“Bilgetown,” he said, and my eyes widened.
Bilgetown. It was almost as much legend as the Ship of Spells. A town cobbled together from the bones of shattered ships, with a people so hard and lawless that pirates trembled at the sight of their flag.
“I didn’t think it was real,” I said, my voice low.
“It’s as real as the Ship of Spells and just as dangerous,” he scoffed. “We got a reported sighting of it when we were at Flogger’s Bay.”
“So, why are we going?”
His gaze darted to Thom staring out across our bow. Hepitched his voice low. “To find a piece of a puzzle.”
I couldn’t help it. I turned back to him and grinned.
“A treasure map?” I asked with hushed excitement.
“Infinitely more valuable.” He eyed me under his bushy brows. “It should lead us to the source of the chimeric.”
You will chase chimeric for me, and together, we will find the Cloudgate.
“The Cloudgate,” I said, the name landing heavy.
“Aye. A breach in that suns-cursed wall where ships can slip through, if they’re mad enough to try.” His voice dropped, low and sure. “But it moves like it’s alive. Or angry. Or both. Most who go chasing it end up as driftwood, raining back down from the sky.”
We all knew the shanty. “Song of the Dread” ran deep in our bones.
“The Navy likes to pretend the Dreadwall’s a fortress,” he said. “It keeps the war on their terms. But the Cloudgate doesn’t give a damn about Navy terms. It’s a wound. The RuneTree was the world’s heart, so when theRhi’Ahrcut it down, the Dreadwall started to rot. The Cloudgate’s a bleeding, festering shadow of what once was.”
He puffed a good long puff, released the smoke as a ring. We watched it float high into the sails before it was snatched away on the wind.
“So, we needed a few things before we could make an attempt,” he said. “And one of them’s a-standing here in Forge-ugly boots.”
Heat bloomed under my skin, sharp and raw. They needed me. Thanavar had said as much, but I was just beginning to understand how far, how deep this post could run.
“A bluemage, Navy trained, could turn the tide of the war,” I muttered, remembering his words.
“She could indeed,” said Smoke. “You’re a chimeric chaser, andthe Cloudgate’s made from the same magik that burns in your skin. We’ve been searching for years.”
His fingers drummed the rail, slow and even.
“But the swabs aboard—swabs like me—we’re too scared to hope you might be the answer.”
“How can theRhi’Ahrfind it so easily?” I asked.
“Deep calls to deep,” he said. “They have chimeric now in their boards.”
The blackened chunk of wood from the day theDawn Watchsank.
My hope began to curdle as quick as it had come. What if I couldn’t find it? What if I wasn’t the answer? Would they still want me for crew? The thought hollowed my chest.
“Echo thinks it might be a cure,” Smoke added, softer now. “If the Cloudgate’s made of chimeric, maybe it can heal you, too.”
I nodded, but my throat felt tight. Maybe this wasn’t just about a war. Maybe it was about saving me. Did I really belong, or was I just a map they’d toss overboard when the route was run?
He grunted. Clouds of gray smoke formed circles above his pipe before being snatched away by the wind. At some point, a shanty rose from the galley, and I marveled that it was, in fact, “Song of the Dread.” The old song was deep and rhythmic, with harmonies rising and falling like the waves of the sea. It warmed me more than rum or beer.
“How long have you served theTouchstone?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Ten years, more or less,” he said. “I was but a boy. A brat, some would say. A ruffian.”
