In the Unending Sea, farther east than most ships dared to sail, and at the ninth hour of night, the Pursuit floated beneath the assembly of stars the Seiikinese had named the Magpie.
Padar, their navigator, had stayed true to his word. To him, the celestial bodies were pieces on the gameboard of the sky. No matter how and where they moved, he knew a way to read them. Despite the gyre, he had known well where this star would be at this hour, and how to get there. On the deck beside him, Niclays Roos waited.
Jan, he thought, I’m almost there.
Laya Yidagé stood with folded arms beside him. Beneath the shadow of her hood, her jaw had a grim set.
The Southern Star twinkled. Watched by her crew, the Golden Empress rotated the wheel and, as the sails netted the wind, the Pursuit began to turn.
“Onward,” she called, and her pirates took up the cry. Niclays felt their joy magnified in his own heart.
Onward indeed, to where the maps ended. To the mulberry tree, and to wonders untold.
