Chapter 1 1
Pearl Trask watched the deckhands unlash the great, knotted ropes connecting the Grand Gesture to its bridge tower. The craft shifted restlessly—hundreds of feet in the air—as the bindings fell away. Sails unfolded from the main balloon like paper-faded dragon wings. She might have admired the clever engineering and moving parts if she wasn’t so focused on not throwing up.

“Don’t forget to breathe.”

This came from Aunt Hath. The older woman’s knee was pressed firmly against Pearl’s to keep it from shaking. Their carefully chosen tickets on the back row of the observation deck offered a full glimpse of the ship and its passengers. Pearl had researched this trade route for weeks. She’d analyzed the seating charts and ticket availability. She’d even studied the records of each of the potential ship captains who flew this route. The Grand Gesture had been an obvious choice for their task. Even Aunt Hath—who’d been smuggling far longer than Pearl—had found no flaws in the plan. A continental freighter with just fifteen confirmed passengers? A captain who didn’t closely check his paperwork? It had seemed like the perfect setup for a smuggling run.

Until this very moment.

“Quit looking at them,” Aunt Hath whispered.

Pearl hadn’t been looking, but the words drew her eyes to the front of the ship. There were eight soldiers standing in rigid formation. Right before takeoff, they’d boarded the ship. Each one had a pistol tucked into their belt and a silver-tipped spear clutched in hand. Her heart had briefly stopped beating in her chest. They were going to be arrested. The first smuggling run her aunt had allowed her to plan would end in ruin.

But then she’d noticed the boy. That almost felt like the wrong word for him. He was unlike any boy she’d ever seen. He walked with the kind of perfect posture one could only learn in the audience of kings. His unbuttoned jacket was the color of a faded rose. Definitely a city style. None of the farm boys she knew would be caught dead in such a bright color. His hair had been buzzed and it brought out the great roundness of his eyes. As she watched him walk, she’d wondered if he was the son of a famous politician or a famous dignitary. Those guesses faded, though, when she heard the rhythmic clink of chains. A far less romantic answer: he was a prisoner.

The leader of the guards stalked on board behind him, wolflike and watchful. Pearl experienced another jolting shock: he was nearly as young as his prisoner. He had long blond hair and shadowed eyes and broad shoulders. He couldn’t have been a day over twenty. She wondered why they’d put someone so young in charge of a military detail—but then, squinting, she found the answer to the question. His right hand was missing. As she watched, it would flicker in and out of her vision. Half-there and half-not. When she could see the hand, it was gloved in a pitch-black material that looked like it had been spun from the deepest shadows in the world. She could feel the absence pulsing out from him.

A null glove, she thought. He’s one of the wardens.

She’d never seen one in person. Only read about them in books. Wardens were known as the only people in Ten Tides who could pacify magic. Watching that gloved hand flicker in and out of existence sent a shiver down her spine. His presence on the ship answered another question: the captive must be a wizard. Pearl quietly reassessed the boy in chains. It was interesting that they had him physically bound even though his magic was severed. He must have been a flight risk—or else someone they considered very dangerous. She wondered what crime he’d committed.

One of the guards detached from the detail. She could feel her stomach tightening as the man began navigating up and down the row, speaking with passengers as he went.

“Steady,” her aunt whispered. “Steady up now, girl.”

It was the same affirmation her aunt used to offer before they butchered pigs on the farm. Set all that fear aside. Steady those hands. Make your work quick and clean—or else you’re a cruel god with a squealing mess to deal with. Pearl found it helped to imagine she was back there. Her feet set down in the familiar mud. All those whisper-pink creatures moving around her to form a singular mass of bodies. A great sea of snorting flesh. That image of home was enough to settle her breathing as the guard reached them. He smiled politely.

“We’re escorting a prisoner north,” he explained. “There will be one unscheduled stop before the ship continues to its destination. We’ve been assured the delays will be minimal. The captain can make up a lot of the lost time in the air. If you would, please note the locations of the soldiers we’ve posted at the front of the ship.”

The guard pointed. Pearl’s eyes followed obediently. Sweat prickled along her scalp.

“No passengers past that point,” he said. “Thank you for your compliance.”

The guard melted back into the waiting ranks. Pearl darted a nervous glance at her aunt, who hissed for her to keep her mouth shut. The ship had been gliding on all the while, navigating the subtle shifts in the wind as it crossed the city proper. Now that they were beyond the tallest buildings, aimed like an arrow for the eastern seaboard, Pearl realized there was no escape—no escape and a thousand ways that all of this could go wrong.

The secondary engines fired in the cabins below. The prow of the Grand Gesture knifed out over the water for the first time. The other civilian passengers flocked to the railings. Pearl knew why. One of the famous “port” islands was docked north of the city for trading. Their ship offered a rare, bird’s-eye view of one of the most impressive pieces of magic their world had ever known. A woman named Heatherly had created three such islands near the turn of the century. She’d pulled massive chunks of land from their continent, reshaped them out over the ocean, and enchanted them so that they could be guided by magic up and down the eastern seaboard of Ten Tides. Two were still in operation. Pearl had been looking forward to seeing the famous market island, but right now she did not trust herself to stand up without losing her breakfast.

Below them, another loud rumble from the engine room. Pearl took advantage of all the noise. “What if they check the hold?” she whispered.

“I suspect they’ll find crates. Nothing suspicious about crates.”

She sucked her teeth, frustrated by that response. How could her aunt be so calm? In her mind, she pictured the five crates they’d loaded into the ship’s hold that morning. If any of the guards noticed that something was amiss, she would end up like the boy. A prisoner on her way to some terrible fate. Her mother weeping at the trial. Her father more disgraced than he already was. The people of their town whispering that they’d suspected all along…

Pearl slammed her eyes shut. She fought off that imagined nightmare by visiting the pig pens again. She could see them wiggling all around. Snorting in that delightful way. She inhaled that other world, her home, and heard a sharp squeal from somewhere in the herd.

“Stop,” she commanded herself. “Calm down.”

The focused meditation worked. Her breathing settled. Her mind cleared. She could do this. Everything would be fine. Beneath her, the ship seemed to lurch uncertainly—but the logical part of her mind was back in control. There was no reason to be afraid. Everything would be fine.