Tundra

The white bindings dissipated. The chalk was just chalk again, just scuffed up dust on a still dustier floor, marred by the footsteps of the Apprentices as they were dismissed. The candlelight was low and soft. The room could have been set up for reading, late at night with the curtains drawn on the galleon moon outside, which turned clouds into shining nebulas as she passed, sailing on silver water. Soon, everyone had departed. Even Eiron and the fish man went before me down the stairs, sneaking out of this Tower setting back into the favourable cover of night. Only one person remained in my office, apart from me. As I watched curiously, the Apprentice who had offered up the map snatched by eager hands came forward. She was small, almost stunted in growth, with mousey brown hair that looked slightly lank even by forgiving low light.

‘I want to come with you,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘I want to come with you.’

‘Who are you, and what do you want from me?’ I asked hastily. Where do you think I’m going? Wait…’ I turned around as it slowly dawned on me. ‘I know you. You’re the Apprentice who summoned me! You brought me that accursed message!’

‘Yes, Sir.’ The girl had the respect to bow her head for my misfortune. ‘My name’s Hackley. Master Olsson recognised me as one of yours…’

‘Well, you’d better come along.’ I held the door open for her, and the girl ducked through. I supposed I could make use of a loyal Apprentice, given that everybody else at the Tower had become so cold to me. It certainly didn’t hurt that this was another person who had been thrown out of Blackmouth, and so, to my mind, a sympathetic ear. ‘So,’ I asked, ‘Why do you want to come with me?’

‘No real reason,’ she said evasively. ‘I just want an adventure.’

‘And Hackley, is it?’ I asked. ‘What Hackley? Hackley who?’

The answer was as plain as the girl. ‘Just Hackley, Sir.’