Chapter 30: Sounds of a Flute
Nathan walked towards the Grace of the Mists with the rest of the Heirs and Jaus following close behind. He was more aware of their escort's presence than ever since Davion’s warning about the Oligarchs. Of course, Davion had also warned him about the ship he was currently approaching. The rakish vessel had made haste to reach Litcliff, and was commonly involved in Questor business. That meant they were probably there for Nathan one way or another.
In all likelihood, they’re carrying assassins sent from afar. Or the entire crew is after us. Who knows, they might be pirates.
He considered diverting the Heirs away from the ship. But if this was going to come down to a fight, then it might as well happen on their terms. He’d rather face an enemy head-on than be attacked while they were resting.
Of course, it’s always possible that they hauled ass here because they’re on our side. Maybe Brox sent them?
He considered that. It seemed unlikely for Brox to put that much thought into things. The Questor wasn’t a planner - if he wanted to protect Nathan from assassins, he’d come himself. Though Nathan was pretty sure he couldn’t. The terms of Badud’s death meant he couldn’t return to the continent for decades, and the same was likely true for Brox.
As they approached, Nathan heard faint flute music. It was thin and ethereal, like a faint caress on the edge of his attention. The sound stayed the same volume as they came closer to the three-masted ship, indicating there was a skill at play. The Grace of the Mists was longer than The Pride of Davion but with a much narrower hull, more reminiscent of a supersonic aircraft than a castle. Three masts speared up hundreds of feet from the ship's deck, each carrying four horizontal yardarms for sails. But there was a suspicious lack of sails and rigging. The ship was made from a naturally white wood, and the combination made it look nearly skeletal.
Once more Nathan took the lead, noting the pair of gangplanks and heading towards the one closer to the back of the ship. That seemed to be closer to the source of the mysterious music. Just before he set foot on the gangplank the music cut off and a petite woman appeared on the deck, looking down on him with an intense expression.
She appeared no older than Nathan and was dressed in a diaphanous white gown that reached to the ground, cinched at the waist with black ribbons. Her long white hair blended into the ephemeral fabric of the dress, and the skin of her neck and face was similarly pale and pallid. Her auburn eyes and similarly-painted lips stood out in the sea of white like beacons in the fog. A crown of blackened branches topped the ensemble, woven together through her hair. She held a flute in her left hand, made of the same white wood as the ship.
Nathan blinked at her exotic appearance, but the woman said nothing. She seemed happy to let him start the conversation. He looked up to her and opened his mouth awkwardly. “We are looking for the captain of this ship. Eolinne?”