Chapter 1

Nimbus and Grum, Lucent Deep

Boarding

            “Ahoy!” a seagull-like sailor called from the rail of a nearby skiff as Nimbus, Grum, and Thalarae crossed the creaking docks. “Going for a bit of sea voyage, are ya?” He hauled a coil of rope over an ornately carved oak railing on his own boat.

            “Yeah,” Grum said, bright as ever. “We gotta fix the sky.”

            Thalarae scanned the horizon. “Any chance this boat’s heading to the other side of the Endless Sea?”

            The sailor spat a laugh. “Ha. Not this ship, miss. You’ll be wantin’ old Trapbeard—he’s on the Scuttleback. We just fish here. If you can pay, he’ll take ye as far as Eldertrot.”

            Nimbus stepped forward. “Thanks.”

            A barrel toppled on a nearby deck, sending a shower of fish across the planks.

            Grum dug in his pocket. “Any cooked fish?”

            “Charcoal Snappers,” the sailor said, rooting in a barrel aboard his skiff. “Ain’t cooked yet, but pull the tail off ’em and they’ll be right quick.” He handed Grum a small, red-striped fish. Grum tugged the tail—there was a bright puff and a sizzle.

            “Ow—hot!” Grum danced it between his hands until it cooled, then bit in. His eyes went wide.

            “This is delicious,” he said. “I’ll take ten.”

            Coins clinked into the sailor’s weathered palm as he filled a sack with the striped fish.

            They moved along the docks toward the larger ships. Thalarae’s voice popped. “Scuttleback, Scuttleback, Scuttleback—where did I see tha… Aha!” The elegant ship had green hull with black-and-white trim. Long, deep scratches ran across the side. The captain was nowhere to be found, crewmembers loaded cargo.

            Muttering from behind, the captain brushed past them and nearly dislodged Grum’s half-eaten snapper.

            “Hey—watch it!” Grum protested.

            The weathered, scrawny man turned slowly around. He squinted at Thalarae.

            “You’re that bird-horse who caused that rumpus in the sky, aren’t you?” the captain said.

            Nimbus nodded. “That’s her. We need to cross the Endless Sea. Captain Trapbeard?”

            Trapbeard paused, as if fishing his own name from memory. “Aye. We don’t take passengers—not for free. If you’ve coin, we’ll talk.”

            A small, hopeful grin flickered across the captain’s face when Nimbus produced a heavy sack of coins. “Welcome aboard,” he said. “If you want extras, you work for ’em. Otherwise, the quarters’ll do.” Two Seagull Sailors shouldered a heavy crate past them.

            They climbed the gangplank and were met by a salty wind. Crates and barrels crowded the deck. Grum worried they’d be treated as cargo. The captain turned a corner and disappeared down a flight of stairs into the hold of the ship. Nimbus went first.

            A narrow corridor lined with rough wooden doors led to a single small cabin. The door opened on a room barely wide enough for the three standing.

            “Bunk’s mine!” Grum trumpeted, already peering in. Captain Trapbeard explained, “Supper’s aft on the second deck. Your ration chips are in the box. You get more each week—use them wisely.”

            Nimbus noticed a cylindrical glass tube mounted on the wall with a small hatch. Inside sat a dull, cup-shaped container with grooves on either end. Grum was at the tube before anyone could stop him.

            “Close it when you’re done,” the captain warned. “Pull the cord twice to send. I’ve got to work—off in an hour.”

            Grum dumped a handful of wooden square tiles from the tube into his palm. “Square meals—get it?” Nimbus chuckled; Thalarae rolled her eyes.

            A chalkboard hung by the tube; small pieces of chalk rested in divots on a narrow shelf. The bunk and hammock were clean but well worn. A porthole framed a sliver of another ship in teak and yellow trim. In the corners, a small table bore stacks of paper and strange green pens. A narrow closet held blankets woven of gray wool with a green stripe edge, a lantern, and three strange tools that were part brush, part harpoon. Behind the door hung a crooked coat rack, and a bucket that carried an unpleasant smell. At the foot of the cot, a clunky bootlocker sat with a flat top and a wooden latch.