Aris Tuttle in the Realm of Logic

Chapter 1: Arrival

"There it is!" Aris Tuttle announced, pointing to the horizon that separated the grey sea from the cloudy, mid-morning sky. "I see the Guardianship!"

The residents of Norsea sprang to attention and crowded the pier, fastening their buttons tight and turning up their collars against the chill of the wind off the water.

"Musicians," said Portreeve Scope, a stout man in a snug jacket. "Just as we practiced!" He brought his hands into the air like an orchestra conductor for a quartet of instrumentalists. Among them was Aris's mother, the former concertmaster for the royal orchestra. She summoned her strength, perched the old violin between her shoulder and jaw and began to play.

As each stringed instrument joined the symphony in turn, harmonizing with the waves surging at the shore, Aris gave his full attention to the arrival of the majestic vessel. From prow to stern, bands of polished cognite ran along the hull of rich, dark wood and a total of sixteen billowing white sails stretched across the yardarms of the three towering masts and bowsprit. The network of rigging was of such complication that it appeared to be no more than a senseless tangle of ropes.

Of course, there was nothing senseless to be found within the Realm of Logic.

The ship's crewmen eased the sheets and hauled the lines to furl the grand sails. As they did, a stately man with pale yellow hair and wearing livery of regal purple appeared on deck.

Prince Dedus, Captain of the Logic Guardians.

The seaside village of Norsea was the first stop on the prince's tour of the Realm of Logic, a personal expedition to rouse support for the commemoration of the Centennial in the capital city of Verity in two days. It was to be a celebration of the Realm's founding one hundred years ago and to a century of unbroken peace.

The sheer size of the Guardianship didn't allow it to enter Norsea's shallow harbor. The call rang out to drop the anchor and the noble vessel slowed enough for Prince Dedus and his first lieutenant Lord Legato to board one of the deck boats and be lowered into the water.

As the skiff touched down, Aris felt more than heard a tremble in the air, followed by a distinct, high-pitched whistle. Suddenly, a frenzy erupted aboard the Guardianship. The men aloft managing the sails all at once abandoned their duties and flung themselves from the heights. Before they had even splashed into the water below, an unknown projectile crashed through the rigging and sheared the cordage.

The string quartet fumbled to a discordant stop and all the residents huddled together. Children wailed and took refuge in their parents' arms. Aris knelt by his mother and she feebly grasped his shaking hands.

An agonizing pain flared in Aris's chest. Just two days shy of one hundred years, he thought, the peace of Logic has ended.

Another tremor shook the air, accompanied again by the strange whistling. Aris looked skyward just as what appeared to be a misshapen orb of dull cognite soared overhead. He followed its path as it tore through the canvas of the half-furled mainsail.

"Look!" someone shouted, pointing to the south.

Everyone turned in unison. From behind the promontory that Norsea was built upon, a second vessel appeared, spilling a nauseating column of smoke into the air. Unlike the sleek, sharp lines of the Guardianship, this ship – if it could be called that – was nearly as wide as it was long, with a mottled hull that made it appear each plank was hewn from a different species of wood and pieced together like a patchwork quilt. Moreover, the unusual craft didn't sail under power of wind, but trudged awkwardly through the water with a mechanical clatter.

"Who are they, Portreeve?" asked Miss Remie, Norsea's apothecary.

"I...I do not know," he admitted.

A third boom sounded from the patchwork ship and a burst of fire and smoke issued from a strange cylindrical contraption protruding from a gap in the bulwark, launching another cognite sphere toward the Guardianship. It struck the foremast and wood chips clouded into the air like mushroom spores. With the groan of a wounded sea monster, the damaged mast toppled backward and fell into the tangled rigging.

Before the enemy vessel could launch another attack, the remaining crew abandoned the Guardianship and swam to shore, joining their comrades sprawled on the sand.

As the patchwork ship rattled to a halt beside the skiff, it generated massive waves that rocked the small boat so severely that Lord Legato lost his balance and tumbled into the water.

"What is the meaning of this...MADNESS!" Prince Dedus thundered, holding fast to the side of the boat.

The helmsman of the assailing vessel abandoned the wheel and stepped to the starboard rail. If Aris hadn't just witnessed such treachery, he could have imagined the sailor to be a gentleman of some distinguish, clothed as he was in a long white coat with his raven-black hair neatly pulled back.

With a smile, he surveyed the damage to the Guardianship. "Fine shooting, men," he congratulated, his voice carrying clearly over the water. "I see your practice with the cannon has proved beneficial."

"Hardly, Captain," said one of the two men operating the weapon. "It was an accident entirely; we were aiming for the hull."

"Scoundrels!" raged Prince Dedus. "You will be punished severely for your crimes!"

The gentleman rogue looked down on the skiff, dwarfed by the bulk of the bizarre vessel. "Scoundrels though we may be," he said, putting his hands upon the gunnel, "we prefer to be called Chaoticians, as you well know."

Norsea's residents gasped together and a murmur rippled among the sailors on shore. "But how!" Prince Dedus shouted. "I enforced the Cognite Act to thwart your plan!"

The Chaotician captain laughed. "Yes, I applaud your efforts to stop us, but it seems you underestimated our tenacity."

The prince's face turned as red as a ripe pomegranate. "I demand to know for what reason you attacked us!"

"You mean our intention isn't clear?" the captain asked, tossing a rope ladder over the side of the patchwork ship. "We have come for you."

"Then you will leave disappointed!"

"Is that so? I suppose you can attempt to outpace our weapon and swim to shore, though I must warn you: their aim be cursed, my cannoneers are not likely to miss at this range. I trust you will make the logical choice."

The prince glanced at the cannon and his ruddy complexion paled. He looked desperately to his lieutenant clutching at the skiff, then to the shore where the sailors waited and, lastly, to the pier. Aris, breathless, mute and powerless to help, felt as though Prince Dedus was looking directly at him.

A painful calm settled. Gulls cawed overhead; the fishing boats moored in the harbor knocked together; the quay swayed and groaned beneath the residents' feet. Eventually, seeing no other choice, Prince Dedus reached for the rope ladder and climbed aboard.

"I swear by the light of Logic," Legato spluttered. "I will rescue you, Prince Dedus!"

The prince said nothing as he was escorted below deck by the cannoneers.

Lord Legato hauled himself into the skiff. "To what end are you committing such atrocities?" he asked, his words edged with sharp anger.

"If you truly wish to understand, Lieutenant, then pay careful heed. Return to Logic Hall and precisely convey the following message to Lady Abdus: 'there is but one answer to one question. Discover the question, and you will have discovered the answer.'"

"What are you playing at?" Lord Legato asked.

"If Lady Abdus solves our riddle," said the captain, "all will be made clear. But if she fails, or if you disobey my instructions, then we cannot be held accountable for what happens to your dear prince."

With two stomps of the rogue captain's boot on the deck, the mechanical racket resumed in the depths of the patchwork ship. In the next moment, the vessel slogged away, retreating in the same direction from which it had arrived.