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They had spent three days riding down a deep river that was flowing into the Merchant's Bay, with only a handful of fisherfolk living on its banks. The farther westward, however, the bigger the villages turned, and boats camping at dozens of small quays were getting bigger, too. At quays, one could always notice children play and wait for their fathers and elder brothers to return from fishing.

Arthur knew he and Mithian looked quite like some fisherfolk couple when they arrived at the first village, in their clothes soaked with moat and drain water. The radiated such a stench that three inkeepers had turned them down, cursing at them and promising the dogs would learn to talk before people like Arthur and Mithian would be admitted to their inns.

Were inns a safe option? Wasn't it better to sleep beneath the open sky? In truth, Arthur never saw an answer to questions he couldn’t shut down in his head. Nothing seemed safe, not even the chance to spend their night behind some castle wall. He was the king of Camelot and was accompanying princess of Nemeth on her run from her father's kingdom. Why, that almost sounds like a fairy-tale or a bedtime story. A prince saves a princess.

Except for in his case, everything was the opposite. It was Mithian who saved him, Mithian who guided him through drainage system of palace in the moat, and through the canals of Lydon behind the Rose Wall. They crossed the gates of the Brown Wall easily, for Lydon's watch implied heavy inspection of those who enter the city rather than of those who intend to leave. At a smaller town to the west, they bought two horses from the merchant who clearly charged thrice their price. But they had no time for bargains and paid what the man demanded. At least he didn't ask questions about our look and smell.

Arthur took the watch on the first night, listening to every noise in the darkness behind the door. He spent the night in fears, worrying that every bark of a dog could mean Rodor’s men had caught with them, and Arthur was happy to cross the border with Deorham on the second day of their ride. Nothing seemed to speak of the borderline, though, and Mithian's words about the absence of control proved right.

"I told you," Mithian said with a smile. "If you're looking for a vigilant king, you shouldn't come to Deorham."

A vigilant king was the last thing they needed, for Arthur was sure that by the end of the second day a part of Nemeth's court was probably sending horsemen to block the border with Nemeton and stop every maid, hoping to discover princess Mithian in disguise. Merlin must face no such problem. Nobody ever paid much attention to my servant, he can travel without fear of being recognized. Just stay safe, my wandering star, I promise I won’t fail you, I will be in Gedref on time. See that you’re not late, too. Else I’ll throw you in the stocks. And kiss you.  

Mithian's story had made Arthur think about all the terrible things that could happen to a kingdom and a king. Would such situation be possible under father’s reign? Would a part of court ever grow so strong that even a king like Uther would be helpless against their power and influence? Could their dominion over realm diminish the role of the sovereign?

Those were the thoughts that paved his way to sleep on the second night, but they all melted away when Merlin rose in his visions, smiling and running from him on the training field. Arthur was chasing him, trying to grab him, to pull Merlin into an embrace and never let him go so far from him again, but he couldn’t catch him. He just couldn’t.  

They reached the shore on the third day of their ride, and entered a large town called Seagate was spread by the deep-blue sea. Liberation was in the air, the fragrance of salty water mixed with sea wind that spoke of distant shores and adventures in unexplored lands. Mithian had bought sand-silk pants, woven grass sandals and a painted vest at the bazaar before they went to the docks. They lay in the poorer part of Seagate; as Arthur and Mithian followed the streets of modest brick houses, Arthur saw a lot more beggars than he'd ever spot in the Lower Town; the dogs were skinny, and children look underfed as well. A lot of people were standing beneath the arched doorways and watched them pass the street curiously, for even in her modest attire, Mithian did look beautiful.

The streets grew more peopled as they were approaching the docks through the district with grim stone warehouses, with bazaars and markets settled between them, and the world soon turned into a riot of colours, smells, shouts, whistles and clangor. There appeared whores and gaming houses on the streets, places where Arthur saw stiff lads enroll their names in the lists of trade galleys or pirate ships, depending on who was promising to pay more. Money-changers were shouting loud, trying to seduce richer walkers with better rates for gold to silver exchanged.

"Watch your purse," Mithian warned him. "Thieves are numberless here."

Arthur felt his purse sway on his chest beneath his tunic, together with moonstone. If there were thieves, they were not easy to tell by the look on their face. However, pirates were rather obvious; they were wandering around the kiosks and stalls, with drinks that smelled fiery and spicy. Arthur heard them trade jokes about whores, swords and sea gods.

Everything seemed to be for sale, everything could be sold and bought - if the two could agree on the price and if the buyer would not ask much about where the good had come from. Silver could acquire daggers, elixirs, gowns, swords, cherries, furniture, not to mention onyx and amethyst.

Mithian led Arthur past long stone and wooden quays where workers were off-loading goods and uploading them to sail on the evening tide. Princess explained that the most expensive galleys would stop at farther quays of the horseshoe-shaped harbor. The ship had sails of Trade Companies, of Pirates, of Cornwal, of Gawant, of Gedref and seldom of Deorham herself.

"We need to find an expensive ship," she told him. "Otherwise... the crew may sell us to the highest bidder. A good captain will always understand he can rather ask more from us once we reach Portstown. People who can pay much usually have more gold home."

"We can dismount his ship in Portstown and be gone," Arthur objected. "Why would he put any tru..."

"He will keep me aboard and wait for you to return with more gold."

And so they kept going from quay to quay, looking for the best ship that was sailing northward of the Merchant Bay. Finally, they found a captain of a rich trading galley that was sailing from Seagate to Portstown and then to Inkwave, the capital of Gawant. He was a stout, broad-shouldered men who agreed to let them aboard if they paid half the sum in advance. Arthur was ready to strike a bargain, but Mithian spent a quarter of an hour arguing with the captain and trying to lower the price.

"Why were you doing this?" Arthur wondered when they got on the decks.

"Arthur, we mustn't give the impression that we're ready to spend gold so easily. It's suspicious, everybody is trying to buy everything for a lower price at the market. We mustn't be an exception."

The galley was skimming the dark-blue waves, propelled by good-tempered wind that let the rowers rest for now. Mithian was holding the rails and looking out over the shore. Raunchy Mermaid had too low a setting and the captain didn't want to risk going into an open sea, and thus the shore line kept passing overboard. Sea agreed with Mithian, and Arthur enjoyed watching the wind play with her hair and the sunset-basked sheets of water mirrored in the sad black of her tired eyes. The sea swaying and foaming at the dark-brown and yellow coastline of Doerham.

“Have you ever imagined that at some point in your life you’d be fleeing your own kingdom on a trading galley with a prince whose claim on his own throne would be disputed?” Arthur asked as he approached to stand by her side and hold the rails.

“No,” she smiled. “No, to be honest, I’ve never dreamed of that. But I guess our dreams don’t always come true. Sad as it is.”

“You dreamed of ruling Nemeth one day?”

“Me? No, never. Gods be good, Arthur, I was the third child of a king, I never expected to rule. I grew up with different expectations,” she said, turning around and watching Seagate float away as the galley was taking her away into the unknown.

“What expectations?”

“Those of happiness. I really was a happy baby girl. I remember those days so well, they were the happiest time of my life, I think. I would live between Darkpine and Lydon all the time. Darkpine is where my mother comes from, it’s in the north-eastern Nemeth, close to the border with Nemeton and Balor. Oh, it was such a lovely place for a girl like me. I’d go hunting and… Well, I was growing up a dexterous girl, yearning for fighting, horse-riding, forest exploration. Come winter, I would travel to Lydon to live at father’s court. There it was all different. There they called me princess and made me sing and learn poetry, learn dancing with my nephews…”

“Your nephews?”

 Some people were still on the riggings since they galley had just begun its voyage into the evening, and golden paths of sunset stretching far west along the peaceful sea. The frenetic pace of crew’s activity that dominated the exit from the port of Seagate was fading the further Seagate was sliding out of view.  

“Father had been married before he wed my mother. He had two sons with Lady Constance: Devon and Armag. They were both men grown, they’d wed and had children by the time I started visiting Lydon,” even though Mithian tried to speak with respect, it was clear that the name of  her father’s first wife could force her to curse and spit and cry. “My brother Devon had a son of my age, his name’s Rabos. And my second brother, Armag, had a son Retvor, two years younger than me. But we had fun anyway. I called Rabos and Retvor brothers, not really understanding they were my nephews. Then came war with Essetir.”

“Cenred?”

“Cenred?” Mithian smiled, bemused by the sight of some fish accompanying the galley, jumping out of water now and then. “Cenred was a baby with his mother’s milk still on his lips when it happened. It was King Quichelm, Cenred’s uncle. He waged war on us, although in such a disgusting manner… He never invaded Nemeth. He invaded Kent and seized the road to Londinium. You know the road to Londinium?”

“It’s the great road, or so they call it. It runs from Gawant to Gedref to Nemeth to Kent to Tir-Mor,” Arthur repeated Geoffrey’s lesson by heart.

“Right. King Quichelm wanted to control this road in Kent and make us pay him great sums so that he’d let our merchants pass and use this road.”

“And your brothers went to war,” Arthur guessed.  

“Of course they did. They were princes, after all, they were meant to fight for Nemeth and to protect our land. Sadly, Devon and Armag both perished in war, and I became the heir to Nemeth’s throne. I was seven. It was after it that everything changed.”

“Devon’s and Armag’s widows?”

“Well, they were too consumed by grief at first. Father sent me to Irios, saying that Darkpine was too close to border with Essetir. And so mother and I came to live in our kingdom’s southern port, and I never traveled to Darkpine again. They stopped teaching me silly things like songs and poetry. They started teaching me how to rule. My brothers’ sons kept living in Lydon, under careful watch of the court and soon it became clear that there were too many people who’d rather see Rabos on the throne after my father… you know. And I wouldn’t mind. I couldn’t care less. But there were some merchant companies from the south who… who view this as an insult to the traditions of Nemeth. To our gods. To the stability of the kingdom. Our throne is always passed from monarch to eldest child, be it a boy or a girl. They insist that the tradition is followed this time, too.”

“Haven’t you… tried to make them understand you don’t want to be a queen?”

“That would be an insult against our faith and our laws, Arthur. I can be charged with treason.”

Tears were shimmering in her eyes, but there was something about the way she’d cry: it didn’t make her look weak, it made her look genuine. To think that I’ve laughed at Merlin who looked like he was about to cry at the sight of every stray kitten in the Lower Town…

“Well, I promise you, once… once I deal with Ryence, I will solve your problem, Mithian.”

“Thank you, Arthur. You are very kind.”

The sunset paths on the sea turned from golden to red. The coast line to the right was harder to distinguish, and to the left, the immensity of the blue sea was disappearing in the darkfall. For the first time since escaping palace of Lydon, Arthur felt safe. Time to go below decks and have some sleep.  

“Arthur?”

“What?”

“When you came to Lydon, you were wearing this… strange jewelry.”

“I don’t wear jewelry,” Arthur laughed.  

“Well, this gleaming stone. It’s very interesting,” Mithian smiled.

“Oh, it is interesting.”

“Is it a gift?”

“In some way, yes.”

“Does it come from this princess Elena of Gawant? Your betrothed?”

“I’m not sure she’s my betrothed any longer. She probably thinks I’m dead,” Arthur giggled when he recalled Merlin acting jealous in Ealdor. So now you’re telling me you’re betrothed? After all the time we’ve been together?! Merlin, you little jealous thing, if you ever play a joke with me again, I swear…

“But you still love her? That’s why you keep wearing her gift?” Mithian pressed the point.

I barely remember the way she looks.

“I… well, not really. It’s not her gift. But it’s from someone I love.”

And from someone I will drag to Gedref royal bedchambers and not let him out until we’re both satisfied. It’s been so long since….

“Oh, Arthur. I would give up my own kingdom to be so loved. By the way, why did this stone stop shining?”

Arthur hands were shaking feverishly when he grabbed the medallion with moonstone that was blue no more. Merlin.