The Blunt Reaper

"Could be a few hours," the ferryman added. "Could be several days."

"That seems like something you should have mentioned before we boarded."

"Would you have preferred staying with the mermaid?"

Mara looked toward the nearest bench. Several travelers appeared to have been waiting long enough to establish temporary homes around themselves. One had rolled out a sleeping mat. Another heated something unpleasant in a dented pot while his companion sharpened a spear.

"How do you know when the sea has turned?" she asked.

The ferryman tapped the dry channel with the end of his pole. "Water appears."

"And then?"

"We leave."

"Immediately?"

"If we want the current."

"What happens if we miss it?"

"We wait for it to return."

"When would that be?"

The old man considered the question. "Last time, six months."

Mara stared at him.

Rook walked toward the registry walls. "That's why we aren't missing it."

The records occupied nearly every available surface.

Names had been carved into the walls, columns and stone slabs arranged in long rows throughout the chamber. Some entries appeared clean and recent, their grooves still pale from the chisel. Others had been worn smooth by moisture, hands and time. Metal plates covered several sections where the underlying stone had become too damaged to read.

Mara ran her fingers beneath one list. "Why carve all of it?"

"Paper burns," the ferryman said. "Ink fades. Travelers drown. The ones who return sometimes lose the memories of where they went."

"So the island remembers for them."

"It tries."

Rook had already begun searching.

The records were arranged by current, departure point and intended destination, although generations of changes had left the organization imperfect. Some routes had been renamed. Several Bastions no longer existed. Other settlements had moved, been rebuilt or changed ownership so often that entire sections were covered in corrections.

Each entry contained a name, rank, companions, destination and intended route. Reports had been added beneath those who returned. Some were only a few words.

ARRIVED SAFELY.

CURRENT SHIFTED.

THREE LOST.

SHORE DEVOURING TRAVELERS.

DO NOT FOLLOW THE BELLS.

One record listed sixteen names beneath the departure. The return report contained only one.

CAME BACK ALONE. WOULD NOT SPEAK.

Another entry had been deliberately carved away, yet deep scratches beneath it suggested that someone had attempted to restore the names from memory.

Mara searched the nearest wall. "What year did the expedition leave?"

"Voss gave me three different answers."

"Of course he did."

"Two hundred and twelve years ago. Two hundred and forty. Or sometime before the loss of the Seventeenth Bastion."

"That isn't much to work with."

"The Seventeenth disappeared two hundred and twenty-eight years ago."

"You remember that?"

"I was nearby."

Mara waited for more.

Rook moved to another column.

"What happened to it?" she asked.

"It disappeared."

They divided the records by time. Mara began with expeditions that had departed shortly before the Seventeenth Bastion vanished. Rook searched those that came after. The ferryman wandered away, spoke briefly with one of the workers behind the registry counter and returned carrying three stone rubbings preserved beneath oiled cloth.

Hours passed.

The channels flowing through the floor changed speed several times. One gradually emptied, its water retreating toward the sea despite the surface beyond the building remaining level. Another overflowed and filled a shallow basin carved around it.

The third remained dry.

Mara found seven reported sightings of Yama's Gate.

Two had been dismissed as false. One group discovered an ancient stone arch and lost four people trying to force it open. Another expedition followed a light across the sea until their boat entered the mouth of an Abomination large enough to resemble an island.

A fifth record described an actual gate, though the traveler who reported it had lost every memory except the conviction that he had failed to reach it.

The remaining two possessed no return reports.

"Did anyone ever find the Gate twice?" Mara asked.

"No," Rook said.

"Then how do we know it's the same Gate?"

"We don't."

She looked across the countless names carved into the chamber. "How many people have died searching for it?"

"I'd rather not answer that…"

"That was unnecessarily grim."

"Factual still…"

Rook stepped toward another stone slab. It stood near the end of the eastern-current records, partially concealed behind a later addition to the wall. Several routes carved upon it began at the Last Anchorage before splitting toward inlets along the eastern coast.

Mara moved beside him and raised the lantern.

The slab recorded an expedition of eight Reapers.

The letters were worn but readable.

CAPTAIN ORSON VALE

OFFICERS: SEVEN

PURPOSE: INVESTIGATE REPORTED APPEARANCE OF YAMA'S GATE

THIRD CURRENT TO THE BLACK INLET

PROCEED INLAND TOWARD THE FORTY-SECOND BASTION

LAST REPORTED ROUTE: THE HOLLOW ROAD

Mara read it twice.

"This is it."

Rook did not answer.

He followed the route carved beneath the expedition. A later report had been added beneath the original entry.

ARRIVAL CONFIRMED AT BLACK INLET.

EIGHT TRAVELERS PROCEEDED INLAND.

RECEIVED AT FORTY-SECOND BASTION.

NO FURTHER CONTACT.

The expedition had not disappeared at sea. Captain Orson Vale and all seven officers reached the eastern shore, travelled inland and arrived at the Forty-Second Bastion. Their trail ended only after they continued toward the Hollow Road.

Mara felt the first genuine spark of relief since they entered the Eighty-Sixth.

"We have a route."

Rook remained silent.

His attention had shifted from the expedition report to the list of officers beneath Orson Vale's name.

His finger stopped under the fourth.

HARLAN CROWE.

Mara noticed the change in his expression. "You know him?"

"I've seen the name."

"Where?"

"The Eighty-Sixth."

She stepped closer and examined it. "One of Voss's Reapers?"

"He became one eventually."

"Then he returned."

"Apparently."

"But the registry says there was no further contact."

"It says the expedition stopped reporting. That doesn't mean every member died."

Mara looked from Harlan's name to the intended route. "That's how Voss knew about them."

"Part of it," Rook said. "Enough to pretend he knew the rest."

"He probably heard everything from Harlan."

"Or took it from him."

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