Later that night, Isyd walked at a brisk pace toward the docks. He had meant to leave the Academy earlier but he’d been detained longer than he’d hoped by Tutor Milwyk. The old man had been inquiring about the incident between Isyd and his Senior Lwieserce. Nothing came out of the talk; the Tutors heard about it only days after it had happened and since it had been resolved amiably, there wasn’t much for them to say or do. Still, Tutor Milwyk had been curious and worried for this Pupil whom he was starting to consider as his protegee.

Naeht was following Isyd’s pace with ease. Night had fallen, but the light of the Lightspheres and the bright full moon overhead made her appear more solid than she truly was. She turned her head to Isyd.

“Today was a lovely day, wasn’t it? We got to see the Atelier!”

“I guess you could say that…” Isyd said. “I had never seen anything like the Atelier back in Old Ziemia. Even the forgery of the Holy Bastion does not even come close. Now, it makes me wonder whether there are other places like this one elsewhere. Perhaps in the Capital? Or maybe even outside of the Commonwealth?”

“I suppose they were all destroyed when the Obcys attacked,” Naeht sighed. “There were so many [Arcanes] there and so many Arcanysta! By the way, what do you think of Hidrss? I think he’s an interesting fellow.”

Isyd simply shrugged. “He’s interesting alright.”

“That’s all you have to say? Well, I think that you and he are quite similar!”

“Are we now?”

“Oh, yes! You are both young and talented Artysta! I think you two could become friends!”

“I have no need of friends, Naeht. Only to have my palcat repaired. Do not lose sight of our objective.”

Isyd did not fail to notice the flash of sadness that briefly marred her beautiful features. He did not let it affect him; one of them had to be level-headed. He already lost his knife because of his carelessness and wasn’t about to be lured again by the illusion of peace of the Academy. Because it was exactly that: an illusion, and a temporary one at that. Isyd alone knew what has waiting for them: the Obcys, the [Taint], the War, the collapse of mankind as they knew it…

And he was the only one who could stop that. He ought not to forget it.

“Fine…” Naeht sighed, properly chastised. “So, tell me what we’re doing here instead of at the Library.”

“I have a plan.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You always have a plan, but you never share them.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me that you preferred not knowing? You said you liked trying to guess and the surprise of seeing everything play out.”

“Now that you mention it, I may have said that at some point…” she paused, then gave him a shy smile. “Could you give me at least a hint?”

“Well, I have one plan and if it succeeds, I could enter the Atelier, have my palcat repaired, resolve my money problem, recover my knife and prepare us for the War.”

Naeht’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, all of it with a single plan? That’s ambitious! You think it will work?”

“No idea. It depends on a few things I have no control over and one assumption I have made.”

“Assumption?”

“Regarding Hidrss,” Isyd clarified. “My plan assumes that the man is truly passionate about the Arts. More than most Artysta are. This is why he is so wary and he has all this speech about Artysta’s responsibilities. Most people take the Arts and the Holy Grace for granted. Hidrss does not. He is conscious of the destructive and creative power of the Arts, which is exceptional given how young he is. One way or another, Dmitri Ivanovitch Hidrss learned to be grateful...”

Naeht watched Isyd with surprise. It wasn’t often you saw him with such a genuine smile on his face.

“I will prove to the man that he and I are of the same mind,” Isyd continued. “I’ll show him that I’m also passionate. I’m also grateful.”

“I see… and that’s why we’re going to the Docks?”

“Yes. We need to grab a boat that leaves for Blotnia by tonight.”

It was still relatively early in the night and the Docks were still bustling with activities on either side of the riverbank. Isyd had crossed to the Outside and was now following the embankment down to the piers where several sailing boats were anchored. Most of the crews had disembarked and enjoyed their evenings in the numerous bars present alongside the riverbanks. There they could find food and drinks, games and music, and even company for the night if they were willing. The initial village that would later become Vilriver had been built as a resting place for the merchants that sailed up the River and the city had never truly lost that purpose. Every day, hundreds of ships sailed in and out of the city, either heading south more inland or sailing down the River to the Wiel Ocean north from here. They delivered goods that sometimes came as far as the most eastern parts of Ziemia.

“Blotnia? I have never heard of it,” Naeht said. “Where’s that?”

“It’s a city north of Vilriver. It’s half a day of travel by boat, a full day by carriage and at least three days on foot. I hope to find a boat that departs now so that we can get there by tomorrow morning.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?”

“Well, I had not expected to be detained by Tutor Milwyk that long! We absolutely need to find a boat by dawn at the very least. Because of the Academy and my knife, I can’t afford to lose much time.”

Unfortunately, Naeht was correct in her assessment; it was difficult to find a boat that would sail the rapids of the River at night. Most ships that had planned on leaving Vilriver today had already departed two or three hours ago. Isyd went from one ship to another, from the small fishing boat to the more impressive merchant vessels, but he only faced negative responses. He had pulled down his darkveil to expose as much as possible his Academic uniform in hope of increasing his chances, but it was of little help. Unless Isyd offered a stupidly large amount of money as insensitive, there were few reasons for the sailors to disrupt their sailing schedules for one young man.

More than an hour later and Isyd was beginning to accept that he would not leave the city by the end of the night. His steps had led him up the river, away from the vibrant and luminous docks and toward the more disreputable parts of the Outside. The streets were grimier and stickier under his boots, the Lightspheres were either broken or provided a dull, dirty light barely enough to light up anything. The wooden planks of the piers had rotten at some parts and nobody had cared to replace them. The ships that were anchored in this part of the Vilriver, strategically positioned the farthest from the seat of the Merchant Guild, were notably known to be involved in shady business. At the point he was, Isyd could not have cared less.

Case in point, he was currently speaking to a fisherman that clearly had too many drinks. The man’s ship was closer to a wide canoe if it wasn’t for the sail wrapped around the mast.

“… where do you wanna go again, boy?” the man asked him once more with a drawl in his voice.

Isyd sighed. “Blotnia, north from here. You do not need to bring me all the way there, only half of the way would be more than enough. I have a bit of coin if you want… 3 Coppers, how does that sound?”

Isyd didn’t want to part away with any of the money he owned, but he was getting desperate.

“I went there to Blotnia once with my wife. It was… it was twelve years ago, I’d say. Thirteen, perhaps…”

“Do you accept then?”

“I don’t know, kid… Why do you wanna leave in the middle of the night? You’re in trouble? Are you a thief?”

Isyd was about to answer when a commotion grabbed their attention. A few paces from where they stood, a group of three men were shouting. They were trailing after a lean figure that walked on the pier, but they weren’t doing a good job at it given their drunken balance and their uncertain footing.

“Ya stop now, girl! Ya no’ing but a cheat, that’s what y’are!”

“I did not cheat you in any way!” The figure had stopped and turned to face the drunken men. It was a young woman, tall and lean, clad in a bluish tunic, a purple skirt and a shawl thrown over her shoulders. Her skin was dark and her raven hair had been woven into a single braid that reached her waist.

“Isyd, she’s an Antim!” Naeht exclaimed next to him.

Isyd nodded. He would have recognized her kind anywhere, even with only her heavily accented speech. Their black hair, their bronze skin and their tall stature were distinctive features of the Antim people. Isyd turned back to the fisherman to resume their negotiation. Whatever was happening there was none of his business, he had already enough on his plate.

“I’m not a thief,” Isyd explained. “It’s just that I have urgent business to conduct. Would it help if I make it 4 Coppers? But we must part immedia—”

The voices behind him grew even louder. “How did you win all the time then? You marked the cards, admit it, wench!”

“I just know how to count, you dimwit! Now, step out of my way and let me go!”

“You lie! I should have known better than playing with your kind. Everyone knows that you are all just thieves! You dirtskins can’t be trusted!”

“Yeah, Dan’s right! Y’all bunch of disgusting cheaters! Hey, where ya think ya going? Ya not going anywhere!”

At the same time the man had tried to grab the girl, a firm grip fell on his arm. He turned to see Isyd standing there, eyes cold and dark. The drunk man had not even heard him approach. He tried to yank free, but Isyd’s grip was immovable.

“How are ya? What ya want? Ya—”

Isyd moved in a blur. His armed whipped in front of him and his left knuckles smashed against the man’s mouth. Blood spurted and the man yelped in pain. Isyd let him go and the man brought his hands to his broken nose.

“Ya pig! W-Why ya did that? I’ll gut ya!”

The man swung in Isyd’s direction, but his arm only met the air as Isyd stepped just out of reach. Suddenly out of balance, Isyd simply kicked his feet under him and the man sprawled on the ground with a growl of pain. It had happened so fast, so out of the blue, that the man’s companions were totally taken by surprise.

Isyd used that to his advantage.

He dashed toward the man supposedly named Dan and, before he could react, Isyd grabbed the man’s mouth in his right hand. He pressed hard, muffling a cry of pain, and brought their head closer so to be sure he was heard.

“You have a dirty mouth,” Isyd coldly said. “I’ll help you clean it.”

Isyd’s hand moved to the man’s tunic that he firmly seized. As if Dan weighed nothing, Isyd lifted the man and threw him above his shoulder. Dan flew through the air in a long shriek of fear before disappearing into the dark waters of the River. Isyd finally turned to face the last man. At the same time, however, a figure stepped out of the shadows and attacked the man by behind. The man had pulled out a knife, but he was quickly disarmed then thrown to the ground next to his companion.

The newcomer threw back his cloak, revealing a face strikingly similar to the Antim woman. He turned to face the young woman.

“Agna, Uncle awaits us in the boat. This is why he asked you not to leave on your own,” the man said. “It is dangerous.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Do not be stupid, brother. There was no danger whatsoever! I could have taken care of them on my own. Plus, this is not important right now!”

She pushed her brother aside and approached Isyd. She was as tall as he was but her face bore the roundness of a child; she could not be older than fifteen years, Isyd guessed.

“You! How is it that a foreigner as you know the Mātā-Narta ?”

“Agna!”

“It’s true! You just saw him fight, brother! He knows the Narta! I want to know how!”

It was hard to say whether she was angry or excited. If Isyd didn’t know better, he would have thought she was about to attack him. He took a step back, pressed his palms together and rose them above his head with a slight bow.

“The name is Isyd Wybrany. I had the chance to learn the way of your people and I am still learning.”

The two youths stared at him for several seconds, eyes wide. Finally, the brother stepped forward and mimicked Isyd’s gesture in greetings.

“The name is Prashan Sharma and I thank Isyd Wybrany for his aid.”

The girl seemed to remember her manners and she followed suit. “The name is Agna Sharma and I thank Isyd Wybrany for his help. Even though it would have been fined without him as well. Still, I am grateful.”

“You do not sound like someone who is grateful, Agna,” her brother reproached her.

“And why should you decide how a grateful person sounds like, brother?”

“I am not the one to decide, but I still have an idea of how it is properly done. Anyway, we must go now. Uncle is getting impatient.”

“Excuse me,” Isyd intervened. “You spoke of a boat a moment ago. Are you leaving Vilriver per chance?”

“We are,” Agna said. “We are heading north. We’re hoping to reach Blotnia by noon tomorrow if the Mother’s willing.”

Blotnia… finally!

“I also wish to travel in that direction tonight. Would it be possible for me to do part of the journey with you?”

The two siblings exchanged a glance, and then Agna spoke. “I’m sorry, Isyd Wybrany, but it is not up to us to decide. My Uncle is the shipmaster and he has the final say on who climbs on his ship. Would you like to meet him and ask him personally?”

Isyd nodded and they departed immediately towards the pier, without even glancing down at the men who still moaned in pain at their feet. For a moment, Isyd worried that their boat had been anchored on the other bank of the river, but thankfully, it wasn’t the case; it took them only a handful of minutes to get there.

On the stern stood a middle-aged man that watched them approach. His long black beard bore specks of white and his tanned skin presented wrinkles around the eyes. Agna affected a repentant face, but her Uncle was not fooled.

“ Silly girl! Why don’t you listen to your elders? Is it sand you have between your ears? ”

He spoke a fast-paced language, full of inflexions and round words.

“ I’m sorry, Uncle. I just wanted to have a last bit of fun before we depart. ”

“ Fiery girl… ” The man’s eyes noticed Isyd standing behind her. “ Who is it that you have with you? Did you create problems? ”

“ This stranger helped Agna as she was being pestered by drunkards, Uncle, ” Prashan said. “ He asks us to take him down the River with us.”

“ Uncle, he knows the Mātā-Narta! ” Agna added excitedly.

Her Uncle gave her a confused look and it was then that Isyd decided to step in. He brought his palms together over his head and bowed.

“ The name is Isyd Wybrany ,” he said without an ounce of hesitation in the words. “ As your nephew said, I am in need of your help. A humble man asks another man for a humble service. One Mother, One People.”

Silence welcomed his declaration. They watched him with round eyes, and Agna’s mouth even dropped open.

The Uncle returned Isyd’s salutation with one of his own. “ One Mother, One People… It is not often that I hear Inlanders speaking our language. ”

“ I recognized being one of the lucky few. ”

The man was clearly taken aback, but a smile appeared on his wrinkled face and he cleared his throat. “Aye, it is quite a pleasant surprise! The name is Chandra Sharma and I thank Isyd Wybrany for coming to the aid of my niece. As a show of my gratitude, I welcome him on my vessel as a brother of my people.”

Agna whooped and Isyd let out a discrete sigh of relief. He could finally leave Vilriver. This part of his plan was finally over.

Isyd jumped on the sturdy boat and as the siblings were rushing around to make sure that the vessel was ready to leave, Isyd approached their Uncle.

“Are we departing immediately, then? Will you not prefer waiting for the first light of dawn.”

The man laughed. “Why wait? No Antim fears the water, home of the Mother. Plus, there is plenty of light.” He pointed at the bright, full moon in the clear night sky. “The Eye watches over us and under its watchful eye, we will travel. Have faith, brother.”

Isyd nodded. If there was something he truly believed in, it was the sailing abilities of the Antim people.

This was why Isyd was totally relaxed as the boat left the pier. As he was leaving Vilriver, Isyd let his mind wander on the next parts of his plan.