The Names Our Children Will Know

Mark's Warehouse - Draft One

The next morning, Jordan felt better. She had slowly gotten used to the rocking motion of the boat–it was almost peaceful, she decided at last. The sunrise was dazzling across the water, like a path of golden flame on the rocking waves. She stood slowly, trying not to wake Tessa. The pole men only glanced at her before going back to their work. They would be across the lake by the end of the day, Tessa had told her the night before. It was a reassuring thought.

She was excited to see Magonalt, but she was also nervous. Mark was very careful about being followed, but Jordan didn't know if that was because of the map or because anyone following them would think they were going to find a great treasure–which, she supposed, they were, but it wasn't the kind of treasure a thief would want.

Out here in the center of the lake, it was as busy as the city itself. Water birds wheeled overhead, following the fishers and making a ruckus. Ships darted back and forth, dragging huge nets full to bursting with wriggling silver fish. Over the course of the day, the ferrymen passed several ships and called out greetings to the captains. Some ships followed them for a little while, gathering fish that the squat ferries stirred up in their wake.

It wasn't much later that Tessa pointed out that they were drawing closer to Magonalt. Jordan's first sight of the city was a greyish wall, stained with water, dirt, and broken wood. She noted this to Tessa out of curiosity. Her sister replied simply, "That's how cities always look."

They arrived at a tiny wooden dock a few hours later, early in the afternoon. The Middling Lake wasn't nearly enough for big ships, so the only boats tied to the docks were barges no bigger than the ferry Tessa and Jordan were arriving in and the light fishing ships that were still darting across the water.

When she stepped onto the docks, Jordan wobbled a bit. Tessa laughed and said, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it soon enough," as she steadied her younger sister. Mark called them over at that moment and Jordan soon recovered her balance.

Wesson found a modest inn that didn't look like it was too expensive. It was called the Green Prancer, but Mark took one look at it and very nearly growled almost as much as Ghost did. He turned right around and led them to a two-story warehouse on a badly sloped street. The warehouse looked to be in worse shape than the Green Prancer, and the wooden walls were bowed and covered in peeling, faded paint. They had clearly stood for several years, but when Mark pushed the two huge doors aside, Wesson, Tessa, and Jordan stared in surprise at the spacious home inside.

Two small werian children, a girl and a boy, were playing on the bare floor with a flyant man and three or four dogs. The children couldn't have been much more than eight or nine years old, and they looked like mirror copies of each other. When they saw Mark, they both jumped up and ran to meet him, shrieking with joy.

"Mar, you're back!"

"You said it wouldn't be for a month and it's only been fifteen days! What are you doing, where have you been–who's that?" The boy had noticed the three strangers staring at them from the doorway after a moment. "Who are you?" He asked curiously.

"We're on a quest with Mark. He said we weren't going to stay in the Green Prancer. Do you live here, or does Mark?" Jordan asked excitedly.

"Both," the little girl answered. "He's our brother."

"You stole us!" The boy crowed, running up to Ghost and tugging her farther into the warehouse home.

"That's not true, I'm only keeping you from the street over." Mark looked happier than Jordan had ever seen him, his grey eyes glinting excitedly. "Martha, this is Jordan, Tessa, and Mr. Wesson. Martha's brother, Easton, is probably trying to sneak up on me from behind." He pointed to the flyant man that was attempting to make a quiet exit. "And that fine gentleman is the city's healer, to whom I am indebted for taking care of these little imps."