Wolf finally rolled over to his side and lifted himself up, giving Tran a glare hot enough to melt steel. Siobhan had no doubt that later—when they were out of her sight and hearing—there would be revenge.
Well, as long as they didn’t kill each other. Shaking her head, Siobhan looked around. They’d reached the end of the path without mishap, bless Grae’s skills, and had come to the outskirts of Converse. Siobhan had been in, through, and around this city often enough to know it at a glance. Converse sat at the very northern tip of Robarge, placed at the opening of the Grey Bridges that connected to Island Pass and through the island to Wynngaard. To label it a ‘trading city’ would be a severe understatement. Despite that, it had never become particularly large. Goldschmidt took up three times the amount of land Converse did and saw far more livelihood. Most people passed through Converse and did a little business as they went, but few chose to stay.
But then, the high tides of the Mother Ocean could likely be blamed for that.
People who wanted to stay on the cart did—Fei actually went back to sleep—but most chose to dismount and continue walking alongside. Siobhan studied the city as they angled their way across the wild grassland and toward the stone highway. Quite a bit of traffic went up and down the road, either leaving Converse for another destination further east or heading toward the west with plans to pass through. The western gate leading into the city stood wide open and traffic flowed through unchecked. From here, only the tallest structures remained visible beyond the high stone walls. Bells tolled out over the city, telling the time, and she could faintly detect the smells of food baking, all of it saying no trouble lay ahead. She never quite knew with this city whether they’d be walking into a dangerous situation or not.
After all, everyone had to go through Converse to reach Robarge. Good and bad alike.
“Seems peaceful,” Wolf said quietly from behind her.
“Let’s hope it holds true,” she responded just as quietly. Now, next important thing to consider: how much time did they really have? It took a solid eight hours to cross the first section of the Grey Bridges and reach Island Pass. Siobhan always tried to give them an hour’s leeway just in case something went wrong—like a wheel unexpectedly breaking—so they didn’t face the dangers of being left out on the bridge when the tide rolled back in. Centuries ago, when the bridges were first constructed, they were meant to be passable at all times of the day and night. But over time, the seas had risen, cutting the travel time down significantly. If you wanted to pass safely and not face being swept away by the ocean, you crossed at low tide. By the time high tide came in, the bridges would be awash under several feet of seawater.
Now, let’s see…the bells had tolled out the ninth hour just now. By the time they reached the bridge itself, it would likely be closer to ten. Thereby leaving them eight hours until nightfall. Ouch. On the one hand, they’d had new moons just two days ago, so the tides wouldn’t be as high as during full moons. If they walked quickly and didn’t have any difficulties in crossing, they’d make it to Island Pass. But just barely.
On the other hand, every day that passed without them actively searching on Wynngaard made their rescue that much harder. Did she dare delay for a full day in Converse and wait to travel over the bridge in the morning?
Siobhan stared sightlessly ahead and weighed the pros and cons. “Grae!”
Her Pathfinder came around the cart and stopped long enough for her to catch up to him before falling into step. His eyes scanned her face, reading her like an open scroll, and guessed, “You’re not sure if we have enough time to cross today.”
“How high is the tide likely to be?”
“Not as dangerous as the last time we crossed,” he assured her. “It’ll take a full hour after sunset before the bridge is truly covered in water. I think we have enough time and even a little leeway if we need it.”
He knew tides and seasons better than she. His pathfinding ability depended on such knowledge. Humming thoughtfully, she mulled that over before raising her voice slightly to ask Beirly, “Bei, how sure are you