toward a great destiny.”
The bells of Omaken began to ring as the sun broke through the clouds.
One.
Two.
At the third, everyone fell silent.
From the square, I could see part of Nicklefleak spread below us:
houses tucked into the slopes, roads descending toward the plains, and,
far beyond them, mountains where the Vankioq mines opened silver
wounds in the stone.
Beyond all that lay the sea. Along the horizon stood the storms.
They ringed the island in a dark wall few ships dared to cross. For most
of the month, they kept the rest of Tidal out of reach. I had seen them
every day for as long as I could remember, but that morning I could not
stop looking.
Soon I would have to pass through.
“Merringer.”
I straightened. The young man beside me was trying not to smile.
“Keep staring at the horizon and Crucious will think you’re leaving
before the ceremony ends.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Preferably with his permission.”
Before I could answer, Master Crucious appeared. The murmurs that
had crept back into the square died away.
He walked before the Ardatar candidates with his hands clasped
behind his back. He was tall and dark-skinned, his head shaved clean.
Light armor covered his deep blue clothes, and a lion’s jaws formed the
buckle at his waist.
He never needed to raise his voice.
Across the square, Agnes Tra’anem arrived, and the Sanari apprentices
arranged themselves behind her. Her pale coat was trimmed in gold
and navy, with the figure of a lamb over the chest. A streak of gray ran
through one side of her dark, pinned-back hair.
She was smiling. I knew better than to mistake that for inattention.
Families waited around the square, some talking quietly, others
standing as close to their children as the ceremony allowed. I had
watched this farewell many times. Every few years, Omaken sent new
Andantes beyond Nicklefleak. Some came back. Others made homes in
the kingdoms they visited and never settled on the island again.
Until then, I had always watched them leave.
This morning, I stood among them.
“They haven’t opened yet,” the young man beside me said.
I was looking at the storms again.
“They will.”
“I hope you’re right.”
So did I.
Crucious stopped before us. Across the square, Agnes did the same.
We had spent five years training in the same place without ever really
training together. The Sanari learned to heal. We learned to protect
them.
That was the simple explanation.
“Today, you stop practicing with people who know what you are trying
to do,” Crucious said.
A few smiles disappeared.
“Outside Nicklefleak, no one is obliged to cooperate. No one will stop a
sword because you have made a mistake. No one will repeat an
ambush so you can understand where you went wrong.”
He moved slowly along the front rank.
“Your weapons can protect a life. They can also end one. If you ever
begin to enjoy the second more than the first, you will have forgotten
why you carry them.”
His gaze passed over us.
“Your purpose is not to win battles.”
He paused.
“It is to make sure someone comes back from them.”
No one answered. There was no need.
Across the square, Agnes was addressing the future Sanari. The wind
brought us a few of her words.
“…you will not be expected to know everything…”
Crucious continued.
“For the first year, none of you will travel alone. Each Ardatar will be
paired with a Sanari. Your partner is not a burden. Nor are they an
order on two legs.”
Someone behind me breathed out nervously.
“You will learn to protect someone who may disagree with you.”
Several candidates exchanged glances.
“Yes,” Crucious said. “For some of you, that will be the difficult part.”
A few people laughed under their breath. Even he came close to
smiling.
Across the square, Agnes finished, and the Sanari bowed.
That was when I saw her.
She stood near the front, her straight, copper-brown hair falling
naturally around her face. Tiny freckles dotted her fair skin. Her
honey-colored eyes never seemed to settle on anything for long.
Everyone else was watching Agnes. She was studying the chests two
attendants had placed in the center of the square. She glanced at the
Ardatar, then back at the chests. Finally, she caught me watching her.
Our eyes met. Neither of us looked away.
Agnes clapped her hands.
“Well. Since you’re all far more interested in finding out whom you’ll
have to put up with for the next year than in hearing another speech,
we may as well continue.”
Laughter spread through the ranks as the attendants uncovered the
chests. Envelopes filled them.
Crucious joined Agnes.
“Each envelope bears its recipient’s name. Inside, you will find the
name of your partner. There will be no changes, exchanges, or
complaints.”
“And before you ask,” Agnes added, “the pairings were drawn at
random beforehand.”
A murmur passed through both groups. The girl with the honey-
colored eyes glanced our way again. She did not look pleased.
That made me smile.
I did not know her name. She did not know mine. But somewhere in
those chests was the name of the person who would leave Nicklefleak
with me.
For the first time that morning, I forgot to look at the storms.
Agnes and Crucious gathered the envelopes and began handing them
out, checking the names as they went.
“Keep them sealed until everyone has one,” Crucious said.
Some candidates weighed theirs in their hands, as though a few letters
might make a difference. Others gripped them with both hands and
carefully avoided the opposite rank.
One Ardatar held his up to the light. Crucious stopped, and he lowered
it at once.
“Five years of training,” Agnes remarked without breaking stride, “and
we still have to explain what an envelope is for.”
Several people laughed. Crucious did not, though one eyebrow moved.
Agnes reached me.
“Merringer.”
“Master.”
She offered the envelope but kept hold of it when I took it.
“What you find in there is not a mission.”
I glanced down.
“I know.”
“You haven’t opened it.”
“I meant the person.”
She smiled and released it.
“Then remember that.”
Across the square, the girl I had noticed stood with her fingers clasped
before her. She unclasped them as Crucious approached and accepted
her envelope with both hands.
He said something. Her eyebrows rose. I wished I had heard it.
As he moved on, she looked down at the envelope, then toward us. Our
eyes met again, and this time I looked away.
“Very well,” Agnes announced. “You may open them.”
Paper rustled across the square.
I broke the seal.
Daisy Marie Dockstand.
I read the name twice.
Dockstand.
Then I looked up, no closer to knowing which girl she was.
“The names will be called aloud,” Crucious said. “When you hear yours,
step into the center of the square. Find your partner and remain
together until you receive instructions.”
The first pairs began to form. An Ardatar announced:
“Amaranto Devious.”
A young woman answered from the opposite rank. “Edna Verant.”
A young woman left the opposite rank. They met to scattered applause.
He drew his sword a few inches in salute, then sheathed it.
“Show-off,” someone muttered behind me.
“Traditionalist,” another said.
The next pair prompted nervous laughter. One look from Agnes
stopped it.
As the ranks thinned, each pair moved aside for instructions before
joining their families. Some parents were crying. So were some of their
children. Others were making considerable efforts not to.
I kept searching for the face that belonged to my envelope.
Then I heard her.
“Daisy Marie Dockstand.”
The girl with the honey-colored eyes stepped forward.
Of course.
She glanced down at her paper. Something shifted in her expression.
“William Merringer.”
Heads turned toward me. I left the rank, and we met halfway across
the square.
She was a little shorter than I was. No sheep brooch adorned her
clothes yet. Like me, she was still a candidate.
She looked at the sword on my hip, then at my face.
“So you’re William Merringer.”
“And you’re Daisy Marie Dockstand.”
“So it seems.”
I offered my hand. She considered it before taking it.
“A pleasure to meet you.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
She smiled, and I found myself smiling back.
“Dockstand. Merringer.”
We released each other’s hands.
Crucious and Agnes stood beside a chest. Most of the pairs had moved
away, leaving a few unpaired candidates waiting.
“Those who have not been called may put away their envelopes,”
Crucious said.
One young man raised a hand.
“Master, mine is empty.”
“I know.”
The color left his face.
“During the preparatory ceremony,” Agnes said, “some of you thought
your assigned duties were optional. Others decided punctuality was an
unreasonable restriction on their independence.”
Several people turned toward the remaining candidates.
“You will have another month to consider how much you want to
become Andantes. You will spend it helping in the kitchens, the
storerooms, and with the upkeep of Omaken.”
“That’s not fair.”
Crucious looked at the speaker, who lowered his head.
“Add the stables.”
“Crucious,” Agnes sighed.
“He has requested more time for reflection.”
A laugh escaped Daisy. She tried to disguise it as a cough, but Agnes
was already looking at her. Daisy immediately became a model of
solemn attention.
I turned away before anyone could see my face.
“Dockstand. Merringer.”
There was less patience in Crucious’s voice this time.
We approached. An attendant set a wooden box before us. Two leather
straps encircled it, and Omaken’s crest was carved beside the seal
holding the lid shut.
“What’s insideff” Daisy asked.
“Good,” Crucious said. “At least one of you asks before accepting an
unknown burden.”
Daisy pressed her lips together.
“You will take this to Woodsack,” he continued. “There, you will receive
instructions for its delivery.”
“Who is our contactff” I asked.
“You will find out when you arrive.”
“And the contentsff”
“You do not need to know.”
“That makes me want to know a great deal more,” Daisy said.
“I suspected it would.”
Agnes laid a hand on the lid.
“The seal stays intact.”
Daisy sighed.
“I thought you might say that.”
I crouched to check the straps. The box did not look especially heavy.
“I’ll carry it.”
Daisy took a handle.
“We’ll carry it.”
“I can manage.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”
She tugged it toward herself. I held on.
Agnes and Crucious watched our hands. Neither intervened.
I let go.
“All right.”
Daisy lifted the box a few inches.
“It’s heavier than it looks.”
“I can carry it.”
She gave me a look that made her opinion of that comment perfectly
clear. “I said it was heavy, not that I needed you to rescue me from it.”
Crucious cleared his throat.
“Less than five minutes.”
“Four,” Agnes said.
“Promising.”
Daisy set the box back down. This time, we each took a handle.
“The box is an additional responsibility,” Crucious said. “Not your first.”
Daisy and I glanced at each other.
“Your priority is to come back. Both of you.”
“And along the way,” Agnes added, “try to leave a few people better off
for having met you.”
There was nothing ceremonial about those words.
That was precisely why I remembered them.
We set the box down beside the chest.
“Go and say goodbye to your families,” Crucious said. “The passage will
not stay open forever.”
Daisy turned, found someone in the crowd, and smiled.
I had no one to look for.
Agnes was there.
So was Crucious.
Daisy had taken two steps before she noticed I was not following. She
looked from me to them.
She did not ask. I was grateful.
“We’ll meet here afterward,” she said.
“Don’t take too long.”
“You’ve only just met me.”
“And the passage won’t wait.”
“Four minutes,” Agnes murmured.
“Five,” Daisy said, and went to her family.