A soft splash of parting waves signaled the end of the calm. The ship swelled majestically with a vast expanse of snow-white sails and began to glide across the blue mirror of the sea. I let out a heavy sigh; soon we were due to arrive in Kliechi. Unlike the overwhelming majority of passengers, I was sincerely enjoying the voyage. Even all the journey's inconveniences—the cramped, wretched cabins and the revolting food—could not spoil my pleasure. The sea always reminded me of my parents.

  All my scarce childhood memories were filled with the salt breeze, the rhythmic lapping of waves, the smell of tar and ship's rigging. Father was constantly traveling and always took mother and me with him. I vaguely remembered his silhouette as he bent over the mysterious measurements of celestial bodies, while beyond the railing, the endless sea roared. I sometimes even fancied I had been born on a ship, not on solid land. I shook my head, dispelling the unwelcome sadness. My parents had been gone for a long time.

  Behind me lay the noisy capital, the horrors of war, the church hospital. Ahead awaited a new posting in Kliechi and a meeting with my mentor. At the thought of Father George, a warmth spread in my soul. He had taken the place of my parents, and it was only thanks to him that I had become who I was. I had become an inquisitor.

  "Inquisitor, sir! Inquisitor, sir!" A breathless cabin boy was tugging at my sleeve, pulling me along. "The captain asks you to come to the mess deck at once! There's trouble..."

  The boy had been taken aboard at the port of Uchmelek, where we'd put in to replenish our fresh water supplies. He called himself the bard Jozef, entertained the wealthier passengers, and had quickly charmed the ladies among them. I was particularly grateful to him for completely freeing me from the tedious attentions of the burgomaster's wife, Mrs. Eldari. That perpetually displeased matron had taken a strange liking to me, constantly finding excuses for conversation, seeking my advice, and wearying me with endless fretting over her daughters' futures. After the bard's appearance, however, she had forgotten all about me, utterly captivated by his songs and tales.

  Nevertheless, I disliked the bard. There was something odd about him, a barely perceptible abnormality, though I likely judged him too harshly. So, when the cabin boy brought news of trouble, my thoughts immediately turned to the young man. Yet, what I saw in the mess deck surpassed all expectations.

  Mrs. Eldari was writhing on the floor, her body convulsing, her face a deep crimson, froth bubbling at her lips. The scene was so surreal that I froze for a moment, utterly stunned. The crowd in the mess deck had huddled fearfully in a corner; no one was trying to help the poor woman. And the most dreadful part was that Jozef kept on singing as if nothing were amiss. His mournful melody, one that seemed to rend the very soul, enveloped my consciousness in a thick fog, numbing my mind and senses...

  I shook myself, casting off the strange stupor, and commanded: "Stop! Silence him!"

  My shout jolted the others. The people stirred, exchanging glances and whispers, and someone finally seized the boy by the arm. The song was cut short at last. I rushed to Mrs. Eldari, cradled the back of her head, gently brought her rigid, wooden-like arms together, bent them at the elbow, and carefully rolled her convulsing body onto its side. The violent tremors were already subsiding, her breathing evening out. I looked into her pain-clouded eyes and began a prayer to the One, starting with the words: "Repeat after me."

  Her whisper, initially slurred and faltering, gained clarity and confidence, buoyed by the steadiness of my voice. I helped the poor woman sit up just as her maid rushed over, wailing and lamenting. Fear and horror hung in the mess deck, amplified by the stunned silence of the others. The captain cleared his throat and dared to break the quiet.

  "Master Inquisitor, what is to be done now? Is she... a danger? Should she be confined?"

  Mrs. Eldari answered him with a wrathful glare, opening her mouth to put the insolent man in his place, but she stopped short, noticing how the other passengers were looking at her. I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my thoughts.

  "The bout has passed. There is no danger now," I replied calmly. "It would be best for Mrs. Eldari to retire to her cabin and rest."

  The captain shook his head doubtfully; on the others' faces was a disgusted fear. People usually saw madness as an absolute companion to witchcraft, breeding additional terrors and rumors. I had seen many madmen—wretched, sick souls tormented by their own minds, doomed to a miserable existence either in church hospitals or in voluntary seclusion, hiding their affliction from the world. But witches... Their madness, amplified many times over, and a mind surrendered to the power of demons, made them difficult to distinguish from ordinary people.

  I caught the greedy gaze of the boy-bard fixed upon me. His blue eyes had darkened; he hurriedly averted his gaze and made haste to leave the mess deck.

  That evening, Captain Lakatos invited me to his cabin to share a glass or two of wine. I agreed, glad for the chance to wash away the foul taste of the ship's water. It spoiled with unbelievable speed during a voyage, taking on a faint taint of rot by the third day. The captain's quarters felt cramped, cluttered with a jumble of belongings. My gaze was instantly drawn to a large, detailed map spread on the table, triggering a sharp pang of longing for my father. He, too, would bend over charts just like that, calculating, sketching coastlines with cryptic notations, muttering mysterious numbers under his breath...

  "Master Tiffano, yes, yes, have a seat here, let me just clear this," the captain nodded, slightly flustered, as he hurriedly swept a cheaply bound adventure novel from the bunk. "We'll make Kliechi by morning. Saved this bottle for the voyage's end."

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  He poured the garnet liquid, fragrant with southern grapes and hot sun, and handed it to me, saying, "To a blessed shore."

  I nodded in agreement and took a grateful sip.

  "Master Inquisitor, in my time I've carried all sorts of passengers, but I must admit, I'm at a loss this time..."

  "You mean Mrs. Eldari?"

  "Yes," the captain nodded gratefully. "Exactly. She's the burgomaster's wife... I've no wish to quarrel with him, you see, Kliechi is the Antonika's home port..."

  "I will personally attend to the matter," I reassured him.

  His rough-hewn face, as if carved from a single block of stone, visibly brightened.

  "In my old age, I'm looking to buy a little house in Kliechi. There's even a widow waiting for me there. A quiet, pleasant town. What more does an old man need?"

  "Won't you miss the ship and the sailing?" It seemed utterly impossible to me that anyone could willingly give up the sea.

  "You young folk think it's all romance and adventure. In truth..." He sighed. "I feel the weather changing now without a barometer. When my bones start aching, a storm's coming... Even now, my lower back is aching so, I..."

  I offered a sympathetic smile and gestured toward the map on the table with its cluttered navigation instruments.

  "I remember how my father dreamed that one day ships might cross the ocean, guided by the stars..."

  "Who knows... That's a matter for the young and the reckless. I, too, was tempted—bought this newfangled gadget from the Admiralty in the capital. Could never quite figure it out. Not as young as I used to be..."

  "May I take a look?" I stared greedily at the curious device, which seemed vaguely familiar.

  It was a metal ring, marked with degrees and suspended from a thread, with a sliding bar passing through the center of the circle.

  "Of course, please," the captain stood and took the ring by its thread. "You're supposed to sight a star through it, move the bar, and then read the angle marked by its intersection with the gradations. Something like that... Only, try holding it steady in a swell... I'm too old for such tricks..."

  I frowned. The silhouette of my father on the deck, and behind the stern—the endless sea and an equally boundless, immense sky, as if a bucket of cold stars had been overturned onto the world. My father stood holding… no, not a ring… a cross-shaped instrument… But he was most certainly measuring the stars…

  "May I try?" I asked uncertainly. "I thought my father used something similar, but I can't remember clearly… I was just a child…"

  The captain smiled indulgently.

  "You're mistaken, I'm sure of it. These have only been in use for about half a year, ever since the Holy Consistory permitted Knyaz to equip the first expedition to cross the ocean. They say…" Captain Lakatos lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. "They say that in the new lands across the ocean… just imagine… they do not believe in the One."

  "That cannot be," I dismissed confidently. "Nevertheless, I would like to test the mariner's ring. Let's go on deck…"

  The night sky was clear, generously bestowing its cold starlight upon mortals, obscured only by clouds on the horizon. I planted my feet wide for balance. The swell was slight, but keeping the heavy ring steady proved a surprisingly difficult task. The North Star, the brightest and most easily distinguished, fell into the center of the circle, but I fumbled for almost half an hour before confidently announcing to the captain: "Forty-five degrees of altitude for the North Star."

  "Let's calculate now," the captain bustled over the map. "We are currently about two hundred miles from Kliechi. The latitude should be… if we take the celestial altitude… the azimuth… Yes, indeed! It matches!"

  I smiled with satisfaction, carefully winding the cord of the mariner's ring and handing the instrument back to the captain with a touch of regret. Had I not taken my vow of service to the One, I might have been a sailor now…

  "Master Inquisitor," the captain, fired up by a tipsy idea as if he'd read my thoughts, grew animated. "This is the third voyage where I can't find a decent navigator. The last one drank himself senseless in Uchmelek and missed the ship… Would you consider joining me for the next voyage? I saw how your eyes lit up at just the sight of the maps. Why waste such a calling? The One would not begrudge you serving Him here, at sea, guiding ships with a steady hand through storms to safe harbor. And think—I am old; someone will have to take my place soon… Why not you? Wouldn't you wish to one day cross the ocean and set foot on new lands, bringing the light of faith to the natives?…"

  I shook my head regretfully.

  "Alas, it is impossible. I have sworn a vow to the One and cannot break it. Thank you, Captain, for allowing me to remember my father. May the One bless you." I made the sacred sign and nodded to the captain, indicating that further persuasion was futile.

  The man left, grumbling discontentedly under his breath, while I remained on deck, my eyes aching as I stared at the North Star and then at the darkening sea horizon merging with the sky. Part of the sky was now obscured by clouds, evidently heralding the very storm that ached in the captain's bones.

  A faint rustle behind me made me turn, and the next moment, someone collided with me and shoved me overboard. Icy waves closed over my head, cutting off my cry. I surfaced, gasping for air and mustering the strength to stay afloat. I shouted, trying to draw attention. The cabin boys were supposed to be on watch, taking turns to flip the heavy hourglass, but they often fell asleep, exhausted by the hard work... I yelled with all my might, trying to swim toward the ship's massive bulk and grab onto something. A lantern was lit on the overhanging stern, and a cabin boy's shadow darted about. He peered intently into the darkness. I redoubled my efforts and was finally spotted.

  Alarm spread on deck, sailors rushing about. They lowered a rope and hauled me aboard. The captain was deeply troubled and upset. Unfortunately, I hadn't seen the assailant's face, though I had my suspicions.

  That night, the storm broke. The ship was tossed like a helpless toy by the cruel elements, and lightning struck one of the masts. Panic mounted among the passengers; I heard frightened cries about God's punishment for the madness onboard. I had to call the alarmed crowd to order, distracting them from dark thoughts with a bright prayer of hope. Fortunately, Mrs. Eldari had the sense to lock herself in her cabin and stay there. The bard was also notably absent among the praying.

  The morning was remarkably clear and pure, much like Jozef's eyes. He looked at me with surprise.

  "I know it was you who pushed me. Why did you do it?"

  "I swear it wasn't me!"

  I advanced on the boy threateningly, forcing him to retreat toward the railing.

  "Your songs have a strange effect on people. Don't deny it. I will have to—"

  "Master Inquisitor," Mrs. Eldari interjected, appearing out of nowhere. "What are you saying? Jozef is a very talented and well-mannered young man. Why would he push you overboard?"

  The woman looked rested, with no trace of yesterday's terrible bout on her face.

  "Mrs. Eldari, I believe his songs triggered your recent attack..."

  "What nonsense!" she exclaimed irritably, frowning and biting her lip. "It was just nerves and terrible food. To think I traveled all the way to the capital! All they talk about is the latest fashions, but there's nothing worth seeing! Ugh!..."

  "Mrs. Eldari..." I began warningly, sensing I was about to drown in another torrent of useless chatter. "I will be forced to—"

  "I understand perfectly," the woman nodded. "My husband's gratitude will know no bounds if this... little incident remains between us."

  "This is outrageous!..."

  "He will soon be hosting a grand reception for the city's nobility. Attending it would be extremely beneficial for an ambitious young man like you. We will send you two invitations. You can expect the warmest welcome. Where did you say you plan to stay?"

  "I... I don't know yet..." The words escaped me involuntarily. "Demons, cease this! Don't you understand you're putting yourself in danger?"

  Mrs. Eldari patted my cheek patronizingly, as if I were a child, and smiled.

  "Master Tiffano, you are so young..." she sighed wistfully and turned to Jozef. "Come along, my dear. We must discuss and select the songs you'll perform at the reception. Oh... it will be a sensation..."

  She took the boy by the arm and led him away, slipping slightly on the deck still wet from the night's storm. Jozef followed obediently, but near the companionway, he slowed and looked back. Our eyes met, and a knot of dread tightened in my stomach—a foreboding that this was not our last encounter.