“Your gold’s no good to me, Tristan.” Felix pushes my hand away. “It is I who owe you a gift. I have just the thing!”
He stands from the crate he’s sitting on and shifts objects around until he finds a box about six inches wide. Like a good salesman, he opens the lid with a flourish of his hand and waits for our reaction.
My initial thought is: what am I supposed to do with a bunch of tennis ball sized pearls?
Then Thalia cries out. “Are those sea-horse eggs?”
“Very good,” Felix says. “Though, without the father, about as useful as a paperweight. Pretty, nonetheless.”
The only time I saw a sea horse, it wasn’t the tiny curled things that fit in a fish tank. He was huge, greedy, and slick with a long snout and fins for ears. He had great forelegs with talons and a great tail that curled back into his spine as my grandfather, the Sea King, fed him. His name is Atticus, supposedly the last of his kind, and he belongs to Thalia.
I hand her the box, and the sheer happiness on her face makes the fox bite worth it.
“So…” I stand, holding out my hand for Felix to take. “Will you take us?”
Felix chuckles giddily. Suddenly I can picture him running around a ship searching for his Infinite Abyss. He makes sure his crates are locked and waves to us over his shoulder.
Wind blows through the tent flaps, carrying with it the chatter of the market and the sudden blare of instruments. Felix leads us out of the tent into the red glow of the sunset and the chime of the cathedral bells.
I wonder who it is,” Kurt says, matching my pace beside me.
“And how the champion could reach her if the two entrances are blocked.”
“That’s the end of the world question.”
We weave through the market crowd fairly unnoticed. A woman in a bright dress tries to pull me into the dancing in front of the church, but I pull away and keep my eyes on the road.
Felix walks with Thalia up ahead, probably discussing sea-horse eggs, behind a silent Layla and Gwen who take turns glancing over their shoulders at me.
Past the church, up the hill we go. I remember the jagged coast as we docked. Up close, the houses lean against each other for support. Everyone, it seems, is leaving their homes and heading to a celebration in the square. Couples holding hands. Families with their children. It all turns my stomach into knots. What if I’m too late?
“Why won’t you tell us about her?” I ask abruptly. Despite Kurt being my ally, he’s still such a mystery. I know that when their parents died, Kurt left Thalia at court. His journey brought him to this oracle who led him into slaying dragons to avenge his parents’ deaths. Thalia said he’s tight-lipped about it. Then he returned and resumed his life at court and in the guard until my grandfather charged him with my protection.
Kurt keeps his eyes on the road. “I told you what to gift her, didn’t I?”
My hand goes to the bag of glittering rough-cut jewels in my pocket. “I mean, like what to expect.”
“That I can’t do.”
“Why?”
“Because no two experiences are the same.”
He goes quiet again. The more we climb the hill, the better view we have of the sunset, the ships waiting in the shadows of the dock, the white surf crashing against jagged rock.
“Here we are.” Felix stops in front of beat-up double doors that belong to a saloon right out of a Western. “I ought to warn you. Do not offer nothing you won’t want to part with, and that includes your personal limbs. Do not gamble with fishermen, unless you’re seasoned, like yours truly. Most importantly, tip Reggie the barkeep. He’s part troll and can have quite a temper on him.”
“Are you not coming in?” Thalia asks.
Felix shakes his head. “Me wife’s making meatballs.”
I hold my hand out to him again. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Felix pats my hand, ready to go back to his regular life, to his wife, to a supper to come home to. I wonder if their conversation will start: “How was your day, dear?” Then I’ll become a memory, the guy who saved him a few bucks on his inventory. That’s what all of these things are, memories.