I cast my will into the heavens, and the storm responded—a lonely pet eager for affection, pressing against me, softly purring. I stroked the air currents, gentling them, whispering soothing words until the winds dozed, contented. With a firm push, I shoved the clouds, and they unfurled and dissipated.
The ocean calmed. Our boat steadied.
Someone from another part of the ship whooped, sending up a shout of glee.
Niffin, Malita, and I quietly chuckled. Any tension that remained between us disappeared with the storm’s departure, and we kept watch over the stars long into the night.
***
Soon after the sun had risen, the captain announced our arrival in the Dreutchish port of Borstock. Niffin, Malita, and I gathered our belongings and horses and made our way in a long line of departing passengers to the end of the dock. A string of black carriages hunkered along the street, awaiting their chance to collect fares.
We waded through the traffic, pushing deeper into the city, trading the waterfront’s fishy, musty odors for the city’s industrial smells. The sun hid behind ridges of thick clouds, none threatening rain, but the overcast day matched my grim mood. It must have affected Malita and Niffin similarly because they kept to themselves, leaving only the rumble of city life to fill the silence. Despite my reservations about returning to Steinerland, being in Dreutch among people who spoke a language I understood, for once, was an unexpected relief.
We found our way to the train station, a squat brick building barely large enough to house a pair of attendants selling tickets at a window covered in iron bars, as though they were prisoners rather than employees. A string of benches trailed the length of the train’s platform, but the tracks were empty. I wondered how long we would have to wait before the next train arrived.
Niffin and Malita waited on the street, guarding our horses and bags while I went to the ticket window. On Inselgrau, I’d travelled by train only a few times, and my father or one of his aides had handled the administrati ve aspects of it. We hadn’t been so posh as to own a personal royal car, but we’d always ridden a private one with elegant furnishings and comfortable beds.
I doubted we’d be so fortunate on this trip.
“Next train to Steinerland leaves this evening,” the attendant said. About my age, he wore a smart jacket and waistcoat in burgundy brocade with gold braid stitched along the lapels. A round cap perched atop his slick blonde hair. “Presuming it runs on schedule, of course.” His lips twisted into a skeptical grimace, as if he doubted that likelihood.
“And when will it reach Steinerland?”
“Before noon tomorrow, assuming you don’t come across any bandits. The line’s been plagued lately—since drought hit the farmlands a couple months back. People are getting desperate these days.”
“Bandits?” My heart shuddered, cold and trembling, as I remembered my lethal encounter with the brigands in the Thaulgant Mountains.
“Happens sometimes.” He shrugged as if regular train attacks were as expected as the occasional bout of bad weather. “They don’t usually bother the passengers. It’s the baggage cars they want. Looking for anything valuable to steal, eat, or sell.”
I gaped at him. “And the passengers are left to fend for themselves?”
“Train company’s recently hired guards to patrol. Don’t know how much difference they’ll make, though.”
I had counted out the train ticket funds already, but I clenched my coins tightly, my palms going sweaty. “Maybe we’d have a better chance on the road. We have horses.”
“Road’s not any safer. Bandits there too.”
“Why am I not reassured?”
“You shouldn’t be. But going by road could take you twice as long, and you’d be on your own. So weigh your options and see which suits you, but if you aren’t going to buy a ticket, I’d kindly ask you to step out of line.”
I debated asking Niffin and Malita for their opinions, but indeed, a line had formed behind me. The longer it took to get to Steinerland, the longer it would take to complete the next step in my quest to return to Inselgrau, and to Gideon. Every day, his absence gnawed at me a little deeper, and my fear and worry for him grew. I even missed his broody, dark moods.
“Three tickets, then.” I slid my coins through the window opening. “And room in the stock cars for our horses. Two of them.”
“Sleeping berths?”
Needing my funds to last as long as possible, I shook my head. “Whatever’s least expensive.”
The ticket attendant swept away my coins and replaced them with several slips of paper stamped with the date and boarding times. “Be on the platform by eight. The train won’t wait if you’re late.”
“Can you recommend somewhere for lunch?”
He tilted his head northward. “The Weißes Haus. Three blocks up. Try their Maultaschen.”
I tucked our tickets into my pocket and rejoined my friends. “We have some time to kill,” I said. “Let’s try our best to stay out of trouble.”
Chapter 5
Later that evening, Niffin, Malita, and I tied Adaleiz and Khosha to the hitching posts reserved for horses waiting to be loaded into the stock cars. We climbed the steps to the covered platform and joined the crowd awaiting the train’s arrival. Gas lanterns hung from overhead beams, casting weak, flickering light. Our fellow travelers talked in hushed voices, as if afraid to disturb the gloom. Although the day had been dry, the clouds had darkened, turning heavier as the sun disappeared. Now a mist hung in the air—not quite rain but almost.
The three of us huddled together, running watchful eyes back and forth over the other passengers, searching for anything to draw our concern. I’d told Malita and Niffin about the bandits, but they weren’t our only worry. Any stranger was a potential foe.
A distant shrill whistle startled me out of my bleak thoughts.
Malita squeaked then giggled nervously. “Sounds like a woman crying,” she said.
Indeed, the train’s whistle had a mournful quality, its high pitch muffled by distance and damp air. Night cloaked the big engine, but as the train advanced, a single yellow headlamp penetrated the gloom, like the eye of a large, angry beast. The engine hissed, throwing up steam and smoke. Its big iron wheels shrieked as it slowed. Even when the conductor had brought it to a stop, the train seemed to strain like a giant black stallion pulling at the bit, pawing the ground, eager to run.
Compartment doors slid open, and out stepped a collection of uniformed crew members crying for everyone to clear the way. A barrage of passengers disembarked—men, women, families. Young and old. A crowd of skirts, suits, coats, hats, boots, and heels descended upon the platform, changing the mood from one of bored patience to eager anticipation. Pipe smoke, perfume, and body odor mingled with the breeze stirred by the scurrying crowds. Departing baggage was loaded on board as fast as the arriving luggage could be removed, and I watched a young man in work clothes take our horses’ reins and lead them into the stock cars. Malita, Niffin, and I pressed against the tide of bodies, pushing our way to the closest train car with an open door and a conductor encouraging people to hurry.
We showed our tickets, and he waved us on. “Third class’s in the last two cars. Make your way quickly. Make your way.”
We shuffled along the platform, passing upper-class sections until we reached a car near the rear and climbed aboard. My boot heels clacked across the bare floor, echoing through the sparse interior. Oil lanterns perched in sconces between every third window. They diluted the darkest shadows but couldn’t hold back the murk creeping in from the night-shrouded windows. Rubbing my back, I eyed the stiff, unpadded seats and tried to keep my lip from curling. “Better than going on foot, I guess. At least it’ll be dry. And fast.”
Niffin and Malita sank onto an empty bench, and I took the one parallel. The seats around us filled up quickly, claimed by people I’d seen milling about the platform. Our companions muttered to each other in low voices or stared out the dark windows. The mood felt drowsy and somber until a group of young men stumbled into our car, pushing and shoving, laughing and calling each other foul names. The odor of stale smoke and cheap beer trailed them like fetid shadows.
The foursome’s clothes had probably once been fine and elegant but had since frayed at the hems and cuffs—young dandies trying to keep up appearances. A gold watch chain hung from the waistcoat pocket of the tallest young man—a dark-haired boy who might have been handsome except for his crooked nose and smoke-stained teeth. He caught me studying him and winked, licking his lips lewdly. My first instinct was to recoil, but instead I blanked my face, drew a thundercloud close, and coolly turned away.
