The old woman looked like she wanted to say something, but then Runa, Edwyn, and Tadg walked toward him, and she ducked away.

“The good news,” said Runa, “is that we’ve found someone willing to take us to Munsey.”

“The bad news,” Tadg grunted, “is that his brain’s leakier than these boats.”

The man in question appeared behind them. He was hugely tall, with a parrotlike Beast on his shoulder whose glittering scarlet feathers matched the man’s red beard.

“Why, hello there,” he greeted them, bending low to be more level with Barclay, who only reached the man’s chest. “I hear we have some stranded Lore Keepers in need of a ship.” He grinned, his wooden pipe bobbing from his mouth. “It so happens that I’m a Lore Keeper too. And I love sailing during a storm.”

THREE

An hour later, Barclay offered Yasha a wooden bucket while Yasha puked off the starboard rail of the Bewlah. The vessel was medium-sized and flew tattered, graying sails made of a bunch of different fabrics patched together. Bewlah, the parrotlike Beast who was the ship’s namesake, sang a limerick at Yasha while perched atop his head.

There once was a boy with blond curls

Who couldn’t sail without needing to hurl.

Without a latrine,

His face had gone green,

But a bucket he might give a whirl.

Barclay tried to swat the Beast away, but she paid him no mind.

“Sorry about Bewlah,” the captain apologized from where he stood at the helm on the upper deck. Though the ship seemed large for a single sailor, the captain was so large himself that he must’ve counted as at least two extra crewmen all on his own. “She’s mighty rude to children. Doesn’t like them.”

At that, Bewlah began pecking at Yasha’s ears.

“Get off me,” Yasha grumbled, swatting at her. Bewlah flew to the sailor’s shoulder. Then Yasha seized the bucket Barclay had offered and threw up in it. He uttered a quiet, grave thank-you, and Barclay gave him space and slinked off to join Root at the bow. Root lapped his tongue as the sea breeze ruffled his black fur.

“Hey, buddy,” Barclay told him. He slumped against the ship’s rail and scratched Root behind the ear. This was supposed to be his first grand adventure, yet he couldn’t shake the image of the angry villagers from his mind. Over a whole season had passed since he’d been thrown out of Dullshire, but for some reason, the wound felt painful and raw all over again.

Sensing his misery, Root nudged his head into Barclay’s side, bumping into the conch shell stowed in his pocket. Barclay took it out. Even if it had been a gift, it was just a useless, superstitious charm. He should probably pitch it into the water.