Hesat up, finally back online, even though he couldn't rememberwhen he had put on the headset. He felt surprisingly well:his tiredness seemed to have slipped away, even though hedidn't remember actually sleeping. The wood he was sitting on wasold, damp, and creaked softly under his weight. He wonderedif it was wise to leave that hiding place; after all, they were stillon the run. But then he thought that the ones the Nothing would really be looking forwere Nadia and Gareth, and that prompted him to get up andopen the door.

  The storage room beyond the cubicle had a less cloying and heavy air, even though the smell of staleness still reigned supreme.

  He passed sacks and barrels and, moving a sack aside to pass, before climbing the few steps leading outside, Nico jumped when he noticed a tall, thin, almost skeletal young man who stepped aside too quickly, as if afraid of being bumped into. A scar cut across his left cheek like a sign of old rust. The young man slipped out, and Nico followed him.

  The soft rays of early morning caressed his face, momentarily hurting his eyes, which were too accustomed to darkness. Life around him exploded into sudden bustle: men shouting orders from one end of the barge to the other, while the air was thick with the sense of something changing.

  The barge was wide and low, gliding slowly like a shadow across the river. On the central deck, several crates were tied down with meticulous care. From the hold behind him rose a heavy smell of spices and flour, mingling with that of stagnant water and damp wood.

  He looked around, noticing a change in the landscape compared to the previous evening. He was surrounded by the wide banks of a large river, rich in vegetation: willows with drooping foliage and tall reeds like those that grow in lakes.

  And there, among the branches, Nico saw strange beings with bodies little more than childlike, as tall as children, with wide, frog-like faces.

  He approached the barge's railing to get a better look, captivated by the sight. He had seen many strange creatures in that game, but he always enjoyed discovering new ones.

  “Hello, young man. Good morning,” said a voice that tinkled like a bell.

  Nico turned toward the voice: the stern, raised above the rest of the barge, seemed empty. The rudder veered slightly to the left; he turned right and left, looking for whoever had spoken.

  A sailor approached him and nudged him with his elbow. “It's Onis, kid. Don't worry.” Behind the man, the tall, thin cabin boy appeared out of nowhere, balancing a chipped bucket; he looked at Nico for a moment, then looked away, as if afraid of being scolded.

  A tiny light, like a spark, illuminated the sharp face of a small man with thin dragonfly wings. The man puffed a small cloud of smoke upward; the light in the tiny pipe dimmed until it went out.

  “What are you doing outside your den, young man?” asked the fairy, her voice ringing and scratchy from the smoke.

  Nico hesitated. “Weren't we allowed to go out?” he asked, his head buried in his shoulders.

  Onis nodded with a grunt. “Of course you could go out. You're not worms that have to stay holed up in the dark forever. It's just that you didn't go out: we all thought you were too afraid of the Nerakth to come out.” Onis's voice had a mocking tone.

  A few sailors passing by, moving crates, laughed softly.

  Nico was irritated by the words, but did not respond. He looked for Leo and Kiah beyond Onis: he had to tell them something, even though he could not quite remember what. The wind blowing up from the river was cool, but not clean; it carried the smell of moss, clay, and something else, perhaps algae or rotten roots.

  “How dare you?” roared a loud, shrill female voice from the large wooden box that Nico assumed served as the captain's makeshift accommodation; a small canvas canopy covered it.

  “It's my job to protect you,” Gareth replied calmly, and Nico detected a hint of anger in his voice. “Or did you think this wonderful adventure you'd imagined would be a walk in the park?”

  “If those two keep this up, I think our cover will be blown,” Onis muttered under his breath, holding his pipe between his teeth.

  Behind him, Captain Fill's sandpaper voice preceded a thunderous laugh and a pat on the back. “How's it going, kid? We all thought you were hiding in a corner behind the barrels so no one would see you.”

  Nico shook his head, irritated. “I just woke up.”

  “Ah, cowards and slackers. What kind of people are you bringing up here, Fill?” Onis blurted out before taking another drag on his cigarette.

  Nico prepared to respond, but the captain beat him to it with a laugh: “Onis, come on, calm down, brother. The kid had a rough time. Give him a break.”

  “You trusted a smuggler!” shouted the princess from inside the closed shed. A flock of birds took flight, frightened by the scream.

  Nico pressed his lips together and forced a smile as he looked at the dwarf. Fill watched him and smiled back. “Don't worry, kid: I know what I am, and I'm not ashamed of it. And even if the princess has something to say about it, she'll thank me as soon as she realizes I saved her pretty royal ass from the clutches of the Nerakth.”

  Nico nodded, but the discomfort remained.

  “...and anyway, I don't regret it. I did what had to be done,” said Gareth, still calm.

  “You did not respect my will,” replied the princess.

  “Your wishes would have killed us, or worse, turned us into Nerakth,” roared Gareth, and the word “Nerakth” exploded in the air.

  “Out!” ordered the princess.

  Gareth walked out. He met Nico's gaze: fire burned in his eyes, then he walked calmly away to the opposite side of the barge.

  Nico still found it hard to believe. Celeste was Princess Nadia. He thought back to the summons: she had shown herself to everyone without anyone knowing who she was. It was a good solution to send around a doppelganger covered in veils, he thought; useful for enjoying a little freedom. Now all those seemingly nonsensical phrases of Gareth's made sense.

  “Captain...”

  The dwarf grunted. “Call me Fill, kid.”

  Nico nodded. “How long ago did Gareth hire you?”

  Fill shrugged. “I was here for work, a shipment. Then at the port I met the custodian who explained the situation to me. At first I thought, ‘Is he kidding me or is he serious?’ But then, just looking at him, he's not exactly the most likable guy. I understood, and I thought I'd do the right thing.”

  “The right thing to do,” Nico thought to himself, he had been paid, he hadn't done it for any other reason.

  He nodded and then asked, “But do you really believe there was treason, as the princess says? After all, how did those beings get into the palace?”

  “No, kid, I don't think it was betrayal, or at least, it could be, eh. But the Shadow, the Nothingness, so to speak, can lurk in each of us. All it takes is an opportunity: a little space and bam, you're done for!” Fill said it as a warning.

  Nico jumped, but Fill didn't seem to notice.

  “Between you and me,” whispered Fill, lowering his voice, “the summons was a mistake. That poor man is right: they opened the gates to the Nerakth.”

  “Yes, but the King's intention was to strengthen the army,” Nico observed.

  Onis intervened with his raspy voice and that implied clink: “And you let people into the building like that? Without checks or a search here and there?” Onis took another drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke in Nico's direction.

  Fill raised his eyebrows.

  “Come on, kid: I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “But I still don't quite understand this Nothing business.”

  “It's simpler than you think. It's unpredictable,” said Fill, leaning on the railing.

  “What do you mean?” asked Nico.

  “I mean that Nothingness does whatever it wants. It attacks wherever it wants, whenever it wants. It infects weak hearts. It tempts the strong to make them fall. It strikes bodies to enslave them instantly, or it settles in a wound, revealing itself only when Nothingness decides the time is right. That's why it's so dangerous, so unpredictable.”

  Nico nodded. “So anyone can be infected?”

  “Even you, kid,” replied Onis, taking a drag on his pipe. “You could be infected without even knowing it,” he concluded, blowing out smoke.

  Nico remained thoughtful, staring at the water beyond the parapet while Fill walked away to give orders.

  He looked at the barge: among the sailors moving about, he searched for his companions. Kiah was at the bow, sitting on the floor with her books open in an attempt to dry the pages; from time to time she glanced at Gareth, who was deep in thought a little further away. Leo was coming towards him, his shoulders hunched, looking distressed; he was holding his stomach and had a greenish complexion.

  “What's wrong?” Nico asked.

  “I threw up... Ever since I got on this tub, I've done nothing but throw up. I can't take it anymore. It rocks and rocks and...” Leo put his hand to his mouth, his eyes wide.

  “Better outside than inside,” remarked the childish voice of a young girl who was rolling up some ropes, watching Leo vomit over the railing. She was a girl of eight, maybe nine, crouched on a crate; the sun lit up her tousled copper hair and gave her a sly look.

  “Maybe it would have been better if he hadn't thrown up at all,” said Nico, looking at his friend lying prostrate on the deck of the barge.

  “Sure. But I meant outside the boat,” replied the girl with a smile that revealed a chipped tooth. Every time she spoke, her words stumbled over her broken tooth, turning into a hiss.

  She held out a grubby hand to Nico: “Hi, I'm Patty.” He shook it.

  Behind Patty, the skinny deckhand was arranging some nets: Patty glanced at him quickly, suspiciously. “That's Samuole, a shady character,” Patty muttered through clenched teeth.

  Nica nodded unconvinced. “What's a little girl doing among all these men?” asked Nico.

  The little girl frowned. “Hey, did you know that I'm more of a man than you? And if I want to, I can prove it to you right now,” she said, dropping the rope and throwing a few punches.

  Nico raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I didn't mean that... But I'm sure you'll be fine. I was just wondering why you're here.”

  “What are you trying to say?” asked the girl, glaring at him.

  “Um, no, nothing, never mind, I was joking,” stammered Nico. The little girl smiled at him and, with an almost feline burst of energy, blurted out: “But you haven't eaten anything, right? Come on: Master Sand will surely have something for you to munch on.”

  The midday sun was high in the sky. Nadia, the princess, was still locked in the captain's cabin, while Kiah read at the bow.

  Gareth called Nico and Leo: he stood in the middle of the barge with his sword in one hand, and an unusual silence had fallen around him. The sailors, scattered here and there, hung around doing nothing, as if that atmosphere of anticipation had infected them all.

  The wind carried the smell of old wood, tar, and swamp; the slow rhythm of the water against the hull hammered in Nico's head. He remained on deck while Patty arrived, dragging their swords in her arms like a huge burden. She placed them on the ground with an almost solemn gesture, then walked away toward the bow.

  “Take your swords,” Gareth growled icily, pointing to the weapons on the ground.

  Nico nodded seriously, grabbed his sword, and drew it from its sheath. The crates and ropes arranged as obstacles made him apprehensive.

  “Don't you think it would be better to wait until we dock? We could cause damage...”

  “If you cause damage, you'll pay for it with work.” Gareth's voice was sharp. His eyes, calm and cold, left no room for objection. “Real fights never offer the empty space of training grounds.”

  Gareth stood in front of him: cold, precise. A few steps away, Leo held his sword in his hand, although every now and then he touched the dagger at his side as if it were a lucky charm.

  Nico felt sweat on his palm against the handle. It wasn't the first time Gareth had shown him a sequence, but each time it felt like learning a new word in a language spoken with the body. Gareth raised a hand, pointing to his guard.

  “Point your knee, don't put all your weight forward.” The voice was low but angry. For a moment, he glanced at the canopy under which the princess remained hidden. “Align your wrist. Not like that...” He touched the blade to show him the correct angle.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  He guided him: step, parry, response. Leo repeated alongside him.

  “Now you two. Against me,” said Gareth. He would not take no for an answer.

  Nico nodded. Leo snorted in Nico's ear: “We're going to look like idiots against this guy...”

  Nico focused on the weight of the hilt, the slight sway of the bridge beneath his feet, the smell of stagnant water and wet earth in the air. He attacked with a light slash. Gareth parried it, stepping back. Leo followed with two blows: Gareth deflected them with what he called an ‘iron parry’.

  Nico prepared to lunge, and for a moment everything slipped away: wind, crates, water. A brief darkness, a blackout. When he resurfaced, Gareth's blade was already against his neck.

  “Dead,” whispered the sword master in his ear. A few sailors whistled in approval.

  Leo approached him, pretending to walk around Gareth. “Hey, are you okay?”

  Nico nodded, sniffing.

  He attacked again. Gareth parried. Leo followed with a side blow, and Gareth deflected both: first Nico's blow, then Leo's. Then it was Gareth's turn to advance: quick, decisive blows against both of them, swinging his sword now with two hands, now with one, in an almost feline dance.

  Nico stepped back, dodged, and looked for space that wasn't there. He saw Leo's sword stick into the railing with a sharp noise: his friend hadn't considered the obstacles around him. Nico thought that, after all, Gareth was a really good teacher. After one last blow towards Nico, Gareth nodded slightly. “Better. We'll try again tomorrow.”

  He walked away toward the storeroom, perhaps to sharpen his sword.

  Nico put down his sword. He felt strange: tired, of course... but also satisfied. He didn't even have time to clean himself up before Master Sand's bell, announcing lunchtime, rang out on the deck.

  He, Leo, and Kiah had settled down on the ground: some with their backs against the railing, others sitting on the wooden crates scattered around the barge. They ate cold salted pork and a piece of bread each. Nico enjoyed the meager but tasty feast, and for a moment the smell of stagnant water and damp wood seemed less pungent.

  Leo, his face green with seasickness, looked at the pork and bread but couldn't bring himself to eat them.

  “Come on, eat,” Kiah murmured. “At least some bread. It dries up the gastric juices.”

  Leo shook his head; his cheeks puffed up, as if he were about to vomit. Nico instinctively moved away, but it was a false alarm.

  “We'll be at Red Bridge this evening,” Captain Fill announced as he approached the three. “We won't be staying long. If you want to have fun, take advantage of it now. But first...” He placed a hand on Leo and Nico's shoulders. “You'll unload the goods. Our buyer will already be there. We have to hurry, before too many prying eyes arrive.”

  He winked and walked away.

  The clothes Nico wore, the forest green jacket over a pair of dark breeches, were a little loose on him... or maybe it was just the jacket. He liked to think he could build up some muscle, to look at least a little like Gareth, with his fighter's physique.

  Kiah turned the pages of the books in front of him, one by one, with extreme delicacy.

  “How's it going?” Nico asked, looking at the still-wet books.

  Kiah shook her head. “Some of it can be saved... but some pages are faded. Illegible.” There was a slight tremor in her voice.

  “I'm sorry,” Nico muttered unconvincingly as he scratched his side where Nerakth had struck him. The wound no longer hurt: perhaps it was the rest, perhaps the sea water... he didn't know. But now he felt an itch, a tingling sensation that at times forced him to scratch.

  He should have told Leo and Kiah about the research he had done, although on reflection it seemed pointless: only with the GameSuit did people report bruises or contusions.

  He remembered the title that had struck him: ‘Stimulation of the somatosensory cortex in virtual reality: neural and physiological correlates of induced trauma.’

  However, the author denied everything:

  'The headset sends stimuli to the areas of the brain responsible for pain and muscle response, but the virtual trauma is not intense or realistic enough: the body cannot react with spasms, micro-injuries, or localized congestion. Even in extreme cases, there are no bruises, muscle tension, or neurovascular shock. The body does not respond to an illusion as if it were real.'

  Nico shook his head. Why on earth had he started doing that research? Perhaps he had feared for himself and for others.

  He laughed to himself. It was pointless to even talk about it.

  The sun had already slipped below the horizon, and the barge moved forward in the uncertain light that precedes nightfall. Nico was leaning against the railing when Red Bridge slowly appeared, as if emerging from the water itself.

  From a distance, it looked like a small town built on the river: arched bridges, all painted bright red, crossed the canals like luminous veins. The houses were built close together, resting on stilts or on small islands connected by wooden and stone walkways of the same bright red color. In the narrow canals, Nico saw small boats gliding slowly, propelled by long oars. A few silhouettes moved on the bridges, quiet figures who seemed to be in no hurry.

  The port was modest and quiet: a small quay, two boats moored. Nico saw only one woman waiting. She stood still, arms crossed, looking bored, as if she were there by chance. Her layered skirts, red, yellow, and blue, stood out against the gray of the shore.

  The barge slowed down. The ropes fell into the water with a muffled thud, then were pulled up and secured to the bollards. The wood creaked as the hull grazed the dock. The smell of stagnant water mingled with a fresher scent coming from the shore: damp earth, warm food, and smoke.

  Nico rolled up his sleeves, ready to get to work. With Leo and some sailors, they formed a carrying chain. The load came from the cubicle where Princess Nadia and Kiah slept. It was heavy but limp; Nico imagined that beneath those bundles of rough cloth there was something soft and precious.

  Leo had it worse: he worked inside the warehouse with Samuele, the deckhand with the scar, passing out the bales. Nico, closer to the shore, could glimpse, between trips back and forth, Captain Fill talking intently with the woman in colorful skirts, while behind them Onis smoked and kept an eye on the harbor. Master Sand, last in line, disappeared behind an alley, returning empty-handed each time.

  It didn't take long for his arms and back to start hurting, but he persevered. He didn't want to give Onis any more opportunities to mock him, as he was already giving him dirty looks every time he slowed down.

  When the last bale changed hands and disappeared down the alley, Captain Fill reappeared on board with a large leather bag. He slipped it under his jacket with a quick, almost satisfied gesture. A little further on, Nico saw the woman reappear aboard a small boat with long oars, a lantern hanging from the bow. A man rowed behind her, while she looked around indifferently, as if the boat were carrying nothing important.

  “They love fine fabrics around here,” Patty said behind her. The words came out a little crooked, distorted by her broken incisor just enough to make them sound drunk.

  Nico turned to her, puzzled. “I thought you'd be asleep at this hour.” He stared at her: she was sitting on a crate, posing, while cleaning her dirty nails with a long, thin tool, similar to a hairpin.

  The little girl gave him an offended look. “I'm a sea rat. Sea rats don't go to bed early.”

  Nico laughed. “I thought it was ‘sea dog’.”

  Patty looked at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, then replied, “Well, I'm too small to be a wolf. And besides, it's better to be a mouse: no one sees mice, but wolves stand out. Mice do whatever they want.” She smiled, revealing her broken incisor.

  Night had fallen on Red Bridge. The village, stretching out over the water, had narrow canals lit by lanterns hanging from poles along the bridges: Nico thought they must be well marked, otherwise someone could end up in the water or one of those narrow, long boats with long oars could fail to see the bridge and crash into it. The red bridges, straight or arched, wide or narrow, intertwined between small structures with submerged foundations, like luminous veins running through the city.

  They were crossing yet another small bridge when Nico heard Leo's stomach rumbling.

  “I'm starving,” his friend complained.

  Kiah, arms crossed, blurted out of nowhere, “I can't believe it. What manners. She's a truly impossible person.”

  “Who are you referring to?” asked Nico, already expecting the answer, as he looked at the sides of the canal, the lanterns flickering on the water.

  “A whole day, you understand?” said Leo, talking to himself more than to the others. “Do you understand that I haven't eaten in a whole day?” he concluded with a sigh, his gaze lost elsewhere, his eyes languid. Nico nodded, unsure whether to respond to Kiah or Leo. Leo continued, “This trip is killing me. Actually, let me rephrase that: this game is killing me.” His stomach growled again. “Hunger, hunger, hunger...”

  Kiah snorted dryly. “And stop talking about food all the time. Think about poor Gareth instead. He had to stay on the ship just to look after that spoiled brat.”

  Leo looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “You haven't got a crush on him, have you?”

  “What are you talking about? I...” replied Kiah, hesitantly, lowering her gaze to the ground. Leo laughed, starting to tease her.

  “Stop it. I mean it. This is ridiculous,” she exclaimed.

  “She's a princess,” said Nico, pleased to have said something that seemed accurate and absolute to him. Kiah put her hands on her hips, stunned and ready to retort, but Leo interrupted her, pointing ahead: “Hey, look, an inn.”

  “We don't have any money,” said Kiah dryly.

  “You can be my guests, if you like,” said a childish voice, with slurred consonants. Nico turned around: Patty, the ‘sea mouse’, was there. Who knows how long she had been following them.

  “Holy salami, you gave me a fright,” said Leo, then added, “If it's on you, I'll go wherever you want.”

  The little girl laughed, revealing her broken incisor. “Come with me.”

  The inn, Il Gabbiano di Notte, was perched on a red bridge twice as wide as the others. When they opened the door, they were not hit by the usual smells Nico remembered—smoke, sweat, beer—but by sweet, penetrating aromas that reminded him of roses. Several patrons were seated at the tables, among them women whose bodies were covered only by semi-transparent veils, moving between the tables. The atmosphere was strange: calm, but charged with anticipation. Nico blushed when he saw that the women were naked under those veils.

  Leo looked around with wide eyes. Kiah, embarrassed, whispered, “But this is a…”

  “Wait for me here,” said Patty. “The owner, the Madrina, is a friend.” She walked away between the tables, and one or two waitresses greeted her with a kiss or a pat on her tousled hair.

  Shortly afterwards, she arrived with a heavyset woman wearing heavy earrings and heavy makeup. She was wearing an elegant silk dress that, in Nico's opinion, looked very expensive. The Madrina stared at them.

  “Who are these people? Colleagues?”

  Nico shook his head, waving his hands. “No, no, we're traveling companions.”

  “Ah, you don't work on Fill's ship? And where is that scoundrel? Hasn't he come to say hello to his friend yet?”

  “He's a bit busy at the moment, we have to set sail soon,” said Patty, looking around, then added hurriedly, “Listen, aren't you going to offer us anything?”

  The Madrina headed toward a door at the side of the room, walking close to the wall so as not to bump into the customers. Nico saw a veiled woman sit on a man's lap and whisper sweet words to him. The woman glanced at Nico and smiled with her eyes. “Hey kid, stop staring, you're embarrassing the customers,” said the Madrina, grabbing him when she saw him staring blankly.

  They entered a large kitchen. The head cook—a large woman with a dark complexion—commanded her workers with a wooden scepter. When she saw Patty, she muttered with a drawl, “Little girl, I thought you'd drowned,” and laughed.

  They sat down to eat grilled fish with blanched vegetables and beer. Patty told the Godmother and the head cook about the urgency of leaving because of a “hot” shipment, without explaining it. She talked about Taynor, the heavy atmosphere, the Nothingness that had crossed the walls, and interspersed everything with personal comments and digressions about food, people, or objects seen during the trip.

  Then, out of nowhere, she said, “I need information.”

  The Madrina laughed and exchanged a knowing glance with the head cook. “Information costs money.”

  Patty took out a mother-of-pearl buckle and placed it on the table. The Madrina looked at it, passed it to the head cook, who sniffed it. “This is the real deal. Who did you steal it from?”

  “Someone very far from here.”

  The Godmother chuckled, while Nico, Kiah, and Leo watched silently, tense.

  “Good. Listen, sea rat: tomorrow, the one who calls himself the ‘spice merchant’ will arrive at the bridge market.” Then she snorted. “Spices, my foot. Those are just a cover.”

  She lowered her voice. “He smuggles black powder. Stuff that burns, in a flash it can make things disappear... or people.”

  She moistened her lips with her finger. “He always carries a barrel hidden among the spice barrels. He arrives tomorrow morning.”

  “And where do you unload the goods?” asked Patty.

  “On the old canal,” said the Madrina, flashing a gold tooth. “They pay well for that powder up north. Very well.”

  Patty nodded and stood up, suddenly looking like just a little girl again. Nico and the others followed her to the back door.

  “Hey,” the Godmother called after her. “If they catch you, don't say I told you anything.”

  Patty smiled, showing her broken tooth. “If they catch me, I won't talk to anyone.”

  Stepping out into the back alley, Nico stumbled upon a figure wrapped in a long cloak. He turned to apologize. The figure's face was covered by a hood, but Nico could see a scar on his left cheek. The man's eyes darted angrily toward him, then widened and he looked away, continuing on his way. A little further on, he stopped to shake hands with a short, stocky man.

  “Is everything okay?” Kiah asked him.

  Nico nodded. When he turned back around, the man had disappeared with his companion.

  They walked along talking about the evening, but Patty didn't want to reveal anything about her duties in the crew. Suddenly, Kiah whispered, “See that guy over there?”

  Nico turned slightly and saw a short, stocky man out of the corner of his eye. He recognized him: it was the same man from the alley.

  “What do you think he wants?” he asked.

  “I don't know,” replied Kiah. “But we have to get back to the boat and tell Gareth. I think he's following us.”

  Near the shoreline, they ran into Gareth. The boy looked agitated and was clutching a lantern convulsively in his hands. Patty muttered a greeting and said, “I'm going to tell Captain Fill everything. See you later,” and ran off.

  “Have you seen Nadia?” asked Gareth.

  “What? You lost the Princess?” Leo shouted, his eyes wide.

  “There was a man here,” said Kiah, her voice tense. “He was staring at us. Maybe he knows who we are, I don't know.”

  Gareth nodded. “Okay. But now we have to find Nadia.”

  “But weren't you on the boat with her?” Nico asked.

  Gareth nodded, visibly annoyed.

  “Great! People following us, guards losing the princesses. And my stomach is so bloated that I just want to lie down and close my eyes,” Leo blurted out.

  Gareth looked at him, narrowing his eyes to slits.

  “Do you need anything, my friends?” interrupted a stammering voice behind them. Nico turned around: it was Samuele, the cabin boy. The scar on his left cheek flashed in the light of the lantern.

  “We can't find the Princess,” Leo said before Nico could stop him.

  Samuele nodded. “In that case, I'll notify the captain,” he said, then turned and walked away.

  “Gareth... I think Samuele has betrayed us,” Nico said. He felt his heart sink as he spoke.

  Gareth stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “I saw him with that short, stocky man who was following us...”

  “And when were you planning on telling us?” Leo blurted out.

  “I only just noticed,” said Nico, waving his hands defensively. “His face was covered by a hood. I only just connected the scar. On the ship, he seems so small, always crouched in a corner... this guy seemed taller, more confident... you know?”

  “All right,” said Gareth. “The ship is no longer safe. We must split up.”

  “How can we split up?” Kiah asked, incredulous.

  Gareth took out some coins. “Here's some money. Buy some horses, I'll go look for Nadia. Meet me at the back of Lo Sposo Novello.”

  With that, he turned, covered his face with his hood, and disappeared into the shadows.

  Log closed: The system observes.