Drake

Drake was being swept along like ship wreckage being flung into shore. Truth be told, he felt a bit like ship wreckage.

“What?” he said absently, just realizing Cliff had been speaking for a good long while.

“Really? None of that?” Cliff answered. “I’ve never seen you this distracted.”

Drake had no desire to respond.

“Just go find her and tell her goodbye instead of checking the hallway every three seconds,” said Jadelynn.

That startled Drake into attention. He was staring at the hallway at the top of the stairs? Had he been doing that for long? Maybe he was just unconsciously checking for exits. He did that. Goodbyes were less his style.

He forced himself to look away from the stairs and tune into Cliff’s rambling. “So what do you think about reaching out to Casaqui, seeing if the top merchants in the city would join the coalition?”

“If you put pressure on Erlos, the rest of them will fall in line,” Drake told him absently.

Cliff’s face contorted. “By ‘put pressure on,’ do you mean ‘have drinks and a friendly chat with,’ because threats are exactly the opposite of what an above board coalition is supposed to stand for.”

“Sure, Cliff. That’s exactly what I meant.”

Matias thudded down into the room, unpleasantly surprising Drake because he was purposefully not eying the stairway like an eagle.

“Why are we up so early?” Matias said through a grumpy yawn.

“The sun has been up for an hour,” Jadelynn pointed out, sounding rather cranky herself.

They were all tired. After being up half the night and going to bed knowing the entire castle was full of activity, none of them could have gotten much sleep. Through it all, Cliff was still his cheerful self. Somehow Quita had found him and decided his was the head to be on.

“It’s amazing the Seer can just imagine us all the way back to Bayselle,” Cliff babbled while the monkey groomed his hair. “In a blink, hundreds of furlongs away. They should consider taking that up as a career, the Flifary, now that they’re on the mainland and all. Talk about trading possibilities—can you imagine being able to zip back and forth from Curi to Bayselle without crossing the desert at all? World changing. I should write this down.” He dug in his pockets for a little paperbound sketchbook where he wrote down all his best hair-brained ideas.

The Seer in question appeared chatting with Sorceress Athena. Drake spotted them immediately because he was staring at the stairs again. Arlana had shed the signs of incarceration and was now adorned in feather-tipped scarves. Drake guessed the outfit was in response to the relatively cold Glade weather. Her fire-red braids were twisted in intricate patterns around her head, and she jingled softly when she walked from piles of bracelets around her wrists and ankles. Things on her island must have stabilized enough to allow her access to clothes.

“Do you think they’ll be a problem?” Drake could just hear Athena ask.

Neither woman seemed to be in a hurry to dash down the massive stairs of the entry to the group waiting below.

A searching look took over Arlana’s face while she came to a halt on the stairs. “How would I know?”

“We mortals have to base our impressions on past behavior, intuition, and likelihood,” Athena replied, some amusement in her voice.

“How terribly imprecise,” Arlana sighed. “And how very limiting to judge a person only on what he’s done up to the present and not upon the sum of his life’s accomplishments.”

“Now that your divination stone is at the bottom of the Lansilia Ocean, you’ll have to figure out how to muddle through like the rest of us, dear friend,” Athena reminded her.

Arlana raised her hands in surrender. “Zaphia will know how serious the unrest is. Funny, I never saw her as a leader. Some people seem to be shaped by their circumstances, while others are never molded by the events around them.”

The ex-Seer lapsed into contemplation and resumed the walk down the stairs to join the group of Baysellians.

“Madame Seer,” Cliff jumped in, bowing awkwardly. “I wonder if any of the Flifary would be interested in a business proposition.”

“Right now, they’re interested in furs, coffee, and a new system of government,” she replied, drawing her feather-lined cloak closer around herself. “Perhaps business will be on someone’s mind next week.”

“Timing, yes.” Cliff nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “Good point.”

“Thank you for all your assistance.” Athena’s eyes stopped on each of them in turn, landing on Drake. “Especially yours.”

His job had been to keep Rosaliy safe and to find the royal children, so he was unsure how much assistance he had rendered. If he expanded his responsibilities to include finding Daniella, he had accomplished that goal. One success of three was still rather abysmal. He bobbed his head to wordlessly accept the thanks anyway. Objection would just be seen as humility.

“Now Seavale,” Arlana pondered, drumming on her arm with her fingers. “I believe I remember where the palace is.”

“Maybe you could shoot closer to town,” Matias suggested.

“Normally I’d be mocking my brother for not wanting to walk, but I don’t think the pirates are very happy with us right now,” Jadelynn agreed.

“Oh, this is post-pirate occupation,” Arlana said, cocking her head. “Has the second pier been constructed yet?”

“Second pier?” Cliff echoed, eyes growing wide. “In the future, Seavale is doing enough business for a second pier?”

“Or the original is horribly destroyed,” Drake pointed out.

“Yes, either of those futures is very likely,” Arlana agreed lightly. Cliff wanted to interrogate her, but her hands were already lifting.

“Wait,” called a voice. “I need to go, too.”

Drake’s heart beat a little faster, probably from being taken by surprise. Rosaliy hurried down the stairs, pink-cheeked and out of breath, but put back together again. Every hair was back in place, kept in check by a fat blue ribbon. She was back in her calf-length skirts with large pockets, but she had traded jackets and cloaks for an airy blouse that implied she was expecting warm weather.

“Rosaliy,” Athena chided. “I’m glad to see you well, but traveling is the last thing you need.”

“I feel infinitely better than yesterday,” Rosaliy promised with a sunny smile.

It was such a careful truth, Drake had to fight the grin off his face. Since being able to stand was an improvement over yesterday, her assertion was not saying much.

Athena was not convinced either. “Regardless, Hale and your brother should be arriving any moment, and I need your help to—”

“They’ve already arrived,” Rosaliy interrupted. “I’ve greeted them and explained what they don’t know, and I made sure Dmitri knew they were in already. They’re being fed breakfast under duress.”

“And the retrieval,” Athena continued. “To assist with Queen Katyrinna’s return, we’ll need a fresh supply of—”

“Lalass root,” Rosaliy finished for her. “Already shredded.”

Athena crossed her arms. Before she could even utter the next word, Rosaliy told her, “I have to go. I have very important unfinished business in Bayselle. It won’t take long, I promise. Seer Arlana can bring me back as soon as you need me.”

Athena sighed, still unhappy. “You’ll have need of a—”

Rosaliy withdrew a pouch from her large pocket by a handle protruding from one end.

“Mirror,” Athena finished anyway, eying the object. “Well, it’s not as if you need my permission to travel. If you have an important reason, I won’t stop you.”

Rosaliy’s face broke into a smile. “Thank you, Sorceress.”

Drake wondered at her cryptic need to see Bayselle one last time.

“I didn’t think Bayselle had made a good impression on you,” said Cliff, equally curious.

“No,” she laughed. “No, it did not.” Her eyes flickered over to Matias; she accidentally caught his eye, and he smiled back rakishly.

“Seer Arlana, as close as you can get to Jadelynn’s manor would be appreciated,” Rosaliy said. “I’m sure Jadelynn’s mother is very worried about her.”

Drake smothered a laugh. Matias was oblivious.

A swirl of fog later, Arlana had placed them just outside the massive estate. Drake was familiar with this place, but no one could prove it, so he was smart enough to stay quiet. Rosaliy gave Jadelynn a firm hug.

“I am so proud of you,” Rosaliy told her. “Thank you, and I’ll see you soon.”

Jadelynn tried to shrug off the praise, but her eyes were beaming. “I have a lot to learn,” the girl said dismissively. “At least I realize how much now. I’ll be a model student when I come back.”

“I give that a day and a half,” Matias scoffed. He moved in closer to Rosaliy.

Rosaliy, however, held up a hand to halt him. “I don’t have the time or energy to yell at you for whatever’s about to come out of your mouth. Why don’t you just save it for next time?” She turned on her heels and headed down the long, tree-lined walk, leaving him speechless in her wake.

“If your family is interested in pushing for open elections to the new trading council, consider coming to the coalition’s next meeting,” Cliff urged Matias, clapping him on the arm. “We could really use the support of leaders in the community!”

“Oh, Cliff,” Drake sighed, tugging him away.

Rosaliy was waiting for them just out of sight, behind a lofty tuft of seagrass. “For a moment, I was concerned he might follow you,” she breathed, relieved.

She was in an equal hurry to drop off Cliff, who was chatty enough for all three of them.

“So, Casaqui?” Cliff asked Drake on the way.

Drake arched his eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t approve of my negotiation methods.”

“Well, I don’t,” Cliff agreed. “You wouldn’t be saying anything.”

“You don’t need me, Cliff,” Drake replied.

Cliff was quiet for once. “Where are you going to go?” he asked finally.

Drake shook his head. He had been less lost in the middle of the chaos of the last week than he had been in a long while. Rosaliy seemed very interested in the answer to Cliff’s question, but when Drake looked her way, she quickly averted her eyes, pretending to be focused on a distant fishing boat.

Even though they were safely in view of the cliffside cottage of Cliff’s patron, Rosaliy showed every intention of walking him straight to his door. So far, Rosaliy had given no indication of what was driving her urgent need to be here. Certainly everyone could have seen themselves safely off.

Cliff heaved a full-body breath at the door. He turned and clapped Drake in a surprising bear hug. Quita—still on Cliff’s shoulder—patted Drake on the head as well. “Since you won’t say goodbye, and I get the impression I won’t see you in a long while, I’ll say it for you. I’ll miss having you around.”

“You’ll be too busy to notice,” Drake scoffed instead of acknowledging the tiny lump at the back of his throat. “Making a better tomorrow and all.”

“Making a better tomorrow,” Cliff murmured. “I need to write that down.”

He scrambled for his notebook. He was really going to write that down.

Rosaliy shot Drake a glance sideways. “I’d never presume to tell you what to do…” she began.

“Unless a giant octopus is involved?” Drake mused.

“You make an excellent point,” she admitted. “Since I do seem to have a habit of presuming to tell you what to do, don’t you think now is the time to tell Cliff some things you may have been avoiding?”

“No,” he disagreed, feeling a smothering shot of panic. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“Tell me what?” Cliff said, slipping the notebook back into his pocket after scrawling down his words of wisdom.

“Your father said he was proud of you, of the man you’d become,” Drake blurted out. “Before he died.”

Cliff’s face stared back at him, devoid of expression. He blinked. “Really?” he said, stunned. “That’s really what he said?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you making that up?”

Drake was still stunned the words had come out of his mouth. And now Cliff was questioning them?

“Why would I make that up?” Drake countered. “You’re not surprised I was there?”

“Of course you were there,” Cliff said, annoyed. “I’m not stupid. So, wait, he talked to you?”

“It all happened so fast—the pirates and the Scorps converging right on top of the merchants’ meeting. The pirates blasted in the wall of the meeting house, and people were swarming everywhere. Vincente was stabbed with a pirate blade, but I don’t think he was a target. He must have been in between…” Drake trailed off and shuddered. “The blow might have been meant for anyone.” It was as horrible as he thought it would be, explaining to another man how his father had died an unjust death.

“Why did you run?” asked Cliff, not sadly or angrily or with any other identifiable emotion.

Drake shook his head. There was no way he could have faced Cliff. Nor could he be a part of the Scorps retaliation. He had been literally covered in blood—Zara’s, Vincente’s. “All I could do was get out.”

Cliff was finally having a reaction. “Do you know how many times that man told me I was wasting my life and would never amount to anything?” he spat out angrily. “And then he waits until he’s dying to, what, take it back? Have a change of heart? To clear his own conscience?”

Drake was still stuck in the messy turf war in his memory, and Cliff’s words took time to sink in. “You’re mad at…your father? For being proud of you?”

“Don’t worry,” Cliff snapped. “I’m annoyed at you, too.”

Without meaning to let go of the weight of this heavy incident, Drake felt the heaviness he had been carrying evaporate.

“At least you’re standing in front of me, and I can be rightfully mad at you,” Cliff fumed, “but Vincente thought he could erase years of heartache with a message he knew I might never receive.” Cliff’s voice was rising and he was starting to gesticulate like he did during his inspiring speeches. Quita abandoned ship and launched herself to Rosaliy, peeking out from under her golden ponytail.

“But, he was a great man,” Drake said, half in defense of the dead man, half in bewildered confusion. “Vincente was upstanding, as good as they come.”

“Moral inflexibility may or may not be good,” Cliff grumbled, “but it does take its toll on bumbling children.” He huffed a sigh. “Well, I’m not going to let him get in my head. Hang on,” he said angrily. “Wait here.”

“What is happening?” Drake murmured.

“You took up a burden that wasn’t yours to bear, I think,” whispered Rosaliy.

Drake shot her a pained look.

She smiled and looked away. “Family is complicated.”

Cliff came out clutching a fat, engraved circle. He launched into a story. “My past-past-Abuelina came to Bayselle from Curi.”

Drake hoped this tale was going somewhere. Sometimes Cliff’s illustrative stories veered hard left into murky symbolism and never returned.

“She started across the desert with her whole family and all their meager possessions, fleeing the Curi sleeping sickness plague. But they were set upon by robbers who took everything and killed everyone around her, leaving her for dead. As the robbers mounted their camels and left, she saw the glint of her father’s watch as it fell from a sack of stolen goods and tumbled to the sand unseen.”

“Can you speed up this tale of woe, Cliff?” Drake asked.

“No,” he answered. “She crawled all the way to the outskirts of Bayselle on hands and knees, a foreigner with nothing more than a watch to her name. She sold it for food and water, and she took jobs for shelter, climbing her way up from nothing. She apprenticed with an expert glass-maker, and he loved her like a daughter. When he died, she was left with his business. Soon she was hiring employees of her own.”

“How is the watch in your family if she sold it?” Drake interrupted, finally realizing what Cliff was clutching in his madly waving hand.

“She eventually married the son of the merchant who bought the watch.” In the same breath, Cliff said, “You are missing the point! This watch has been passed down through generations. It represents making something of yourself from nothing, but the longer it stays in the family—being passed down from father to son to daughter—it also carries an ominous sense of legacy, of not being the screw-up to break the family line of greatness in adversity. This watch has been hanging over me my entire life, and I’m done with it. I’m passing the burden of greatness to you.”

“You’re what?” Drake said, surprised to find himself suddenly in the story and with a watch thrust into his hands. “I can’t take—”

“You will take it,” Cliff insisted, “because you owe me. And you’re going to repay your debt by being great, by living up to this spectacular story of rising from nothing that grows in magnitude every time it’s told. It’s a burden you need.”

Cliff clapped a stunned Drake on the arm. “And stop by for dinner next time you’re in town,” he said cheerfully.

Cliff scooped Rosaliy into a hug next. He whispered something in her ear that made her cheeks flush pink, but Drake was too stunned to hear what was exchanged. They were both left speechless with a door in their face.

Neither Rosaliy nor Drake spoke as they made their way down the hill, back onto one of the main roads in town. Suddenly in no hurry, or perhaps just startled out of her hurry, Rosaliy glanced back at the house curiously. “That was unexpected.”

“Which part?” he asked.

A faint smile curled her lips. “The whole Cliff experience, really, now that I think back.”

Drake had not realized they had spent much time together, but Rosaliy and Cliff made a lot of sense. “Did you two,” he started to ask before regretting starting to ask. “Never mind.”

“Did we…” Rosaliy pressed, eyebrows tightening in confusion.

“You have a lot in common,” Drake said, now fully sorry he had begun this topic.

Rosaliy’s eyes widened as if he had caused her a shock of pain. “I hope you’re not implying I need as much looking after as he does. Most of the six-year-olds I know get into less trouble.”

“You’re both good people,” he tried to clarify.

“Well, he means well,” agreed Rosaliy.

“I’m sure he would love to see you again,” Drake said more directly.

“Oh,” Rosaliy exclaimed with a little intake of breath. “Me? Oh, no,” she said, with a touch of horror in her voice. “I’m sure he’s a wonderful friend,” she rushed forward, attempting to recover some politeness. “He actually thinks…” She flushed pink again. “But it was probably just Matias and his blather.” She waved the partial thoughts away with her hand.

Drake was not going to pry into that mess. Instead he asked, “Weren’t you in a hurry?”

“You’re right!” she exclaimed, as if she had just remembered. “Would you come with me?”

He needed to run as far and as fast as he could, but he had been of so little use to her thusfar, he could not deny her one last bit of assistance. “Where to?”

“The big dock,” she said, evaluating the sky and pointing uncertainly north. “This way?”

She had her bearings correct, so he was not even any use with directions. Their trip to the main dock was swift and silent. She seemed as preoccupied as he was.

Oddly, she led them straight to the Crocs headquarters. She gave a glance to their tiny warehouse and opted to head for the metal submarine instead, its outer hull glinting in the sunlight. Rosaliy stood on the dock and considered the hatch.