The Shadow on the Map

Alira ran into the workshop through the back door, soaked through. Master Rowen hadn't opened the morning shop — he'd never missed a morning in her three years of apprenticeship. Never. The map cabinets stood flung open, but nothing was missing. Only on the desk, pinned down by a brass compass, lay a letter and a single map. The letter was short: «If you want to see the old man alive — sail to the island that does not exist. The map is with you. The rain will help. Come within a week — or do not come at all». The map showed the Silver Sea Archipelago. Alira traced it with her finger — familiar outlines she'd copied a hundred times. Then she saw it: a drop of rain from her hair fell on empty water between two islands, and where the drop spread, a drawing slowly bloomed. An island. Round. With a single tower at its centre. When the water dried — the island was gone. Two ships left at midnight from the harbour. The trading schooner «Albatross» — bound for the Silver Sea. The naval frigate «Faithful» — same direction.