In the afternoon, the ship’s bell rang. Together with her parents, Anira left the cabin. She stayed close to her father and avoided all contact with the ferry’s crew. When she reached the rail, she saw a rugged, white stripe on the horizon: the White Cliffs of Varna. Anira wasn’t very impressed, but when the riverbank came into view, she suddenly realized how high the cliffs actually were; even higher than the stronghold towers in her hometown. The harbor of Varna, looming up to the right of the rock formation, seemed tiny to her. In the distance, she could now also make out the massive trees of the Linar Forest.

The ferry reduced its speed and turned slightly to the right to approach the harbor from the south, along the cliffs. While they moored, the sails were reefed. The cabin boys fastened the hawsers to secure the ship. Even though the riverbank was much higher than back at Lavinyord, Anira had a wide view from the deck. There was a broad dirt road that started behind the storehouses in the harbor and led west through the pastures to her uncle’s settler village, Varna. The village was smaller than she had expected. It consisted of a small circle of houses around the village square and a few clusters of larger houses in the nearby hills.

Tiyodor preceded Anira and Irma down the gangplank. Anira heaved a sigh of relief when she set foot on dry land. She looked around. Most of the dockworkers weren’t doing much. They listlessly smoked their pipes from within the storehouses that surrounded the docks and gazed over at the people disembarking the ferry. There was a peculiar scent in the air, the same scent Anira had smelled in the cargo hold of the ferry. Tiyodor and Irma exchanged a brief glance. The other passengers didn’t seem surprised by the inactivity and proceeded in the direction of Varna, either on foot or on horseback.

‘What’s going on here?’ Irma asked.

Tiyodor didn’t reply. Shaking his head, he turned towards the ferry and watched Captain Yelgar leading his men out of the cargo hold and making them stand in formation on the quay. One of the cabin boys led Doriyan and her parents’ horses ashore. Anira was shocked when she saw it was the boy with the scar on his neck. He came up to them and handed her the reins of her horse. ‘Not a word,’ he hissed while he bowed for her. ‘I’m watching you.’ He gave Tiyodor and Irma a cordial smile when he handed them the reins of their horses and walked back to the ferry. Anira wrapped her arms around Doriyan’s head and hid her face in his coat.

A rider slowly approached on the dirt road. His hair hung over his shoulders in wet strands, and he had grown a beard, so Anira had to look twice to be sure. The royal crest on his jacket assured her that it was her uncle.

Ervingal seemed startled when he recognized Anira and her mother. He stopped right in front of them and raised his fist at the head foreman of the dockworkers, who was also smoking a pipe. ‘Get to work!’ he yelled. The men gave him an indifferent look, but then the foreman raised his voice and put them to work.

‘The King has sent me workers,’ Ervingal said softly. ‘Criminals who have exchanged their prison sentence in the prison towers of the Black Archipel for convict labor in Varna.’ Ervingal dismounted, shook Tiyodor’s hand wearily, and nodded at Irma. ‘I didn’t know you were bringing Irma and Anira with you.’

‘We wanted to surprise you,’ Irma said. She turned towards Tiyodor. ‘Criminals?’ she hissed. ‘What were you thinking, bringing your daughter to this place?’

Tiyodor gave his brother a sidelong glance. ‘I didn’t know.’

Ervingal smiled wryly and looked up at the sky. Dark clouds were gathering above them. ‘Welcome to Varna.’

Irma turned around without saying a word and mounted her horse. Tiyodor leaned towards his brother. ‘What are these folks filling their pipes with, Ervingal? Nightshade? During the day, while they’re working? You can’t be serious?’

‘By orders of the King.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I’m sure you’ve heard about the loggers who have disappeared - very violent men - and about the lootings,’ said Ervingal. ‘According to the King, the nightshade will help ease our fears.’ He looked at Tiyodor. ‘I can show you the royal order if you don’t believe me. In the meantime, a lively trade in that rubbish has sprung up.’ He gestured toward the group of cabin boys emerging from the cargo hold, who were carrying jute sacks ashore to the head foreman.

‘Damn it, Ervingal! So, you made me and my guard come out here because your own men are too befuddled to defend themselves?’ Tiyodor climbed into the saddle.

‘Don’t make the mistake of underestimating this enemy, brother. Most of the workers the King has sent us are hardened criminals, many of whom are murderers or rapists, or both. If the missing loggers really have formed a gang, we need to be on our guard.’ Ervingal mounted his horse and led the way to the village.

Anira followed the party in silence and was enthralled by everything she saw around her. The grass of the pastures between the coast and the forest was long and the thorns of the tangled bramble bushes by the roadside were big and jagged. In the distance, the Linar Forest loomed up ahead of them, its immense foliage towering high above the houses of Varna.

To the left of the village, a part of the forest had been cut down. A wide strip of land filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of dead tree trunks stretched out over several hills. The same thought occurred to Anira as when she had been watching the Narwhals. What gave the Mano, even their king, the right to mutilate and destroy the Linar Forest?

When they reached Varna, instead of riding straight into the village, they turned right. They followed the outer reaches of the village until the ground started to slope up. Then a large house loomed up, situated on the ridge of a hill adjoining the settlement. A flag had been affixed to the roof. When they came closer, Anira could make out the King’s crest embroidered on the royal blue fabric. She rode up the slope ahead of the party and saw something move behind the windows. Before she knew it, her youngest cousin Little Gavin came running out the door.

‘Anira? Is that you?’ His dark hair was tousled, and little wisps of curls stuck out in all directions.

Anira pulled back the hood of her cloak and laughed. ‘Little Gavin?’ she called teasingly. It had been his mother’s pet name for him, but later the whole family had adopted it. ‘You’re nowhere near as little as I remember.’ She dismounted.

Little Gavin ran to her and hugged her. ‘How nice to see you!’ His face was beaming, and he had dimples on his cheeks. ‘Wait, I’ll go get my brother!’ And with that, he ran back inside.

Anira handed the reins of her horse to one of Ervingal’s servants and walked to the covered porch at the front of the house. She felt a little jolt in her stomach as she climbed the steps. When she reached the top, her cousin Dunkan appeared in the doorway. He was tall and his tunic hung loosely over his shoulders. His jaw had widened, making his cheeks look hollower than the last time they had met. Yes, he had grown older; not just his body, but the look in his eyes was more mature as well.

‘Anira, what a surprise,’ he said. He remained in the doorway. ‘Have you had a pleasant journey? Did the storm cause any problems during the crossing?’

‘No.’ She had to stand on tiptoe to be able to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thanks for your letters,’ she whispered.

‘Thank you too.’ He smiled, but his expression remained serious. ‘Come in quickly, so you can warm yourself by the fire.’

Little Gavin grabbed Anira’s hand and pulled her into the living room. The fire was burning, and two housemaids were setting the table. Apart from a mirror, there were no decorations on the walls. The furniture was plain, and it looked as though its assembly had been a rush job. Anira cast a glance at Dunkan, who stood silently beside her.

Behind them, Ervingal and Anira’s parents entered with the luggage. ‘Dunkan, could you show Anira one of the guest rooms, so she can freshen up before dinner?’

Dunkan carried her bags upstairs and led the way through a lengthy hallway. He opened a door that gave entrance to a small guest room at the back of the house. While Anira took off her wet traveling cloak, Dunkan threw her bags on the bed. She looked around contentedly and inhaled the scent of the dried lavender in a bowl on the windowsill.

‘You can get changed, and then I’ll see you at dinner shortly.’ Dunkan smiled cautiously. ‘It’s too late now, but if you’d like, my brother and I can show you around the village tomorrow.’

Anira nodded. ‘Wait…’ she said when he turned around to leave. ‘Were any Guyin bones ever found during the construction of Varna?’ she asked. ‘The inn at Lavinyord had a Guyin skull hanging over the fireplace.’ In her mind, she saw the gigantic creatures from her dream; their teeth driving into her flesh. Was it a vision or just a figment of her imagination?

Dunkan frowned. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I know that I haven’t found one. Those are all fairytales if you ask me.’ He walked back towards the door. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

It was already starting to get dark, but from the chair by the window Anira had a lovely view of the pastures to the north of the village. Directly below her window there was a small courtyard and a little stone shed with a forge built against it. In front of the forge lay clay casting molds, a variety of hammers, and a whetstone. Ervingal clearly hadn’t abandoned his passion for swordsmithing. In the courtyard stood a thin birch tree with dozens of scores in its trunk. On the ground beside it lay three bent bronze swords.

Anira put on a dress and plaited her hair. After that, she left her room. From downstairs, she heard the voices of her family, who were already at the table. She smoothed down the pleats in her dress and descended the stairs. She had to stifle a smile when she felt Dunkan’s gaze traverse her body. Then she took a seat across from him at the table. While dinner was being served, she looked out the window. It had gotten dark outside. The only illumination came from the oil streetlights in the village, which cast a shadowy light on the grass in front of the house where the soldiers of the guard were setting up camp.

‘What is it that you want from me, exactly?’ Anira’s father asked Ervingal during dinner.

‘The escaped loggers are looting our storehouses and stealing our cattle. We have to put a stop to this as soon as possible, otherwise the Varna village council will demand my replacement.’

‘Why do you want to stay here so badly, Ervingal?’ asked Tiyodor. ‘Why don’t you just go back home and resume your duties as the palace master swordsmith?’

There was a profound silence.

‘My wife…’ Ervingal said slowly. ‘I can’t go back home. Not now she’s gone.’

Anira looked at Dunkan and Little Gavin. They were both hunched over their plates and kept their eyes fixed on the tabletop as they continued to eat. Dunkan suddenly resembled the quiet boy she had known a few years ago.

Ervingal tried to hide his grief. ‘In spite of all the problems here in Varna, I’m still grateful that the King has assigned me this task. I want to be the one to turn this settler village into the city the King desires.’

Tiyodor nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘In order to achieve this goal, peace needs to be restored in Varna. We need soldiers to guard the village boundaries, and the forest needs to be searched. I think it might even be wise to provide the villagers with arms.’

‘The latter sounds a bit drastic.’

‘Don’t you think the villagers should be able to protect themselves if need be?’ Ervingal eyed Tiyodor earnestly. ‘I’ve told you about the sort of people we’re dealing with. We can’t take any risks.’

‘All right,’ Tiyodor sighed at long last. ‘My guard and I are fully at your disposal. Let’s continue this conversation in your study, so that we can discuss the matter quietly.’

Tiyodor and Ervingal ignored the remaining scraps of food on their plates and left the room. A hush fell over the dinner table. Anira saw how Dunkan and Little Gavin managed to relax somewhat again. How could Ervingal be so blind to the grief of his two stepsons?