Iron & Ice #ONC2024

Chapter XII

 The next day is the day of our highly-anticipated day off, and our trip to Lerwick.

During our morning classes, the energy is palpably different. The air hums with an undercurrent of excitement. Everyone seems to be talking about what they'll do with their precious hours off.

A handful of students have opted not to join the excursion. For security reasons, Octavia won't be coming, and neither will some of the more desperate students who've decided to use the day to study and train in the hopes of saving themselves from being cut.

The rest of us report to the docks at the time that we'd usually be having lunch. Today, our lunches have been packed for us-nothing fancy, just pasties and bottles of cider. The same boat that brought us here waits at the pier with the same crew onboard.

"I can't wait to see a British town," Indira gushes as we board. "I know Lerwick's not the most impressive city and all, but, oh, I can't wait!"

Cassian has his nose buried in a book, and when he nearly walks into a piling on the pier, I link my arm with his and steer him up onto the gangplank. He mumbles a thank-you but doesn't take his nose out of his book. I peer at the title. Darwin's The Origin of Species. I wince. Not my idea of some light reading on my day off.

"At least there'll be shops," Indira continues blithely. She practically skips up the gangplank. "There are so many things I need to replace. I doubt I'll be able to replace my ochres and my kohl, but they'll have ink, won't they? Do you need anything?"

"Not really," I say. Besides, even if I did, it would have to be urgent for me to feel comfortable taking Lord Corvus's money. After everything he's done for me already, it feels wrong. Even though I don't have a penny to my name, I can't bear to take more than I've already taken from him and the Sisterhood, not for frivolous things I don't really need.

❅❅❅

We arrive in Lerwick as the sun is sinking low in the horizon, and the small harbor is shrouded in long shadows. Sunset comes before five in the evening now, and we're rapidly racing towards near-complete darkness. At the Academy, perched on one of the northernmost islands in Shetland, already the sun sets earlier there than here.

From first impressions, Lerwick is nothing like anywhere I've ever been. Granted, I haven't been much of anywhere–just Yorkshire, London and the Academy.

The air here reeks of fish and brine and the ocean. Wind howls in off the sea like daggers of ice flung towards the shore. Grey stone buildings seem to rise straight out of the ocean, lying low beneath the stormcloud-speckled sky.

There is no color here. The sky is white, the clouds dark and ominous, the city grey and the ocean the color of slate. The ships that are moored here are colorless, too–faded wooden fishing boats with crisp, white sails.

Seagulls swoop low overhead, shrieking loud enough to wake the dead as our boat glides neatly into its berth. The crew lowers the gangplank and releases us into Lerwick's grey harbor. As we disembark, it starts to rain, freezing droplets, barely warm enough to be in liquid form that spit down from the dark clouds and slice through our clothes like blades of ice.

For a moment, we all huddle together, a cluster of students in uniforms, like a herd of sheep trying to weather a storm, as we get our bearings.

And then, slowly, we scatter, splitting off into little knots and pairs and clusters, and drifting slowly towards the city. Gradually, one by one, each little group is swallowed up amongst the grey shops and houses.

Cassian, Indira, Victra and I are among the last to disembark, and the last to leave. Together, we make our way up from the harbor, past warehouses and canneries, to Lerwick's tiny downtown. The crew of the ship send us on our way with directions to where we might find good shopping and strict instructions to be back before eight, when we're due to return to the Academy. Each one of us carefully winds our pocket watches and sets them to match the clock on the largest and highest church steeple.