As the air had gotten colder and colder, and the nights longer and longer over the past couple weeks, Meleng and Sinit?a had stopped going up on deck much. Not that it was much warmer below deck, but at least they were shielded from the wind. He knew there were stories amongst the crew about what he and Sinit?a got up to alone in their cabin, since Jorvan was always on deck, helping keep the Lustrous Rose sailing. Meleng had seen the looks and smiles, and heard the whispered comments whenever he had come into the mess hall, especially if Sinit?a was with him. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: that the rumours existed or that the looks he got were all approving.


    Ahead of them, the mountains rose up, dark shadows in the bright night. In the opposite direction, past the Lustrous Rose, were the dark arctic waters dotted with the brighter ice floes, and past them, the mountains of the northern tip of the Arnorin continent.


    Technically, they’d entered Isyaria when they reached that northern tip and the tiny settlement there named Zorlo. The Isyar there maintained it as a place for Arnorin ships to resupply and pick up an escort—an Isyar ship that would guide them through the difficult-to-sail waters of the arctic. However, they had been there for only a few hours, and Meleng and Sinit?a had never left the ship, so Zorlo didn’t really count. Only now were they truly in Isyaria.


    On board the Lustrous Rose, the deck was awash with activity—but not by the crew. Isyar enchanters were using magic to unload the cargo. Meleng looked away quickly. He would have liked to watch what they were doing, but they were too far away to study from here. Besides, Isyar did not share their secrets with humans—evident from the fact that, immediately upon coming aboard, they had requested that any human wizards on board should move to the quay.


    First Mate Ting was right behind him, obscured at first due to the Captain’s greater height and bulk of his clothing. Somehow, Ting was wearing half as many layers as anyone else. “That dog can survive any environment.”


    “If you’re looking for Jorvanultumn,” Gen said, “he’s talking with a couple other Isyar. I couldn’t follow most of what they were saying—Isyarian is a...complex language; I’ve never been able to master it—however, I did pick up that it was something to do with his fomase. He might be a while.”This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    “Fomase,” Meleng said. “It’s kind of like a fiancée.”


    “That does tend to be the response of all cultures to the different ways of other cultures,” Gen said. “It comes from growing up in the culture. You never find your own culture confusing. However, I can assure you, theirs is the more complex. Has Jorvanultumn told you about the fomaze?”


    Meleng took a moment. Had he said fomase or something else?


    Gen shook his head. “Not fomase. Fomaze. It’s related, but different. Isyarian has some subtle pronunciation differences. Trust me, it’s very embarrassing to mix up fomase and fomaze.” He chuckled. “At any rate, a fomaze—” he pronounced the word slowly, emphasising the difference in the last syllable— “is...well…” He sighed. “No, Jorvanultumn can explain it if you want to know.”


    “Fomase,” Gen corrected.


    Gen was some distance ahead of them, Jeanne bouncing along at his side. He wasn’t looking back to see if they were following, so Meleng and Sinit?a hurried to catch up. The path from the quay was ice and had an upward slope into the foothills. Surprisingly, it wasn’t very slippery—Meleng guessed it was due to the extreme cold—but it still made catching up to Gen difficult.


    After a while, they gave up. The man walked too fast. He would disappear over the top of a hill and then they’d see him again when they reached that same summit, by which time he’d gained more ground on them. There was only one road, so they’d catch up to him once they reached Chithishtheny.