Korepol seemed to glow in the sunlight. Dragonbone concrete was as white as snow, and every building seemed to have at least one massive glass window, shimmering in the sun and reflecting light like a beacon. After months awake in space, Hepsa had almost forgotten how bright planet life could be.

She didn’t have time to appreciate it, however. She was too busy feeling sick.

The planet’s gravity didn’t do nearly as much to unbalance Hepsa as the ocean did. Galleons like the Odessa had apparently been built for sea travel, once upon a time, but this she had never believed. No one could travel like that. Even the gentle waves swung the ship from one side to another.

Clutching the rails of the ship, she wretched into the sea, her empty stomach turning nothing up.

At least she was finally rid of that damned suit. The planet was hot enough, nothing like the constant temperature when the ship was out in space. For the first time in years, Hepsa felt sweat on her skin.

She had prepared for this, losing her corset as soon as she woke and putting on a loose cotton shirt meant for the crew. It was so long on her that she almost didn’t need shorts.

Treta, the ship’s quartermaster, came up behind Hepsa and gave her a stern pat on the back. “Sorry to see you go. Shame there won’t be another girl around.”

“Girl?” Hepsa eyed her doubtfully. Treta was twice her age, though the woman would never admit it. “I’ll see you around, then?”

“Probably.” Treta turned to point to Devad speaking with the captain, who had already shaved, though hastily. “You’re father’s handing over the helm, but we’ll only be moving cargo within the system.” She chuckled. “At least ‘till you get yourself caught again. What’s the next going to be, the third time?”

“Fourth,” Hepsa corrected.

“Well, I’ll be burned.” She laughed and nodded. “Four. Ha! Fierce, that temper o’yours. Still, thought you’d learn how to act by now. Although, I guess I’d get pissed too if I had people telling me I was wrong every day.” Treta shook her head and sighed, her smile fading slightly. “Anyhow, you need to get packed. Our authorization just came over the dragon horn and they’re not giving us the usual docking time. Won’t even let us pay a fee for more.”

That was unusual. “Why?” Hepsa looked around the coast. There were other ships, but Korepol was the planet’s capital, and it had more than enough space for the Odessa.

Treta shrugged. “Beats me. But that means I’ll need to work double-time on sorting out the hold. Best of luck, kid.” She forcefully shook Hepsa’s hand and gave her a sly wink. “See you in a few months, I bet.”

Hepsa grunted and did as she was told, picking what few possessions she had in her cabin. A few clothes, her book, and a set of desk stationery from her father’s study were all she had. She had learned to travel light, aware that any suspicion cast onto her as an apostate would quickly alert the Inquest’s network.

Mistakes were her tutor in that regard.

Alpha Ve was the first planet they escaped to after the Inquest. A small and rural planet with mild weather all around, the captain believed it was remote enough to escape notice. And for a few months, it was. But its peoples were as superstitious as sailors, and suspicious of outsiders too. In a farming village where everyone knew each other, it wasn’t too long before Hepsa’s classmates had suspected her of apostasy.

She still didn’t know who had reported her, but it couldn’t have taken more than a few weeks for an Inquestor to arrive.

While the captain checked in with the port authorities, Hepsa took her travel bag and waited at the prow of the ship, slowly getting accustomed to the swaying sea. She rolled her sleeves up, letting the seaspray take the heat off her skin while she stared at the temple erected in the centre of the city.

From afar it just looked like a large building, but up close, the scale staggered her and she put a hand on the rails to steady herself. If her memory served right, it was larger than the sum of every other church or temple she had been to. Whole dragonbones, not mere bone powder mixed into concrete, held up the structure, with what looked like ribs creating evenly spaced towers along the main body of the temple.

“All clear!” Devad shouted down to the crew from the helm. “We’ve half the day for shore leave. Hop to it!”

When Hepsa turned, her father was already waiting on the gangplank for her. Just like that, he had handed command of the Odessa over as if he was lending a pencil.

#

Hepsa got a better lay of the city once they were in their hostel. Not nearly as tall as the temple, but with five floors, there was still plenty she could see. From the docks moving inward, Korepol was organised in a rigid, segmented ring. Further in, past the docks, were streets of shops and markets that stretched halfway around the city.

Then came the workshops, bunkhouses, banks, as well as hostels and inns. Essentially, any business that dealt with services rather than goods resided there. Finally, the residential ring circled and converged at the city’s centre, the massive temple that towered high above everything else.

It was symbolic of the Church’s values, Hepsa felt, as well as a symbol of their control. The thing so precious to them that they suffocated it with their presence was the home and family. Even in one’s most private space, the Church was not far.

“I spoke to one of the port authorities,” the captain, no, just her father now, told her. “I explained that I had grown tired of the sailor’s life and was looking for new work. They offered me a position to manage a warehouse, albeit for lower pay than who they have currently hired there. It should still be more than enough to keep this room for a few weeks, just until we can find a house for ourselves.”

Hepsa folded her arms, curling up in her cot. “And when will I go to school?”

“I’ll speak to the Watchful Sisters after services on Middle Day. One of the schools must have a place for you.”

“Yesterday was Middle Day,” she murmured, though more to herself than to her father. So, she had a week to herself.

“Don’t sound so eager,” her father said. “You’ll need books and writing tools. My old kit won’t last a month.”

“I might not last a month.”

“You’d better. Devad’s taking a shipment of salt and fish to a mining station on the neighbouring planet. It’ll be three months ‘till the Odessa comes back.”

Hepsa scowled, but Itham ignored her scorn. “You’ll need clothes, too. The school might have a uniform or a dressing code. Either way, they don’t usually hand those out. I’ll be at work, so I’ll leave the money to you.” He placed a pouch of golden stellas on the room’s only table.

“By myself? In the market?” Hepsa walked over and looked inside the pouch, seeing easily a hundred golden pieces stamped into thumb-sized stars.

“That’s all we can spare right now,” he cautioned her. Hepsa understood and nodded.

She pinched a few out of the pouch and placed them in her pocket, leaving the rest on the table. “In that case, I should get a better look at the market, maybe find someplace to buy dinner too.”

Her father nodded back. “I think I’ll take a bath, then.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, feeling the patchy spots he had missed in his haste. “Need to clean this up as well.”

#

Gazes followed Hepsa as she walked about the market. It could have been the way she dressed. The other women and girls wore long-sleeved frocks, clearly cotton even though they had been dyed red or orange to look like dragonskin. It was a stark contrast to her sailor’s shirt, plain white with sleeves rolled up to show her arms.

That, or it was her skin. The people of the city were tan, and for good reason. From what she remembered on Devad’s star charts, the planet’s tilt, orbit, and the position of the city itself created long, hot days. Even so, the children were fairer than the adults, their natural tone being a few shades lighter. Meanwhile, despite the years spent in lightless space, Hepsa’s olive skin was still a few shades darker than the tannest man she could see.

Plain grey awnings stretched out from the open produce stores, providing shade for a variety of fruit and vegetables. Some were crops common across the Cluster, apples and coconuts and corn, but many seemed to be local breeds. Hepsa picked a green-skinned fruit from one of the shops, testing its firmness. She was surprised to feel that its flesh was nearly like gelatin.

“Is it rotten?” she asked the man at the counter.

His eyes bulged at her as if he had just been insulted. “Rotten? You won’t find fresher fruit anywhere!”

Hepsa doubted that but said nothing to disagree. “I’ve never seen its kind before. What is it?”

“Agaripe?” The man tilted his head. “Are you from off-world?”

Hepsa nodded. “Just landed today.”

“Should have known by your dress, you look more like a sailor than a lady,” the man said. She frowned at that, remembering that in the eyes of most folk, it was nigh impossible to be both.

Hepsa had to remind herself to aim her frustrations somewhere else. It wasn’t his fault. Novoastrianism held that men and women should serve different roles in life. A dragon’s mind does not do the work of its heart, the scripture said, but both are equally important to the corpus. Nevermind that the highest position in the Church for women were the Watchful Sisters, who served under the Inquestors and Stellarchs.

“Yes, I’m a sailor.” She picked up one of the agaripes. “How much for two?”

The man held up four fingers and Hepsa paid him in kind, taking the fruit with her in a small papyrus bag. They would be an interesting dessert.

As far as the rest of her dinner plans went, Hepsa spent the better half of the afternoon just trying to pick a place, let alone choose from its menu. Korepol was larger than even Dragon’s Fall, an impressive feat considering her hometown was the capital of Lumnos.

She eventually settled on a local butcher and grill, eager to try what the planet had to offer. The meat they served was entirely exotic, cut from ocean-dwelling mammals that were apparently as common as fish on the planet. Hepsa couldn’t help but sample a taste before she returned to the hostel.

Whatever they butchered had more fat than muscle, and wrapping it up in waxed papyrus only drenched the meat in more of its oils. The only thing that stopped her from devouring it was the sad look she imagined on her father's face if he found out she had eaten the best pieces.

She licked her fingers, letting the remaining fat satisfy her instead. It couldn’t make up for having to sit through a Watchful Sister’s lecture on sin, but at least for a moment, Hepsa could forget about living a lie.