Master Pender wears his long-beaked mask and dark robe. He holds long metal tongs clamped around the cracked, linked crystal that we found on the pirate ship. Just below the crystal, a viscous, clear liquid bubbles slightly in a metal bowl, heated by a small fire.

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he says through the mask. “In fact, I daresay, I don’t believe it even now with you standing here telling me.” He dips the crystal into the heated solution, pulls it up almost immediately, not wanting to melt it.

  I don’t want to tell him about the golem piece working similarly. Big Brick is supposed to be destroyed, afterall. But I might as well show Pender. I touch the large coin hanging from my neck with my father’s visage, close my eyes, and cast the spell.

  The steelskin rolls over me like a wave.

  Pender cocks his head at me like a curious dog. Then he dips the crystal back into the compound.

  “It does seem like necromancy. Are you sure the smith who makes the memorabilia doesn’t incorporate the remains into their creation?” Pender removes the crystal again with the tongs. He turns it carefully, trying to work the liquid deep into all the cracks and fissures without overheating the entire crystal.

  “Pretty sure,” I say.

  “Don’t mention this to anyone else,” Pender says. “While we are not afraid of experimentation, new innovations outside of our control are, let’s say, uncomfortable for many.”

  “I understand.”

  “Your replacement is impressing the masters. She is advanced for a young member.” Pender sets the crystal onto a metal sconce to cool and places the tongs down on a wooden table.

  “I’m a bit surprised she hasn’t been expelled already.” I allow the spell to end, the layer of steel sliding back toward my father’s coin, my skin reappearing.

  “Quite the contrary. Now let’s see if the owner of this crystal is waiting on the other end.” Pender moves both of his hands in a ritualized motion, whispers a few muddled words, and then extends a palm toward the crystal. A frosty, crisp breeze emanates from his outstretched hands, cooling the linked crystal.

  Wizards don’t actually cast spells alone. It’s a misunderstanding by the non-arcane. Each wizard partners with the universe itself, every spell a personalized request to the threads that form this physical realm.

  Pender leans closer to it and says softly, as if waking a baby from a slumber, “Hello?”

  Silence.

  “Maybe the other one is broken as well,” he says.

  “So much for my fortune,” I say.

  “Have hope, maybe they have theirs in storage.”

  “Maybe. I’ll hold onto it in case. I owe you for the repair.”

  “Nonsense. If Nimue works out, it will be I who owes you.”

  I take the crystal in both hands and place my ear close to it, almost touching it. There are no sounds at all. No wind. No sounds of waves. No footsteps. Most likely, its sister is shattered somewhere in pieces, found by pirates, and tossed into the ocean. I put it in my pack.

  “Goodbye, Pender. Take care of Nimue.”

  “I will. Say, where do your travels take you next?”

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  “The desert.” I don’t have to say which. He knows the one I speak of. The largest in the world. It’s not mapped, and the only trade route is along a river that dares cut across. The Vein.

  Out in the yard, Ulfgar waits for me, and he beams with excitement, holding up a bag. “Zane! I’ve resupplied! New stuff even.”

  He opens the bag and reveals powders, herbs, mushrooms, and other concoctions I don’t understand. I wish he didn’t need these, but being dopey and brave is better than being clear-headed and terrified.

  “Try some!” Ulfgar shoves the bag toward my face.

  “No,” I say, pushing the bag away.

  “Your loss, brother.”

  We hop down the chain to the mainland, careful this time, and walk the rocky beach back to the dual beached ships. The pirate ship has been stripped bare, the bones of its frame now visible from the outside, and all of the sails have been removed. The hole that Nimue tore in the side of our ship has been repaired, the wood slightly off color from the rest, giving the vessel a scar of timber.

  The beach encampment itself hums with activity and life. A boisterous shanty emanates from a group of sailors around a fire, swaying back and forth to the tune. A female bard sits on top of a barrel, strumming a battered guitar. A broken string curls from the neck like a pig’s tail.

  Captain Patches sits under his tent on a wooden chair, a bottle in his hand. His face is red.

  “Mister Steely Bones! You made it just in time. We are setting off tomorrow,” Patches says.

  “I thought it would take you a few weeks to make the repairs?” I ask.

  “Yes, but Big Brick, even one-armed, it's like fifty men! A blessing from the Light!” He raises the bottle in the air before taking a swig.

  “Good. Then you can drop us off near the Vein? It’s not far from here by boat.”

  “The Vein? You know we can’t sail up that. Too rocky at the mouth.”

  “I’m aware. We’ll be walking up it.”

  “To your death, then? It was nice knowing you, Steely Bones!” Patches pours a few drops from his bottles onto the sand. The small puddle sucks down quickly as if the beach itself honors the toast.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  “I’ve heard that a dozen times from merchants and traders alike! Yes, a new trading route from the Vein to the Heart. Gold and silver for all. HA!” Patches drains the last of the bottle, frowns, and then tosses the bottle back toward the woods.

  Ulfgar and I set up camp with the sailors. He parties by the fire, dancing, singing, while I sit from afar and watch, perched on a stone. I spot him sharing some of the contents of his pouch.

  “Ulfgar! Stop! You need that for the contract,” I yell.

  He waves back at me, then extends a middle finger.

  I can only shake my head.

  The next day, we push off the ship from the beach, an effort much easier with Brick’s help than it would be otherwise. We leave behind the carcass of the pirate ship to be picked apart by the fishing village for firewood. At sunset, we arrive at the Vein. The rocky waters peek through, causing white waves all the way up to the horizon.

  On deck, we say goodbye to our voyage mates.

  “Don’t worry, Patches,” I say. “After we finish this contract, I’ll have enough gold marks to buy your boat. Then you can work for me.”

  Brick looks down at me. Almost sad.

  “Sorry. You can’t come.”

  “What? Think of how helpful it would be,” Ulfgar says.

  “It will just stick out. This is an assassination. We can’t bring a siege weapon.”

  “Scat. That’s stupid.” Ulfgar crosses his arm and pouts. Bricks mimics him, but with just one arm. It looks ridiculous.

  “It’s not a debate,” I say.

  Brick freezes. The mimicry stops. He becomes a statue of stone once again.

  “Let’s go,” I tell Ulfgar.

  We hop down from the ship onto the rocky bank of the Vein. Behind us, Captain Patches shouts orders, the sails catch the wind, and the ship begins to pull away into the current, turning back toward the open sea.

  SPLASH.

  The sound is massive, like a boulder dropped from a tower. It echoes off the canyon walls.

  I spin around. The ship's railing is shattered. Brick is gone from the deck. The water between the boat and the shore churns violently, white foam hissing on the surface.

  “Did it fall?” Ulfgar asks.

  From the frothing surf, a rocky hand shoots up, gripping the sharp rocks of the shore. Then another. Dragging a dripping, heavy frame out of the river.

  Big Brick pulls itself onto the dry land, water pouring from its joints. It stands up to its full height, looming over my head, and points its single arm toward the desert.