The second guard remained silent but signalled up to a watchtower overhead. Before Farris could press the matter further, the gates began to open slowly, creaking with every inch.
“There’s a healer living down beside the Earl’s manor,” said the guard. “He’ll tend to your wounds if you can wake him.”
“Thank you,” said Farris. “The bandits were on the road about five miles back. They didn’t look like they were in a hurry to leave.”
“I’ll send a patrol as soon as possible,” replied the second guard. “Many thanks, citizen.”
Farris walked through the gates, careful not to move too deftly.
As one of Alabach’s seven capital cities, Point Grey was almost identical to Cruachan in its architecture. Red-bricked buildings with low thatched roofs leaned over the road, as if threatening to fall forward at a moment’s notice. Cobblestones of uneven shapes and innumerable shades of grey formed the streets, which extended out in each direction from the gates. One wound up a hill towards the Earl’s manor, another stretched out to the west towards the harbour. Farris took the second path, bracing himself against the cool wind from the sea.
He walked by more taverns than he’d typically prefer to pass in an evening, but he dared not stop. With Point Grey being a major port town so close to Penance, it was likely that he’d be forced to meet some familiar faces before the night was through.
Eventually the street opened up to the harbour, but the stench of shellfish reached Farris before he could see the water. He quickened his pace once the grey pier that gave the town its name came into view. There, the ferry to Penance swayed alone on the water.
On approach, it became clear that something was amiss. It had been three years since Farris had been to Point Grey, but he was positive there had always been plenty of activity at the dock, even this late at night.
Farris frantically searched for another soul, eventually spotting a solitary Simian looking out at the sea. He wore a large, yellow raincoat brightly buttoned against the wind, with a bacum cigar held between his lips.
“You haven’t heard, have you?” the stranger said, his voice thick with the brogue of the Dustworks of Penance. “No ships or trains leaving here till this business with the king blows over. Though the Stones of Sin would be quicker to sway in the wind.”
“The king?” asked Farris, letting a slight look of confusion cross his face. “What happened?”
“War, friend.” His voice was grave. “He’s getting ready to invade Penance. A dozen battalions of mages landed here earlier today. Fifty or so ’mancers in each. Hundreds of soldiers, and they’re all marching out tomorrow. Where, I don’t know. But we’d be in trouble if they choose to head towards Penance.”
Farris considered the stranger for a moment, choosing his next words wisely.
“Surely the Silverback would be a prime candidate to stop them,” he said. “Not to mention the Triad.”
“Ha!” laughed the Simian, pulling his cigar out to let a smile stretch across his face. “The Silverback has less control of the city than a sailor has over the sea. And all the Triad have done is put an embargo on the city, shutting down this port and plunging Penance into chaos in one blundering move.”
“An embargo?” Farris almost spat the words. “I need to get there by the morning. Is there no other way there?”
“Not unless you’re up for a swim.” The Simian grinned. He was enjoying this far too much.
Farris pressed a hand against his forehead as a familiar pressure built up in his skull, as though his brain was threatening to break through. A single pang of terror shot down his spine, slowly spreading out into his limbs. A breath caught in his throat.
I could walk. Take the railway line around the Glenn and under the Steel mountains… but if I’m caught in a tunnel when a train comes….
Another wave of anxiety gripped Farris, and it took every ounce of strength for him not to fall to the ground. If his bones could scream, they’d surely be doing so now.
Farris threw his gaze up to the sky and was almost tempted to say a prayer to make the madness end, when a smile spread across his face instead.
A moonless night, without a single star to spoil it.
The other Simian was staring now, the whites of his eyes shining out in the dark.
“Are you okay, friend?” he said, a little more concerned than before.
“You’re a sailor, right?” said Farris, regarding the Simian’s attire once more. “Are you familiar with the waterfront?”
“No and yes. I’m a fisherman, but I know the ports as well as the sea knows them Herself.”
“I’m looking for a… sailor,” said Farris, almost tripping over his words. “Goes by the name of Jacob the Blind.”
“Ah, the smuggler!” The Simian smiled again, but this time it seemed as if he meant it. “Only the Silverback’s men call him that. Why didn’t you just tell me you were part of the Movement?”
***
Farris didn’t need to travel far to find the residence of Jacob the Blind. He lived in one of the wattle-and-daub hovels facing the sea, all crowded along the pier with their backs against the cliffs. Fortunately, the Simian fisherman had been able to give Farris exactly the directions he needed.
Farris knocked on the door as per his instructions: three quick taps, a brief pause, then four more. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a rather large Simian in its frame.
“As the tower still stands!” he bellowed, thrusting his giant arms around Farris. “The Silvertongue has returned!”
“I knew there was never anything wrong with your vision,” said Farris, patting a hand against one of Jacob’s massive shoulders. “We have lots of catching up to do, friend, but plenty of time to do it. I need you to take me to Penance.”
Jacob paused, taking a step back as if to consider Farris once again. “I was sure you heard. Penance is closed. Not a soul can go in or out.”
“I know about the situation. That’s why I’ve come to you. Have you got your sails ready for a job?”
“Tonight?” stammered Jacob. “It’s been a long time since I’ve worked, but tonight’s not a good night.”
“Of course it is! Look at how dark the sky is. ‘A moonless night, without a single star to spoil it,’ isn’t that what you used to say?”
“Goes to show how much you know about smuggling. There’s cloud coverage, sure, but the crescent moon of Macha is as bright as they come, and she’s almost blowing a gale tonight. With wind like that, the clouds could pass at a moment’s notice.”
Farris smiled. “Right you may be, Jacob, but you’d be shocked to hear how much I learned about smuggling during my work with the Crown’s intelligence network. Are you familiar with the Black Sail of Cruachan?”
