A scholar who reveres wizards and a street rat who despises them both find themselves apprenticed to a mage with a dark storied past and discover he is not what either of them expected. They may end up learning more from each other than they do from...
Pyrpoint was a modest trading port by most standards, with only a handful of ships docked, loading and unloading cargoes to and from the nearby warehouses. It paled in size to the ports of Rhian or Evenhuld, and the Trade Isles were reported to have several ports larger than this. But Quinn had never seen so many ships up close. In fact, she had never seen even a single ship up close. For her, the sight of the tall masts, the smell of the sea breeze, and the sound of the gulls circling overhead were all indications of a world as strange to her as the one beyond the veil.
Quinn pulled her new cloak tighter around herself to guard against the chills of the mist-shrouded morning. Underneath, she wore the leathered dress that Trina had made for her over a pair of sturdy breeches and her best boots. She carried her knapsack slung over one shoulder and wore her sword at her hip.
Atticus, wearing a light tunic and loose-fitting leggings, addressed her. "Once we set sail, you won't want to have that many layers on. It's always best to dress light when at sea. Sailing can be hot, sweaty work. And it's best not to have anything weighing you down if you go overboard."
"Then I'll just be sure not to get sweaty or to fall overboard." Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm not a sailor. I don't need to blend in with them."
On the other side of her, Trina was gawking at the ships and occasionally at the sailors. A couple of Ordo recruits unfamiliar to Quinn were close behind, alert to danger. Like Atticus, the recruits looked comfortable with their swords and prepared to use them. Trina was unarmed.
As they descended the stone stairs to the piers, Atticus continued. "It would be best if you do. Sailors have a lot of customs and beliefs they hold to. Good omens. Bad omens. If you don't adapt to their ways, they could see it as a sign of bad luck. And you don't want to sail with a crew that believes their voyage is under ill portents."
Trina chimed in, "Oh, like women on board a ship? Isn't that supposed to be unlucky?"
Atticus shrugged. "That's a northern belief. In the Trade Isles, sailors are men and women. And a Kemuran would never dare call a woman unlucky. But there are others. For instance, you must always board a ship with your right foot first. Never whistle at sea and never let an unfastened rope touch the deck."
Quinn tried to keep from laughing. "How did you come to be such an expert on sailing customs?" She chided herself internally for the childish question. Anyone could see his heritage from the Trade Isles.
"I was born aboard a ship at sea, which I should add is also a very lucky omen." He motioned toward a medium-sized vessel with a single mast bearing the name Ruby Cutlass in deep crimson. "This is our ship. I will secure passage with the captain. Remember; right foot first."
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Having grown up in a city tucked away high in the mountains, setting sail was an experience unlike any Quinn had ever experienced. Still, she was handling it better than Trina, who had grown rapidly seasick, expelling her breakfast over the side of the ship.
