Chapter 1

The ship slowly rose in the lock.

Felek stood at the rail, watching the stone bricks slide downward. It was still magic, no matter how many times the teen had traveled up and down the Anne River. To see the small stretch of water between the two pairs of wooden doors raise and lower almost defied belief. Was there any greater proof in this world of the wisdom of King James? His Grace had brought not only peace and prosperity to the Polish people, but wonders like this.

Once again, Felek swore he would serve the man who had made his sister a Queen until his dying day.

"Keep those lines taut!"

The Captain's cry sent a shiver of guilt through the teen. All around him men and boys, some even younger than him, worked to keep the ship centered in the lock. Lines were fastened to the lock walls, sailors such as the boy beside him pulling in the slack as the vessel rose. The young seaman was shirtless, his muscles straining under skin tanned enough to almost resemble Shanna's brown coloring. His feet, too, were bare, gripping the wooden deck as he hauled in more line. Felek's finery stood out, marking him as ... special. He did not feel special. Felek felt...

"Cast off the lines!"

Felek found himself moving towards the bow of the ship. The doors before them were opening, oxen turning two giant wheels on either shore. As the seam parted, the upper river was revealed, stretching ahead south towards the capital. He could see the mountains on either side start to fade away. He saw the green of home.

"Unfurl the sails! Lockmaster, thank you for your time!" Felek saw the hulking man on shore wave back. Above, the sound of canvas filling with wind. Slowly, fighting the slight current, the ship began to move.

Nowy Warsaw.

Red brick buildings rose all around the lake. Nowy Kiev had been a city of stone, of morbid grey blocks rising from the joining of two rivers. Nowy Warsaw was a city of color. Of life. Even many of the wooden buildings were painted, blues and oranges almost seeming to shout out to those who passed by. And green! So much green, even among the buildings! Parks, unheard of in the city of his youth, set aside by the King for the use of everyone. Even the main avenue leading from the Palace Hill down to the lake had islands of grass and trees dividing its two sides.

Felek's eyes followed the avenue to its end. The Royal Palace rose above the city, unfinished but still beautiful. Behind thick, smooth stone walls, his home for the last four years beckoned. He was servant to the King. He. Felek. Orphan. Son of a common laborer. Now on the verge of manhood. Of...

Of what?

Colorful movement interrupted his introspection. New flags were being raised up the pole atop the communication tower inside the Palace walls. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, Felek tried to decode them. He was reasonably good at that, having spent long hours studying charts in the King's study. Without a spyglass, though, some of the more unusual flags could be hard to interpret correctly. The top flag was solid green, indicating it was meant for the Kikker port of Visvang. The second flag had a diagonal line splitting it into green and yellow halves. So, the message was for Chief Ajani. A second batch of flags rose up the other pole on the tower.

Felek shook his head. Again, the King was brilliant. Messages could be passed instantly across the island. Across the strait, to the mainland, to the farthest Polish outpost! There had been nothing like this in Nowy Kiev. There was nothing like it in the Kikker city of Saribit! For all that city had impressed Felek in his week there, he had seen nothing to match the creativity which now flowed from this Polish isle. There had been energy, yes. Life. But it had been static. Content. Content with its people's lot in life.

It looked to the past, not the future.

The wind shifted as the ship turned. The harbor was busy. A Gritic ship, its spiderish crab-like crew skittering over its rigging, passed them, two oar powered tugs assisting them against the wind until they were in the river current. From its tallest mast flew an orange flag, telling the lock to prepare for its coming. A boxy barge sat beside the largest wharf, oxen powered cranes lifting large crates from its hold. Felek had seen that same ship in Saribit, or its twin. Traders went everywhere.

Maybe he could become a trader. Travel. That was what this voyage for the King had awakened in the teen. He wanted to see more of the world. More of its people. The Poles could not stay within their walls and borders, the King said, as they had in the past. They had to reach out. Talk to their neighbors. Trade. Make alliances. They were too weak to stand alone. Felek could help. Had helped. Maybe, if the King was pleased with what he had done...

"Felek!"

He had barely stepped off the gangplank when Ruta threw herself at him. He held his two canvas bags out, feeling incredibly silly as she wrapped her bare arms around him, head on his chest. He also could not help the grin which threatened to split his face. He could feel her thin body beneath soft fabric, her heat so different from the ocean breeze. There were stares from those around them, but none disapproving. Dropping the bags to the stone, he wrapped his own arms around her.

"Hi."

"I missed you!"

Felek, wisely, replied by hugging tighter. The trip had been too exciting for any homesickness to raise itself in him. He had thought of her, though. Often. Every new sight awakened a desire to tell his friend about it, a wish that she could be there beside him to experience it with him.

His arms loosened as she pushed herself back a bit, looking up into his face. Those big blue eyes sparkled.

"You smell salty."

"I am now a seasoned traveler."

Her fist hit his chest, the best indication of a joke well received. As her head moved, he noticed something. Felek cocked his head.

"Is that a new braid?"

"Do you like it?" Stepping back, Ruta spun. Her blonde hair was twisted in a complicated pattern. "Gizela tried it out on me. The girls in Fredrick are all doing it now."

"I thought fashion was supposed to travel from here to those backwards commoners on the continent, not the other way around."

"We are very inclusive here," she giggled. Bending, she grabbed the smaller of his two bags. "Let's go home."

They walked through the stone paved streets, hand in hand. The pace was slow. There was never any hurry when they were together.

"It went well?" Ruta asked. Her eyes were on a window display of blown glass. Felek shrugged.

"I'm not sure what His Grace expected, so can't say. I did what I was told. Have some messages for him. There were no problems, at least."

"Good." Her hand squeezed his. "Shanna was here just after you left. She's pregnant again."

"Everyone's pregnant."

"I know." Her thumb slid over the back of his hand, eyes meeting his. "Mom is starting to ask when I'm going to get married."

"Hmm."

"Someone will have to ask first, naturally."

"Is there a long list of suitors?"

"Very long. Each with something in their favor."

"That's good. You deserve the best."

"Yes. I do."

Felek sensed a change as they entered the Palace.

The change seemed to be with him, he thought. The sights and sounds around him were the same as they had always been, but after a week's absence his mind saw them differently. There was a sense of separation, of being an outsider. Or, maybe, just an acceptance that there is more to his world now than this maze of hallways and chambers. He had walked streets which had been old before the first Pole had entered this world. How could that not change him?

Two young pages ran past, message slates in their hands. Felek didn't recognize them, but then the runners tended to be where the newest young servants started. Where you could prove yourself before moving up to less exhausting service. More than one son of a former Noble had not made the cut.

"His Grace wants to see you after the Council meeting," Ruta said. Her hand had left his, this part of the seat of government not the place for such displays. Felek let out a snort.

"Council meetings..."

They turned a corner. The hall before them was filled with young men, from boys to full adults, loitering as those waiting for their master's pleasure. Most sat, backs against the dark wooden panel walls. A few formed circles, conversing softly. All looked bored. Bored, at least, until notice was taken of Ruta. As the two walked down the middle of the hall, conversations stopped, only to continue in a whisper once they had passed. Stepping closer to Felek, Ruta took his arm possessively. Her body also began to sway a bit more.

"Tease," he whispered from the corner of his mouth. She simply smiled.

"Ruta!"

The smile vanished. She stopped, grip on Felek tightening as the two turned. A young man approached, well dressed yet perhaps in the midst of a final growth spurt. The sleeves on his tunic were a tad short, wrists visible. His brown hair was cut short, apart from a swooping mass covering his forehead. Ignoring Felek, he bowed to the blonde beauty.