Marrill wasn’t the only one confused. Her frown echoed those of her crewmates. “It is? Where?”
“You’re holding it.”
Marrill’s eyes dropped down to her cat. He looked back at her. He seemed unamused. “Karny?”
“The Wiverwanes were a product of the Dawn Wizard, one of the more powerful Dzane,” Ardent explained. “And as we have well established in the past, what the Dzane have made, only the Dzane can destroy. A dunking in the Pirate Stream certainly wouldn’t destroy something like a Wiverwane. But it could… interfere with certain aspects of it.”
He began pacing furiously, a habit he often adopted when thinking. “The Wiverwane was living memory, that we know. And the Pirate Stream couldn’t change that aspect, no. But it could change its form. Make it… more pure. After all, what’s a memory without a place to live, a body to hold it? Why, that power could actually be fueled by the magic, making its owner impervious to—”
Coll cleared his throat. “Human, Ardent. We speak human on this ship. Not wizard.”
“Ah, yes. Apologies.” The wizard spun on one heel, kicking aside the hem of his robe. He looked Marrill dead in the eye. “Simply put, the memories that were the Wiverwane are now living inside your cat.”
Marrill looked at Karny again. He purred lightly. His one eye winked, but she couldn’t for the life of her say it was anything more than normal cattitude. “You mean like my cat ate it?”
“Well, not so much consumption as absorption. That’s my theory at least,” Ardent offered.
That didn’t sound much better. “So… how do we get it out?”
Ardent shrugged. “Difficult to say. At least without further study.” He held out his hands. “May I?”
Marrill bit her lip. After what had just happened, she didn’t want to let go of Karnelius anytime soon. But if Ardent could help, she had to let him try. Reluctantly, she handed Karny over.
Ardent’s expression shifted from one of anticipation to disappointment as he carefully collected the cat. “So the Wiverwane memories no longer transfer when you touch the creature, then.” He pressed his lips together, holding the cat at eye level and considering him. “This puts a dent in our mission to uncover the identity of the Master of the Iron Ship.”
Remy crossed her arms, frowning in confusion. “How’s that now?”
“The Wiverwane carried memories of the Dawn Wizard. I’ve been sifting through them ever since our return from Monerva—barely enough to scratch the surface—but I have seen some most interesting things. It seems the Dawn Wizard crossed paths with the Master more than once.” Ardent winced as Karny’s claws raked across his wrist. Marrill reached for her cat and Ardent handed him over gratefully.
“But…” Marrill said, pondering this. “If the Master is one of your old friends…”
“Then how could he have also met the Dawn Wizard, who died long before I was even born? Excellent question!” He rubbed his beard. “I have no idea. Which is the point. There are still a number of gaps in my knowledge, which I had hoped the Wiverwane might fill, and this development makes that a touch tricky. Still, if what we heard was part of the Dawn Wizard’s will, perhaps there is a way yet.”
He clapped his hands with excitement. “Not to mention the incredible opportunities for research! Imagine Zambfant the Great’s consternation when it turns out I’ve discovered the Stream’s first recorded instance of feline testation! Oh, I wish I could tell Annalessa about this.…”
The wizard looked away. Marrill felt her heart squeeze at the sorrow in his voice. He forced a smile, though, and started toward his cabin, already lost in thought as he mumbled about the research he intended to conduct on the matter.
“You okay?” Fin asked, coming to stand beside her.
She gave him a wan smile. “Yeah, I think so. I guess this means both Karny and the Wiverwane are okay. But…” She clutched her cat tighter. “What if I messed up our chance to figure out who the Master is?”
“Hey, it’s not your fault those two beasts decided to have a high-dive competition,” Fin reassured her.
She wished she believed him. “If I hadn’t forced Ardent to set the Wiverwane free—”
Fin cut her off with a laugh. “When has anyone forced Ardent to do anything?” He leaned his shoulder against hers. “Besides, the part of you that cares about the Wiverwane is the same part of you that remembers who I am.”
She covered a blush by rolling her eyes. “I remember you because you’re my friend.”
“Then, as your friend, I’m telling you not to worry. Ardent seems pretty convinced the Master is one of the Wizards of Meres, which means all we have to do is go down the list until we figure out who it is. Easy peasy.”
“Teeth ahoy!” a girl called from the bow. Marrill looked up. Ahead of them, the Stream funneled into what appeared to be the lower jaw of a massive beast. Enormous, pointy teeth jutted up from the water, hemmed in on either side by slick red walls that looked like the inside of a mouth.
But there was no upper jaw; she was sure of it because stars still shone down from above, as far away as she could see. And the teeth, as jagged and dangerous as they looked, were way too large to pose a danger; the Kraken could easily sail right between them.
“It’s the Ravingorge, everyone,” Coll said, his voice calm. “Remy, take the wheel, and don’t worry: If you mess up, the swallowing will keep us moving downstream. Marrill, you and your cat should probably get belowdecks. It can get a little… gross in here.”
“At least we won’t mind the smell after Listerd Light Alley,” Fin joked, nudging Marrill with his elbow as he started toward the hatch. He glanced around. “Eeeeew. Saliva-covered stomach walls.” He shuddered before ducking inside.
Marrill followed after him. But on the threshold, she froze. Someone moved in the shadows off to her right. A slight figure—a deckhand, Marrill noted with relief—darted through a patch of light and pulled some sort of creature from her pocket. She held it up to her mouth, as though whispering to it, then tossed it up into the night air.
The creature spun, long iridescent wings unspooling from its body. With a soft buzzing sound, its wings began to beat, almost as fast as a hummingbird’s. After a moment of hovering, the thing darted into the blackness, disappearing instantly.
As she ducked through the hatch, Marrill made a mental note to introduce herself to the girl in the morning. Maybe she’d even have the chance to see the glorious winged creature up close.
“Sleep well, everyone!” Ardent cried from the door of his cabin. “When we reach the end of the gorge, the Great Game of Margaham will have already begun.”
And with that, any thoughts of the new deckhand and her bird were completely forgotten. Marrill squeezed her now-enchanted cat close, her mind swirling with curiosity about what kind of games the Stream had in store.
CHAPTER 6
Margaham’s Game
When Fin stepped on deck the next morning, Coll was pointing to where the angry red walls of the Ravingorge sloped downward, dropping into the calm of a broad, rippling bay. “Exit ahead,” the captain pronounced.
A low mist obscured the land beyond; all Fin could see were the triangles of mountains, the green of deep forests, the outlined towers of some mysterious city.
“Oh, thank heavens,” Remy said. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, plastered in place with what looked like dried saliva. Apparently, the Ravingorge had not been kind to the Kraken’s student driver.
As the mist lifted, Fin studied the shore ahead. Something about it was weird, he realized. Nothing was changing. Nothing at all. The Kraken was moving, which meant that even if the land was completely frozen, his perspective should have been shifting. But it wasn’t. It was like they were moving toward a flat painting.
Now that he thought of it, the whole panorama seemed exactly like a painting. The outlines were two-dimensional. The smudges of color were too smudged. He snapped his gaze down to the waters of the bay. They weren’t just calm; they were motionless.
Even the ripples were frozen in place.
They weren’t ripples, he realized. They were just lines drawn there to look like ripples. The Kraken was about to sail straight onto fake water!
“Coll!” Fin yelled to the quarterdeck. “Full stop, full stop!”
But it was too late. A second later, a great screeching squeal tore the air as the Kraken crashed onto the painted water of the false bay. The deck shuddered, throwing Fin to his knees. His teeth rattled in his head. Remy screamed. Coll let out a bellow as he toppled down the stairs.
The Kraken listed to one side as momentum carried it forward, slowly grinding to a halt. A second later, the door to Ardent’s cabin burst open.
“What in the name of the Thirty-Four and Seven Thunders!” the wizard shouted. His purple cap hung to one side of his head as he strode out onto the still deck. “Oh,” he said, stopping. “We’re here. Well, that would have been nice to know forty-five seconds ago.”
Coll rolled over and groaned. “You knew this would happen.”
Ardent sniffed and straightened his cap. “Well, I thought we had a competent captain who knew how to park on cardboard, so no, I didn’t think this would happen.”
“Hey!” Remy protested. “I’m still learning how to drive this thing, so lay off!” She turned back to the wheel, gripping it tightly.
Fin stumbled to the tilted railing. What should have been golden waves beneath them were marred with furrows of torn brown paper. He could see clearly now that the new “land” ahead of them was just a painted backdrop. Behind them, the water pouring out of the Ravingorge merged seamlessly with the flat expanse: liquid one second, painted surface the next.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Margaham’s Game is literally a game,” he said with wonder.
“Well, of course it is,” Ardent declared. “I mean, it’s—”
“Right in the name,” Remy finished.
“Exactly. Because the Stream—”
“Touches all waters. Even the ones that aren’t technically waters.” She sounded exhausted. “I hate this place. I hate that I’m starting to understand this place.”
The hatch opened, and Marrill struggled out of it, Karny in her arms. “What in—”
Fin shook his head. “Catch you up later.”
She stopped, looking around. “Oh, it’s literally a game.…”
“And now you’re caught up.” Fin had to admit, it did make a stupid sort of sense.
Remy scanned their destination. “You’re sure this is the only way to talk to Margaham and find out what he knows about the Master? To play his game?”
Ardent nodded. “It can be terribly frustrating when all you want to do is drop by for tea, but Margaham insists that the only way to gain entrance to his castle is via his game.” He lowered his voice. “I think he has a hard time finding people to play against otherwise.”
“Wizards are weird,” Fin mumbled under his breath. But he didn’t plan on letting that stop him. He’d been looking forward to the game. “So, how do we play?”
Ardent clapped. “Excellent question, my good random street urchin! Let’s take a look at the board.” He strode to the bow of the ship, where a circular board and pewter pieces had been set atop a small wooden table. Fin had never seen either the game or the table before. In fact, he was quite certain they hadn’t been there a moment ago.
“Now then,” Ardent said, leaning over the board. It was a series of concentric rings, nestled inside one another. Each ring was unique in its own way: One was divided into checkerboard squares; another flickered with arcane symbols; still another had been painted to look like the rampart of a castle wall. The circle in the center rose up into the carved shape of a miniature castle, the middle of it completely flat and smooth.
“Is that the board?” Marrill asked. “I guess I can see how it looks like your wedding cake sketch.” She tilted her head to the side. “Kinda.”
Ardent cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Let’s see what pieces we got this time.… Knight, Blackguard… ooh, Lion Tamer!”
Fig appeared by Fin’s side, rubbing her arm. “Are the wake-up calls usually so… abrupt?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“Morning, snoozy,” he told her. “Good job not stealing the ship’s wheel during the night. And you’re in luck. Apparently we’ve reached Margaham’s Game, and you’re just in time to learn how to play.”
“Oh,” she said. “Yay.” She stepped back as though intending to sneak away. Fin smirked and tugged her forward so she could see.
A flash of confusion crossed Ardent’s face as he took the two of them in, but he just shrugged. “Ah. Well, the more the merrier, I guess,” he said, snapping his fingers to call for a chair.
Ardent sat, kicking aside the hem of his robe, and cracked his knuckles. “Okay, the goal of the game is simple,” he explained. “One player, which is always Margaham, is the defender. His Wizard will be placed here.” He tapped the smooth center of the castle. “All the other players are attackers, who compete with one another as well as the defender. Of course, the only attacker this time is us, so our goal is simply to move our pieces through the rings to the center and capture the defender’s Wizard.”
He picked up one of the pewter figurines and held it up. “Of course, each of our pieces is unique and has its own movement and abilities. The Lion Tamer moves like so”—he clacked the piece quickly across the board in a Z-shape—“and the Knight like so.” This time, he moved the piece in an inverted L around the outer ring, then in the opposite direction.
He turned to them with a sharply raised eyebrow. “Now, the Knight can destroy any obstacle ahead of it and shield any other player from harm. But it can only move around a circle, and never up to the next circle, unless another piece helps it. The Lion Tamer, meanwhile, can send out its lion to find secret paths between circles, which it can use to advance or go back and retrieve the Knight.”
Fin smiled. He’d never really played a board game before. At least not with other people. It was kind of hard when he kept getting his turn skipped because no one remembered he existed. He wondered if the same was true for Fig or if the Fade even played games.
He picked up the last of the pieces and studied it. It depicted a shadowy figure, crouched and masked. Very thiefy, he noted with a smile. “What about this one? How does it move, and what does it do?”
Ardent took it from him and twirled it around in his fingers. “The Blackguard’s move is its power. It can go in any direction, taking any path it finds, so long as no one sees it moving.”
Neat, Fin thought. That was totally his piece.
“That’s totally my piece,” Fig said under her breath.
Fin’s jaw dropped. “I thought you didn’t want to play.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I will if I get to play someone cool.”
“Hmph,” Fin grumbled, crossing his arms.
“Now, there’s one thing we must all remember before we begin,” Ardent continued. “Margaham created this game to satisfy anyone who might come to play it. Thrill-seekers have played to find the ultimate entertainment; kings have used it to battle to the death. Because of that, there is only one central rule, and you must never forget it: The more seriously you take the game, the more deadly it becomes.”
There was a beat of silence as they took in this information. Fig was the one to break it. “What do we get if we win?”
Ardent winked. “Whatever we seek! We shall state that ahead of time, and if our opponent can give it, the game will begin.”
“What will our opponent be playing for?” Marrill asked.
“We have no idea. Only that it’s something we have.”
Fin met Marrill’s eyes. Her expression mirrored his own discomfort. They had some pretty valuable cargo on board. He shot a glance toward Fig. Good thing the Rise weren’t playing this game, he thought.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Marrill asked Ardent.
He waved a hand. “I’ve played against Marga
ham more times than I can remember, and his wager is always the same. If he wins—which he won’t—he’ll want me to admit he was right about disproportionate intertime transpositioning—which, of course, he wasn’t. No real risk. Besides, if that’s what it takes to uncover the Master’s identity, I’m willing to sacrifice.”
Fin felt the need to point out the obvious. “But if we think Margaham might be the Master, then won’t his stakes be higher?”
Ardent lifted an eyebrow in Fin’s direction. “Since you’re obviously new to the crew, I won’t hold your ignorance against you. But understand, I am one of the most powerful wizards on the Stream—far more powerful than Margaham. I do not intend to lose.”
Ardent plucked a card from out of thin air and scribbled something across its surface. “Our stakes,” he announced, slipping it into a crisp white envelope before Fin could see what he’d written.
“Now let’s begin, shall we?” With a swift motion, Ardent tapped the flat space in the center of the castle. In the moment Fin blinked, a round metal piece appeared. It was a wizard, no doubt; the robes were a dead giveaway, though its hat looked far more like a jester’s than like Ardent’s floppy cap.
“Welcome, players!” said a reedy voice coming from the game piece, though it was just as motionless as the others. “Welcome to my Great Game. It is I, the Inevitable Margaham!”
“And I am the great wizard Ardent,” Ardent called in response. “Come to play your game.”
There was a pause before the pewter wizard answered. “You should not have come here, old friend.”
“He was always one for dramatics,” Ardent whispered behind his hand.
“Obviously,” Fig said drolly, scanning their surroundings.
Ardent raised his voice. “Margaham, listen—we’ve come on a mission seeking the identity of the Master of the Iron Ship. What do you know of him?”
“As I told Annalessa,” the game piece answered, “you may find some answers here. But they may be answers to questions you should never have asked in the first place.”
“Annalessa?” Ardent stood abruptly, knocking against the game table and causing the pieces to rattle. Any trace of humor drained from his face. His eyes turned cold, serious. “She was here? When?”