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After the melee at the Red Lantern was over, and after the three men who had tried to carry Camille up the stairs had been smashed unconscious by single blows of one of Big Jack’s massive fists, Camille no longer objected to him being about. In fact, after but two nights, his very presence meant that when Camille took the stage a quiet would descend, for Big Jack would stand up in the center of the throng and glare all ’round; and a hush would fall over the boisterous crowd, each person there wondering if he was the one Big Jack was getting ready to maim. And then Camille would begin to sing, and Big Jack would smile and sit down, to a great sigh of relief. And her singing brought laughter and tears to the eyes of captains and crew alike, and even the ladies of the Red Lantern would pause to listen, some weeping softly. And now and again, as she had done in Les Iles, Camille would sing to a wee sparrow.

As before, at the conclusion of every performance, she would ask if anyone there knew of a place east of the sun and west of the moon, and though sailors and masters looked at one another, none could tell her where such a place might be…

… And thus did eighteen days pass, eighteen blossoms withering to vanish since Camille had been in Leport. Twenty-one blossoms remained on Lady Sorciere’s staff, new splinters and cracks yet riving the stave with the coming of each new day.

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!” cried the lad. “The harbormaster sent me to fetch you. He says to tell you the South Wind has come.”

Over Scruff’s chirping objections, Camille snatched him up from his breakfast of grain, and she grabbed up the staff and followed the lad out from the common room.

Down to the docks she hastened, following the trotting lad, and he led her to one of the piers, where was berthed a ship fully as large as the Higashi No Kaze had been.

Yet this ship had a pointed prow, and her lines were long and low, though a high deck arose at the stern, and a smaller one at the bow. She was three-masted, and brown was her color, her furled sails brown as well. Her name was written on her prow in serpentine letters, letters which Camille could not read. Her crew was dressed in long, flowing robes, their faces dark brown, some nearly black beneath their colorful turbans. At their waists they bore sharply curved swords as well as curved and keen-pointed knives.

Jordain stood on the dock with a small, dark man dressed in pale brown robes, sandals on his feet. He had black hair and a black beard, as well as a flowing black moustache below his quite aquiline nose. His black eyes lit up as Camille approached.

Jordain said, “Lady Camille, this is Captain Anwar, master of the Hawa Kibli. Raiyis Anwar, I present Lady Camille.”

“ Chp! ”

“And her sparrow, Scruff.”

Anwar laughed, and, with a great flourish of his right hand, he deeply bowed. Camille curtseyed in return.

Then Anwar smiled, white teeth showing. “Lady Camille, Harbormaster Jordain tells me you seek a place?”

“Yes, Master Raiyis, I do.”

Again Anwar smiled. “My lady, ‘raiyis’ is the word for ‘captain’ in my native tongue. Please, call me Anwar.”

“And you, sieur, please call me Camille.”

Anwar made a small gesture with his hand, somewhat like the flourish of his bow. “Now, about this place you seek.”

“All I know of it, Captain Anwar, er, Anwar, is that it lies east of the sun and west of the moon.”

Anwar shook his head. “I know not where such a place is. In fact, unless it moves, unless it cycles on a crystal sphere of its own, somehow gliding between those spheres upon which the sun and the moon do ride, I do not know how such a place can even be.”

Tears brimmed in Camille’s eyes, and Anwar took her free hand in his and said, “I am sorry, my dear. Yet do not yield all hope, for strange is the realm of Faery, and your place might be real after all.”

Then Anwar turned to Jordain. “Is the Aniar Gaoth or the Nordavind in port? Or the Higashi No Kaze?”

Jordain shook his head then added, “The Higashi No Kaze sailed away some days past, and Lord Hirota did not know where the place she seeks might lie.”

Anwar nodded. “Then perhaps it is written that the Elves will know

… or the iron-bearing Dwarves.”

“Elves? Dwarves?” asked Camille.

Anwar nodded. “Jordain told me of the riddle you have: ‘There are winds that do not blow, but flow across the sea.’ Camille, many are the vessels in Faery named after the winds, but only four of these are great ships of the sea. If any would know where this place you seek might be, it would be the captains of such. Yet, alas, the master of the East Wind did not, and I, master of the South Wind, know not either. But there are two ships left: the Aniar Gaoth — the West Wind — is a vessel with an Elven crew; her master may know, for he has travelled wide, as has the Dwarven master of the Nordavind — the North Wind. ”

Camille gestured at the harbor. “But Captain Anwar, those two you name, they are not here.”

“Nevertheless, Camille, it is the trading season, and they will come soon or late.”

“Then let us hope they come soon,” said Camille, “for if they come late, it will not matter.”

Another fortnight did pass, fourteen more blossoms gone, when came the word that the Aniar Gaoth had docked. Again Camille rushed to the pier, following the lad that Jordain had sent, Big Jack now striding after, for he had decided Camille needed protecting in the day as well as the nights at the Red Lantern. And so, down to the docks they did go to where the Elvenship lay.

She was long and low and slender and sleek, her bow knife-sharp, her stern club-blunt, her hull a deep blue. No fo’c’s’le nor stern castle did she bear, but instead low decks fore and aft. And her three masts were tall and raked back, with yardarms wide and many. She would carry an enormous amount of sail, all of it now full-reefed, though Camille could see they were pale blue and with a sheen like that of silk. She was half-again longer than either the Hawa Kibli or the Higashi No Kaze had been.

As to her crew, Elves were they all-alabaster skin tinged with gold, tilted eyes in narrow, high-cheekboned faces, tipped ears, and lithe grace. They were armed with glittering swords, and horn-limb bows and deadly arrows, and long-handled, gleaming spears. Silks they wore, and satins, and they spoke in a lilting tongue.

Jordain was waiting. “Welcome to the West Wind, ” he said. Then he escorted her up the gangway, Big Jack following in their wake. Elves paused in their activities to watch this golden-haired maiden with a sparrow on her shoulder pass by, many smiling, some essaying courtly bows.

Jordain led her aft, then down a short ladder to a passageway below-Big Jack bending down to keep from bumping his head-and into a captain’s lounge. At a chart table centermost, a flaxen-haired Elf pored over scattered maps, and he looked up as they entered.

“Cabhlaigh Andolin, I present Lady Camille; my lady, Captain Andolin.” Jordain glanced at the sparrow and added, “And ere he objects, on her shoulder is her companion Scruff.”

Andolin made a courtly bow, murmuring, “My lady,” and Camille curtseyed and replied, “Captain.”

Andolin looked at Scruff and smiled, then turned to Big Jack, who thrust out a hand and said, “My name’s John, but all call me Big Jack.” Andolin’s clasp was swallowed in Big Jack’s grip, and the Elf seemed glad to get back his hand whole.

Andolin then turned to Camille. “My lady, Harbormaster Jordain has told me of your riddle and of the place you seek.” He gestured at the scatter of charts on the table. “Yet I find nought to satisfy your quest, for I think no place can exist that lies east of the sun and west of the moon, not even in Faery.”

Camille burst into tears.

The blossoms withered one by one, until all were gone but one. And there was but one great ship left whose captain might know. Camille no longer had the heart to sing, though she felt she must. Yet night after night none in her audience could tell her where was the place she sought. And every day she had haunted the docks, watching the harbor entrance, watching for her last hope. Yet the Nordavind did not come and did not come, as the blossoms withered away until there was left but one.