Root barked and twirled in a circle. And so, gathering his nerve, Barclay summoned his Lore to lift the cap off his palm and hold it in the air.

Instead, the cap shot into the blustery winds and pattered across the wooden floorboards.

“Bad luck,” the captain said while Barclay scrabbled to grab it.

Barclay nodded, embarrassed to have an audience. But he hadn’t summoned wind on his first try either. He only needed practice.

But the second attempt was no different. And the third time, the cap went flying so high, Barclay had to scramble to catch it before it could plunk into the ocean.

Bewlah sang all the while:

There once was a wee little chap

Trying his Lore on a beer bottle cap.

The girl could conjure a flash.

His friend could zap men to ash,

But the little one’s attempts were all—

“Bewlah!” the captain bellowed. “Be nice.” While Barclay’s cheeks burned, the captain told him kindly, “You got tricky Lore, is all. What kinda Beast is he?”

Root puffed his chest out at being addressed.

“A Lufthund,” Barclay said.

“So he’s Prime class, then?”

Lore Keepers categorized Beasts into five classes, depending on how strong their Lore and how rare they were to find.

“Root is Mythic class, actually,” Barclay answered. Mythic class included the most powerful creatures, second only to the six Legendary Beasts. No doubt the captain thought an apprentice who couldn’t control their Lore must only have a Beast that was Prime or Familiar class.

But the captain whistled. “That’s impressive, especially for a kid your age. But I shouldn’t be too surprised, if the Fang of Dusk is your teacher. Bewlah is just Familiar class, and I never studied hard enough when I was young to get a Guild license myself.” He reached his hand out to shake. “My name’s Ulick O’Hara. I transport goods from the mainland to the islands of the Sea.”

“Like the Isle of Munsey?” Barclay asked, remembering what Viola had called the Sea’s capital.

“Yes, sir. Munsey, Dunsey, Coad, Glannock—all of ’em, really. But it’s Munsey where we’re headed now.”

Barclay wondered why Tadg had claimed Ulick was nutty. He didn’t seem like it.

“How long until we get there?” asked Barclay.

“It’s about three hours, once we pass the Shifts.”

“The Shifts?”

“That’s the beginning of the Sea. Should be coming up on it any— Oh! It’s in sight now.” He pointed out past the bow, and chills prickled up Barclay’s spine when he saw what Ulick meant.