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“You did it!” Traveller Kwan threw her arms open, the bells on her cloak chiming. “I knew you could.”
“Barely,” Jonnit said, but he was grinning. She’d found him sitting on the stairs up to Burza Nyth’s seawall, too exhausted to get any further. Way off in the distance, he could hear the cheers and shouts of the joust. He wanted to be there for the end of it, to see Gable kick Youngblood’s ass, but...his legs felt like jelly, and he wanted the smell of salt out of his nose first.
“Ah, the results are all that matter.” Traveler Kwan put her hands on her hips, looking at the wall like she could see all the way through it to the ocean on the other side. For all he knew, she could. After a moment she turned and pulled him into a hug. “Well done, Jonnit Kessler.”
Her cloak smelled like rain clouds and funnel cake. Jonnit hugged her back, swamped by another wave of realization that he’d just fought the Mariner. Or a projection of him, at least. Which was more than enough as far as Jonnit was concerned.
Traveler Kwan helped him up, eyed his shaky knees for a moment, and then passed her sword-staff-thing over. “Don’t break anything.”
Jonnit looked between it and her a couple of times, wide-eyed. “Uh, I mean, are you sure? I can just—”
“You just saved the city, Jonnit,” Traveler Kwan laughed. “And we’ve got a long way to walk today.”
“Are—uh, do we? I feel like—where are we going?” Jonnit leaned on the staff maybe more than he wanted, an uncertain swooping feeling in his stomach.
Traveler Kwan pulled back a little, studying him more seriously. “I thought—sorry, if I made a mistake. You mentioned wanting to learn, right? Come back to the monastery with me.”
“I— oh, wow. That’s a very...it’s very kind of you.” Jonnit knew he was stammering, but he couldn’t seem to make his thoughts go straight. The idea of leaving the Uhuru was too big. The thought of leaving Gable and Travis alone to deal with the Captain—with Dref’s—that thought was even bigger.
“Ah,” the Traveler said. She put a hand on his shoulder. “I see. It’s all right. You’ll find us when you’re ready.”
“You’re right,” Jonnit said quietly. He heard a great shout go up from the direction of the joust. One of the griffons was visible, circling high over the arena. He couldn’t tell who it was at this distance. “I do want to learn. I want to know how to do stuff like that,” Jonnit gestured back towards the sea behind them. “And I want to know how to do that cool fog thing you did, and just...all of it. But right now, it feels like my place is somewhere else.”
Traveler Kwan nodded. Her bells chimed seriously. “It’s not easy, being part of the Liquid Swords. But I have seen you, Jonnit Kessler. You’ll come to us, sooner or later.” She leaned over to kiss his forehead, right where the eye twitched under his scarf. Jonnit felt some kind of spell settle over him, strengthening his legs and settling his heart. Gently, the Traveler took back her staff, and he was able to stand now without it.
“How will I find you?” Jonnit took one shaky step, and then another. Traveler Kwan seemed unable to keep still— she kept shifting her weight back and forth, tiny dancing steps that set her cloak to jingling as she kept pace with him.
“Oh! Right, yes.” She thought about the question for a moment, taking three steps for every one that Jonnit managed. If she was tired at all from the ritual they’d just conducted, she didn’t show it. The streets were empty, black flowers scattered across the ground for this district’s Aur Piora.
Traveler Kwan pulled a scrap of paper out of her bag, and one of the bottles on her bandolier popped open on it’s own. Jonnit stopped to watch as the dark ink slink through the air and fall onto the crumpled paper in ribbons. “Just follow the river west of Burza Nyth,” the Traveler said, holding the paper out so Jonnit could see better. “You’ll get to the Ambershine Mountains. There’s a waterfall, and after that, well—” she stopped abruptly, and the stylized outline of the mountains was obscured in the right corner by a splash of ink. “You’ll figure it out.” She held out the paper again, and this time Jonnit took it. Burza Nyth was in the lower left corner, an outstretched griffon’s wing pointing west. The river itself was a ribbon of black, splitting into islands and converging again, growing steadily towards one line into the mountains.
Jonnit was not at all sure if he could get there from here, but he nodded seriously to the Traveler. “Thank you.”
She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. The rest of the floating ink disappeared into its bottle, cork dangling neatly by a tie. “Take flight, Jonnit Kessler.”
He managed to smile back at her. “Take flight.”