Ahead of them, he could just make out the headlands of the city. Behind them, stretching far above like an infinite wall of sea, was the rest of the ocean. Dunsany tried not to think about it, tried not to think about how they could be sailing up a frozen wave that was not a wave. Instead, he concentrated on the line of ships ahead as they guided them towards a bustling port.
As the ship guiding them docked, the Llothriall moored alongside and the captain of the vessel leaped across to greet them.
The man was dressed in dark clothes; a vest of black silk and leather breeches that were inscribed with a pattern of intertwined flowers. His ears and eyebrows were heavily pierced and Dunsany couldn't help but notice the ridges beneath his vest that told of more piercings on his torso. The captain held out a many ringed hand, the back inked with a tattoo that appeared to show the sun rising out of the shadow of Kerberos.
"Well, this is a surprise. And a pleasant one."
Dunsany took the man's hand. "I'm Dunsany, the captain of the Llothriall. This is my second-in-command and resident mage, Kelos. Behind us stands Silus, Ignacio, Jacquinto and Father Maylan. Below we have Katya and Emuel."
"And Zac." Silus reminded him.
"Yes, and Zac. Newly arrived in this world."
"A most diverse and unusual crew," the captain said. "I'm Winrush Searah Jaxinion, child of Kerberos and Archduke of Morat. But you can call me Win. May I ask how just the nine of you manage to crew such a vast ship?"
"Ah," said Kelos. "That's because this is no ordinary ship. It is based on ancient elf design."
"Yeah, but we sort of broke it." Jacquinto said. "Well, something broke our eunuch. Anyway, it's a long story."
"Indeed. Clearly you gentlemen are tired and hungry. I think that we can converse more easily over some refreshment and a decent meal. I'd be honoured to have you as guests at the palace."
"Palace?" Jacquinto said. "Now you're talking!"
"That's a yes then? Splendid. Follow me gentlemen. And welcome again to Morat."
As soon as Dunsany stepped off the gangplank and onto the cobbles of the Morat docks, his legs told him just how long he had been at sea. They felt filled with the water upon which he had sailed and on each step he overcompensated for the rolling deck that was no longer beneath him.
Kelos watched him lurch down the street for a moment, before supporting him with an arm around his waist.
"Come on, we can stagger like drunks together."
Behind them followed the rest of the crew with Silus at the rear, his arm round Katya, who was carrying a squealing bundle close to her breast. She looked more tired than any of them, and her footing was less sure. Dunsany only hoped that Win could provide a suitable bed at the palace for her.
They followed Win along narrow streets hemmed in by tall buildings. There was a face at every window and doorway they passed. Most turned away at the first glance though, expressions of disappointment on their features, as though they had expected the strangers to be more exotic, maybe even creatures of a different race. Dunsany understood and shared their disappointment. Here they were on a previously uncharted island and the people around him could have been his fellow countrymen. The buildings that towered above them looked as though they could have been built from Turnitia stone. When they had planned the voyage, he and Kelos has been full of visions of fearsome new lands, peopled by strange beasts and promising exotic treasures. But what they had found was merely more of their own kind.
Dunsany had to concede, however, the fact that Morat rode on the back of a vast wave really was impressive.
It took a long time to move through the outer districts of the city, as Win insisted on stopping every few minutes to shake the hands of his subjects and inquire after their well-being. It seemed that he knew almost everyone they passed on a deep personal level.
"This you must taste," he said, stopping at a market stall and handing each of the crew a small pastry, before paying the trader.
"For the love of — " Ignacio exclaimed after taking a bite. "Well, I think that I may no longer have any taste buds."
"My eyes are watering." Dunsany said.
"Indeed, it is a little bit tart," said Father Maylan, finishing his pastry in two bites.
"Fantastic aren't they?" Win said. "Worth stopping for I think. Anyway, onwards."
Eventually the narrow streets turned into wide thoroughfares which started to descend in a series of terraces. Win led them through a district where the buildings were lower and larger than those near the docks, each displaying a lavish garden, through which rang the sounds of children playing and water trickling.
"This is the education district," Win said. "There are many specialisations. That building there, for example, is the Institute of Mechanised Puppetry. And over there we have the School of Salinity Studies."
"Sorry, but are you saying there's a place where you can go to learn how to measure the saltiness of things?" Dunsany said.
"Well, yes. Of course." Win said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "There's a school for pretty much every discipline."
They carried on downwards, negotiating flight after flight of precipitous stone steps. Dunsany noticed that in a dark alcove beneath each were candles burning in front of what appeared to be shrines. On closer inspection he found that in each shrine there was a carving depicting Kerberos; most often with the sun edging out of its shadow, sometimes with the added symbol of a ship sailing away from the planet.
"You wish to make an offering to the Allfather before we enter the palace?" Win said.
"No. It's just interesting to see that Kerberos holds religious significance for the people of Morat. It is the same on Twilight, although I'm sure that your church is much less dictatorial than our own."
They were leaving daylight behind now. Even though the sun was still a long way from setting, very few of its rays reached this deep into Morat. They had descended to the city's lowest levels and the streets here were lit with torches that gave off a curious fragrance as they burned, reminding Dunsany of the Allantian spice markets. Fewer people moved through this district, and those that did were attired in clothes which marked them out to be officials of some sort.
"Welcome to the palace of Morat," Win said.
"Palace?" Jacquinto said, looking about him. "Where?"
They had stopped in front of a dark wood door set into an unremarkable wall, which followed the curve of the street on either side and stretched high above them.
"After you, honoured guests," said Win, opening the door.
The palace was as modest on the inside as it was on the outside.
They entered a damp stone corridor, lined at regular intervals with more of the aromatic torches. The only concessions to luxury were the rugs that lined the floor, but even these were threadbare and black in places with ground-in dirt. As the crew crowded into the cramped space Win closed the door behind them and then shouldered his way through the group — apologising profusely all the while — before leading them along the corridor.
They followed the curve of the wall round to the right, occasionally passing doors, from behind many of which they could hear voices raised in what sounded like theological or academic argument.
"Ah, the chaos of the ministries," Win said. "Politics was never my thing I'm afraid. Which I suppose may be deemed a bit of a disadvantage for an Archduke. But one can't help it if one is born into a role."