The Blue Moon - 1. Chapter 1

"Night had fallen, but there was not a single light on in any of the windows. The village had been abandoned for years, or so they said. Troubadour Kharl was not sure; Gusty Mountains had surprised him before.

Kharl paused at the corner of the house to listen to the night. His keen ears picked up sounds from the forest. A fox, a wildcat or a predatory snagost? It was better to keep going.

He thought of Gingerbread, whom he had left on the outskirts of the deserted village. He was a smart horse and could escape, but still…

The tavern was easy to identify from its wooden veranda, where gold-diggers had once supped beer and boasted about their finds. Now the tavern was empty of customers. But someone, a stranger, had suggested a meeting with Kharl there.

Kharl took a cautious step forward. A floorboard creaked under his boot. It sounded like a shriek in the night. His muscles tensed, expecting an attack. It did not come.

With the door unlocked, Kharl pushed his way into the tavern's dim main hall. He struck a match and lit the lantern, even though he did not want to. Too dangerous, a warning voice echoed in the back of his mind.

The bar counter was covered in a thick layer of dust. Kharl swept it away and tried to count the years that had passed since the last customers. Two, five or ten years? Why had he been invited here?

The stairs led up. They looked wobbly in the lantern light, perhaps even rotten. Kharl hesitated - too long.

'Don't move!' someone shouted from behind him.

When Kharl was finally ordered to turn around with his hands up, he saw a male figure standing behind the tavern counter. The man's face was covered by a cloth and he was pointing a pistol at Kharl.

Masked Thief? Kharl asked quietly in his mind. At last we meet each other."

- A. Sandkan: Troubadour Kharl Adventures Again

* * *

Josel
The river Frothy, Andiol Empire, in 1592 New Era

The coolness of the deck planks made his bare toes tingle as Josel weaved his way across the deck of Princess looking for a suitable place to lounge. The ill-fitting clothes of Marta's late husband had been replaced by sailor pants and a striped shirt. The new outfit made Josel look unmistakably like a young seaman, but it did not make him feel any more at home on this paddle steamer.

He had soon realised that there was nothing to do on board. There was no one to talk to, for Zal and his friends spent all their time in a tight, whispering group, sometimes on the afterdeck, sometimes at the corner table in the ship's mess. It was clear from their gestures: Josel's company was not wanted.

In fact, Josel did not want to get too close to these people either. Sure, he was curious to know the secrets of the four, but only if it did not mean being cross-examined by Zal. If the old man thought Josel was hiding something, he would squeeze it out, even with pliers if necessary.

After some time, Josel found a shady spot under the stairs in the bow. From there he could watch the passing scenery. It was only now that he began to realise how vast the Andiol Empire really was.

Thombs, Princess' first mate, had said they were still a good week's sail from Five Hills, although Ipalos was far behind. Besides, Five Hills was not even on the banks of the Frothy; to get there they would have to ride several miles from the port, the name of which Josel had already forgotten.

Josel would have liked to ask a lot more questions, but he was slightly intimidated by the huge, tattooed first mate. The cook, however, was about Josel's age, but had turned out to be deaf after the first attempt at conversation. Most of the sailors seemed to regard Josel as a mere distraction, so he did his best to stay out of their way. The peaceful spot under the stairs was therefore the best place for lazing around with nothing but his thoughts.

Or rather, he was plagued by those thoughts. Unpleasant images seemed to fill Josel's head. He had no idea what the future would bring. Zal had promised to take them to Five Hills, but then what? If his father was not there, Josel would have nowhere to go. Returning to Paidos would be sheer madness, for the Shadow Cross would surely catch him.

Dad had said he trusted the Blue Moon, but there was no guarantee that his acquaintances in Five Hills would be interested in looking after Josel. Old Zal might come up with something, of course, but it would hardly be anything pleasant.

Then there was Zdain, with a high fever. Melgy's words about the fatality of his condition were impossible to forget. Josel couldn't help but worry, especially as he was ashamed of his own behaviour. Now all his mockery to Zdain resounded accusingly in his mind, and there was no way to apologise.
Josel remembered their few happy moments together with nostalgia. Actually, Zdain had been a tolerable travelling companion. Under different circumstances, the two of them might even have been friends.

He swept Zdain out of his mind. Even though Monteilon was always on top of his ruminations, there were so many other things to worry about. Jolanda Vargan, for example, had certainly not given up - if she had survived the jackdaw attack.

Jolanda's words in front of Marta's house were unforgettable. And the way she looked at Josel, as if she was undressing him with her eyes. The same look she had given him in Paidos when they had embraced in the middle of the alley.

It all came back so vividly: Jolanda's soft lips together with her rapid breathing from desire, her slender hands under Josel's shirt. Just the thought made the blood rush to his groin and made his pants feel tight. Maybe it would have been better to remain Jolanda's prisoner. She would have stripped him naked and chained him to her bed, where on the soft mattress they would have...

"Dreaming of girls?" someone suddenly asked nearby.

Josel flinched. He saw Captain Timos Soldeimon standing in front of him and hastily crossed his legs.

"You're blushing like a messboy caught with his trousers down." Princess' captain grinned, stroking his carefully styled moustache.

"Captain," Josel managed to croak.

"I'm still Timos to you, young charmer."

"Okay… why are you here?" Josel asked, hoping the blush had faded from his face.

"Dinner will be served in the Captain's cabin after the first hour of the evening. I wanted to come personally to invite you as my guest, charmer," Timos Soldeimon said, winking.

Josel felt his cheeks heat up again. Did the captain only tease, or was he trying to make a move on him? "W-why are you asking me?"

"Because Zal told me to. He and Ragart want to talk to you. Or what did you think?" The captain burst out laughing, then left stunned Josel to collect his thoughts under the stairs.

* * *

The smell of food was strong as Josel followed Ragart into Timos Soldeimon's private quarters in the bow of Princess. The captain's quarters seemed to be more than just a cabin.

Not only did the captain have his own bathroom, there was also a study full of books. Josel would never have guessed that the boisterous and showy captain was a bookworm. A closed door must have led to the bedroom, but they walked into a sumptuously decorated room with a dining table set in the middle.

Like the other cabins, the dining room had no fireplace, but was heated by copper water pipes on the walls. In addition to the stained glass windows, the walls were covered with various works of art. There were intricately embroidered tapestries, marine themed paintings and, to top it all off, a stuffed swordfish.

Having studied the decor enough, Josel turned his attention to the delicacies on the dining table. Judging by the smell, the steaming pot in the middle of the table was some sort of spicy meat dish.

Ragart Zapp, with his own permission, lifted the lids of the bowls and let out delighted gasps as he spoke the names of the dishes aloud: "Mmm, lamb stew, boiled turnips, southern Malkanian vegetable pie… mmm… some salad… is that fish?"

"Greedy Fox!" a voice suddenly came from behind them.

Josel spun around and saw Timos Soldeimon entering his cabin.

"Doesn't your big belly follow any table manners? This isn't a harbour canteen, it's the captain's suite," the captain snorted, but didn't look angry.

"My humblest apologies. What would a miserable salesman like me know about etiquette?" Ragart grinned like a urchin caught in the mischief, and not the least bit sorry for what he had done.

"You are forgiven, you ignorant landlubber," said Timos Soldeimon, spreading his hands apologetically in the air. He turned to Josel. "I'm sure our charmer is hungry by now, but let's wait for Lord of the Jackdaws. Only then we shall begin."

Just then Zal coughed in the doorway and pushed his way in. Wrinkles of worry lined the man's long face and he did not seem to be in a playful mood. So the captain dropped the banter and asked everyone to take a seat.

Captain Soldeimon motioned Josel to the chair opposite Zal. He and Ragart chose seats on the other two sides of the table. Timos Soldeimon opened his mouth again and recited a clumsy but somewhat comical poem.

Ragart slapped his chubby palms together frantically. "Was it your own production?"

"How did you know?" Timos asked.

"Based on its quality, or lack of it," said the paunchy merchant, shaking with laughter. The captain, on the other hand, looked offended, or pretended to be - Josel was not sure which. He glanced at Zal, who was scratching the table with his fork. If the performance had been intended to amuse the old man, it hadn't had the desired effect.

They began to eat. Josel was also eager to move the food to his plate. He still had a strong appetite from the lack of food in the last few days.

After only a few bites, Zal started the conversation. The words were addressed to Josel. "You don't know much about us and I think that's good. I will not allow anything to jeopardise the success of my mission. That is why I initially thought it was not necessary to reveal anything to you. However, after thinking about it, I came to a different conclusion. These are dangerous times, so I don't know how events will unfold. Ignorance is often a sure path to ruin."

Zal's gaze was intense and Josel nodded cautiously at his words. He glanced around and noticed that both the captain and Ragart had stopped eating. Their attention was fixed on Zal.

"Faceless is one of those things you need to know about," Zal continued with a sombre note in his voice. "You and your friend Zdain are very fortunate to have escaped its clutches alive. Very few have lived to tell the tale of a similar encounter. I am one of those exceptions, a multiple exception. It's my mission… it's called the searching. I roam the Inhabited World hunting the faceless and killing them when I catch them. Well, I would if I caught one. It's been years since my last success. There are only faint traces, following them usually leads me astray..."

The words buzzed around the cabin, making the hairs on the back of Josel's neck stand up. Nightmarish memories of Marta Donthav's cellar flashed in his eyes: the beast turning into a snagost, Lurk's wheezing breath and the weapon striking like lightning...

It took a moment to catch up with Zal's story. "...the faceless are cunning, and the most cunning of them are all that remain. I estimate there are no more than four of them alive. I haven't sighted two for nearly thirty years, and a third escaped from me seven years ago. I've been on the trail of this one you've met for years. It knows I'm breathing down its neck and has become more cautious."

Zal shook his head. "I have named the creature you encountered Argat's Faceless. The name comes from the slaughter it carried out in a village called Argat. It was a series of dozens of brutal murders. The authorities were able to smooth over the events from the public as the work of a madman. An innocent man was beheaded, but the secret of the faceless remained. I understand them, it would be too dangerous to reveal their existence. Of course, many people would dismiss the idea of shape-shifting creatures as nonsense, but some would believe it and be frightened out of their wits. That's not the kind of shock you want to give ordinary people. Besides, the revelation of the faceless would bring awareness of other ancient things. The kind of information that, if it fell on the wrong ears, would be dangerous for the whole of humanity. So it is tragic in many ways that the faceless themselves benefit from this secrecy. They can continue their murderous work in peace, with no one to follow them but me."

At this point, Zal paused and raised a glass of wine to his lips. Josel tried to reconcile what he had just heard with his experiences in the cellar. Ragart and Timos remained silent, probably because they were familiar with the story.

After taking another sip, Zal put the glass back on the table. When the old man began to speak again, the furrows in his face deepened. "In the old days, the faceless were called ni-gaalsdaa, which means shapeless. Southlander storytellers still use that name for them. I think it's a better way to describe these hideous creatures. Perhaps Argat's Faceless introduced you to some of its many forms?"

Josel's nod elicited a bland smile from Zal. "I thought so," the old man said. "I know it loves to be seen in them. As you've probably figured out by now, the faceless have no basic character, they can morph into almost anything... or at least. A ni-gaalsdaa can only take a form that is roughly the size of an average person. This fact makes my search somewhat easier."

"You can at least leave elephants and earthworms out of the equation," Ragart interjected.

"Yes!" Timos exclaimed. "And Ragart is too big-bellied to be a faceless."

Josel's laughter dried on his lips as Zal snapped, "Ni-gaalsdaa is no joking matter! You two should understand that by now."

The captain and the merchant mumbled their apologies to Zal. Again, Josel could only marvel at the power the old man had over everyone around him, even the captain on his own ship.

"Where do the faceless come from? The monster told us they are older than humans," Josel asked to break the awkward silence.

"Not from this world," Zal said. "They come from somewhere else entirely, and have been our nuisance since before mankind walked on four legs."

"But where do they come from? From another planet? That's impossible."

"Something like that. But the most important thing is to be on your guard. I don't know where Argat's Faceless is at the moment, and that worries me more than anything else. But that's enough about the faceless. There is more to tell."

Josel swallowed his follow-up questions in annoyance. Zal had told him much, but not enough. How was it that the faceless were not from this world? And what did it mean that humans used to walk on all fours? Zal was like a deep well full of mysteries.

"I start with the Might. I don't think your father ever talked to you about it?" Zal stated and continued after Josel shook his head: "It's a special ability, a skill to use a certain kind of energy that some of us humans have and some of us don't - you don't, for example."

The blunt addition made Ragart chuckle over his glass of wine.

Josel scowled, but let the old man speak.

"I have some Might in me, but my special talent as a seeker is to recognise this same rare trait in others. Most of us don't have any Might. Not Ragart, not Timos - not anyone else on this ship except me. On the other hand, some people live their lives unaware of this ability, and that's a good thing. Because all too often, the Might is used for evil. I'm talking about the fallen. The Black Flame covets those with a strong hold of the Might for its side..."

"What is the Black Flame?" Josel interrupted. "Dad mentioned something about it."

"The Black Flame is a kind of alliance of the fallen," Zal began to explain. "A network through which they share information and unite to serve the ends of the Darkness. For decades I have tried to discover the extent of the Black Flame and who leads it. And I still don't know... but back to the Might. It is important for you to be aware of its existence. Fear the people who seem capable of doing what should not be rationally possible. They may possess the Might and the blessing of the Darkness over their actions."

Josel nodded vaguely. He did not really know what to say to Zal. Everything was so vague and theoretical. It was hard to grasp.

After letting Josel eat in peace for a while, Zal started to talk again. "I told you earlier that we are sailing towards Five Hills. The plan is still on..."

Then Josel remembered something and interrupted Zal abruptly. "Faceless… it blackmailed us to reveal the information that my father and the Monteilons were also planning to travel to Five Hills."

Zal nodded seriously, but did not look upset. "Actually, I suspected as much. Argat's Faceless is ferocious but not stupid. Five Hills and our destination there, the Castle Cache, is a protected place. Besides, it's afraid of me and avoids my company like the plague. That's why it doesn't want to take any risks and head for Five Hills. And the Faceless have no Might other than shape-shifting. I believe your father and Zdain's parents are safe."

That did not reassure Josel, but he said nothing.

"We are trying to get to Five Hills as soon as possible," Zal continued. "But in the meantime, we will land in Maidor. I doubt you've heard of it. It's a small fortified port where the river makes such a sharp bend that a large headland forms between it and the port."

"What are we doing there?" Josel interjected.

"We meet someone. Izaskar Ksellendor, who is an old... acquaintance of mine. He is Lord of Maidor, or whatever name he goes by these days. I need to discuss recent developments with him. But a word of warning: Izaskar is a little..unstable."

"Even though the man is lunatic, he is very intelligent," Ragart pointed out.

"Exactly. We have to be careful what we say there. I don't want to get into an argument with Izaskar, especially when I need his advice," Zal said, breaking a piece of bread with his fingers.

But Josel did not give Zal the chance to eat. He looked the old man in the eye and put his worries into words. "What about Zdain? Is there nothing you can do? Melgy said... she said Zdain might die." If Zal could hunt the faceless beasts, why couldn't he cure one boy?

"Yes, Zdain… all we can do is hope and pray."

Josel huffed. "Pray? What good would that do?"

"The lad has such a Dimali attitude, even though he doesn't look like one," Ragart remarked. "In the West, many seriously ill people are said to have been saved by selfless prayer."

"But hostile curses had killed hordes," Timos Soldeimon mentioned somewhat blandly.

"Many things are different in the West. For better or worse, it's hard to say. But oh, those fair-haired women," Ragart said dreamily.

"And oh, those fair-haired boys like Charmer," Captain Soldeimon added, winking at Josel. The next moment, Ragart and Timos howled with laughter at Josel's blush.

Irritated, Josel turned away from the guffawing duo. Zal, sitting opposite him, looked lost in thought, but Josel addressed him. "You promised to take me to my father if he could be found in Five Hills. But now, we're going to stop at some frigging port. Does that promise still stand?"

Timos Soldeimon decided to answer on Zal's behalf. "When Lord of the Jackdaws swears something, he will not betray that promise," he said in a solemn voice.

It was enough to wake Zal from his slumber. "That's what I promised you. I will not abandon Andreuz Sandkan's son."

"What do you know about my father?"

"I know a thing or two about him," Zal said. "I don't know him very well, but we have met. The first time was about fifteen years ago, on a dark winter's night. I still remember the snowless but frost-hardened ground and the cold, moaning wind. Nor have I forgotten the bundle wrapped in a blanket in Andreuz's arms. It was you, Josel."

"How… where did this happen?"

"Far from here."

"Why did you meet my father? I want to know," Josel asked.

"Your father was… no, it's his job to tell you, not mine."

"How can he tell me if I never see him again!" Josel snapped, staring at Zal challengingly.

"As long as there is faith, there is still hope," Zal replied in a reassuring but annoyingly vague way. Josel sighed resignedly and shifted his attention from Zal to the offerings on the table.

* * *

Dinner had gone more smoothly after that. Captain Soldeimon had told stories of the old days, when his father had sailed the southern seas as captain of a great merchant ship, evading privateers with the most cunning stratagems. Timos' father, Sinsbar, had also been a self-taught explorer, seeking a western sea route across the Sea of Storms to the Land of the Ksingis, only to be shipwrecked on the lava beaches of the Uninhabited Lands.

It had been thrilling to listen to the captain's tales of expeditions in the Sea of Storms. Josel heard of drowned sailors, giant sea serpents and ships stranded on floating islands of seaweed. Ragart's witty remarks would have amused Josel too, had he not been in such a bad mood.

The only consolation in the miserable situation was that Zal had promised to seek help for Zdain at the next port. Other than that, he had merely lifted the veil of secrecy and pulled it back again immediately. Even that was not enough, the old man did not let Josel sulk in peace, but spent the rest of the meal asking Josel all sorts of trivial questions, mostly about Faceless, but also about Isendar Vargan and the situation in Paidos.

Zal's warning frown had made it clear to Josel from the start that questions had to be answered if he did not want trouble. So he had replied, albeit as briefly as possible and with open resentment. When it came to Plinkinenkak's encounter in Marta's cellar, the old man had become very curious. To Josel's annoyance, "strange", was the only clarifying comment Zal had uttered.

Plodding back to his cabin with a full stomach but a gloomy mind, Josel found himself as badly at a loss for answers as he had been before sitting down at the captain's dinner table.

* * *

When morning finally came, Josel felt tired and moody. Ragart's thunderous snoring and nagging thoughts had kept him awake for most of the night. Zdain Monteilon had been at the forefront of his mind.

Several times during the night, Josel had been ready to jump down from his bunk to make sure Zdain was still alive. But the fear of the other, the terrible alternative, had held him back. Besides, Melgy certainly would not have let him into her cabin, no matter what Zdain's condition was.

After getting out of bed, Josel had hastily washed up and immediately set off to find Melgy. He met her in the corridor on his way to the mess. The woman's cool, calm demeanour was the same as before, but Josel dared not trust the conclusion that could be drawn from it. Melgy was such an emotionless person that she could have come straight from the corpse.

So Josel asked quickly, without even a greeting: "Zdain. How is he?"

Melgy eyed Josel coldly for a long moment, as if making a price assessment. Then the grey-haired woman answered: "He's the same - no, you can't see him. He's resting and I'm having breakfast. Goodbye."

Josel ignored Melgy's expected rudeness. Zdain was alive, that was the most important thing.

* * *