Ella put down the papers and looked up, absorbed in the tale. She suddenly had an idea, and found the custodian as quickly as she could.
"Please," she said, "I need to see a register of nobles."
It was a simple request, and soon Ella was turning the heavy pages. It didn't take her long to find them
"Lady Alise," she spoke aloud. "Hair colour: brown, eye colour: brown." She flipped through the pages some more, finally finding it. "Lord Aidan. Hair colour: red, eye colour: blue."
Ella needed one final confirmation. She again found the custodian, a hawk-eyed man with patrician features, "I need your help."
"What is it?"
Ella couldn't hide what she was looking for and still seek the custodian's help. She showed him the trial of Lady Alise. "The child that was taken from her. How would I find out his name?"
The custodian looked at Ella with grave eyes. "I don't need to search the records to tell you," he said. "It was no small thing."
Ella held her breath.
"I remember it clearly. The child's name," the custodian said, "was Killian."
Ella's heart pounded in her chest.
She had been looking for Killian's parents, but she'd never expected to find this.
Ella needed to know one last thing.
She scanned the register of nobles until it became clear.
"Lord of the Sky," she breathed.
Killian, orphan from Salvation, as the nephew of the last Emperor, was Xenovere's closest living relative.
Killian was the heir to the Empire.
22
MIRO woke to a fierce headache, the blood throbbing inside his head, pounding into his temples with hammer-like blows.
The sun was bright and the sea was calm. He tried to sit up, but felt arms pushing him gently back down.
"Please," it was Amber's voice, "don't get up. I'm sorry you're still on deck but I haven't had a chance to move you to the cabin."
"What happened?"
"The mizzen mast fell and something cracked you on the head. The ship came about and almost capsized. You nearly went over the side."
"How did you…?"
Miro could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "Luck, and a very long night."
"You need to rest," Miro groaned.
"I do, but you need it more than I do. You've got a lump the size of my fist on your head. There was blood. Lord of the Sky, I can't tell you how scared I was. But you weren't cut deeply. Now rest."
"How's the ship?"
"We've lost both masts and the two big sails. There was a small headsail in the forward stowage area, which I've rigged using a line and what was left of the mizzen mast. We have some steerage, which is better than nothing. At least the storm has passed. Get some rest. I'm going to try to catch some fish using some of the bloody rag I mopped your head with."
~
THE NEXT time Miro woke he felt much better, albeit unbelievably thirsty. He stood up and looked around the deck.
Amber had been busy, and rather than the chaos he'd expected he instead noticed the emptiness where the main mast had been. The smaller mizzen mast — what remained of it — had been lashed to the main mast's stump. At the top of the mizzen mast a stiff line ran to the bowsprit, and a small triangle of sail had been unfurled from the line.
Miro found Amber up on the stern castle; she'd lashed the tiller in place but was keeping an eye on it while she filleted two small fish.
"What would I do without you?" Miro said.
"Drown," Amber said, looking up and smiling slightly. There were blue marks under her eyes; it must have been days since she'd slept. "Here," she handed Miro a chunk of raw fish.
Miro gulped it down, his stomach gnawing as he did, craving more. He then gulped down the water Amber offered him.
He waited until Amber finished with the fish, keeping the head, guts and tail for bait, and then spoke. "I'll be all right now. Go to the cabin and get some rest."
Amber stood, wobbling as she did, before clambering to the stern cabin without another word.
Miro sat down beside the tiller and checked their course. Still bearing west, he noted. He couldn't believe their luck. The storm had come unexpectedly and faster than he could have imagined, but the Intrepid had made it through.
He heard splashing sounds and looked down at the side of the caravel with alarm. He relaxed when he saw playful creatures, porpoises, he knew they were called, frolicking and rolling onto their backs. They paced the ship for a time, grinning toothily at Miro and spraying water out of their blowholes, and then they were gone.
The setting sun told Miro he still headed west. The sky was clear but he frowned when he saw a low line of dark clouds on the horizon.
"Please," he whispered, "not another storm."
A sudden boom split the air, but this wasn't the crash of thunder. A whining sound split the air and a tall splash of water fountained up in front of the Intrepid's bow. At the same time Miro turned and saw the source of the explosion, he realised he hadn't been looking at clouds.
It was land.
Amber came running out onto the deck. "What was that?"