Early winter dusk was just settling in when I awoke a few hours later. The bleeding sun turned the ocean into a sea of flame and painted the sails of the ships many shades of pink and orange.

“Good evening, glad to see you’re awake.”

Balro sat on the other bed next to Sashada while they ate bread and what smelled like fish stew from matching bowls.

“I ate yours,” Balro commented cheerfully, “because you were sleeping, and I didn’t want it to get cold. Hope you don’t mind.”

I did mind. Oh, how I did mind. But in situations such as these, one was not meant to speak the truth, they were to be generous and say, “I don’t mind,” because angry words couldn’t bring your meal back.

“I don’t mind in the slightest.” I swallowed my irritation and pulled my lips against my teeth in all I could muster as a smile.

Balro didn’t look fooled, or even slightly sorry as he chuckled.

“Don’t scowl, it makes you ugly. Here, I brought you something.” He tossed an object in my direction and I had to scramble to catch it before it hit my face.

“What is—“ The question died on my tongue as I recognized it. The satchel.

“You can thank me if you like.” Balro grinned, looking satisfied with himself.

My relief and gratitude over my mother’s last gift being found was not enough to eradicate my annoyance, especially now that I was truly hungrier than I had ever been before.

“You took your thanks for yourself.” I gave the bowl of stew that Balro’s spoon was still scraping at a lofty look.

“We ordered another bowl for you, Judeth,” Sashada assured me, clearly having seen me suffer enough. “It should be here any time now, so don’t be upset.”

“Forget that.” Balro pointed at the satchel in my lap. “Don’t you want to know what’s inside of it?”

I did want to know, but then there was a part of me that didn’t. The fear of expectations and disappointments was great enough to keep my hands away from the drawstring.

“I’ll look inside it later,” I decided, and distracted myself from deciding again by trying to pull my fingers through the crow’s nest that was my hair.

“Here, let me help.” Sashada pulled a long, thin comb from her dress pocket and handed it to me. The skin around her eyes was a bit blotchy, and her face remained drawn, but I sensed there had been a change. Something beneath the skin. “A kind woman came to the door and said how terrible we looked. She offered this.”

“Very kind,” I agreed, though not genuinely at all. It was always insulting when a person said that you looked terrible, even if you knew you did. There were circumstances where looking terrible should have been perfectly understandable and acceptable, and I considered myself to be in one of them.

Sashada watched me struggle with the comb for a few seconds, before sitting down next to me, taking it into her own hands, and beginning to work on my hair.

Her hands were gentle and patient, and though occasionally, one of the fine teeth of the comb would snag on a particularly nasty knot and my scalp would sting, I felt soothed by the kind gesture.

By the time she was halfway done, someone knocked on the door to deliver my dinner, and she kept at it while I ate, talking about various innocent things that I could just listen to and maybe nod at when I felt like it.

The stew was neither bad nor good.

The broth was thick and over-salted; the fish chunks were slippery, slimy and cold; the carrots ranged from undercooked to overcooked; and the potatoes were none at all. Still, I was grateful to have food in my belly, and it agreed, loosening its claws from my insides.

There was also some tea, which I was rather happy to see, though it wasn’t hot, had no honey and tasted mostly like water. But it washed down the meal well enough, which was a good thing on its own.

On the windowsill sat the rock that the Seer boy had given me, and seeing it jolted an urgency into my body. An urgency that Balro noticed.

“You don’t have a plan then, I’m supposing,” he presumed from his perch on the bed. “No idea where you’d like to go from here?”

“No,” Sashada and I spoke in unison. Balro raised an eyebrow but let us sink into our separate pensive thoughts without pressing the subject further.

It was a strange thing to so suddenly become independent. It was something nearly everyone yearned for. I had yearned for it, but now that I had it, I wasn’t sure that I liked it as much as I thought I would.

Never had there ever been call for me to make such a drastic decision as deciding where on the whole continent I would live. It was both fearfully exciting and heart-achingly lonely to realize that it was just me now. My decisions were mine and affected me alone.

Where would I go indeed?

Sashada finished combing through my hair and braided it tightly into four elegant plaits, which she then wound up on top of my head and pinned there with needles from her own hair.

When I surveyed myself in the sad mirror standing just behind the door, I appeared almost to have a crown.

The next morning dawned dark and with a cold, a salty sea breeze chilling the room.

I was colder than I would have thought I should be, close to the ocean as I was, and I turned around sleepily to ask Sashada if she was as cold as I was, only to find that she was still asleep, her brown hair fanning her face like a mane on the pillow.

The two of us had agreed to share one bed, while Balro slept in the other. He had offered, with a sly grin on his face, to sleep with one of us so that the other could have a bed all to herself, but we had both turned down the offer immediately and from the look on his face I supposed he had merely been teasing us, though it created an awkward tension in the room that wasn’t pleasant.

I inched out of the covers, sitting up and touching my bare toes lightly to the cold wood floor, and watched as my breath wisped from my mouth.

The noise down in the town had yet to begin. The quiet was peaceful and calming. In the distance, sea birds called to one another across the water. I stood up and approached the window to watch them as they skimmed across the glittering surface of the ocean.

A whole day had passed now since James had been killed and I felt a grey cloud settle over my head when I thought of his body, sunk to the bottom of the frigid ocean, slowly rotting away amongst the seaweed and the sand and whatever else lurked down there.

“Oh James,” I whispered, leaning my head against the windowpane, and closing my eyes.

Here I was, one person on the start of a journey planned for two. He would have known where to go from here. He would have planned everything out so that I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He would have made me feel safe. Here I was with no idea where to go; with no plan; with more worries than my head could hold, and more alone than I had ever been in my life.

“James, what should I do?”

I turned around and slid to a sitting position with my back against the wall. I cradled my head in my arms and imagined that I was back home in my bed with my mother and father speaking quietly together in the next room.

It was difficult. After all, the cold, hard wood of a floor, and the fishy, salt air of the sea, muddled with the faint odor of burnt flesh is hard to compare with the comfort of a familiar bed and the kind scent of home.

Somewhere between resting my head, and the moment the sun rose from the sea, I fell asleep.

I dreamed that I was an island resting peacefully in the ocean. It was warm; it was quiet, and nothing seemed to matter.

Then I was drowning.

The skirts of my dress weighed me down and I struggled, desperately trying to stay above the water. Though there were no waves, and the wind didn’t blow, I found my strength rapidly draining from my limbs as I struggled and choked, paddling with all my might.

“The more you struggle, the faster you’ll sink.” A hooded figure appeared beside me, feet resting on the water.

“Help!” I cried, holding out my hand for him to grab, but he just watched me, a shadow hiding his face.

My strength gave way and my heart pounded in my chest as I began to slip, sinking deeper and deeper into the sea.

“Just give in,” the figure spoke again, smoothly unconcerned.

“I can’t go down there!” I panicked.

“Why ever not?”

“Because—Because James is down there!”

Something brushed my foot. Rough, uneven skin; clammy fingers grasping at my skirts. I kicked them away, forcing out a strangled scream.

“Don’t you want to see him again?”

“I don’t want to die,” I cried. “I don’t want to die! Please, please save me!”

“All you had to do was ask.”

I felt him reach down and seize my hands in his. He lifted me out of the water as though I weighed no more than a fish. And then I was on dry land. I lay there, coughing and spluttering as I opened my eyes. It was an unfamiliar place. A small, rocky beach and in the distance, a village.

“Who, are you?” I asked the strange being standing at my side.

“My name is Seaggis.”

Still, I could not see his face, but his expression was implied in his voice. Exasperated. “You do know that no one can save you unless you ask to be saved, don’t you?”

He took off his hood and a long bounty of hair, the color of browning butter, fell down his shoulders.

No, not his, I realized.

Her.

One of her eyes was a brilliant blue, and the other was pale. Dead in its socket. She wore a red dress that danced around her bare ankles, which were white as snow, and reached out a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek.

“I—I don’t have anyone to ask to be saved by,” I told her.

“Silly girl.” She pinched me sharply. “If you have the means to float, use them. You have all the answers that you need, but you’ll never find them if you don’t stop looking for them in others and start looking for them in yourself.”

Then she pushed me, and I was flying back toward the ocean.

“Swim this time,” she instructed. “Stop pretending that you don’t know how. Or you can drown. It is up to you.”

I awoke, gasping for air and coughing as my chest compressed and my mind convinced my lungs that I was still beneath water. It took me a few moments to become aware that someone was patting me on the back.

“You alright there?” Balro asked.

I nodded, my eyes streaming, and I leaned my head back against the wall, breathing in the cold air and resting a hand over my racing heart.

“That was some dream you were having,” Balro commented, squatting down beside me, and peering at my face thoughtfully. His hair was standing up on all ends, his tunic had a stain and a tear near his shoulder, and he looked even more rumpled than usual.

“I’m fine now,” I said, welcoming the sunlight that streamed through the window onto my cheeks.

“Where’s Sashada?” I asked, after realizing that she was nowhere to be seen in the room.

Balro grunted. “Being sick.” His eyes narrowed, and his thick, dark brows furrowed together.

“You know what’s up with her?” he asked.

I didn’t answer, but I didn’t need to. My silence confirmed what he already suspected. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully and bobbed his head in understanding.

“I see.” He sighed and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “Well, I was thinking we’d go down for breakfast to get a change of scene. You up for it?”

“I suppose.” I stood up as well, trying to brush the wrinkles out of my clothes. “Do you think we could bathe?” I asked, feeling self-conscious at the amount of dirt and sweat that I had accumulated over the past day and a half. Worry and grief stank stale on my skin and hung damp on my dress. The thought of sinking into a tub of hot water and scrubbing it away was heavenly.

“You can bathe tonight, if you have to,” Balro told me, scowling a bit. I didn’t imagine he was the sort who liked to take baths. “In the meantime, try to come up with an idea of what you want to do. You can’t stay here forever.”

Downstairs, the inn was crowded with people. It was so different from back home, where fear was colder and sharper than ice, and friends didn’t have the nerve to touch hands for fear of breaking some new rule.

A dumpy, grey-haired woman led us to an empty table, of which there were few, and asked us what we’d like.

“What do you have?” Balro asked, with a bright smile, full of gleaming teeth. It was a James smile, and had I not been so deep in my grief over his death, I might have enjoyed seeing it.

“Stew,” the woman answered, impervious to his charms.

“Just stew?”

“Just stew.”

“Alright then.” Balro coughed. “I think we’ll have the stew. And anything else you can find that’s edible.”

“Where did Sashada go?” I asked when our order had been placed, and we were seated alone.

He shrugged and gazed around with an air of gloom. “Don’t know. Left saying she was about to be sick. That’s all I know. Didn’t nag. Reckon if she wants to be sick, she can.”

“She will be back, won’t she?”

“You worried?” He eyed me.

“Yes, I am worried.”

“Humph.” He tapped the table with two of his fingers, beating an unsteady rhythm into the wood. “Well, I’m worried that it’ll be impossible to get a nice spot of ale here. I suppose those whoreson Radkkans have confiscated it all. Sod them.”

His dark eyes gleamed as he used them to make another sweep of the room, as though he hoped to see a barrel pop out underneath one of the counters. “Maybe there’s a Dop trader somewhere abouts.”

“A Dop trader?” I asked.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a Dop trader is.” He blinked at me in genuine bemusement.

“Should I?”

“I thought you might.”

“Because I’m of a serf family? Rough raising and vile raising are not the same.” I touched the crown of braids on top of my head, still unused to wearing it up. A further reminder that I was not a Lady.

Balro crossed his arms on the table and looked at me, eyes dark and shadowed. “When’d I ever say it had anything to do with a body’s raising?”

I got a distinct impression that I had insulted him, but before I had the time to decide whether I was sorry, he said, “A Dop trader is a man of shop, or any other profession, who collects and sells things that aren’t supposed to be collected and sold. Most people view them as unhonourable creatures, but in many situations, they can be very useful.”

“For supplying forbidden ale to a fisherman?”

“And—” he glared at me, “—information. The kind of information no one else is willing to give you.”

“Like what?” I asked. The conversation paused as the dumpy woman delivered our breakfast and then, with a sneer, disappeared back into the crowd calling out for her attention.

“Like,” Balro picked up his spoon, “who may or may not have been seen buying the knife that was used to kill your uncle, or which man your wife was tending to and the location of the largest artery in his neck. Also—” he lifted a spoonful of lumpy stew to his nose, sniffed it, shrugged, and shoved it into his mouth. “Which ships would be willing to carry someone to whichever place they chose when they aren’t supposed to be traveling.”

“I suppose that is useful,” I admitted. “But it still doesn’t seem right to me. Couldn’t such a person just as easily tell someone else what you’ve been up to behind your back? There wouldn’t be any trust involved.”

“Eat your stew,” Balro growled at me. “Or I’ll eat it for you.”

Clearly, he wasn’t planning on continuing the conversation, so I relented and turned my attention to the food, which was stew; fish again, but less salty this time. And a small heel of bread with some cheese and a cup of water.

Sashada found her way back to us around the time we had both finished eating but shook her head for an answer when I asked where she had gone. Balro ordered another bowl of stew, which she wolfed down within moments.

I suggested that I might go out for a walk and told my companions not to worry if I wasn’t back in a few hours, but to be sure to worry if I was still gone by the time night fell.

Sashada nodded in encouragement and Balro warned me not to get lost, to which I promised that I wouldn’t, and made my way out of the busy room and out into the winter sun and the equally busy streets of Kora.

“Look at this dress, my lady. Beautiful, inni’t?” an elderly man called out to me as I passed by his shop where an array of dresses was on display.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed kindly and walked on, but he reached out and grabbed my hand, stuffing a handful of a dress’s skirt into my fist.

“Feel the material. Almost like silk, eh? Feel that.”

“It’s very smooth.” I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on tight.

“Pretty girl.” He leered at me. “You’d wear it, wouldn’t you?”

“I haven’t any money. I’m sorry,” I apologized, prying his fingers off my wrist.

“You! Girl!” Another man ran up to me and seized my arm. He pressed a bracelet made of shells and several stone rings into my hands. “Buy them,” he insisted.

“I’m afraid I cannot.” I tried to press them back at him.

“Sure you can. They’re good quality, see? That’s a real pearl right there.”

“I haven’t any money,” I said for the second time, beginning to feel frustrated. “I’m sure they are absolutely lovely, but I cannot buy them.”

He fell to his knees and held out his hands together as though he were praying; eyes wide and pleading. “I need the money, Mistress,” he begged. “If I am to support my family this winter. Prithee, just a few coins would do. Would you not help a poor man in need?”

“I told you I haven’t any money!” Abandoning ll restraints and politeness, I began to walk away from him and heard his footsteps following me.

“I have six children at home, Mistress!” he cried. “Six children, and my wife’s ill!”

I picked up my pace and ran as fast as I could, no longer caring about being polite. I just ran and ran and ran, dodging this and that, never looking over my shoulder. By the time I stopped, bent over to catch my breath, I was alone.

Something was boiling in my stomach, and perhaps it was anger, though it shouldn’t have been. The winter made it difficult for everyone; the Radkkans made it worse, and no one could blame people for being desperate. Even so, I was angry. So angry that scalding tears threatened to spill out of my eyes, and I almost wanted them to. Perhaps it would dampen the sea of fire inside my body. But they didn’t fall. My eyes just blurred, and my throat hurt, and I slid down the wall to hug my face into my knees.

“Scuse’ me, Princess.”

I looked up at the boy who stood in front of me. He was short, with a shock of brilliant gold hair, and he held an apple out in one hand.

“Take it,” he pressed. The sun shone on his head and created a halo for a crown.

I sighed and shoved my hands into my pockets, hoping to pull them out and prove my point, once and for all.

“I haven’t any—“ I stopped as I felt the cool weight of a coin in my hand, and I pulled it out to stare at it in surprise.

“How—” I trailed off as I held it up to the sun. The milky blue metal gleamed softly in the light. Unmistakable.

“This all I have.” The Seft and the apple changed hands, and the boy left with a beaming smile on his face and a loud thank you, as though what I had given him was more than what it was worth.

I tossed the apple up and caught it, then rubbed it off on my skirt and took a bite.

The sweetness of the pale flesh overcame some of the bitterness inside me.

My mother had told me, a long time ago, that I was born with a compass inside my heart; that no matter what, I would always walk in the right direction.

Of course, I knew now that she had been jesting, or at least making a tale of it. But the fact remained that I was terrible at getting lost, so I wasn’t at all concerned that I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to the inn before dark.

Standing on the shore, just close enough to let the waves reach my toes and far enough that they couldn’t pull me in, I pulled out my mother’s satchel and opened it.

Inside were three things. A letter, a ring, and, to my utter delight and complete surprise: the remains of my birthday cream cake, wrapped in cloth.

I breathed in its scent, still heavenly though it was no longer warm, and set it aside for later.

The ring was Mother’s. One of her only fine things. A silver circlet with a smooth green stone. I once asked her if it was an emerald, and she had told me, much to my disappointment, that it was not, however—

“However, Judeth, this is a very special stone.”

“What’s so special about it if it isn’t worth anything?”

“It’s worth plenty, dear one. It’s Oqura stone. ‘Oqura’ means ‘To join.’

“So?”

“Your father gave me an Oqura ring to signify that he was willing to become a part of my life forever. Do you know how much love is worth?”

“A lot?”

“Love is priceless, Judeth. So then is this ring. They say the man who possesses love is the richest being alive.”

Ever since, I had wished fervently that she would give it to me, even voicing my hopes aloud on several occasions, but she always denied me, saying that it was far too precious.

“Mother,” I whispered; the weight of the ring heavy in the palm of my hand. “Mother, why would you give me such a precious thing? You shouldn’t have given this to me.”

The shimmer of the sun on the stone made me feel sick. I slipped the ring into my pocket and turned my attention to the letter. Written on thin tree bark, soaked, bent, and pounded until it was smooth and pliable. The handwriting that scrawled across the page was painfully familiar.

I’d taught James to spell every word he knew.

My dearest Judeth.

You don’t know how much I hope ther will never be a reason for you to read this letter. But if you are then it seems the impossible has happened and I’ve died or been put away.

I wrote this to be given too you upon my death or arrest so I can have one last chance to tell you all of the things that I haven’t already.

I’m writing this letter III months before your XVIth birthday. The whether is going to get cold soon. Food is growing scarce. But you are always here every day and this is a real comfort to me.

I’m tired of everything Judeth. I’m tired of being depended upon by the people who’s duty in life is too protect me. I’m tired of being the one to work for XII hours a day while my father nurses his injuries. I’m tired of being the one to tell my mother that nothing bad will happen. I love them both, but I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being older than I am.

I’ve always been everyone to myself. My mother and father. My true companion. Untill I met you Judeth and when I’m with you I feel like a man. Like you’ll share my burdens and not use me as your shield. I would protect you til death, but I feel like you would do the same. You wont hold me down. You wont chain me to something. This is why we’re leaving Judeth. I know you wonder. So we can both be free together.

Are you angry at me? I won’t repramand reprepend reprimand you. If I’ve left you some way. Drowned. Run over by a horse. Imprisonned. Executed. Murdered. You have all the rights. Just as you were my support, I was yours. I probably broke so many promises. You must know by now. It’s easy for me to make them. It’s difficult to keep them.

I joined the Rebellion when I was XIV. Yes thers a rebellion. You might be surprised. I did my best to keep you out of it. But its good. I didn’t know there was anyone like them out there. People who for years before the invasion started were preparing for it. To defend us.

I probably never would have non known either if it hadn’t been for an axident that happened. The details are boring to recount but I know if anything you deserve answers to your questions. Full answers. So I’ll give you the day as best as I can.

It was raining and I was wet throogh through and shivering. Night was falling but I didn’t want to go home so I followed someone hoping he’d lead me some place warm.

Do you remember the small Bakers shop built a few years back by Selgie and Miriaa? I followed the man inside a few steps behind so he wouldn’t see me and watched as he opened a trap door and went through it. And there I found out about the Rebellion. And Judeth its not just a small gathering of people in Saje. There are rebels everywhere on the continent. Even in Radkka.

When I listened to what was said I felt a rush of something wonderful. I wanted to do something. To be a part of something. I was tired of waiting for things to happen to me. So I told them I wanted to join.

It wasn’t dangerus things I was tasked with. Just carrying messages back and forth. Seeking out recruits. But then the Radkkans arrived and things were difficult. We couldn’t often risk hold meetings. And as you know they started searching houses.

I wanted to take us both to Seaggis and recruit the people there into our Rebellion. It’s a small island yes but it has many people and every soul counts in this if we are to succeed. Then you and I could have led an army. How grand would that be?

But if you’re reading this then my plan was foiled. If I’ve been caught or killed by some foolish mistake of my own I’m sorry Judeth. I truly did try my best. For you for me for our people. Still don’t lose heart. Many people have joined. Tahia, Gummer, Sashada’s parents, her brother, and even your own parents. They’ve been part of it much longer than me.

I hope they are alive and there for you as I can’t be.

I released a breath and turned the bark parchment over, my heart thudding like a drum of war in my chest; my skin chilling as the sun began its early descent toward the horizon of the sea.

Sweet Judeth. Now comes the last thing I have to tell you. I don’t know if you remember it and if you have whether you think of it or if it’ even as important to you as it is to me. I don’t know how to recount it to you either so I’ll tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was a boy. He lived alone with his mother and father. He had siblings but they all died before he was born and so he had little company. Though everyone in the family worked hard there were many days where they all went hungry.

He was to thin and weak to find good work so instead he went into the market square every day and begged against his parents wishes because he was too young to know about pride.

People would pass by and wouldn’t see him. The ones who did just shook there their heads in pity and then walked on One autumn the boy was seated where he always on the corner of the street next to one of the food stands. He was near collapse from hunger and heat and thought about lying down and dying. Then he saw a little girl. Her hair was long and gold. Full of strands of red which sparkled like copper among cliff grass. She was skipping and humming a song with a coin in her fingers.

The boy watched as she paid for an apple. She took a long time choosing it so she could find the best one. It was large and beautiful. Redder than a burning coal. Round as the sun. As she turned to leave therthier eyes met and he forgot to beg.

She walked away from him and her rejection hurt more than any of the others had. But at the last moment she stopped. She came back and stuffed the apple into his hands. It was big enough he had to hold it with two.

Its all Mother would let me buy. And it will taste very good so be sure to eat it all because I don’t want to have wasted it on you’ she told him and her eyes were fierce as though she was glaring into the sun. Then she ran away.

The boy enjoyed the apple more than anything he had ever enjoyed in his life and he became determined to grow strong and work hard so he could buy big red apples and one day give her one. It took him a long time. But finally he did. And she’s even more beautiful now than she was then.

Do you remember it Judeth? It was a long long time ago and we were both different. But I wanted you to know even if you’ve forgotten I never have. It was the most important day of my life and I’ve loved you since the first time I saw your eyes and will keep loving you even through death or wherever I am.

Forever your James

I hadn’t realized that I was crying until I saw the tears drop wet the page.

Carefully, I fitted the letter carefully back into the satchel and lifted my face to the sky as a sudden heart-wrenching sob rent through me. I covered my mouth with my hands as all the fear, sadness, anger, resentment, and confusion inside of me burst forth. It was painful and lonely; but it was beautiful too, because afterward when I was too exhausted to cry any longer and my eyes had been emptied of their tears, I felt calm, truly calm for the first time since I had left home.

The weight of my mother’s love was heavy in my pocket. The sky above me was a reddish-blue. The surf ate at the sand underneath my feet and there was a stillness in my heart. I knew what I was going to do.

“Judeth!” Sashada wrapped her hands around mine when I made my way back to the inn and into our room. “We were getting worried about you. The sun’s almost down.” She peeked at me in concern.

“Judeth, your eyes are red. What has happened?”

“I’m fine,” I assured her, truthfully. “I needed some time to think. I wanted to be quite sure before I decided to go somewhere.”

I observed the room, noting the absence of a certain presence. “Where’s Balro?”

“Requesting water for us to bathe. Judeth—” She led me over to the window.

“Is something wrong?” I asked. She shook her head.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.” She took a breath. “ . . . I wish to remain here,” she said after a pause.

“Oh,” was all I could think of to say.

“And,” she continued, “you could stay here too. Balro, he—“ she broke off for a moment, looking as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was going to say. “He’s offered to take care of us. He’ll find a house where we can stay, and he’ll start work again as a fisherman.” She squeezed my hands. “I said yes.”

“He offered that?”

“I was surprised too,” she admitted with a grudging smile. “He said his conscience wouldn’t forgive him if he left two young girls on their own.” Her eyes shone.

“Isn’t this perfect, Judeth? We won’t be alone anymore, and we’ll have someone helping us. Balro will stay, at least until we’re all settled. And we can be companions to each other. Tell me you think it’s perfect!”

I slid my hands gently from her grasp and shook my head. “I’m sorry, Sashada,” I told her. “But I can’t stay here. There’s another place meant for me.”

Her face fell. “Where?” she asked.

Perhaps finally being able to cry caused the memory to resurface, or maybe it was there all along and I just refused to see it because I was afraid of what I would have to do if I acknowledged it.

I could see it clearly now; the giant map, and in the far-left corner, a small marking of ink; an island far away from the troubles of the continent.

I smiled at her, at this girl who had become my friend, feeling the warmth of her concern like the comfort of an embrace.

“Seaggis. I’m going to Seaggis.”