Kino woke before dawn. The crooked shack creaked as if protesting his movement. Outside, the canals were already alive: boats scraping against rotting piers, children diving into dark water for coins, merchants shouting at one another in voices rough from hunger. The city stirred, but the slums were merciless, even at daybreak. He pulled his coat tighter and followed Kilsa through the narrow alleys, stepping carefully on planks that wobbled beneath their weight.
The maze of canals stretched in every direction, twisting like veins. Some were wide enough for cargo boats, others so narrow that a single misstep would send him plunging into the stagnant, foul water. Kilsa moved like he had always belonged here, ducking under low beams, leaping across gaps, and avoiding the sudden splashes of unseen swimmers. "These canals," Kilsa said, "they're lifelines. But they're traps too. Guards get lost. Thieves get away. Everyone knows some route or secret, and the city eats the ones who don't."
Kino swallowed hard. He remembered Rose's calm sea, Esdion's quiet strength, and the wooden swords of his island lessons. Here, water was not a gentle rhythm—it was a knife, and every bridge, plank, and shadow could cut.
As they walked, Kilsa began talking about the city itself, its people, and its histories. "You want to understand Silkan, island boy?" he asked. "Then listen. Most of this city runs on old grudges." He gestured toward a fisherman drying nets by the canal. "Take him, for example. A Deep family man. Sailors and traders for generations, rich as a merchant king, proud as a hawk. Their family and the royal family used to be allied—marriages, trade, gifts, everything. But sixty years ago, a wedding didn't happen. The bride or groom never showed, and on that day, someone with an owl tattoo on his neck kidnapped the Deep princes."
Kino's eyes widened. He remembered the man from his island—the sailor who visited every few months, dark green hair, the same quiet presence, the same tattoo. Could it be him?
Kilsa continued, oblivious to Kino's thoughts. "The Deep family demanded all gifts and heirlooms returned, insulted the royals for letting this happen. And when the heirlooms came back, one of the golden boxes was lost. That made everything worse. Some branches of the Deep family refused to trade with certain nobles. The feud simmered for decades."
"And now?" Kino asked.
"Twenty years ago, the young prince of the royal family befriended a Deep boy of his age on a trip, concealing who he was. Made the families good again… mostly. But grudges linger in corners. Old anger dies slowly."
Kino absorbed it all, imagining the tension hidden behind polite merchants' smiles, the danger lurking in small disputes, the weight of pride and history pressing on every deal. Even the canals themselves seemed alive with secrets and whispers, carrying rumors like waterborne debris.
They passed through narrow streets where merchants bartered in hushed tones, children darted past with stolen goods, and thieves melted into shadows as easily as smoke. Everywhere Kino looked, the slum's chaos contrasted with glimpses of wealth: fortified houses, banners of noble families flapping above walls, signs of power barely contained by stone and guard posts.
As they approached a larger bridge, connecting the slums to the outskirts of the city proper, Kilsa motioned for him to pause. "See that?" he said, pointing toward the water. "Even here, the Church of Black and White reaches. People pay attention, even if they don't admit it. Food, medicine, secrets… they own more than stone and flame. They own obedience in subtle ways."
Kino felt the pull of the canals beneath him and the city ahead, vast and full of unseen power. He thought of the burning feather, the golden box, the thief girl, and the hollow church. Everything was connected, in ways he didn't yet understand.
Kilsa nudged him forward. "Ready for the real city?" Kino nodded, heart pounding. As they crossed the final bridge, towers and walls came into view, banners snapping sharply in the wind. The streets beyond shimmered with wealth and authority, but Kino could already sense the shadows lurking in every corner.
And then, briefly, he saw her again—the rogue thief girl. She slipped past a side street, scarf drawn tight, moving like she belonged to neither slum nor city. She carried herself with the weight of someone older than her years, the faint hint of her blue-striped tattoo barely visible. Kino followed with his eyes as she vanished into the crowd, wondering who she truly served.
Kilsa's voice pulled him back. "The city looks orderly, but order has teeth. Watch carefully."
Kino swallowed, feeling awe and fear entwined. Silkan City was alive, beautiful and dangerous, and he was now a small part of its sprawling, tangled web. The canals, the slums, the families, the Church—all whispered secrets that would take a lifetime to understand. And he had no choice but to learn.