The slightest error in setting up the ship would send it and its crew crashing into the side of the mountain or face being dragged along the desert floor. A mistake in navigation meant a desert crash and death. The spices they carried fetched the highest prices and each successful flight over the desert brought a fortune to the captain and crew. The most successful of these sky-captains was Bombastus Euphrates, captain of Hurricane’s Handmaiden.
“Crazy, that one,” said a woman in the market. “I won’t let my man sail with him even if we’d be all the richer for it. He takes too many risks crossing the Hopeless Desert.”
“Hopeless Desert?” asked Ulrik, “I heard it was called the Desert of Hope.”
“Hope?” she laughed. “Ain’t no hope in that place; nothin’ but more’n a thousand miles of desert and rock. Nothing lives there. You fall over the skyship’s side and you’re dead. That place claimed many a good man, like my brother, Solomon.” She moved away, embarrassed by her tears appearing in front of strangers.
After a while they decided that more could be learned if they split up. Barty decided to return to the harbor even though it remained a dangerous place. They needed information and harbor fronts are always full of news. Ulrik took Edgar back to the inn with instructions to wait for his or Barty’s return since the pair of them stood out too much.
Ulrik felt drawn to hike the road up the cliff. The steady climbing strained his legs. Even though they had been in the city for a while, they were not yet used to the constant ascending and descending the thousand stairs they met at every turn. Up and up he climbed, noticing that as he moved higher, the houses grew larger and more palatial. The people he met wore finer clothes and carried themselves more elegantly so that he felt out of place, an odd feeling as he was of royal blood. Eventually, he passed by the houses of the wealthy and discovered more rocks and fewer stairs. Not many people came to this place he realized, as the few steps he found there crumbled under his feet. When he saw the mountain’s summit, the urge to reach it growing stronger and stronger. He struggled to finish the climb as the jagged edges of the rocks cut his hands when he reached out to catch himself with each stumbling step.
The desert stretched out before him. The mountain dropped straight down as if it had been sliced with a knife, for a sheer cliff dropped for more than a mile. A rock rolled from under his feet and fell noiselessly out of sight. As he looked out, the brightness of the desert first blinded him. Such a vastness of space with nothing to break the view, no fields, no green plants, no trees, not so much as a large rock, only the unbroken waves of sand. From his perch he felt the moisture being drawn out of him as a magnet draws iron. The desert pulled on his breath. He began feeling dizzy, pulled toward the emptiness, toward the hot, burning emptiness before him. Gone from his heart were the cries of his father, gone from his soul was the love from Helga, gone from his mind was his devotion to Edgar and Barty. There was only the lure of the emptiness, the nothingness drawing him towards it. He felt his feet begin to shift beneath him but he no longer cared.
He was about to fall when he was pulled back from the precipice. “That’s no way to reach your goal.” It was the same man with the peaceful mien who knew the secrets of the map. “This is a very dangerous place. The desert’s call seduces, but this isn’t the way to answer it. Come away from the edge.”
Slowly, Ulrik’s senses returned. “I almost fell. I wanted to fall. I wanted to give it all up; to end it all. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of the wandering, tired of the looking, tired of wondering who or what will happen next. I’m tired and I wish that I were back . . .” He broke off his sentences because he realized that his words came too freely for the stranger’s ears. Still, there was something about this man that evoked trust. His calm peace, his being at the right place at the right time, it all moved together so that Ulrik wanted to reach out to him.
“You need to return to your friends. The end hasn’t come yet, and you know it. Remember this: greater strength lies in weakness more than you realize. I believe you can make your way back down now,” said the stranger.
“Won’t you come with me,” Ulrik pleaded.
“No. I need to stay here a while longer, “Pax et Bonum.” the stranger said and smiled such that confidence filled the prince for his return to the main part of the city.
Ulrik began the long descent. Before going too far he turned to see the stranger kneeling where he had been standing, facing the desert.
Edgar had dutifully remained at the inn. Ulrik found him sweeping the back courtyard. “Needed something to do,” Edgar explained. “Missed Uley too much.”
“You’re finally back,” growled the innkeeper. “Your big friend was moping around here, whimpering and following me around so I stuck a broom in his hands to keep him busy. But look at the mess he’s made of it. I’ll have to do it all over again. Give me that!” he snatched the broom out of Edgar’s hand and attacked the spot where Edgar had attempted to sweep. Edgar looked to the ground, eyes sagging with hurt. The innkeeper muttered something about a big, dumb ox and walked away.
“Sorry, Uley.”
“I probably shouldn’t have let you alone for so long. Let’s get out of here.”
“What about Lord Bartemeus?”
“After what we’ve been through, call me Barty,” said a familiar voice.
Turning, they looked at him and exclaimed, “What in the world happened to you this time?” Barty’s right sleeve hung by four threads, flecks of blood decorated his shirt, a bruise spread across his nose extending to each of his eyes. As he entered the courtyard they saw he tried to hide a limp.
“You weren’t cheating at dice were you?” accused Ulrik.
“As tempting as it was, no. I wasn’t gambling at all. I met some old friends of ours.”
“It was the pirates—wasn’t it? What did they want?” said Ulrik
“They hurt Barty!” Edgar exclaimed.
“Don’t worry, I’m all right. I may be bruised but I learned much. Let’s get something to drink and I’ll tell you about it.”
Over a pitcher of punch flavored with the delicate spices that can only be found in Aeolioanopolis, he told them what happened. “I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I was trusting to luck I would find with we needed, and I did, in spades.” he rubbed his bruises. “We were right. The pirates are looking for you. I think the wizard is scared we’ll get the ionia flower and bring it back.”
Barty’s statement stunned Ulrik. Didn’t the wizard want him to succeed? Wasn’t it true that only he could find and bring the flower? Hadn’t he alone been given this mission? He knew that evil beyond all understanding filled the wizard, but couldn’t evil be used for good?
“Uley . . . Uley . . . Ulrik!” Barty’s voice pulled him out of his thought. “We have to go on. We have to get out of here before it’s too late. They know you’re here. They thought I was connected to you and that’s why they did this.” He opened his shirt revealing a red and blistered spot the size of a dinner plate. Edgar stared, a sympathetic tear rolling down his cheek.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. We’ve got to find this captain we keep hearing about, this Bombastus Euphrates.
“Who spoke my name!” erupted a man on the other side of the room. The size of the voice matched the man. When he stood up, he filled the entire room. In four great strides he was the table, looming over them, arms on his hips. “Which of you said my name?” Deep blue eyes glared out from under reddish- grey brows, riveting each of them to the spot with a long and deliberate stare. Under his steady glaze they wilted. “I know it was one of you.” His growl vibrated the glasses on the table. Barty timidly raised his eyes and replied, “I did, sir.”
“You did, eh?” His scowl furrowed his brow into deep ravines. “Well, glad to meet you.” An enormous smile split his face. “Had you going, lads! Why are three young . . . uh . . . gentlemen looking for the likes of me?” He pulled a chair from the table, gave it a spin around, straddled it and sat with his arms crossed on the chair’s back.
“We need to get across the Desert of Hope,” Ulrik blurted.
“Desert of Hope? Only the oldest folks call it that. Where’d you learn that name?” He leaned forward and studied the prince, boring a hole into him with his eyes.
“Read it in the . . .” Edgar started to say but a quick look from Ulrik stopped him.
“Read it, eh?” The captain relaxed and leaned back. “No matter. Keep your secrets. Most men around here have more than their share.” He leaned in again. “I hope you realize that this is a business proposition,” he said, raising an eyebrow
“Don’t worry, we can pay,” Barty told him.
“By the looks of what happened to you, somebody already made you pay plenty!” he roared in laughter.
Barty pulled out the pouch of their money and set it on the table making sure the coins rattled as they hit it.
“It wasn’t money they were after, was it?” questioned the big man as he stood up, leaned in with his knuckles on the table and said, “I’ll take you lads, and my fee for you three little lambs . . .” He reached into the pouch unopposed and took out three of the smallest coins. “ . . . is one of these for each of you. Meet me at the Gap, Dock Number One, find the Hurricane’s Handmaiden. Looks like the weather’ll be up in three days. Be there or miss out. Storms and Bombastus Euphrates wait for no one, no matter who their parents are!” He turned from the table left with a roaring laugh and threw the coins to the innkeeper, “Use it to buy a few rounds for the house.” The innkeeper pocketed the money and eyed Ulrik, Edgar, and Barty.
Barty was put to bed to recuperate. Ulrik and Edgar set about making preparations for their journey. As they neared the Gap, the vendors of charms and talismans competed for travelers’ attention by barking their wares: “Best charms here!” “Guaranteed protection!” “Wear this, be safe.” “This one’s made from potent vulture livers.” Amidst the noise and chaos of the marketplace, a small doorway radiating quiet was out of place. Recognizing the same perfume of sweet smoke that had drifted in Elijah and Joanna’s cabin, Ulrik moved toward the door. He and Edgar entered to find an enormous stone table holding a large open book in the center of the room. A brass container stood on a nearby table—blue smoke curled upwards, making small clouds on the ceiling. When they neared the table, a short man rushed out from a shadow with hands outstretched to snatch up the book.
“No need to worry, Walter, the book is safe with them.” came a voice from the doorway. The speaker was the one who had saved Ulrik from the precipice. “We’re safe with them.” The stranger walked to the one called Walter and gently led him back from the table. An abiding peace filled the chamber when he turned to Ulrik and Edgar and said, “Stay for a while, but not too long. The great storm will arrive before you know it. You’ll need to fetch your friend. Pax et Bonum.” He bowed and then left. They watched him walk out to the street before they approached the book on the table. The book’s size and weight were comfortingly familiar. Then they realized that this book was the same as the one hidden in the castle kitchen.
“Uley, that’s a . . .” exclaimed Edgar.
Urlich replied, “I recognize it too, Edgar.”
Walter timidly drew near, saying, “You know of the book?”
“Yes, there’s one back at . . .” the prince stopped himself before he said “castle.”
“Uley, did you forget it was back home in the kitchen? That’s silly!” Edgar laughed.
“Edgar,” he tried to admonish him gently, “no one’s supposed to know.”
“Sorry.” The big man blushed.
Walter said, “Wherever it happens to be does not matter; having the book is an honor, although in these times a dangerous honor.”
Under Walter’s protective attention, Ulrik carefully turned the pages of the book.
“Look at the pictures!” Edgar exclaimed while he pointed to the top of the page. The first letter of each page was transformed by a skilled artist, enlarging it into a miniature painting of bright crimson and cobalt, gold and silver adding a warmth and richness to each page.
Ulrik stopped at a passage and read aloud, “He delivered them from those who hated them, and rescued them from the enemy’s hand.” The words hung in the air around them like the sweet smoke from the burner. Regardless of what lay ahead, he knew it would be all right. Heartened, they left the small chamber and returned to the street.
By the time they stepped back into the market, the weather had taken a drastic change. Off on the horizon, an enormous dark wall formed over the sea, blotting out all behind it. “If you’re going to take off, you’d best get to the sky-ships double quick. This one’s coming in faster and harder than I’ve seen in nigh many a year,” said an old man rushing past them as rapidly as his worn knees could carry him.
Aeolioanopolis became a hive of activity. People rushed to their homes and quickly slammed shut the immense shutters hanging on each harbor side door, window, and opening. Vendors collected their wares and closed their shops. Anything left out in the open was carried inside. The townsfolk moved with practiced speed, without any sense of panic. Everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, had a proper role, moving with a practiced efficiency. No one paid attention to Ulrik and Edgar as they returned to the inn.
Barty lay in bed groaning quietly. When Ulrik and Edgar entered, he turned his head to them but then looked back to the wall.
“Barty, we need to get going and quickly,” said Ulrik.
Barty groaned.
“Come on, we don’t have time. The sky-ship’s leaving soon,” said Ulrik.
Barty groaned again as he rolled toward the edge of the bed. He tried to put his feet on the floor only to collapse back on the bed.
“This is worse than I thought,” Barty said. “I can’t breathe; it hurts too much. Give me a moment.”
Edgar went to his side and with great gentleness helped him to stand while Ulrik packed their few belongings into a bag and threw it over his shoulder. With Edgar’s help, Barty limped on the way to the ship. The streets were quiet and empty except for a few bits of litter blown aimlessly about. The sun shone brightly and the breeze was gentle. Over the sea the great storm rose, spreading darkness and terror across the horizon.