Page 41 of How to Keep a Fae

My father’s task is important.

I feel my insignificance yet again. One man stood on the prow of a ship riding the waves, stepping briefly into the thread of a story reaching back to the battle of Sendar and beyond.

Sometimes, when I’m speaking to my father, I feel the many years and human lifespans he has lived.

At first, his long periods of silence were unsettling, but I’ve gotten used to them, and now I find them comforting.

When this began, I told myself I didn’t want to be here, thinking only of my selfish needs and insecurities. Time offers perspective. This adventure is turning out to be nothing like I expected. And while a lingering sense of somethingmoreoccasionally troubles me, I have learned to let it go.

On the fifth day, land is sighted.

Hydornia is a land of many kingdoms, barbarian clans, and shifters far to the east. Like the Imperium lands we left, I have never been here before.

The ship’s crew works through an impressive collection of humorous and filthy songs as they prepare to come into port, ranging from tavern wenches and bloody pirates to sweet cockle girls.

“…She fed me a cockle,

Took my hand,

And led me out the back!

Aye, Aye.

Wink, Wink.

Oh, the sweet cockle girl,

I’m in love with the sweet cockle girl…”

Even my father cracks a smile.

“Cockles?” I ask him with a raised brow.

“A form of shellfish.” He pats my shoulder in an unexpectedly affectionate gesture. “The sellers are more often crusty old men than sweet lasses with coy smiles who lust after sailors.”

I burst out laughing, feeling strangely light.

Gulls begin to circle the ship, squawking as they ride the thermals. Ahead, a town nestles in a deep V of two tree-covered hills. The jumble of buildings are mostly in shades of brown, with steeples rising here and there out of the mass.

The ship docks. My father passes a coin bag to the captainwith a nod. Our horses are brought out of the hold, surprisingly tolerant of the ordeal.

We gather a small number of provisions and ride straight through the town, coming out onto a rise that offers views of undulating forested hills dotted with villages surrounded by plots put to pasture and crops.

Behind us lies the port town where we docked, and beyond that, the Lumen Sea we crossed.

My father draws the keystone out, wraps his hand around it, and closes his eyes.

He turns to me, draws the chain holding the keystone out, and passes it to me.

I take it with a frown.

“Hold it in your hand. Center yourself upon the stone, then allow your mind to reach out. Imagine the landscape as you see it; imagine you are moving over it in ever-broadening circles.”

I have never held a keystone; it is reserved for imperials who have been trained in its use. Like my younger sister, Sally, soon will be. Still, I do as he asks, closing my eyes and picturing the landscape as best I can.

A tingling sensation creeps upon my periphery. At first I think my mind is playing tricks on me, that this is a manifestation of my nerves in holding such a valuable artifact.

But the longer I hold it, the stronger it becomes. I open my eyes and turn to the southeast, my gaze roaming over the dips and rises.

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