The red waves churned under the bow of the ship, much like Tristan’s stomach. That wasn't right was it? He had thought he was over being seasick. Why again? Would the cursed ship ever make it to port? Would he, Tristan, son and heir of his lord father, ever make it to land? Sailing was a stupid idea.

One of the sailors laughed at him. Tristan scowled and relaxed his grip on the railing. How many days had it been now? They said it was a short crossing, but it had been days...maybe even years. Birai wasn’t that far, was it? On clear days, he had been able to see the mountains along the horizon.

“Are you dead yet?” Kay’s voice drifted in from the place where all sounds had gone.

Tristan groaned and curled up on the deck.

“You can’t eat, if you’re like that. Sit up a bit. The cook gave me some ginger root.”

“Ginger root?” Tristan opened an eye. Kay was squatting next to him, holding out a chunk of peeled ginger. “Are you teasing me or does it actually work?”

Kay frowned and ran a hand through his black hair. “Why would I tease someone who was feeling sick?”

“Because that’s what friends do—tease each other,” said Tristan.

“People don’t just suddenly become friends.” Kay sounded exasperated. “It’s not like magic at all. I don’t know what other weird ideas you’ve got and I don’t want to. We’re passing out ginger to everyone again because we don’t want to cart you off the ship when we land in a few hours. Happy?”

“Land?” Tristan sat up. The world swirled. Bile rose in his throat. Tristan clutched the railing and vomited into the scarlet waves.

“You ok, there?” Kay tapped him on the shoulder. “Land’s that way off the bow. Watch for it and don’t forget to eat this.” He shoved the peeled ginger into Tristan’s hand and strolled away. Pausing on the stairs, he grinned over his shoulder. “And remember what I said about not falling in.”

Tristan managed a weak grin back. “I would never do something so stupid or clumsy,” he said. Kay gave him a peculiar look and disappeared onto the main deck.

Turning back to the rail, Tristan gazed towards the horizon. It had been so cloudy the last few days. Were those clouds or mountains? Where was the land? He chewed on the ginger root. That section seemed darker than the rest. Maybe that was land.

He stood at the railing, waiting until he was quite certain it was indeed land. Tristan sighed. At last, he would be in Birai—where no one knew him and he could do anything he wanted. Tristan shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a notebook.

The town of Luer was an unimpressive port. Although it had a deep harbor, it could never compete with cities like Ekre which had a fresh river. Luer’s main export was deadwood and it’s primary import was fresh water.

Tristan tapped his notebook with is finger. Fresh water was expensive, as was deadwood. The biggest question right now though was how dead did deadwood need to be before the ocean would cease to disintegrate it? He made a note at the bottom of the page and glanced around the deck. No one seemed to have noticed. He slipped the book back into his pocket.

The dark mass was much larger now. Tristan could finally see which white lumps were clouds and were mountains. He licked his lips. If he went up into the Windlass Mountains, there were sure to be problems that needed a hero to solve them. He would head there next after he went to Ekre. He couldn’t tell anyone though—not even Kay. Any of the other passengers, or even the sailors, could be working for them.

Tristan’s heart raced and he giggled to himself. It would be so much fun if he outwitted them and got away. Of course, he had to let them nearly catch him once or twice. What good was a hero without an enemy chasing him?

The ship’s gong sounded the landing warning. Tristan scrambled below deck to collect his few belongings. The other passengers—a couple of men and some women—barely looked at him. He had made sure to keep his distance from them. You couldn’t trust strangers when you were fleeing from an unknown enemy.

Tristan grinned as he climbed back on deck. Should he say goodbye to Kay or not? The heroic thing would be to say goodbye now before something terrible happened. Or he could always just leave and not say anything. That sounded even more tragically heroic. He’d do that.

The ship slid in next to the wharf. Ropes were thrown about in a very sailor-like fashion and tied off with far too many hand motions. A board was balanced on the rail and ropes tied around everyone’s waists. There was to be no last minute falling into the sea. Death was bad for business.

Tristan paused a moment on the gangplank to look around. All heroes needed to pose in high places, especially when entering a new city. It was probably to let enemies spot them more easily. He would have stood there longer if the rope hadn’t tightened around his waist to pull him along. He jumped the last foot and landed in the port town of Luer.