Bee tugged down my skirt, which had gotten ruched up past my knees. “You slept through most of the journey. It’s as if you had actually been stunned.”

“You were stupefied,” added Rory helpfully, turning to address me. “Then you started making smacking noises like you were trying to kiss someone, or had turned into a fish. You didn’t start howling until you reached dry land.”

“Rory and I had to drag you and the chest out of the Great Smoke and onto warded ground, right there on that little island. An oysterman saw us and brought a rowboat to help us to shore. This kind fellow agreed to convey us.”

“That’s all very well, Bee, but it doesn’t answer my question.” My legs were sticky and my skirt was damp. Bee had gotten my wool jacket onto me, although she hadn’t buttoned it. I chafed my arms and hands, trying to warm up. I was exceedingly grateful for the sun, however weak its light and heat seemed compared to the blazing sun in Expedition. “Where are we?”

“Why, dearest,” she said with a triumphant smile, “we’re on the road to Adurnam. We’ve reached Europa.”

13

The rain caught up with us as we reached the outskirts of Adurnam. By the time we reached Westmarket we were soaked through, and the downpour had left Bee’s curls plastered to her neck. Vai’s dash jacket was creased and sodden and, worst of all, Rory had burned the cuff with ashes from the wagoner’s pipe. I had begun shivering so badly I didn’t have the energy to scold him.

The wagoner reined up at the edge of the bustling fish market just as the rain ceased. Wagons and carts trundled in from the marshy Sieve, the vast estuary of the Rhenus River.

“This is as far as I come, lasses.” He cackled, tapping his hat against the driver’s bench to flick water off the brim. “You had me half believing those lively tales you spun about the foreigners over the ocean who allow girls to run about half naked kicking a ball. As if females wouldn’t just hurt themselves trying to play such games like men.”

Irritation warmed me as I clambered off the wagon. “I was not making it up! The game is called batey. You don’t kick the ball, because it’s not allowed to touch the ground. Women play it in leagues, just like the men, and people come to watch.”

“Folk come to watch, as if they were men! I’d say for another reason, ha ha! Women ruling and men bowing and scraping to stop from being scolded! I’m as likely to believe this tale of an Assembly of representatives voted on by every person in the city. As if a prince would allow that!”

I spoke through gritted teeth. “There is no prince in Expedition.”