Volantis.
The Silver Dragon docks.
After weeks of rest and preparation, Lancel finally notified the other nobles that the fleet was ready to depart.
House Bentaro had collapsed completely.
The Tigers and Elephants had carved up their wealth and land.
Lancel took a substantial share of gold, twenty-three large vessels, and nearly a hundred smaller ones.
All of them now flew the Valezeth banner.
Not that this expedition needed that many ships.
During the layover, Lancel had selected the vessels for the voyage.
The newly built Weeping Boy and Silent Lord, the latter serving as flagship, were the largest.
Both used the shipbuilding methods Cleorius had left behind.
No oars.
Multiple towering masts and sails that blotted out the sky.
On their sea trials, they had reportedly outrun any three-hundred-oar warship.
Beyond those two giants, the fleet included nine more sail-only galleons, twelve three-hundred-oar warships, sixty-five two-hundred-oar, and a score of one-fifty-oar vessels.
Barring a storm, this armada could sail the Summer Sea unchallenged.
The silver-haired boy jumped from his horse and threw his arms wide.
Lancel caught him the same way.
“Brother.” Valar held tight while Lancel reached up, ruffled his hair, and clapped his shoulder.
“You’ve filled out.
The assassination, I’m sorry.”
“That wasn’t on you, Lancel.” Valar squeezed once more before letting go.
“We weren’t careful enough.”
“You’re safe.
That’s what matters.” Lancel nodded to Hoffer and Sebastian, who had followed Valar ashore.
“Same goes for both of you.
Safety first.”
The two young men snapped to attention and thumped fists to their chests.
“Valar!” An indignant voice came from behind Lancel.
Valar finally spotted Raymond, who had been hiding behind their older brother.
The kid was growing fast.
Almost a different boy every day.
“And you.” Valar grinned and scrubbed Raymond’s head hard.
“Little brat’s shot up.”
Raymond pouted.
But he gave his brother a huge hug anyway.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Valar.
Everyone was worried.”
“How’s Flamewing?”
“Fine.
Flies out to hunt every day.” Raymond shot a resentful look at Doctor Vysaris, who had come to see them off.
“More freedom than I get.”
“Flamewing is old.” Lancel sighed.
I had them release her.”
The three boys mourned the falcon for a moment.
Then the crowd ushered them aboard.
Lancel had announced the departure through the Senate, so the dockside crowds were thin.
The harbor had been cleared to let the great ships file out in formation.
Malach, the Red Priest, had recovered fully.
He came aboard and settled on the deck with a book, reading quietly.
Vansen Caon and Gunther Flamebane remained in Volantis.
Doctor Vysaris had already returned to the manse with his grand-apprentice, Evans Dayne.
Nearly every young man in Lancel’s service boarded the ships with their lord.
Lynn Valtaken wore purple battle armor.
Argo, unarmored, hung an arakh at his belt.
The two flanked their lord.
Hoffer and Sebastian Flamebane stood on the Silent Lord as well, sharing command of the flagship with Amos.
Tigaro Dajareon and Adams took young Raymond aboard the Weeping Boy.
That ship was built for comfort, with wide, bright cabins.
Amos Fazer and Zethar Shadowweaver boarded the three-hundred-oar Marlin, joining Aslan Londer to command the main-line warship.
Low horns rolled across the harbor.
Tugboats pulled the vast fleet slowly out to sea.
The waves rose.
Far to the north.
Where the fog lay thick, a Titan rose through the mist, its head lost in cloud.
Behind it, a city floated on the water.
Hundreds of islands, large and small, scattered through the city.
Grey stone, gold, and red bridges linked them together.
Stone everywhere.
Not a speck of green.
On a low rocky hill above the encircling water, a building with a strange black spire slept in silence.
The carved wooden doors stood twelve feet high and shut tight.
The left door was weirwood, white as bone, inlaid with an ebony half-moon.
The right was ebony, black as night, inlaid with a weirwood crescent.
Together they formed a full moon, black and white.
A pool ten feet across still rippled.
It reflected the countless alcoves in the walls and the thirty statues standing in them.
The Weeping Woman.
The Night Lion.
The Hooded Wayfarer.
Bakkalon.
The Pale Maiden.
The Stranger.
The Merling King. This chapter is updated first at novelping.com.
Every god stood silent, watching the water.
A man stumbled to the pool’s edge and dropped to his knees beside a figure in a hooded cloak, half black, half white.
He took the cup of water offered to him.
“May you find rest at last.” The voice beneath the hood was flat, yet it carried a strange magnetism, something that drew the ear even as the mind forgot the speaker was there.
A red candle burned slowly.
The black cup hit the floor.
The man died without a sound.
The hooded figure passed a hand over the dead man’s face.
Then he lifted his head.
It was the dead man’s face now.
Utterly expressionless.
Suddenly, he clutched his own face.
Agony seemed to explode from inside him.
He crouched, shuddering, mouthing words no one could understand.
A long time passed.
He stood again, face blank.
“A vision from the Many-Faced God?” He touched his own cheek as the flesh began to rot.
“The Chain-Breaker’s heir.
The Faceless Men’s benefactor.
Has he finally set foot on the fated path?”
He lowered his head and walked slowly to the Stranger’s statue.
He sat down beneath it.
“The Faceless Men never forget.” His voice was barely a murmur.
“As the Many-Faced God wills.
Someone will go.
Someone will surely go.”
A tall, thin figure in a hood stepped from the shadows.
“Valar morghulis.”
The seated man looked up.
Half his face had rotted away.
It still held no expression.
“Valar dohaeris.”
“Someone answers the call.” The figure who had just approached the pool raised his head.
There was nothing beneath his hood.
“Someone still must serve.” The other half of the seated man’s face was rotting now.
“The price has been paid.
The gift will be given.
Someone must travel east.
Find the musician the god has chosen, the one who will change the song.”
“Someone still has doubts.”
“As the god wills.” The man whose face had rotted entirely lowered his head once more.
“Someone will answer without reserve.”