She found the sailor at the far end of the docks, hefting a crate of unsold things toward a narrow ship. The silver tokens in his hair caught the last of the sun. The pale blue of his magic shone on the air.
“You again,” he said as she ran up, dragging to a breathless stop. Her cheeks were flushed, her curls escaping. She must have looked as wild as she felt, because he glanced over her shoulder to see if she was being chased. “Are you in some trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Then take it somewhere else,” he said, turning away.
Her eyes darted to the ship. “Is that yours?”
He grunted, a sound that could have been either yes or no, save for the fact he was in the process of carrying a crate up the ramp. She followed in his wake, but he stopped at the top and turned, blocking her way. “Go on. Don’t need you tracking mud on my deck.” She looked down at her boots before realizing it was a turn of phrase.
“Please—” she started.
“—is a nice word for fine company,” he said, jerking his head toward Hanas. “Now go home. It’s past your bedtime, little lady.”
Tesali bristled. “I can pay,” she said, feeling the weight of the coins in her pocket.
“Not enough for the trouble,” said the sailor.
Her eyes dropped to the crate in his arms. “You won’t get much for broken magic.”
He cocked a brow. “Insulting my wares now?”
“But you could,” she continued, “if it was fixed.”
What are you worth? her father asked.
She was about to find out.
“I can fix broken things,” she said. “Sometimes, I can even make them better.”
She opened her cloak, revealing the little owl he’d sold her earlier that day.
“What do you think?” she asked, and before he could say that it looked the same, the owl twitched in answer to the question, and tucked its head under one wing, and began to preen the place where its feathers would be.
The sailor jumped, and then let out a barking laugh that caught her off guard. It was rich and full, and delighted. “I’ll be a priest,” he swore.
She tucked the skeleton away. “I have a knack,” she said.
“I can see that.”
“If you take me wherever you’re going, I’ll fix everything you couldn’t sell.”
He studied her. “What is your name?” he asked, and she almost told him. But then she stopped. Names had value. And her father taught her never to give a thing away for less than it was worth. Especially something you couldn’t buy back. She thought of giving him Serival’s name, but the idea left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she knew it would make her jump, every time he said it. So in the end, she bit off the first part of her own, and gave him that.
“It’s Tes.”
“Well, Tes,” he said, setting down the crate and holding out his hand. “You have a deal.” They shook on it, her hand swallowed up in his as he drew her aboard the ship.
His name, she soon learned, was Elrick. His ship was the Fal Chas.
The Good Luck.
“Where’s the crew?” she asked, and he spread his arms, as if to say me, but also, perhaps, to say us.
“She is light, and sweet,” he said, patting the hull. “And she gets jealous easily. But you’re small enough, I hope she won’t be cross and try to drown you.”
He had a way of flattening his tone when he spoke, which made it impossible to tell if he was joking. （She would learn that while Elrick was a sailor now, he’d been a soldier, first, which had given him a very dry humor.）
Soon the ship was free of its mooring. It pulled away from the dock. Away from Hanas. Tes stood on the bow and watched the port city drift out of reach. Elrick stood on the other side of the narrow ship, his magic bright as he guided the Good Luck forward through the current, one hand held over the water.
In his other hand, he held a small stone. It wasn’t spelled, she could tell, not to amplify his magic or focus his mind, but he turned it over and over, its surface long worn smooth, and when he caught her looking, he said, “It’s always good, to have a bit of land on hand when you’re out at sea. Keeps you grounded.”
Tes thought about that as she turned her gaze back to the retreating coast. Night fell like a shroud, and soon only the lanterns and the lights in the houses traced the shape of the place she had lived all her life. She held up her hand, and the whole port city seemed to fit there, in her palm. Then, on the tip of her finger. Then, gone.