Rory and Izzy sat in their usual spot on the docks at Quintus Harbor.
The mermaid figurehead on the prow of the Desire shone in the sun.
A few crew members were on deck, checking knots and polishing the brass ladders and handrails. A white, frothy tide slapped against the hull. A few days earlier, Rory’s father had taken him aboard and showed him the gleaming navigation instruments. Rory had run his fingers across the compasses and imagined setting a course for them to sail. He had looked through a spyglass, which extended out in sections and showed distant objects as if they were nearer. But Goldenrod’s prize possession was a telescope. It had the same function as the spyglass, but was more decorative and much bigger. It stood on three legs anchored to the deck. “So we can study the stars,” he had told him. Rory had seen drawings of these things in books, but to see them on a ship—his father’s ship—was pure joy.
Izzy nudged him with her shoulder. “What’s wrong? You daydreaming again?”
Rory turned to her. “Just thinking about all this training. It’s hard, and I’m not even sure I really want to do it.”
“Well, if someone told me I could be a great magician, I’d sign up right away.”
“Mage,” Rory said.
“What’s the difference?”
He shrugged. “Let’s say I do all this training and then decide to go away to this . . . Bastion to become a mage.” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t want to leave my mum and . . .”
“Me?” Izzy said. “Ah, I’ll be all right. We had a big adventure, yeah? I can tell people I knew the great Goldenrod and his son, the seafaring magicians. Or mages. Whatever.”
Rory shook his head, grateful for the laugh. He was too embarrassed to tell Izzy how much he cared about her.
They sat in silence a moment.
“Maybe I can go too,” Izzy said.
“Go where?”
“With you, dummy. To be a mage. I don’t wanna read those cards anymore, and my mum would probably say it’s okay. She went on a journey herself when she was my age. She said that’s how she learned all of her, you know . . . stuff.”
“I think you have to have Sumerian blood or something,” Rory said, but he wasn’t sure. The thought that he was part of an ancient bloodline was too much to comprehend. He scratched his head. “I really don’t know, Izzy.”
“Maybe they just don’t want girls,” Izzy said, bringing him back to the moment.
“I don’t think that’s true.” Rory cocked his head in the direction of the ship. A tall woman with dark skin and green tattoos up and down her arms lifted a coil of rope.
Izzy looked at her with admiration and a smile spread across her face.
The sun was setting by the time Rory and Izzy left the dock.
“Stomach’s rumbling,” Izzy complained as they began to walk.
Rory chuckled. “Doesn’t your mum ever cook anything you like?”
“Only if you like vegetables and green stuff.” She made a sour face. “I’d rather have fish and clams. And nobody makes better fish stew than your mum.”
Rory couldn’t argue with that.
They walked by Black Maddie’s, where several of Goldenrod’s crew sat on barrels outside, regaling the locals with tales of adventure over mugs of ale. A few sailors were locked in arm-wrestling matches with the patrons, a bounty of coins resting under their clenched fists.
In a few more minutes, they passed Market Square, where the Circus of Fates was still drawing crowds. Rory thought for a moment to try his hand at a few games of chance, but reconsidered.
They turned down Copper Street, then walked on to Rory’s house.
“Surprise!” a chorus of voices rang out as they entered.
Rory and Izzy jumped back, startled. Rory’s mum pulled them in and shut the door.
Rory took in the room. Ox Bells, Vincent, Miss Cora; Izzy’s mum, Pekka; Goldenrod, and a few of his shipmates all mingled together in the sitting room. Rory even spotted One-Handed Nick in the crowd. There was barely enough room to hold them all.
“What’s going on?” Rory asked.
“Do you know what today is?” His mum grinned at them.
Rory and Izzy looked at each other.
“No,” Rory said.
“Well, you and Izzy were both born on the same day. Remember?”
Of course Rory remembered. He just didn’t think about it much, growing up in the town known as Gloom.
Pekka joined them. Yellow flowers were braided into her hair. “That’s right. We figured it was time for a party. A celebration!”
Rory thought on it. A party. Why not?
Izzy smiled beside him.
Vincent approached, walking with his ivory-tipped cane and sporting his monocle. “Rory, my boy. So good to see you. I’ll be having a séance in a few days. A very select group. Now that you’ve seen a few things, you might prove to be a most excellent medium.”
Rory was taken aback. “I don’t think I—”
“No need to answer now,” Vincent cut him off, raising a hand. “Just let me know soon.”
He wandered away, leaving Rory looking after him with a dazed expression. Before Rory could trade a glance with Izzy, Miss Cora turned from the conversation she was having with one of Goldenrod’s crew, a woman with a long strip of hair that ran down the center of her otherwise bald head. “I can write a play about your adventure,” Miss Cora offered. “I’ll call it . . .” She raised a finger in the air as if waiting for some kind of signal. “The Fall of Shadows,” she said. She adjusted the hat on her head, which to Rory looked like a strange fish of some sort. “Of course, we’ll need to find the right actors,” she finished. “Maybe some of the carnival folk?” She sipped from a glass of sparkling liquid.
Rory and Izzy shared a look of befuddlement.
Rory found his father in the crowd and headed toward him. Izzy followed.
“Happy birthday, Son. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the others, but let this be the first of many we spend together.”
Rory smiled and then looked down at his feet. He didn’t know what to say. Then suddenly, the right words came to him. He looked back up. “It’s the first one I’ve celebrated, so we can call it even and go from there.”
His father smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “So, have you decided, Rory?”
Rory hesitated. He thought he didn’t have to make a decision about attending the Bastion until he was ready.
“Your present,” Goldenrod said. “What would you like?”
“Present?” Rory thought for a moment. What did he want? What had he always wanted to do? “I want to go out on the sea,” he said. “A trip, to see some of the world.”
“And so you shall,” his father replied.
Rory beamed.
“I want to go too,” Izzy chimed in.
Goldenrod took a step back, his expression puzzled.
“What?” Izzy said defensively. “I saw a lot of women on your crew. I want to sail the seas with Rory. And go on some adventures.”
Rory’s father rubbed his chin, considering. “Well, we could use someone to help with sails and rigging.”
Izzy grinned, giddy.
“The work is hard,” the sea captain went on. “Long hours and running lots of errands on the ship.”
“I’ll have my sea legs in no time,” Izzy boasted. “Plus, I have some other skills too.”
Goldenrod looked to Rory, who only shrugged and smiled.
“I’m a witch,” Izzy declared.
The mariner nodded, a little hesitantly. “Well, I guess I have no choice then, do I?” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want to be cursed.”
He smiled, and Izzy smiled back.
“No one’s going anywhere without me,” said Rory’s mum, who had been watching the whole spectacle unfold from a few feet away.
Surprise and delight dawned on Goldenrod’s face. “I wanted to ask you,” he said to Hilda. “More than anything. But I thought you would refuse.”
He took her hand, and this time, Rory’s mum didn’t bat it away.
“I would dearly love for you to sail with me,” Goldenrod said.
Rory looked to Izzy, her face flushed with excitement. “I guess that’s settled then,” he said. “We’re all going!”
And as the fish stew was passed around, they smiled and laughed, and for the first time in a very long time, there was a birthday party in Sea Bell.
