TRESS SPENT THE NEXT FEW days in a fervor of panicked studying and studious panicking. Her budding plan was far, far more
dangerous than her work with the flares. And in this instance, she didn’t have anyone else’s schematics to lean upon.
She spent much of that time experimenting with verdant spores. The fruit of the Emerald Sea itself, which she’d never understood in her youth. She
wasn’t alone—nor was it surprising that the more she learned, the less afraid she had become. It is that way with most topics, as fear and knowledge often play on different sides of the net.
There are obviously exceptions. Certain individual humans, like certain sausages, break this convention. While neither larger group is collectively terrifying, they contain remarkable individuals that absolutely should frighten you. The more you learn about these individuals, the more worried you should become. But for humans at large, knowledge usually equates to empathy, and empathy leads to understanding.
Tress found verdant aether to be almost playful, eager to respond to her mental commands in exchange for water. Over the days of study, she grew
proficient at making the vines grow in spirals, to stretch tall and strong, and even to grow slowly—holding back much of their strength.
She could feel, as always, a sensation beyond the vines. Nothing so distinct as a mind. An impression. One that she thought might be the moon itself—or the always-growing maternal vines that lived upon it.
Other than necessities like sleep, Tress only broke from her studies when she had to go help Fort prepare dinners. Each time, seeing the faces of the crewmembers made her more concerned.
Three days after her meeting with Salay, she sat in her chambers,
encouraging a few verdant vines to grow delicately around her fingers
without squeezing too hard. The ship was currently tacking in such a way that she could see the sporefall out her porthole. The sporefall had grown bigger and bigger with each passing day, and it had become increasingly obvious that this was the captain’s destination. The dragon’s lair must be near it. Or perhaps inside it.
It’s not immediately obvious in most of the seas, but at the lunagree, falling spores make a pile—like the sand on the bottom of an hourglass. The sea was actually a mountain the size of a kingdom, though the incline was incredibly shallow, and therefore imperceptible. But the closer they sailed, the higher they needed to go.
Currently, items on Tress’s desk were in danger of sliding off, and everything felt askew compared to the horizon—as if we were seeing
through the lens of a student who had just discovered experimental film.
Huck periodically dripped more water onto the vines for her, using a small spoon and a cup of water (wooden, with a good smooth finish from long years of use) stuck to the desk with wax.
“What if,” Tress said, “I learned to sail the ship myself.” “The entire ship?” Huck asked.
“Maybe not this one. A smaller one. Surely there are sailboats that a
single person can crew. I could take one of those into the Midnight Sea, so I don’t risk any other lives.”
“And how long do you think it would take you to learn to sail on your own?” he asked. “Particularly in such dangerous seas? You could spend years.”
“Maybe that’s what I need to do.”
“Or maybe,” he said, “you need to acknowledge something far harder, Tress. That your friend is out of your reach. That you should give up on this
quest and take care of yourself.”
She didn’t respond, though the anger she felt at his words manifested in the vines tightening on her fingers—as if they too were frustrated.
She forced herself to relax as Huck dribbled another spoonful of water on the vines. He was getting better at balancing on two legs as he assisted her— he’d needed to do that far more often with her than he had in his past.
“Tress,” he said, “I don’t like to see you sad, but I’d hate to see you get hurt. What you’ve done here on the Crow’s Song is incredible, but it’s still leagues away from the dangers you’d face on the Midnight Sea.”
“Is it? Nobody knows! I’ve asked Fort, Salay, and even Ulaam. They all tell me that the Midnight Sea is dangerous, but nobody can say why. They just know that the ‘Sorceress watches’ those spores. Ships that go there vanish. There’s maybe something about monsters? Nobody can say for
certain.”
Huck dribbled more water. Then he sighed softly. “Remember how I went ashore at the last port?”
“How could I forget? You’ve told me six stories about it so far.” “I…left out the most important one.”
Tress glanced up. The four vines curling around her fingers turned their tips, like heads, to regard Huck.
“I went looking for the rat population,” Huck explained, setting down the spoon and wringing his paws. “There are some of us on most islands these days. Talking rats, I mean. With a little work, I found one who had visited the Sorceress’s island. Before you ask, he didn’t know the way. He simply happened to be on a ship that visited. But…he did relate to me the dangers they faced.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me?” Tress said, her four vines growing upward with a sharp, sudden motion, like spikes.
“I didn’t want to encourage you!” Huck said. “I’m worried about you, Tress. But maybe if you know the dangers, you’ll see how difficult it’s going to be.”
(Fun tip: Being told “I kept you in the dark to protect you” is not only frustrating, but condescending as well. It’s a truly economical way to demean someone; if you’re looking to fit more denigration into an already busy schedule, give it a try.)
Tress was able, with effort, to appreciate Huck’s sentiment. And fortunately—like the girl who asked the suddenly quiet room of people if
they wanted to see her tattoo—he realized that there was no turning back now.
“There are three trials one needs to face to reach the Sorceress,” Huck
said. “I guess she likes things to be dramatic. Anyway, the first is the most obvious. You have to cross the Midnight Sea.”
“Which we can do,” Tress said, “now that Hoid has pointed out the way for us to go.”
“You know where to go, yes,” Huck said, “but Tress, don’t you understand? Rain falls in the Midnight Sea like everywhere else. The Sorceress has rigged up some way to continuously feed the creatures that pop out of the spores. They roam and rove the oceans—midnight monsters the size of ships. You remember that thing you created to watch Crow? You think you could fight a hundred of those attacking the ship?”
That…did seem daunting. The vines on Tress’s fingers wriggled down, hiding behind her palm.
“If you survive that,” Huck said, “you have to face the Sorceress’s guardians: a force of metal men that live on her island. They’re completely indestructible, impervious to all kinds of weapon fire, and are relentless.
“They capture anyone who sets foot on the island, then imprison them.
Captives don’t even get to meet the Sorceress—so don’t think that’s a way to get her attention. I’m told she thinks anyone foolish enough to get captured by the guardians is beneath her notice.”
Huh. Getting captured on purpose had been one of the plans Tress was considering.
“And if you somehow escape them,” Huck said, “you’ll never reach the Sorceress. She lives in a tower made of an indestructible metal. It is so slick it cannot be scaled, and nothing will stick to it. She stands atop it in the
evenings to commune with the moons, but there are only two ways in. Through doors locked by mysterious means, or through the small window where her ravens travel in and out, doing her bidding.
“Tress, if you attempt to go to that island, you’ll get eaten by Midnight Essence monsters. If by some miracle you survive and make it to the island, you’ll get locked away forever by the guardians. And even if you escape them, you’ll end up sitting in front of the tower and screaming to be heard until you lose your voice. There’s no way to accomplish what you want.”
“Hoid did it,” she said. “He saw her. And so did Charlie.”
“Charlie,” Huck said, “was specifically kidnapped because she hoped to be able to ransom him to the king! Who knows what happened with Hoid. It could have been the same thing.”
She sat back, and to some extent Huck’s information did as he hoped. It revealed exactly how difficult her task was.
Well, she couldn’t focus on it at the moment. She had other problems to deal with. She wouldn’t be around to get cursed by the Sorceress if she
ended up imprisoned by a dragon first. And she’d never have a chance to be imprisoned by a dragon if she was killed by rainfall on the Crimson.
So, Tress returned to her practice with the vines.
TRESS SPENT THE NEXT FEW days in a fervor of panicked studying and studious panicking. Her budding plan was far, far more
dangerous than her work with the flares. And in this instance, she didn’t have anyone else’s schematics to lean upon.
She spent much of that time experimenting with verdant spores. The fruit of the Emerald Sea itself, which she’d never understood in her youth. She
wasn’t alone—nor was it surprising that the more she learned, the less afraid she had become. It is that way with most topics, as fear and knowledge often play on different sides of the net.
There are obviously exceptions. Certain individual humans, like certain sausages, break this convention. While neither larger group is collectively terrifying, they contain remarkable individuals that absolutely should frighten you. The more you learn about these individuals, the more worried you should become. But for humans at large, knowledge usually equates to empathy, and empathy leads to understanding.
Tress found verdant aether to be almost playful, eager to respond to her mental commands in exchange for water. Over the days of study, she grew
proficient at making the vines grow in spirals, to stretch tall and strong, and even to grow slowly—holding back much of their strength.
She could feel, as always, a sensation beyond the vines. Nothing so distinct as a mind. An impression. One that she thought might be the moon itself—or the always-growing maternal vines that lived upon it.
Other than necessities like sleep, Tress only broke from her studies when she had to go help Fort prepare dinners. Each time, seeing the faces of the crewmembers made her more concerned.
Three days after her meeting with Salay, she sat in her chambers,
encouraging a few verdant vines to grow delicately around her fingers
without squeezing too hard. The ship was currently tacking in such a way that she could see the sporefall out her porthole. The sporefall had grown bigger and bigger with each passing day, and it had become increasingly obvious that this was the captain’s destination. The dragon’s lair must be near it. Or perhaps inside it.
It’s not immediately obvious in most of the seas, but at the lunagree, falling spores make a pile—like the sand on the bottom of an hourglass. The sea was actually a mountain the size of a kingdom, though the incline was incredibly shallow, and therefore imperceptible. But the closer they sailed, the higher they needed to go.
Currently, items on Tress’s desk were in danger of sliding off, and everything felt askew compared to the horizon—as if we were seeing
through the lens of a student who had just discovered experimental film.
Huck periodically dripped more water onto the vines for her, using a small spoon and a cup of water (wooden, with a good smooth finish from long years of use) stuck to the desk with wax.
“What if,” Tress said, “I learned to sail the ship myself.” “The entire ship?” Huck asked.
“Maybe not this one. A smaller one. Surely there are sailboats that a
single person can crew. I could take one of those into the Midnight Sea, so I don’t risk any other lives.”
“And how long do you think it would take you to learn to sail on your own?” he asked. “Particularly in such dangerous seas? You could spend years.”
“Maybe that’s what I need to do.”
“Or maybe,” he said, “you need to acknowledge something far harder, Tress. That your friend is out of your reach. That you should give up on this
quest and take care of yourself.”
She didn’t respond, though the anger she felt at his words manifested in the vines tightening on her fingers—as if they too were frustrated.
She forced herself to relax as Huck dribbled another spoonful of water on the vines. He was getting better at balancing on two legs as he assisted her— he’d needed to do that far more often with her than he had in his past.
“Tress,” he said, “I don’t like to see you sad, but I’d hate to see you get hurt. What you’ve done here on the Crow’s Song is incredible, but it’s still leagues away from the dangers you’d face on the Midnight Sea.”
“Is it? Nobody knows! I’ve asked Fort, Salay, and even Ulaam. They all tell me that the Midnight Sea is dangerous, but nobody can say why. They just know that the ‘Sorceress watches’ those spores. Ships that go there vanish. There’s maybe something about monsters? Nobody can say for
certain.”
Huck dribbled more water. Then he sighed softly. “Remember how I went ashore at the last port?”
“How could I forget? You’ve told me six stories about it so far.” “I…left out the most important one.”
Tress glanced up. The four vines curling around her fingers turned their tips, like heads, to regard Huck.
“I went looking for the rat population,” Huck explained, setting down the spoon and wringing his paws. “There are some of us on most islands these days. Talking rats, I mean. With a little work, I found one who had visited the Sorceress’s island. Before you ask, he didn’t know the way. He simply happened to be on a ship that visited. But…he did relate to me the dangers they faced.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me?” Tress said, her four vines growing upward with a sharp, sudden motion, like spikes.
“I didn’t want to encourage you!” Huck said. “I’m worried about you, Tress. But maybe if you know the dangers, you’ll see how difficult it’s going to be.”
(Fun tip: Being told “I kept you in the dark to protect you” is not only frustrating, but condescending as well. It’s a truly economical way to demean someone; if you’re looking to fit more denigration into an already busy schedule, give it a try.)
Tress was able, with effort, to appreciate Huck’s sentiment. And fortunately—like the girl who asked the suddenly quiet room of people if
they wanted to see her tattoo—he realized that there was no turning back now.
“There are three trials one needs to face to reach the Sorceress,” Huck
said. “I guess she likes things to be dramatic. Anyway, the first is the most obvious. You have to cross the Midnight Sea.”
“Which we can do,” Tress said, “now that Hoid has pointed out the way for us to go.”
“You know where to go, yes,” Huck said, “but Tress, don’t you understand? Rain falls in the Midnight Sea like everywhere else. The Sorceress has rigged up some way to continuously feed the creatures that pop out of the spores. They roam and rove the oceans—midnight monsters the size of ships. You remember that thing you created to watch Crow? You think you could fight a hundred of those attacking the ship?”
That…did seem daunting. The vines on Tress’s fingers wriggled down, hiding behind her palm.
“If you survive that,” Huck said, “you have to face the Sorceress’s guardians: a force of metal men that live on her island. They’re completely indestructible, impervious to all kinds of weapon fire, and are relentless.
“They capture anyone who sets foot on the island, then imprison them.
Captives don’t even get to meet the Sorceress—so don’t think that’s a way to get her attention. I’m told she thinks anyone foolish enough to get captured by the guardians is beneath her notice.”
Huh. Getting captured on purpose had been one of the plans Tress was considering.
“And if you somehow escape them,” Huck said, “you’ll never reach the Sorceress. She lives in a tower made of an indestructible metal. It is so slick it cannot be scaled, and nothing will stick to it. She stands atop it in the
evenings to commune with the moons, but there are only two ways in. Through doors locked by mysterious means, or through the small window where her ravens travel in and out, doing her bidding.
“Tress, if you attempt to go to that island, you’ll get eaten by Midnight Essence monsters. If by some miracle you survive and make it to the island, you’ll get locked away forever by the guardians. And even if you escape them, you’ll end up sitting in front of the tower and screaming to be heard until you lose your voice. There’s no way to accomplish what you want.”
“Hoid did it,” she said. “He saw her. And so did Charlie.”
“Charlie,” Huck said, “was specifically kidnapped because she hoped to be able to ransom him to the king! Who knows what happened with Hoid. It could have been the same thing.”
She sat back, and to some extent Huck’s information did as he hoped. It revealed exactly how difficult her task was.
Well, she couldn’t focus on it at the moment. She had other problems to deal with. She wouldn’t be around to get cursed by the Sorceress if she
ended up imprisoned by a dragon first. And she’d never have a chance to be imprisoned by a dragon if she was killed by rainfall on the Crimson.
So, Tress returned to her practice with the vines.
