Nithemoore City was located in the middle of one of Iyiria’s inland valleys, by the broad bend of the central river, so it was a couple hours’ airship travel away from the southeastern coast where the Anthemoessians would gather for the autumn and winter seasons. However, as a government worker, as temporary as it was, I had access to the Iyirian government’s internal transport network: a series of large teleportation gates that connected all the major hubs in the country. It was supposed to be more secure and well-guarded than the publicly available system that had taken my class to Fulsgate for our disastrous trip to KP-04.

While I couldn’t use the government network for commercial shipping or anything like that, it was no problem for me and Thais to cross through with a small bag of clothes and toiletries. The officer manning the gate frowned skeptically when I explained that I was investigating the details of a report for the Department of Interjurisdictional Affairs, but after I presented my temporary ID with “Duval” emblazoned prominently upon it and surreptitiously pressed a few gold coins into his palm, he ushered us through without further word.

The teleportation gate brought us into another government office, where the officer verified our identities and sent us on our way.

We were now in the southeastern coastal city of Thassarin. Rows of white stucco buildings and red clay roofs marched all the way down to the water. Well-trimmed trees and waxy shrubs blooming with colorful flowers lined the streets, shading the paved streets from the mild morning sun. I wanted to try the red bikes that were available for rent from city-run kiosks, but since we were going all the way down to the docks, Thais said we were better off taking the trolley line instead.

When we got on the trolley, I claimed a seat by the window so that I could look at the scenery and watch all the people outside. Thais, meanwhile, kept looking at me and then looking away.

“What is it?” I said.

“Are you sure you don’t want private transportation?”

That seemed like an aristocratic thing to do, but it just felt so wasteful to spend my money on that. “Let’s not bother with that for a surprise excursion like this.”

Thais nodded. “I’m thankful that you’re willing to make this trip. I didn’t expect this kind of proactive help from anyone who wasn’t an activist or personally invested in the matter.”

I guess she wanted to figure out my motives, but even if I felt like putting her at ease, what was I going to say? That the Tripartite had personally descended in a vision to give me my first trial? “Save your thanks,” I said curtly. “I haven’t accomplished anything yet.”

Thais took the hint that I didn’t want to talk, which left me to contemplate the Tripartite’s appearance in silence for the rest of the ride.

They’d come to me in a composite form, with all three faces, but they’d looked a little different from my previous encounters with them.

Instead of holding the symbols I knew them by now, they’d been holding an intricately knotted net, a harp strung from the jawbone of an unknown beast, and a tightly woven basket from whose narrow mouth water endlessly flowed.

[Jeong Eunseok, are you ready for your first trial?]

[Ensure the successful completion of the Ritual of the Buried Storm—]

[Or allow its failure, and watch the tragedies of that era repeat again.]

The choice had been so strange to me. “If I can pass either way, it seems like it’d be way easier to do nothing than to help.”

To that, they’d smiled.

[Jeong Eunseok, are there not answers that you seek?]

[If you want the opportunity to discover what has happened to your world, then lend your voice to the Anthemoessians’ song.]

[Or else, turn away and bury the traces of your history with the bodies of this world.]

[Show us how you will sing the story of the past.]

They’d acted like I could do whatever I wanted, but if they knew everything about me, then they’d know that there was really no choice at all.

So that was why Thais and the Anthemoessians were about to get a guy who barely understood anything about this world meddling in their affairs. Even if my goals were aligned with theirs, I didn’t know if I’d end up causing more damage than good.

For that, I could only offer a silent mental apology and resolve to do my best.

We disembarked at the harbor. There were large ships sailing in and out of port, workers unloading cargo, vendors hawking fresh seafood and boating goods. Thais waved for me to follow her away from the bustling port. Instead, we walked over to a second harbor on the other side of a rocky black buttress jutting out into the sea.

Here, the docks were worn down, the nails rusting, and the boardwalks stained by unidentified liquids and old bird residue. Small, beaten-up boats and old fishing liners drooped from the ropes anchoring them to their posts. A strong fishy smell permeated the area, despite the best efforts of the few wilting flowers planted in the area. A faint green film clung to the underside of the docks.

We pushed through arguing sailors and weary workers to reach a small, sleek skiff tied at the edge of the harbor. The exterior had been carved to resemble a shark and painted in red, white, and black. The white sail was painted with a black seabird spreading its wings against a red circle that could have been the sun or moon.

Crouched in the boat was a boy around Cynara’s age. He had short, dark brown hair and a ruddy bronze complexion, and his spotted fur coat looked like it would swallow up his skinny form. He wore a brown fur cap with ear flaps down the side, upon which a black cormorant was perched. It turned its head in unison with him to look at me as we approached.

“Hey, Thunder,” said Thais. “Thanks for coming to pick us up.”

Thunder shifted his black gaze from me to her. “Should’ve messaged while I was bringing in the catch. Would’ve saved me a trip.”

“Next time I got a surprise visitor, I’ll keep that in mind.” Thais turned to me. “This is my brother, Thunder; Thunder, this is Acacius Duval. With any luck, he’ll be helping us with the ritual.”

Thunder sized me up once again. “We’re not that lucky.”

“I don’t like to count on luck, either,” I said.

Thunder gave a single nod of acknowledgment. “Your clothes will get dirty.”

“Because of the sea spray,” Thais clarified. “That’s why I suggested you wear something sturdy and easy to clean.”

I was already wearing the least annoying of Acacius’ clothes, but it would’ve made me sound like an asshole to say it. “Don’t worry about that. Let’s just be on our way.”

Thais helped me climb into the boat like she thought I would fall over into the water at any moment, and then she put a life vest in my hands just in case. Even with me following her instructions, she still seemed ill at ease.

Thunder, on the other hand, was already undocking the boat. He then moved to the back of the boat and placed one hand on the rudder; with the other, he brought a flute-like instrument carved of bone to his mouth. When he blew, a soft and haunting sigh came out. The water beneath us rippled, and the wind stirred. The skiff slipped out from between the neighboring boats and away from the docks, out into the water, as easy as breathing.

With another few notes from Thunder’s flute, the wind picked up, and the sail above us billowed; the skiff raced out to the open sea, cutting smoothly through the waves. The salt spray parted neatly around the boat, leaving only a light mist to settle on our cheeks and cool our skin; the cormorant on his shoulder spread its wings to let the wind blow through its sleek black feathers, letting out a joyous cry.

Even without knowing anything about his abilities, the skill with which he handled the boat was clear.

Thais followed my gaze to Thunder’s flute. “How much do you know about us Anthemoessians?”

“What I know comes from outsiders’ mouths,” I said. “Just treat it as if I need to learn everything anew.”

“Hmm… Alright. Thunder is using what the International Frame Registry has termed the ‘harmonic flow’ frame. Through music and song, we can influence the flow of various forces in the world, such as the wind, water, and weather.”

“Influence? Not control?”

“Right. To use that power, you need to learn how to hear the Voice of the World. Everything has its own harmony. The most skilled singers know how to weave their song into the tapestry, rather than disrupting it.”

Thunder took a pause from his playing to say, “I like dissonance, though.”

“You have the foundation and skill to employ it well. There’s a difference between you and someone who’s got no mastery of the art.”

“That’s true,” Thunder agreed after a moment of thought. “Dissonance is awesome, but disruption and destruction are ugly. No good at all.”

Apparently satisfied with this conclusion, he placed the flute back into his mouth and started up his music again. The wind picked up, and the skiff sped so lightly over the waves it almost felt like we were flying.

“There’s more to our practices than just the songs, but that’s the primary feature that our frame was named after,” Thais said. “We don’t practice the sacrificial flow frame at all. That’s a common misconception among people who work in weather-related fields.”

“Where did that misconception come from? Was it due to a similarity in power?”

Thais sighed. “That’s a very old story. I think it’s better for you to hear it from my grandfather.”

“You mean your storytelling’s rusty,” said Thunder.

“Shut up, you.” She swatted his leg lightly. “Anyways, the thing most people know us for is our shifting. When you learn a creature’s harmony, you can weave that song into its skin and wear it to mask your form for a period of time. Wanna demonstrate, Thunder?”

“You’re turning me into your show pony.”

“Mom’s been telling me about how cool your new skin looks, after all. Come on, let your sister take a look, too.”

Thunder’s expression didn’t change, but he lifted his chin. “Well, I guess since you wanna know so bad. Catch.”

He tossed the flute to Thais and stood up in the rear of the boat. His black cormorant flew away to the tip of the sail. Letting out a long whistle, golden patterns flashed through the fur of his hat. As he leaped off the boat, the light spread over his whole body, obscuring his form. He landed in the water with barely a splash.

Moments later, a sea otter surfaced from the water and turned to float on its back with an attitude I could only describe as “smug.”

“Very handsome,” Thais praised. “Otters are wily things; it’s impressive work to integrate their song at this age.”

Thunder narrowed his eyes in what was clearly a smile, even on an otter face. He flicked his long, sinuous tail and showed off with a few flips and dives in the water. I clapped, and Thais cheered. When Thunder finally had his fill, he pulled himself back onto the boat, shook his body vigorously, sent water spraying everywhere, and transformed back into human form.

“Pretty awesome, huh?” he said to me.

“Yeah. I wish I had a cool transformation like that.”

“You can if you marry into our clan for ten years and perform a great service recognized by all the chiefs of the federation. But no one’s managed it in ages.”

“Guess that’s out of the picture for me, then,” I said. “Can you transform too, Thais?”

“Yeah, but not right now. I left my skins with the family. We used to have trouble with people stealing our skins to blackmail us with, so I figured it’d be better leaving mine somewhere safe.”

“Blackmail? Are they that sensitive?”

“It takes a long time to make a skin, whether for you or someone else. They’re deeply personal things that only fit one person. By the time it’s finished, it’s like a part of yourself. Imagine if someone had a piece of your soul… You’d do a lot to get it back, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t know what that felt like, but I imagined how I’d feel if someone took my sister’s necklace from me and threatened to destroy it if I didn’t do as they said.

Would I listen to them? I wasn’t sure. I felt like I was more likely to give it up as lost and take out my rage on the person who threatened me. But not everyone was like me.

“I think I understand,” I said. “There are things that would drive me pretty far, too.”

“There used to be people on the northern islands who would steal skins from the Silk Seal Clan,” Thunder said. “‘Cuz they had some crazy story about how brides from the Silk Seal Clan were the most beautiful and dreamy and stuff. Then the brides kept stealing their skins back and running away or killing their husbands, so they don’t do that anymore, but they still wanna have sex with them.”

“Thunder!” Thais dragged a hand over her face. “The bridenapping period was over a hundred years ago. And the deaths were pardoned under the Aisling Accords as justifiable self-defense.”

“Yeah, but outside men still wanna screw—”

“Thunder.”

“What? I’m just saying what Mom says.”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile at their arguing.

“Aren’t you worried about ruining your sister’s public relations campaign?” I said.

Thunder considered for a bit, then shook his head.

“Since you’re the one my sister found, then it’ll turn out fine somehow.”

“That’s a lot of faith to put in someone else’s judgment.”

Thunder just looked at me for a long moment, and then stuck his tongue out.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Thais sighed. She tossed his flute back to him. “Let’s get home before the sun can dry us out, hmm?”

“Okay,” said Thunder. “Then check this out.”

This time, when he started playing, his melody had clearly increased in complexity, rising into the sky to join the seabirds wheeling freely about overhead. The wind picked up speed, pushing the boat faster and faster, until the hull rose out of the water and the skiff began to float above the waves.

I grabbed the side of the boat and stared over the side, but it really looked like we were flying. How did he do that?

“No way,” Thais called over the breeze. “Did you finally get a hydrofoil installed on your boat?”

Thunder didn’t stop playing, but he clearly puffed up in pride.

“A hydrofoil?” I asked.

“Imagine a stiff, mechanical wing below the surface of the water, attached to the hull by an aerodynamic fin. When the current flows over the wing at speed, it generates lift that brings the boat out of the water.”

“Like an airplane?”

She clapped her hands and pointed at me. “Yes, exactly! Though airplanes are noisy and fuel inefficient, so it never got widely adopted as a form of transport. Some outsiders are experimenting with hydrofoil technology, too, but it’s trickier for them than it is for us.”

“Why?”

“Since water currents are always changing, hydrofoils come with a lot of instability. It’s a bit of an engineering challenge and requires some computational algorithms to compensate. For us, though, we can just tune the currents themselves to keep our boats stable and smooth.”

“That’s really impressive.”

The harmonic flow frame seemed more flexible and high-precision than the sacrificial flow frame. The flow ribbons dealt with big movements and big surges of energy, so it was hard to make small adjustments, and they also drifted around and changed a lot. Maybe it was something I could compensate for if I had a few more years to practice and a mentor to show me the way.

Once the boat was “foiling” above the water, it went very fast, and the ride was incredibly smooth. In what felt like no time at all, the main shoreline receded out of sight; we raced past a couple of islands; and then, on the horizon, a fleet of ships drew into sight.

The core of the fleet constituted of large ships with painted, patterned hulls and broad, flat decks. Starkly painted sails flew like banners over the low cabins, from whose sides polished sea-glass windows winked out. Some of the boats had “wings” folded down by their side; others had a transparent central pillar filled with water, in which grew waving tendrils of kelp, algae, and other plants. Nets woven in colorful patterns draped down from their sides into the water and stretched out to form bridges to neighboring ships. Upon the decks were people sitting and eating, chatting, playing music and singing, weaving. Small skiffs, coracles, and people darted in the waters around the ships.

Thunder played a few trilling notes on his flute, and his skiff slowed down, descending gently back onto the surface of the water. His cormorant took off from the sails and flew towards a ship in the center of the interconnected fleet that was painted with bold black and orange patterns. Our boat, however, came to a ship at the edge of the fleet with “spines” that extended from its side, each padded with a coarsely woven fabric.

Thunder guided the skiff into place next to one of the spines and tied it loosely in place. I disembarked after him, climbing carefully onto the spine and slowly following him up the netting on the ship’s side until we reached the deck. I was a bit envious of how easily he moved with the rhythm of the waves; I had to pause every now and then because I wasn’t confident on where or how to move. Thais climbed up slowly after me. I think she’d positioned herself to catch me in case I fell.

When we made it onto the deck, Thais and Thunder were greeted cheerfully by a group of elderly men and women relaxing and eating snacks there. They spoke rapidly in what sounded like a tonal language, interspersed with different types of clicks. When Thais introduced me, they greeted me in Iyirian with varying degrees of fluency. I dipped my head and responded in kind. They gave me curious and scrutinizing glances, and a couple of them made quiet remarks to each other in their language.

“You must be Kostelius’ guest, eh?” called an old woman lounging by the rail. “Be careful. That one’s hearing is going. He talks too loud now.”

“Voice like a whale pod, that one!” shouted the old man next to her.

“You never worry that you will be lost in the fog!”

Whatever tension had been there dispersed. The group cackled together and waved us away.

We climbed the inter-ship webbing and crossed over a few decks until we reached the central ship, where Thunder’s cormorant had settled on top of the cabin.

Thais took a deep breath and hollered.

“Grandpa! We’re back!”

The door to the cabin slammed open. Stooping down to avoid the doorjamb, a mountain of a man emerged from within.

He had an enormous mane of wiry white hair, a neatly trimmed mustache, and a long beard braided into three strands. Bushy eyebrows protruded from his bronze, wrinkling face, sitting atop squinting grey eyes going cloudy with age. Despite that, he had no trouble finding us at all. As he approached, the wooden deck vibrated with each step he took.

“Greetings,” he boomed. “My name is Kostelius, current chief of the Pearl Singer Clan. Welcome aboard our beautiful home.”

He held out a massive calloused hand for a handshake that practically crushed mine in its iron grip.

“People know me as Acacius Duval, but you can just call me Acacius,” I said, pitching my voice louder than I would usually speak. “I’m not great with formalities, so I’ll ask for your grace and pardon in advance.”

Kostelius laughed and clapped me on the shoulder hard enough I nearly lost my balance.

“What formality is there to be had with a guest who has come with the honest intention to listen? Come, let us sit together.”

He led us into the cabin. The large windows lit the space with a bright but soft glow, illuminating the chairs, desks, and cabinets at the back of the room. However, the majority of the space was taken up by a square sunken floor in the middle of the room. It was lined with cushions for seating and large patterned rugs, all surrounding a low wooden table fixed in place in the middle.

Following Thunder’s lead, I sat down cross-legged on one of the cushions. in the seating area. Thais rummaged around in the cabinets and brought us metallic drinking vessels, wide at the bottom and narrow at the top, and filled them from a water spout in the wall. They had notches along the bottom that let them be fixed into holding spots on the table when she put them down.

Kostelius settled into his seat on the opposite side of the table from me.

“How was your journey here?” he inquired. “Quite unlike anything you’ve experienced before, I’m sure!”

“It was,” I agreed. “The boats and technology you have are impressive. It made me think to myself that the world is truly wide.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Excellent. I am truly heartened that you see the value in our ways.”

“Maybe not everything. There’s still much I don’t know,” I said. “This ritual you wish to perform, for example. I came here to learn more about how it is done, what effects it will have on the surroundings, and the challenges you expect to face. How does that sound to you?”

To some degree, I didn’t understand why they needed the Iyirian government’s approval or cooperation. If they decided to just do it, what could anyone else do to stop it?

“The story of the ritual, is it,” Kostelius sighed. He pulled open a drawer from the table and pulled out a pipe. “Now that is a very old story. To understand our reasons, we must go back a thousand years to the days of the [Red Flood], from whom one of the most reviled weather frames ever known was born.”

“A weather frame?”

“Indeed. It is known today by the International Frame Registry as the sacrificial flow frame, and has been outlawed internationally since the inception of the International Weather Treaty. I am sure you are familiar with this frame, yes?”

Kostelius fixed me with a sharp gaze.

“After all, it seems that you have already deeply stained your hands with it, yourself.”

Chapter 68 Chapter 70