunhilde fixed Hope with a dark gaze. The scar across her chin and neck flushed red, deep bloody red. Hope went to strike again, but Brunhilde grabbed her by the wrist. Her grip was like a steel manacle. Hope tried to pull away but she was held tight.

“I’m not a commoner in your court. You have no right to strike me,” she said.

“Don’t make fun of my breeding and culture!”

“What culture? You won’t tell me where you come from. You have to trust me with the truth one day.”

“It’s not safe! You’re not safe. You don’t need to know,” Hope writhed and kicked at Brunhilde but still she couldn’t slide from her grasp. Suddenly Brunhilde let go and Hope fell backwards into the lush carpet.

“I’m sorry my jest upset you,” Brunhilde said in a flat tone.

“I’m not upset,” Hope said. But she felt frustration and anger building up behind her royal mask. Nobody down here gave her the respect she deserved. Or understood how primitive it was.

“You’re upset. Be upset. There’s nobody here waiting to stab a dagger in your back at the first sign of weakness.” Brunhilde took in a deep breath and released it in a sigh. “Your problem is you live in your head. If you listen to the sounds around you, that’s what keeps you safe. The world doesn’t work by rules and order. It runs moment to moment. If you listen to those moments, then you can react to those moments. Nothing can surprise you.”

“I don’t need your philosophy. I know how magic works and therefore how the world works.” Hope stood up slowly in a dignified attempt to pretend she hadn’t been sprawled out on her back.

“You do. I don’t doubt your knowledge, or your skill. I respect you, your skill with magic and the sword. You’re a good fighter and a worthy travelling companion. Let’s not talk about your past, then.”

“Fine.” Hope sat back on her stool.

“I respect you and trust you in battle. That’s enough for now then.”

“You should respect me.” Hope said in a voice that certainly didn’t sound like she felt respected.

Brunhilde gave her a sidelong glance to see if she would return the compliment. Nothing.

“Let’s drink,” Brunhilde said. She clapped Hope on the back. Though the princess didn’t reply she at least didn’t throw off Brunhilde’s friendly touch. Which was the most that you could expect from a prickly princess.

A chime sounded, a sweet and piercing sound that resonated through them.

“What’s this? The friendship chime, to announce the end of arguments?” Brunhilde shouted out the ghostly crew she imagined on the barge. Hope gave a small sniffing laugh.

Brunhilde lay her hands on the bar. Sometime during their argument, the barge had stopped. “No, we’ve stopped. Have we reached the coast already?”

They both went to the windows to see that they had docked in a bustling pier. There were fishing boats and large trading vessels around them. They ran up onto deck to see that they were not at the coast, but a port city along the river

“Is there a city here? I thought there was nothing,” Brunhilde said.

“So did I. There should be nothing until we reach the coast,” Hope said.

Outside the boarding plank was stretched out onto a wooden pier.

“Let’s see where this lazy craft has taken us,” Brunhilde said. The two adventurers stepped onto the dock to see where they had drifted to.