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The crew encounter a new civilization, and hints to the World Before

Okay. Uh. Worryingly (perhaps) this is the second-to-last chapter of this novel. I realize I'm raising more questions than answers, but some of them are handled in other novels. And, yes, I suppose this is probably aiming for a sequel. But look: troubledogs! We can enjoy troubledogs, right? Patreon subscribers, this should also be live for you with notes and maps and stuff.

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute--as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

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Terra Nova, by Rob Baird. Ch. 6: "The Third Who Walk"

It could almost have been the inner scrubland of Karn's home. Certainly the hot wind was the same, whipping sand into their fur and hissing through a valley two hundred feet below them. The clifftop was five hundred feet further still above, and the Osani portal brought them to a dead end.

"Up." Pærtha Kittaling pointed. Movement above turned into a wooden raft, drifting down the cliffside. The ropes supporting it, when Karn could finally make them out, seemed far too thin for such a contraption.

But it held, anyway, coming to rest on the trail behind them. Its two occupants wore dun-colored hoods, leaving only their pointed muzzles protruding. "Hello," one of them said to Gethet Issich. "You're the captain." It sounded like Aernian to Karn.

And, apparently, to the tiger, who stepped forward. "Yes. My name is Gethet. Cedda Fletcherson and Karn Gebbenbech are among my crew. Pærtha Kittaling is a traveler."

"We're all travelers," the speaker answered, then pushed his hood back. His companion followed suit. Both of them looked surprisingly like Sheshki--the resemblance was close enough that Karn understood why the Osani elders hadn't wanted her along. "Our names, however, are Tephenos and Adaea." Each bowed, in turn.

"What do you mean, 'we're all travelers'?"

Adaea stepped aside, and Tephenos gestured them onto the wooden raft. "In one sense, we travel from what we were to what we will become. In another, we travel from youth to senescence. But for now, we travel from the path to the city gate above."

The raft was held by only two thin cords, but it rose as if unaware of the winds that should've been buffeting it. The ride was smooth and swift, and Karn kept his wits about him by focusing on the two robed figures. "If you don't mind me asking--you don't look like the people we first met. But you knew of them."

"Yes. We're old... acquaintances." There had been a sort of timelessness to them both, but when Tephenos smiled Karn saw finally his age-whitened muzzle, and the wear on his teeth. "Our name in their language is an epithet, I'm afraid. We coyotes do not think in terms of collectives, but that name will do in the general sense."

"You were at war with the eastern towns," Gethet prompted. "It sounded rather collective, from their retelling."

"I'm sure it did. I'm old enough to remember the last war, yes. Adaea is not. She's only known peace with them." Tephenos laughed. "She'd tell you we fight more often with the other mesas than we do with what you call... Osani?"

"Yes. What do you want with them, then? What do you want with us?"

The raft stopped, frozen in place beside a worn stone track that ran from the cliff's edge to steep, sand-colored walls. "First, to welcome you to Ekotia."

If Osani grew organically from the stone of its cavern, Ekotia stood bold and defiant atop its mesa. On second examination the walls were stepped, the higher levels dotted with doors shielded in richly colored tapestries fluttering in the constant wind. Flags, in the same brilliant rainbow of hues, marked the pathway forward.

"Not the largest of the cities," Tephenos said, almost apologetically. "There's less to do on the edge of the desert, as we are. But it has its advantages, and I'm honored to be its ruler. I hope Adaea will be honored to follow me."

She dipped her head at the knowing look the elder coyote gave her. "I will be, yes, when it's time. When the winds carry that fate to me. If."

"When," Tephenos corrected. They came to another platform, which rose when the party was gathered aboard it, mounting the city wall to its true gate thirty feet above the ground. "An old precaution," he said. "From more troubled times. But..."

He held up his paw, and when they were all watching he gestured with it to the eastern horizon. The desert was not boundless: it rose to mountains, shaded with hints of green forests.

"One of the advantages of which I spoke. Your friends are a few hundred miles further along, beyond those peaks. Our world ends here, of course. We have the desert at our backs, and a perfect view of its edge. It's comforting, in a sense, really."

Pærtha remained staring after the others had started moving again. He rushed to rejoin them. "Do you know much of that land? You know that the world doesn't end, but... the people who live there."

"Somewhat, yes. From old battle maps, and our scouts. We know the contours of the hills, and the domains of... well, some of the easterners. Not all. The last war ended near what you call Osani. If we must speak to them, that's who we contact."

"And if they want to speak to you?"

Tephenos smiled at Pærtha's obvious curiosity. "They don't. They were not entirely happy to share your speech with us so that we could speak to you. But Ekotia endures as our people's only connection to our neighbors. That's why you were brought here, after all--your journey will be taking you further still. You weren't meant to remain in our humble city."

Karn had to admit that he found Ekotia more familiar, at least, than Osani had been: there were recognizable markets, and the townsfolk spoke in a language that reminded him, a little, of his native Ellagdran. Certainly it was not as lilting and eerie as that of the raccoons, and the coyotes' desert robes wouldn't have been out of place in Aldimarek or Weildach.

"What is that?" Cedda Fletcherson breathed. "Do you have your spyglass on you, captain?" Issich put the scope to his eye, and Karn saw his head cant sharply. He passed it to Cedda who, after a muttered oath, passed it on to the second mate.

It was a vessel, aloft. It looked something like a boat--one of the long, wooden craft used by the Dominion of Tiurishk. Those had oars, though, and this did not: painted strips of something that vaguely resembled sails, but these did not flutter in the wind, and their movements were subtle and carefully directed.

"No masts," Karn said. "No bloody idea how it's flying, either."

"Magic," the first mate muttered.

"Yes." Tephenos stood proudly, his paws clasped behind his back, watching the approaching craft. "An airship from the city of Anemato Koroussa. Outsiders are not permitted into the city, I'm afraid--the ship is the closest you'll get."

Adaea leaned forward, straining her eyes. "It is the Matiani itself."

The older coyote perked his ears. "Neo? Kanaki iochalastina Matianiona. Maybe--apologies, my guests--I think perhaps it is the prince arriving. Prince Katano Pykatsis. We shall see."

It didn't take them long to do so: the ship was swift, much faster than the Clarion Adamant, faster than the wheeling birds that scattered as it drew near. She didn't slow until every marking on her hull was plainly visible and then--with a crisp, precise turn--she drifted sideways the rest of the distance to the dock.

Karn found the movement of the dockworkers reassuring. The ropes they used were thinner, but served the same function and were fastened with the same knots. The pattern of activity was, finally, something he understood.

And when the Matiani had been completely secured, they were finally allowed to approach. The 'airship' could not have floated: its central hull was open at the bottom, revealing a largely hollow interior. The smaller hulls flanking it seemed solid enough, but it wasn't their form that drew Karn's eye. Rather, it was the decorations: intricate, geometric patterns that ran in a colorful mosaic along what should've been the waterline.

They glowed, pulsing unevenly as the ship came to complete rest, and Karn Gebbenbech realized that they must've been engines of some kind--her propulsion, like the secret of her flight, beyond the wolf's ability to comprehend. Pærtha Kittaling was just as enraptured: muzzle agape, his eyes darted from one detail of the Matiani to the next.

No gangplank extended from the central hull. Figures aboard it, clad in the same dust-colored robes as the Ekotians, simply stepped into open air, floating down it with no concern for the hundreds of empty feet beneath them.

"Greetings, Tephenos. Have you treated your guests well? Will they speak kindly of Ekotia to all who hear?"

"I hope so, my lord." Tephenos bowed his head in respect. "They only just arrived. I did not know you would be coming yourself."

"This is too important for a single city--even one as storied as Ekotia. Would they mind if we departed without the customary ceremonies, Tephenos? Would you?"

Head still bowed, the coyote lowered his ears. "I would not be slighted."

"Then your visitors will come with me," Prince Katano ordered. His retinue turned, stepping onto the invisible bridge that led to the ship without hesitation. Katano pointed for the easterners to follow.

When Gethet Issich hesitated, Pærtha took the initiative. After his captain, and the first mate, Karn joined the others. Despite appearances, the air was as solid as any bridge. If he didn't look down--and the wolf forced himself not to look down--he could convince himself there was no magic involved at all.

Once they were aboard, and the ship began to move, Prince Katano guided the party to a small cabin, where a handful of others waited: all coyotes, their varying status--if it did vary--unmarked as far as he could tell. "You wish to know why we've asked you here," Katano said. "Why the Kallito--the desert people--desired an audience with you. I imagine you must have some speculation..."

Gethet nodded: "There are concerns on both sides about peace between your cities and the eastern towns. That the presence of my ship and its crew might disrupt the balance. We must be a mysterious, unknown quantity... you want to know how we fit in. How we're aiding them."

Prince Katano laughed. "You have spent too long with them, that's true."

"What do you mean?" Pærtha Kittaling spoke out of turn.

Katano smiled. "The talk of 'unknown quantities.' 'Fitting in.' They're obsessed with their own variety of... 'order.' No, no. We know you're not allies of the Nastrini. You come from beyond their lands. Beyond the waters. Beyond the... Phorianas, will I make a fool of myself to our guests?"

A quiet, slight coyote seated next to the prince briefly raised his gaze to look at Katano. "Never, sir."

"What we call 'the Shroud.' A dark curtain falls on our furthest thoughts. Closer than the horizon. And, unlike the horizon, it never recedes. Our attempts at exploration are frustrated by the Nastrini, who control the coastline. The Shroud is eternal." Katano looked at Phorianas, and amended: "To our culture. Speak."

"Correct." The coyote--his teeth were age-blunted, and his voice remained soft--straightened in his chair. "Our master speaks of the culture that came before. They had knowledge of some world beyond the Shroud. We... we..." His ears lowered, and his whiskers trembled faintly. "Sir, I'm not certain..."

"This is your opportunity, Phorianas. Decades spent amongst the fading echoes of your libraries have come to this point. Make the most of it."

"Not only me, master. The decades of a dozen royal advisors," he whispered. Phorianas took a deep breath, and produced a roll of leather which had rested on the floor next to him. It opened smoothly at his touch--too smoothly to have been natural--and he spread it along the table.

The leather had shielded a scrap of paper: yellow, tattered, the penwork barely legible. None of them, clearly, could read any of the glyphs. Gethet squinted, scanning the lines, head canting back and forth. So did Cedda. So did Karn, who gasped like a startled pup before he could help himself.

"It's upside-down!"

"Karn?" Gethet asked.

"May I?" Phorianas was too overcome to reply, but Prince Katano nodded permission. Karn turned the leather around. "It's Maurach. This--"

He'd tapped the paper with his claw, and Phorianas cried out in panic. Katano rested a paw on the old coyote's shoulder. "Continue," he ordered.

"These are the floodplains of the Herzven. This I... I don't know this part--it looks artificial, and it's gone now. But these lines over here? This is the Leilar delta."

"You're sure?" Gethet asked.

More mindful of Phorianas--and the gods alone knew how old the map was, so Karn supposed he was right to be protective of it--Karn rested his finger over each contour in turn. "Cape Binden. Sterkath. Körfeld is here now--this is Kreuss Körar, though, the hill; I'm sure of it. I could sail the length of the Leilar and across the bay to Maurach in my sleep, sir. This is my home." He looked up to Phorianas, still disbelieving. "Where did you get this?"

"The archives. The library. We've always believed it came from across the Shroud. It's no island we're familiar with. We searched. We..." He gasped and, overcome, fell quiet.

Katano took over. "None the Nastrini would claim, either. But you're from there, are you?"

"From a city that..." Karn pointed to bare leather. "It would be here, sir, if your map was complete. Maurach is a desolate island. It's bad for farming, and there isn't much to dig from the ground. But I've sailed to a town on the mouth of the Herzven River, dozens of times."

"Sailed. On the water. Will you recover, Phorianas?" the prince asked, and his advisor nodded weakly. "When you feel able to do so, find us on deck. I think Captain Arnassa should show our guests something."

He took them back out, into the sunlight, and spoke a single word of their own tongue to Arnassa. She looked at the easterners and, as if an unposed question had been answered, brought them to the airship's stern.

"The Matiani," Katano said. "How old is it, captain?"

"Beyond generations," Arnassa answered--speaking to the Aernians, and not to the prince. "We don't remember building it, only crewing it. Learning how it worked... and we've done much to master those arts. Our sails are made of ancient trees, their trunks unrolled... we know how to make those, and how to write the carvings that let them move the ship along."

"There's an image of the Matiani, or a ship like it, in the Long Garden of our home. The hull is much sturdier. Our shipwrights have needed to hollow them out. Arnassa is a brilliant commander, but her spells are... inefficient. Would you agree, captain?"

"Yes, my lord. It's true."

"The core," he said.

Arnassa gripped a handle on the deck, pulling a hatchway open with some difficulty. From the inscriptions, and the glowing patterns on the 'sails' and the secondary hulls, Karn had expected something lustrous--brass-rimmed and glittering with unnatural light. Cedda Fletcherson glanced at Karn, and seeing the same recognition on the wolf's face seemed to give him the strength to speak. He pointed through the hatch. "Where does the driveshaft go?"

"The... metal rod? Nowhere." Arnassa sighed. "It might have, once. Now, it's a mystery. Everything about it is a mystery. Do you know how it works?"

Cedda paused, and chose his words carefully. "It's mechanical. Made of iron, perhaps. An engine, Captain Issich. It's an engine. Smaller than any I've encountered, and I don't see a boiler--and the arrangement of the pistons is strange, but the crankshaft is unmistakable. Perhaps not a steam engine, though I don't know how else it might function."

"Not one of ours," Issich mused. "No ironworks in the country could do this. Are there parts missing?"

"We don't know that, either," Arnassa admitted. Beneath the reluctance, though, Karn heard a twinge of excitement: the sense that some mysterious artifact was finally being unlocked. "For a long time we thought it was ceremonial, but... I've come to think that it was involved in propelling the Matiani--or one of her ancestors. It had a purpose. We just don't know what."

"Tell them of the coating."

"It was a protective layer, perhaps, but there are traces of naphtha in the device."

Which, Karn listened to Cedda distractedly, had no coal bunker. Had it somehow burned pitch? Had they combusted naphtha? Almost certainly not--flammable oil was too precious for anything so wasteful as that. Or at least... it is on our side of the Known World, Karn corrected himself. Who was to say what was to be found in the desert?

No--Arnassa was saying now that naphtha was rare in their land, too. But once upon a time--whatever people had first created the heart of the Matiani--there was enough of it to use freely in what the Aernians were all firmly convinced was an engine of some sort.

Karn found it difficult to tell how fast the ship moved, but it couldn't have been less than a hundred knots: the desert, a thousand feet below, passed swiftly. Arnassa and Prince Katano made excuses for its performance, nonetheless; recounted tales of older ships five or even ten times faster.

Cedda and Gethet Issich listened patiently, although he saw the skepticism on their faces. Pærtha Kittaling was more intrigued, but of course he lacked the expertise to judge whether or not such feats were even possible. Karn's knowledge, too, was limited... but he thought about what Sheshki had told him. What she said she'd seen.

I saw Jana's surface, and machines resting upon it...

The ship slowed, gradually, on approach to a city built in the same fashion as Etokia--but far grander. Belts of lush greenery traced spokes outward from a tower at the city's center. Anemato Koroussa, Prince Katano announced. Back in his domain, his voice as he pronounced its name was rich as the gardens.

As the ship lowered itself into a dock crowded with similar vessels, Gethet spoke up. "Tephenos said that outsiders weren't permitted to enter the city."

Katano smiled indulgently. "Tephenos had not seen what I have. I think it's important that you be shown certain things of ours, as well."

As before, a retinue went before the prince. This time, one of the coyotes snapped his paw, and a portal opened in the air before them. They followed Katano through it, into a building Karn took at once for a temple. Light streamed from high windows, playing over brilliant carvings inlaid with precious gems.

More than light. He could follow it, even--trace each spark as it raced along the jeweled depictions of battles, and cities, and great works that came to life in the dancing, glinting sunlight channeled through their contours. "Impressive," Kittaling breathed.

"Yes. But we do not stay here." Katano turned to Phorianas, who had accompanied them. The old coyote knelt, pressing his paw to the sandstone floor. Windows above them shifted, and now the light leapt from the walls into straight, radiant beams converging on the floor directly before prince.

It melted silently, exposing a flight of stairs that wound down through darkness: one careful step after another, until Karn perceived the faint glimmer of fresh light. The source of the glow was a windowless room, rimmed with statues. The creatures were not all coyotes: some seemed to be Nastrini, some were more alien yet. All were depicted in the same robes Katano and his kin wore.

"This," the prince said. "This is the most sacred shrine in Anemato Koroussa, which makes it the most sacred to any of us. You are not impressed, I can tell."

"We don't know your religion," Gethet explained. "This is similar to temples in my homeland."

Prince Katano gripped Phorianas reassuringly. Still, the coyote's step was halting when he made his way to one of the statues, and rested his paw on its side. The figure's eyes lit, and its stone mouth jarred open.

And it spoke.

The language was unfamiliar to Karn and the others: a woman's voice, lilting and musical. It was the language neither of Osani nor of the coyotes--but Phorianas understood, apparently, for he translated. "Today, we went to the market. The price of fruit is up again, but I managed to find what I needed for the salad. I think the gathering will be enjoyable. I hope it will be... we spent enough time putting the invitations together. My mother would be proud of the work we've done."

The statue's eyes dimmed again. Katano and Phorianas looked at Gethet Issich expectantly, but the tiger was as perplexed as any of them. "What is this?"

Now a faint image appeared before the statue--hazy figures, milling about, talking to one another. No voices could be heard, and the scene had a dreamy air about it. The display lasted for a minute, with everyone in the room silent. Katano turned once more to Gethet.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're trying to show me," the tiger admitted. "I don't know these people, and I don't know what they're talking about. And truthfully, we've encountered so much magic in your lands that I'm not sure what I'm supposed to notice..."

The prince gestured for his advisor to speak, and when Phorianas hesitated his eyes narrowed insistently. The old coyote took a deep breath. "It's not magic, sir. That is what you're to notice."

"If it's not magic," Pærtha Kittaling voiced the question Karn felt sure they all intended to ask. "Then what is it?"

"We don't know. If we knew at one point how this worked, we don't any more. There used to be more of these. According to our records, every statue in the shrine could speak in this fashion. Now, only a few are left."

Prince Katano took Phorianas's paw, squeezing it reassuringly. "I don't think that you know how these were created, either, Captain Issich. I don't think they come from your lands. But perhaps... perhaps you might know other things. You recognized something of the artifacts on the Matiani. This is why I wished to speak to you. And if you might come with me..."

He took them to a room near the summit of one of the city's spires. What Karn had taken for sandstone, the wolf saw, was something more than that. It rippled in shifting patterns and it was far cooler to the touch than the baking desert afternoon would have permitted.

And, as Katano introduced his council of advisors, and the leaders of other mesas, colors crawled along the wall's surface. They matched the embroidery on the nobles' robes; Prince Katano, seeing Karn's interest, smiled. "A sign of respect to them," he explained. "I wish to make them feel welcome. If I knew the signs of your homeland, I'd do the same for you. But it's very far away, it seems."

"Beyond the waves," one of the minor princes said, voice gruff and skeptical. "Beyond the Nastrini. Beyond the sunrise."

"Are you surprised?" Katano answered. "Does their language sound familiar on your tongue? Do their clothes smell of the forest? No. And haven't we known about this? Wasn't it foretold?"

A younger coyote, dressed like Phorianas, objected at once. "Only in the vaguest terms. Only in the sense that some of us knew of a world beyond the Shroud, and guessed that its inhabitants were not unlike us. That's more logic than prophecy."

Her argument held sway, judging by the grumbling. "I'm happy to hear you call it 'logic.'" Katano waited for the grumbling to settle down. "They saw the heart of the Matiani. They named it: 'engine.' They echoed Captain Arnassa's belief that, somehow, it was used for propulsion."

"Do they know how to make one?" the gruff prince demanded.

"Not like that." Pærtha didn't wait for Gethet to answer. "But similar ones. The captain's ship, the Clarion Adamant, has a metal engine. It uses no magic at all, only the laws of physics. It burns coal to generate its power."

Karn saw a look of brief concern flit across his captain's features, and how it deepened at the gasps from around the room. The woman who'd objected earlier became animated, leaning forward. "Yes? That's closer. Where did you find it?"

"The coal?"

"The metal engine."

"It was manufactured. I don't know where, exactly," the fox admitted, "but in my home country. That's where the iron came from--and the coal, too. I'm not sure the details of how it works... Mr. Gebbenbech? Mr. Fletcherson?"

Gethet raised his paw. "Neither of them are engineers. But... ma'am. Do you mean to tell me you have no knowledge at all of these kinds of devices? Even though you still have examples?"

"They're missing parts." Stolen, someone growled. "Perhaps, yes. Over the centuries. We don't know what's missing, or what spells were used to create the material itself."

"It's just iron, probably." Pærtha Kittaling could not have missed Gethet's hesitation, Karn thought: he was choosing to ignore it. "Or steel--iron mixed with coal. It's a new science in my country. Some people believe that by using thaumaturgy, we could forge whole new alloys, stronger than any metal yet. But such research is forbidden."

"Forbidden? By whom?"

Gethet's muzzle was tense, but the question had been asked directly to Pærtha and the tiger let him speak. "My government. They've been chasing me for years. Many in my home blame the Fall of the World Before on the combination of science and magic. They wish to keep them as separate spheres."

"Where have we heard such folly before?"

Prince Katano smirked at her. "It's their belief, Anochori; we should respect it."

"No," Pærtha said at once. "Not all of us believe that. Not all of us are so backwards. I think that in our closed-mindedness we've denied ourselves so much... not merely technologically but in all manners of wisdom. With our understanding of steam engines, we might be able to repair the propulsion of your airship. And with your understanding of magic, we could make those same engines far more powerful. It is folly to deny any means of unlocking the potential of the world around us."

Anochori, as she was apparently called, grinned to bare her fangs. "The Nastrini deny this. They countenance nothing that can't be done through their use of magic. They see anything else as a perversion."

"Not unlike the Hakasi," Pærtha said. "In our lands."

Karn's muzzle curled before he could help himself. "I don't think that's a good comparison. I'm Ellagdran. My people have been keeping the Hakasi at bay for centuries. We'd know the difference."

"You're from Issenrik, not Ellagdra," Pærtha countered, and Karn was content to let his muzzle stay curled. "The Hakasi are magic absolutists, cast out long ago. They also shun all technology as... impure. Instead of clothes, they draw the air into thin fog around their bodies. They--"

"Raid the towns around them--my culture's towns--and drain the life from them. Use them to float the Dead City. Use them for their weapons, and whatever sustenance they... consume. Probably with an artifact just like the one you had, Pærtha."

"Not at all the same," the fox replied calmly. "As you'd know if, like we do, you sought to understand the blending of the logical and the chaotic. You see," he went on, addressing the coyotes--all of them listening raptly. "The superstition is widespread. Even the Ellagdrans, with their fine rifles, won't ask how much more effective they could be in holding the Hakasi at bay if they deigned to enchant their gunpowder. But I ask. I want to know."

"Gunpowder?" Anochori, it transpired, had other curiosities. "Rifles?"

"Long-range weapons, powered by the explosion of a chemical--not magic. I don't know the formula, but I'm sure someone on the ship does. Perhaps even Karn."

"Perhaps," Gethet cut him off. "We should discuss this further at a later time."

Prince Katano nodded. "Captain Issich is rightly wary of giving strangers the secrets to all the marvels you doubtless know. I'm wary, myself. I want to make our intentions clear to all of you, however, before you're sent back. And I want to make our proposals clear, too."

He did not make them clear then, though, and Karn had the distinct impression that he wanted to speak directly to Issich. As lingering afternoon waned towards evening, Katano led them through the city's parks, and finally to a feast that had been organized to welcome them.

"This should have been done in Ekotia," the prince explained, and stressed that he meant no slight to Tephenos in having denied him that honor. Based on their earlier meeting, and the way Katano spoke, Karn had the impression that Kallito politics were not unlike those of the Ellagdran Confederacy, whose city-states guarded their independence fiercely.

Issenrik and the lands surrounding it were not really Ellagdran, of course--they were much less martial, for a start. But they spoke a common tongue and, even though his home town claimed allegiance to the old lands, Karn would never have described himself that way were he not trying to make a point about the Hakasi. He was from Karpasberg: that was the end of it.

Perhaps, at a few degrees' remove and to someone less familiar with the geography, he'd allow himself to be described as an Issenriker. Definitely from the east. Definitely not from Anamato Koroussa. Someone handed him a skewer of meat. Lamb, he knew from the very first taste. Lamb, more sweetly spiced but with almost the same fire as he might've found in a Karpasberg bazaar.

The taste was good--delicious, even. Lively music, played on mysterious instruments that bent the air in wavering, delirious pulses, was foreign... but if he dwelled on that, then he'd admit that Sheshki's folk songs were foreign, too, and so was the clarinet nonsense they were partial to in the Iron Kingdom.

He could still enjoy the music and the food, even if he didn't belong, surely. He wasn't about to follow the jackal's lead--to start casting spells and listening to what the trees had to say. Surely, he repeated to himself: there was no danger in savoring dinner.

Karn left the main gathering and made his way to the edge of the garden. The terraced levels of the city beneath them glittered with faint light, picking out the unmistakeable outline of a harbor. True, the hulls were odd, and there were no cranes or dockside rails. And the vessels floated in empty air, somehow.

But they were ships, and the crates of cargo stacked alongside them could've come from anywhere in the Known World. His ear caught approaching footsteps: Cedda Fletcherson, who'd also been keeping to the periphery of the festivities. "What do you think of it?" the fox asked.

He gestured below them to the harbor. "I'll admit it's a bit more familiar than the forest. Isn't it?"

"The people, too. 'Familiar' is a good word for it--almost reassuring, really."

"But it's not home."

Cedda nodded. "That it's not, for sure."

One of the airships was making ready to cast off, despite the lateness of the hour. Must have a schedule to keep, Karn thought. Captain knows his cargo's due in two days and the weather might not hold until then, and... "I'm curious how those ships work. You know? What it might be like to sail one of those things. What their other cities look like. I'm curious--but I wouldn't want to stay here. It's not home."

"As long as you're only curious." Cedda glanced behind him, and lowered his voice. "What do you make of Pærtha?"

"Don't trust him. Not a bloody word he says, not now. I think this city is exactly what he was looking for."

Cedda canted his head. "He brought us here on purpose?"

"No--not necessarily. Don't think anybody could've known this land was here. But now that he's found 'em, I think that bastard's more than curious about what they've got on offer."

The first mate gave a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid you're right. I suspect Captain Issich agrees with you, but I'm not sure yet how to act... what we can do to control Kittaling. If anything."

"Whatever you decide to do, you have my support."

"I appreciate that. For now, stay alert. I'm going to speak to Gethet myself." Cedda drifted back, rejoining the crowd, and Karn returned to watching the ship. It was about two-thirds the length of the Clarion Adamant, and much shallower in draft--all the cargo piled atop its deck, rather than stored in holds below.

The ponderous departure spoke to how heavily laden it was, and he wondered what they might've been carrying--where they might've been bound. How many times they'd made the trip. Whether the feeling of the wind in the helmsman's fur still thrilled him, in the first hours of a new voyage.

"Did you not like the music? Maybe you'd prefer something else?"

The coyote who'd come up to him handed Karn a clay mug which, out of politeness if nothing else, he took. "It's just overwhelming, that's all."

"I can understand that." She had an identical mug in her other paw, and raised it. "Ravothonaea."

"A toast?"

"Yes. Ravothonaea petritsa dravo: 'to Ravothon; may he bless your voyage.' God of the western winds. You'll want them, I suppose, for your voyage... right?"

"I suppose," he agreed, and did his best to echo her toast. The coyote grinned sympathetically, and pointed towards his mug. Karn sniffed at it, and took a sip. "Beer?"

"You know it, eh?"

"I'm a sailor. I know it, yes. It means I'm back in port." He wasn't certain what she wanted out of him, although--in the heights of their city, surrounded by beings of immense magical power--it didn't really matter, did it? The wolf relaxed, and took a longer drink. "It's not bad. Different from my homeland, but not bad."

"It's from Skepia Vratana, a hundred leagues to our north. Between the two of us, one of the only good things they produce." She gave him a sly grin; friendly. Familiar. "And goat. The grilled goat is decent, if you must go. But you won't--you're the one with the map, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"They said you knew what was on the map, at long last. That it's where you're from, right? Far away from Skepia Vratana... past the Shroud."

He nodded. "Yes. It's an island called Maurach. Not where I'm from--and not many people are from there. Bloody dismal place. But I know it. I miss it."

"You'll see it again. Can I ask your name, before I get you another drink?"

"Another? I've hardly started this one."

The coyote tipped her mug back, draining a good portion of it. "Then you're too slow. Think of it as being back in port. Come on. I have questions for you."

"Ones you want me drunk for?"

She laughed, and nudged his mug with an outstretched finger. "You have more experience than that, I'm sure."

It wasn't bad, not by any means--better than what the Aernians called 'beer,' at least. And he still felt in control of himself. He took a healthy swallow, and relaxed further. "My name's Karn Gebbenbech. I'm the second mate of the Clarion Adamant."

"Ethia," she answered in kind. "Navigator on the Kastefan. That one."

She pointed to one of the airships tied up at dock: a little larger than the one he'd watched leaving, with inky black panels. Soft, glowing turquoise webbed them, giving the impression they were scaled like moth's wings, and just as meant for flight. "A freighter?"

"A freighter, indeed. One of..." An impish grin quirked her muzzle for a heartbeat. "She's the fastest ship that calls between Anemato Koroussa and Skepio Mesolon. Yours?"

"The record, on the run between Harradon and Tammervest." Obligingly, Karn tipped his mug back, like the boast had been some grand point, and let his thoughts linger on the beer enough to truly enjoy it. "Of course, we were in decent seas. Spring, with a steady wind on a broad reach and cargo that wouldn't keep--a good excuse to run the engines ragged. But a record, all the same."

"Broad reach?"

"She's barque-rigged. With the wind off the beam and just astern, you can fill the sails and let the air passing over them carry you forward. Honestly, she carries a bit too much sail. Running, I'm always a bit terrified the wind might change--she wears like a bitch, trust me. But..."

Ethia grinned at him. "I have no idea what you're saying. You'll have to explain in more detail. Yes?" She nudged his beer again.

Karn downed it, handing the mug back. "Sure."

He took a seat on the stone at the edge of the terrace, where he could still see the dock. Familiar. But the wolf had grown more comfortable: the coyote didn't seem to want anything from him except banter, and the tone of her voice was the same curiosity he'd heard a hundred times when the Clarion Adamant docked.

She was a gorgeous ship, a glorious example of the continent's ability to build them when they put their minds to it. Weeks in the forest hadn't hindered Karn's ability to close his eyes and taste the salt on his tongue, and feel the lash of wind on his fur as the Caelish Sea foamed below them.

But she did carry a bit too much sail--more than he and his crew could handle, when the weather worsened unexpectedly. And her engines weren't as powerful or efficient as the very latest models. And her bunks weren't exactly comfortable, not even for an officer like Karn.

Home, though. She was home. That wouldn't change.

Ethia sat next to him, passing him a fresh mug of beer. "So: a 'barque'?"

"You know sails?" She drew a triangle in the air with her finger, and Karn cocked his head. "Really? We run those fore-and-aft. The mainmast is square-rigged, but they're kind of monsters."

If she didn't understand, Ethia nodded like she was following along. "You just use the wind? You don't ride the charm currents in the underlayer?"

"Don't even know of them."

"Just the wind," she said again, sipping her beer thoughtfully. "Could be exciting. Challenging--that's for sure. We don't quite go that far. But we sail, just the same."

"You do?"

"Sometimes it's easier than using magic by itself, depending on how far we're going. I could show you, if you wanted." He demurred, and she regaled him instead with the breadth of the Kallito domain, which ended at the western coast.

They were, indeed, like the Ellagdrans. Most of the cities stood atop mesas, or other defensible positions. They traded with one-another, and travel between them was common. But at any moment some slight--a negotiation gone poorly, an insulted prince--might set one city against the next for a few months of tension and skirmishing.

And then normalcy, unless the forest dwellers or their northern counterparts posed a threat, at which point the Kallito came together without hesitation. "It sounds silly, I guess," Ethia admitted. "We could do so much better if were unified all the time, but..."

"Doesn't sound silly at all. My people are the same way."

"Perhaps people are the same way everywhere," she said.

"The wind is. The stars are--almost. Why not people?"

"The wind," she echoed, and patted his knee heavily. "Two choices, Karn. Either you get another beer with me, or you let me show you what real sailing is like."

"'Real sailing'? Is that a challenge?"

"Is it?"

She saw that he'd made up his mind, and grabbed his paw, hauling the wolf to his feet with deceptive strength. They avoided the festivities, which were now well underway, and circled to a lower terrace. At last their progress was interrupted by a uniformed townsman, a guard who stepped into their path, holding up his paw to halt them.

They spoke in their own language, briefly, and the guard retreated without much objection. "Somewhat restricted property," Ethia explained.

"But we're allowed to be here?"

"Why not? I'm allowed, after all. And you're a guest of ours, which makes you a guest of mine, which makes it allowed," she declared firmly, before taking Karn down a rough-hewn track, where a craft had been tied up at the pier awkwardly jutting from the sandstone.

In size and shape, it resembled the Clarion Adamant's launch, though much shallower and with a sharper prow. Ethia set to work raising a wooden mast; Karn held it in place for her while the coyote secured the sheets holding it upright. Save for its short height--not much taller than either of the two sailors--it wouldn't have been out of place anywhere in his homeland.

But, when the job was done, she went to the craft's port side. Grabbing what had looked like a solid box, she pulled heavily, and the sections of a cream-colored panel snapped into place solidly. Fully extended, it looked like a gull's wing: broad, and cranked slightly downwards halfway along its length so that the tip was level with the bottom of the hull.

The two wings were not much longer than the mast, but decidedly out of place. "It flies," Karn guessed, and Ethia shot him a smirk. "Yes, I suppose I could've guessed."

"You could've." She shoved on each wing, making sure it was stable, and murmured inaudibly. The leading edges glowed, a subtle pulsing that made Karn think of fireflies. "Now... come aboard."

When he stepped onto it, the craft rocked unsettlingly, and he saw that it was, in fact, floating a few inches above the pier. Ethia joined him, taking a cord from under the low seat and tying it around her waist. She tossed him the end of a second one, and he followed her example. "Am I going to fall off?"

"Hopefully not." She pointed to the edge of the hull, which was hollowed just beneath its rim to serve as a handhold. "But just in case. We use these all the time to get around. To the docks, for instance."

"That's where you're going to show me sailing?"

"No."

Ethia raised her paw, feeling the wind, and snapped the mast's boom down with the kind of certainty Karn recognized as coming from years of experience. A breeze caught in the diminutive triangular sail, and they slipped slowly away from the pier.

First one, then ten, then fifty feet of air separated them from the ground, and the airship began to pick up speed. Ethia kept a grip on the boom; she held her other paw flat, and when it tilted slightly Karn saw the wings flex in response.

"How fast?" he asked carefully--the prow was pointed lower, and the ground no longer fell away.

"Fast enough." She banked them, curving her craft through the air and towards the lower terrace where the harbor still buzzed with activity despite the nearness of the evening. Ethia worked the boom expertly, as the wind shifted, keeping the sheets taut. "Or was that a dare?"

"It wasn't. Why?"

"Hold on." Warily, Karn reached out to either side of the hull, grabbing tightly.

Ethia's laugh was one he knew well--one he'd heard come from his own muzzle before, with his teeth bared in the face of a biting wind. She let out more sail, and the ship heeled over with it--her paw jerked, the wings twitched, and they leveled out. But they were racing now, too fast for the docks to be their destination.

They swept past the harbor, into open sky with the desert far below, and then Karn heard a snap as the boom fixed itself along their centerline and the sail went rigid. His body grew heavy, and twilight filled his vision as their prow lifted, and the airship swung up, and up, and up...

A thousand expansive feet lay between the ship and Anemato Koroussa when they stopped climbing. He could see every detail of the city, and its gardens, and tiny dots that must've people. Ethia swung the boom and relaxed the sail, searching for a breeze she could use to keep them moving.

"We do know some things about sailing, as I said," she told him. "Wouldn't you agree? Not that I'd try this on open water."

"The air is that much better?"

"Sometimes. When it hits the slopes it rises, and you can let it carry you the way it carries the birds. In old stories, my people did this more often. Before everything ended, we had much more capable craft than little skiffs like this one."

"But it's magical. These wings--they're magical."

"Yes. Not unrelated to what we use on the larger airships--that's how I learned them. You could learn too, probably. Eventually. I can't teach you enough to take it back to your people."

"I feel better closer to the ground, anyway."

"It has... moments. But so does seeing the world like this. Don't you think?"

They'd kept circling. Now they were high enough that Karn could see where dusk ended--where a vanished sun kept the western desert still in fading, golden light. The moons were coming up, too, and they seemed... brighter, somehow, amongst the mesas. "What's that river?"

"The Penteori. It flows from the eastern hills off to the western shore. I've traveled its whole length."

Ethia kept describing it, and the settlements and farms the Penteori fed, but Karn found that he was thinking about the Issenvar. It would look much the same, he thought. From such dizzying heights it was hard to know where he was, really. Nothing told him that he was a thousand leagues from the Issenvar, and Karpasberg, and the taste of Aldimarek rum.

"Karn?" Ethia's paw was on his wrist. She'd tied the boom in place; they were drifting. "Is something the matter?"

"It's beautiful. How long have you known how to do this?"

"Fly? Since I was young. Flying like this? Well... not everyone approves, so it takes a certain kind of teacher." She let him go to attend to the skiff, which had started dropping lower again. "How long have you known how to sail?"

"Years. I always knew I'd end up on the ocean."

"One day I'll ask you to return the favor," Ethia promised. "Show me what it's like to understand the waves--you must, right? To live amongst them. Must be second-nature. Do you think you could teach me?"

No, because I don't intend to stay here. "Maybe."

"And I could teach you this. You'd like it. The howl of the wind--the way everything becomes a blur except your destination. There," she decided, pointing to where the river met the horizon. "We're going there. Watch."

They dove, plunging for the desert floor like a peregrine on its prey. He heard nothing but the howl she'd promised, a roaring tumult--and, when they straightened out a few dozen feet over the sand, a cry of her own. To either side, and below, the world was a blur, dunes and scrub and startled animals present only for the blink of an eye. As far as Karn was concerned, they might not have even existed--nothing did, save for movement and their swift progress.

Ethia lifted them up again: the craft slowed, and the wind died away, and they began to settle like a drifting leaf. "Do you see?" she asked.

"I think so."

She turned to look at him, grinning her excitement. "I told you. I'm glad I got to show it to someone. I'm going to land us, though."

"Oh? What's here?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Then why are we landing?"

Again she glanced back. "Why do you think?"

"Giving me lessons?"

"Of course." They'd stopped descending; it took him a moment to notice.

But the skiff appeared to be resting on solid ground. Karn followed Ethia in untying the rope keeping him in place. When he stood, though, and got one foot beneath him on the sand, the craft shifted under his weight--he tumbled forward, and the coyote had to catch him.

She managed--just barely--taking him by the shoulder and guiding him back upright. Her muzzle was very, very close to his own. Her breath washed over his nose, and he all but felt her teasing smirk. "Perhaps we need to start with easier things, though?"

"Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Her eyes, autumn-leaf gold, were gleamed keen pale in the moonlight. "You know rigging? Sail-handling?"

"All but raised on ships, you know."

Ethia's smirk turned wider at the wolf's boast, so that her fangs glinted, too. "Basic navigation?" she prompted, her paw tightening its grip on his tunic.

"I can hold my own."

"I bet you can't, but maybe we'll find out." The exhilaration of the flight was still in her eyes. Karn understood that, as he understood it wasn't the only thing in the sailor's expression. Otherwise she'd have let him go. Otherwise her nose would be more than half an inch from his. Otherwise her voice wouldn't have lowered, like she was keeping a secret from the empty desert.

And because he understood, the wolf put his paws on her sides, gauging the supple fabric of her robe with his claws. "Just 'maybe'?"

"Depends on how far we get." She had big ears--not quite as large as Sheshki's, but larger than his own, pricked alertly with the same focus that kept her gaze on his, the same focus that narrowed when he touched her. "How are you with knots?"

There was an unintended, unapologetic growl in his words. "Maybe we'll find out," he muttered. Ethia finally released his shirt, only to wrap her slender arms around the taller wolf and press herself to him. It was a dare, a provocation...

And he let himself be provoked. When his lips touched hers the coyote yielded at once. Her eyes brightened, and her head tilted to bring them closer. The hot gasps of her breath joined Karn's own panting, the lifting pitch guiding his roaming touch in the proper direction.

The first knot to be dealt with was the sash holding her robe closed. It slipped undone effortlessly; at once his fingers found soft fur. Nothing broke it from the coyote's hips to her mid-back, where more wrapped fabric hid her chest. His fingers tangled in it, worked it looser.

Cloth fell away in untidy ribbons, slipping down her trim body. Ethia shivered when he cupped her newly freed breast, groping her. She lifted up on her toes, legs tense, and their kiss broke apart messily. Her shoulders heaved, each breath disturbing her robes further until they, too, tumbled to the dirt.

"That's what you meant by 'knots,' right?"

They both heard the coarse edge to his tone. Ethia grinned, her tongue skimming sharp teeth as she licked her muzzle. "No."

"Here?" Even as he asked it Karn was pulling his shirt off.

The coyote's eyes lingered on his bare chest; still grinning, she shrugged. Ethia stilled the waving of her bushy tail to work the loose undershorts down her legs, stepping gracefully free. "Why not?"

She turned back towards her skiff, and made it all of two steps before Karn was behind her, paws circling her lean belly. "Then stay here," he rumbled into her ear. Ethia's eyes closed for a moment, and she pushed her rump back and into his crotch.

And, without a word, she slid from his grip and onto her knees. She was almost close enough to her ship to touch, but instead she turned to watch over her shoulder while Karn unbuttoned his pants and tugged off the rest of his clothes. And she kept watching as he dropped behind her, guiding his cock below her hiked tail to the welcomingly slick warmth of the coyote's pussy.

They'd fit, he thought. She could take him--just--and as he teased her with the tip of his shaft, slicking it with her arousal, he wondered why he'd even doubted they'd be compatible. She understood knots, after all. He could damn well give her his. Fuck, by her open, quivering muzzle she was just about ready to beg for it.

Karn worked slowly into her, just deep enough until he was sure of the angle. Then, both paws on the coyote's hips to keep her steady, he thrust in--firm and deep, sliding smoothly into the suddenly moaning bitch until her tail was flush with his belly and they were ground snugly together.

He moaned, too: the slick, coaxing pressure around him was exquisite. Hot. Wet. Familiar, even. To both of them, clearly, for when he started bucking into her it only took a few strokes before she was pushing back to meet him. He growled at that, putting more effort into his tempo--Ethia shuddered, and yelped, and faltered.

And shifted before him, shoulders dropping. With her muzzle pointed at the sand she held herself in place as her paw worked between her legs. Briefly he felt the fur of her fingers, then the pressure of a quick, insistent rhythm, faster even than the wolf's shaft pumping swiftly beneath her touch.

Her heavy panting had gone ragged now, joined by a moaning whine. He could hear it even through the mounting, carnal haze turning his conscious thoughts into simpler urges. Through the desire that had him pounding into her hips, and the feeling of warmth gripping him as he hilted in her cunt.

The rising sense that he needed to stay hilted, because it was becoming a bit more difficult. He had to claim her--had to bring their coupling to its rough end with the two canines locked as he filled Ethia like his instincts ordered. But he couldn't just rut her with abandon, now--the last few inches met with resistance; sank into the coyote with an unmistakable effort. Karn dug his claws in, pulling her back as he rammed her hard.

Ethia cried out. He tugged free, then buried himself with another demanding thrust that pinned her ears and brought a sudden, frantic character to her fingers. The wolf gritted his teeth, plunged in all the way--felt his tip pushing up against her from deep inside, and a snug hold on his knot when he jerked back.

Perhaps he could've managed one more thrust but for the surprise of the coyote's hoarse, exultant shout. And the two that followed, as she started to tremble and buck on her unsteady limbs, until the barks turned into a giddy howl, a wail that echoed to whoever might've been listening along the river.

By that point Karn was no longer among them. The moment she bore down on his knot the wolf snarled and slid over the edge in an inexorable rush. He was no longer thrusting, no longer even trying to thrust, just humping in instinctive, forceful shoves as the tie swelled to hold him in place and the pleasure of release took over everything else.

He grunted with the first hot gush as it pulsed from him in a long, heavy spurt. That alone all but filled her up--he sensed her jolt with the shock of it--and though he had her knotted he grabbed her haunches roughly. Hauling her back with an equally instinctive growl, he held her tightly against his crotch.

Her hips jerked unsteadily in his grasp as he filled her, cock throbbing to every splash of thick wolf cum he pumped deep into her spasming pussy. Ethia's howl softened to grateful, gasping moans, and then to pleased whimpers when he twitched, and the claiming warmth of his seed spread a little further.

The moment Karn even started to let go, the coyote's muscles failed her completely and she slumped forward, tugging him with it. He sprawled on her back, still occasionally pulsing in her, and the two fought for breath with roughly equal measures of success.

"Well," the woman said, finally. "At least we made the most of your visit. And it didn't take too much convincing..."

"Couldn't you have just used some magic spell to charm me?"

"Would I have had to?" Ethia wriggled, pressing herself into Karn's chest. "I could still try. Or I could give you those lessons. Do you want to go back?"

"To Anamato Koroussa?"

"That's what I meant, yes. I assume you want to go back to your home, Karn. That goes without saying."

It did. Didn't it? And if he saw, in the Kallito, the sort of intriguing premise Sheshki Anariska saw in the Nastrini... well, that was not unexpected. What would it be like to crew one of their airships? To learn how to handle a skiff the way Ethia did? To have the same mastery of the skies that he felt standing on the deck of the Clarion Adamant?

It would be a new challenge, at least.

And an honest one. You know you're not going home. Nobody's come here before; if they did, they sure didn't leave. That's all there is to it. If you're going to make a life for yourself here... He didn't want to 'go back' to Osani. There was a certain something to the coyote in his arms, and the prospect of watching the river shrink beneath them as they rose towards the clouds.

Something familiar?

No, he decided. But: "they won't miss us for a while, I suppose..."