CHAPTER 1

A serving girl bumped into the bard, spilling her drinks and interrupting the story, and Daylen Jagaro found himself back where he had been the whole time—sitting on a soft, velvet cushion in one of the many lounges aboard the treasure ship the Mighty Sparrow. A collective moan rose from the many listeners.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the bard, a female dwarf with her face painted chalk white, was saying. “Just give me a moment, and I shall continue the tale of Ping the Thief and Du Shu the Giant-King!”

Daylen stretched, looking around at the others. The lounge was filled with merchants like him, though he was the only Westerner. Serving girls were bringing them food and drink—mostly sweetbread and tea. The air was filled with incense, which at first he had found delightful, but now he found was giving him a headache. He decided that the exploits of the mighty Ping would have to wait for another time. It was a fascinating tale, though. The dwarfs of Dergar had similar tales about giants, which he always took as mythology. After all, the giants were always featured as villains in the dwarfs’ legends, which Daylen had always taken as evidence of the dwarfs’ inherent distrust of a world filled with races much larger than themselves. However, finding similar stories all the way here in the Far East made him reconsider; he would have to make a note of it in his journal.

He stood and wandered out of the lounge. He headed up a narrow flight of stairs, past busy sailors, and out onto the top deck. He took a deep breath as the warm sun and cool, crisp air washed over him. He leaned against the rail, staring out at the clouds as they swam by. His gaze fell past the railing to the earth far, far below.

He could see a river, which looked like a glimmering blue thread, cutting through a forest that spread out like a vast green sea.

The Mighty Sparrow was an airship. He had seen many airships in his day—from merchant galleys to the mighty stone airships of the Keln Empire—but still the treasure ship held him in awe. It was the largest wooden airship he had ever seen: from bow to stern it stretched an imposing four hundred feet and was easily two hundred feet wide. It boasted an impressive nine masts, each of which were decorated with colorful flags meant to ward off bad luck while invoking the blessings of the gods. Crewed by a staff of no less than four hundred, the ship was capable of holding up to five hundred additional passengers.

Airship magic never ceased to impress Daylen. He understood the basic mechanics of it; built like a regular, seafaring vessel, the ship floated on air as its counterpart did on water.

This, as far as he understood, was based on a magical principle known as the Law of Elements.

However, beyond that, he understood very little, only that the wood constructing the airship was imbued with kernels of magically enchanted air crystals, making airships very, very expensive. A ship the size of the Mighty Sparrow was more than just a powerful ship—it was a testimony to the owner’s wealth and power.

But while he marveled at that wealth and power, he found that it was inspiring him less than it was depressing him, as it served only to remind the struggling merchant of his own lack of wealth. That was precisely what had brought him to the mystical land of Khitai.

Daylen hailed from the West, from a backwater province known as Ecbatana, its only real accomplishment the fact that its divided people somehow managed to prevent annexation by the mighty Keln Empire. His home was in Northal, a ramshackle city that sat just outside the entrance to the dwarf kingdom of Dergar, located in the mountains of the same Name. That was thousands of miles away, and in a land rife with competition. Still, there was wealth to be found there, and for a time Daylen was doing quite well for himself.

He came from a long line of merchants; it was a proud dynasty stretching back centuries. For a time, his family was moderately powerful, and even as little as two decades ago rivaled the great Crimson Trading Company, which dominated trade in that region. But that was two decades ago, and times have changed.

By the time Daylen was thirteen, his family had begun losing business. It was just simple competition at first, but when the Keln Empire returned to Ecbatana, setting up a permanent residence in the center of the province in their mighty fortress, business suddenly went from bad to worse.

Now at the age of thirty, Daylen felt like a miserable failure. When his grandfather was the same age, he was already a successful businessman, owning two airships and employing several dozen workers. His trade routes had stretched from the city of Haven in northeastern Ecbatana to the city of Simra in the southwest, and all up and down the mighty Dragon River.

Daylen, on the other hand, worked from load to load, his clients changing from contract to contract. He always seemed to struggle in his search for buyers. He owned no airships (his

cousin Valen Jagaro had inherited the one remaining airship of their grandfather’s; the other was lost years ago over the Vast Wastes), and he always just barely had enough silver in the bank for his next investment.

His father had died of a plague the year before he left for Khitai, and Daylen was pretty sure that he had thought of his son as a failure. His mother had died when he was only five, but he felt pretty confident that if she were alive she would be just as disappointed. In his family, worth was measured by wealth—a fact his cousin Valen never let him forget.

When he heard that Khitai opened her borders to the West again—something that had not been done for over five hundred years—Daylen decided that it was his last chance to make something of himself. He traveled to Xantha—a city renowned for its airships—and, after investing in a large cargo of Ecbatan rugs, booked passage on an airship and headed east. He arrived first in the Keln province of Drasa, located just southwest of Khitai. There he sold his rugs to a contact before finally heading northeast by caravan with a chest full of minted silver.

That was six months ago.

He had heard about the civil war before arriving. He knew that nearly one hundred years ago, the Emperor of Khitai had died before producing an heir, ending the millennia-long Yun dynasty. This sundered the mighty Empire into five distinct kingdoms, each fighting for control of the Imperial Throne. He thought this conflict would work to his advantage, as war had a tendency to put greater demand on products. He thought he would be wealthy by now, heading back to Ecbatan with a hull full of exotic goods. The first Ecbatan merchant to trade with the East! The scholars of the Great Library of Dergar would write about him; his cousin would envy him. He would be the contact between the East and other Ecbatan merchants who wished to break into the market. Maybe he would even be the one to introduce the owner of the Crimson Trading Company—the great Masu himself—to the East!

But those dreams were slowly fading. He had so far met nothing but stubborn resistance. While he was excited to make arrangements with the Khitains, most were less than impressed with

him. He may be the first Ecbatan merchant to reach Khitai, but Khitai was already flooded with Western merchants from across the Keln Empire, most of whom had far more exotic goods to offer than Daylen could promise. That, and he encountered opposition from the Khitain guilds, who demanded hefty slices of the profit which he could not afford. And from some others, he even encountered a bit of hostility.

The week prior, he had passed through Heng Na, the capital of the kingdom Tiet Dei—The Land of Metal. He spent a great deal of time at the city’s bazaar, which was set up on a sixty foot wide bridge that straddled a river cutting through the northern quarter of the great walled city. The merchant stalls were set up along the sides of the bridge, and merchants unloaded their goods straight off of boats from the river. Butcher’s stalls crawled along the shores of the river, which allowed the blood and guts to be disposed of directly into the swift moving waters. Most Khitains, however, seemed content to do the butchering at home, and it wasn’t uncommon to see people walking around with crates of live chickens or ducks.

While there, he purchased an expensive silk robe to help blend in—or at least help him not advertise his foreignness so loudly. He haggled a bit with a young human woman before settling on a reasonable price for the robe. Dyed a deep, rich blue, it was decorated with images of forests, tigers, and eagles. He thought it made him look quite exotic indeed. However, the effort did little to improve his luck. The merchants of Heng Na were even less forgiving than any of the others he had thus far encountered. This, he learned, was because the king of Tiet Dei, Lee Chang He, imposed heavy taxes and draconian laws on his merchant class. Hanged corpses, dangling from the underside of the bridge, showed Daylen—and everyone else—the severity of punishment awaiting those who would test those laws.

He spent a few days in Heng Na making what he hoped would prove to be reasonable and profitable investments. Unsure of his next move, he had wandered to the center of the city, toward the airship docks. A great artificial lake spread out in a wide circle, docks jutting out into the dark blue waters like crooked, wooden teeth. Airships landed in the center of the lake and pulled up to the docks to unload their cargo. Nearby, the Iron Cloud was docked in the sky at a great spire that towered high above the king’s palace.

Serving as his personal warship, the Iron Cloud resembled a great Khitain dragon made entirely from iron, its immense jaws concealing a powerful fire cannon capable of launching a ball of flame the size of a fully grown troll.

That is when he first saw the Mighty Sparrow. Its many red and yellow flags, which were tied to its nine masts, fluttered gently in the afternoon wind. He made his way down the dock to where over a dozen sailors were loading cargo up a broad ramp: several dozen barrels of pepper, crates upon crates filled with silver and porcelain containers and brightly painted vases, numerous casks of ink, and much more.

Overseeing the loading was a lydron, his deep red scales shimmering in the sunlight. Daylen marveled at the lydron, who was busy supervising the work; the humans, elves, dwarfs, and even

stonemen of Khitai all had a distinct look that clearly set them apart from their western cousins. The lydron of Khitai, however, looked no different than the lydron of Ecbatana: standing just under six feet in height and weighing nearly two hundred pounds, the lizard-like lydron stood with his hands on his hips, his six-foot-long tale swaying gently back and forth, his long beak-like nose clacking open and closed in some sort of idiosyncratic habit.

Like many of his kind, the lydron had a crest running from the base of his neck to the top of his head through the center of his skull. Those crests, to Daylen, always looked like some sort of fin.

Of course, he knew better than to ever suggest to a lydron that they were a type of fish.

After getting the lydron’s attention, he discovered that the great treasure ship belonged to Ning-Xa, a human merchant hailing from the kingdom of Feng Dei. Daylen managed to book passage, and several hours later, here he was, staring out over the railing of the great ship as it sailed gently through the sky, far above Khitai.

Daylen sighed, trying to shrug off his anxiety. In the hold below decks sat his meager cargo: a variety of colored bowls, incense, and spices. In addition to what he saw being loaded up the ramp earlier, some of the other cargo aboard the Mighty Sparrow was dozens of crates of enchanted air crystals. These coveted kernels were worth a great deal of wealth. What could he possibly offer this Ning-Xa, whose immense airship was bloated with such treasure?

The red-scaled lydron, who Daylen had learned was named Tsa-Hung, appeared from below decks. He stopped, his eyes sweeping across the deck, surveying the sailors. They came to rest upon Daylen as he stood by the rail. Daylen nodded a hello; the lydron

nodded curtly back and approached.

“Daylen Jagaro,” said the lydron in Khitain—a language of which Daylen was still working out the finer nuances. “Lord Ning-Xa requests your presence.”

Daylen’s heart skipped a beat. He smiled and did his best to keep the anxiety from his voice, “Of course. Please lead the way.”

Deep into the bowels of the ship they walked—a journey that felt immeasurably long to Daylen. They passed near a large eating gallery, where the distinct smells of Khitain dishes—rice, pork, noodles, and various soups to name just a few—tantalized him. He was surprised when his stomach responded; he hadn’t eaten much since boarding the ship, too distracted by the impending meeting to summon an appetite. Now he was regretting that decision.

Tsa-Hung finally led him into a wide, opulent chamber. The floor was covered with a thick, lush rug, the walls with scrolls and tapestries picturing broad, snow-capped mountains, bamboo forests, and various exotic animals. The room was filled strongly with the smell of incense. He could see dozens of the sticks burning on a large stand in the corner. Daylen recognized them as dragon incense: magically enchanted sticks, whose smoke formed images of Khitain dragons.

The smoky enchantments filled the room and swam gracefully through the air like wispy spirits.

Sitting behind a low table near the far wall was the merchant lord Ning-Xa. He wore a robe similar to Daylen’s, though obviously of superior quality. Gold with blue highlights, it was cinched at the waist with a golden sash. The sleeves flared out at the wrists, so wide that Daylen thought you could hide a small child in them. On his head he wore a short square cap which matched his robe. A long, black, braided ponytail fell from beneath it, snaking its way across his left shoulder to lie across his chest. Perhaps only a few years older than Daylen, his face was clear, smooth, and handsome. He wore a pointed beard that wrapped tightly around his small mouth, trimmed in the Khitain style, oiled and slick, falling down into three sharp points. Behind him a pair of glass doors hung open, revealing a balcony, beyond which passed rolling waves of clouds in an otherwise empty sky.

He smiled when they entered, motioning to a large, plush cushion that lay opposite of him on the floor. “Please,” he said, “have a seat.”

Daylen nodded, smiling politely, and seated himself while Tsa-Hung bowed and departed, closing the heavy, engraved door shut behind him. Ning-Xa motioned to a bowl of peaches and a silver platter of steamed buns.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, offering the food. While Daylen reached for a steamed bun, his host poured them each a cup of tea.

“This is a most impressive ship,” said Daylen, hoping Khitains responded the same to flattery as Westerners. Ning-Xa bowed his head humbly.

“I am glad it pleases you. I have seen the airships of the West. They, too, are most impressive.” Daylen was nodding in agreement when Ning-Xa suddenly asked, “How many airships do you own?”

Daylen was grateful he had a mouthful of steamed bun. He felt suddenly insecure; he chewed slowly and exaggeratedly, giving himself time to think. He washed it down with some tea—which was much sweeter than he had anticipated—before saying, “I have three, though none are as splendid as the Mighty Sparrow.” Ning- Xa seemed pleased with the answer. Daylen tried to think of three names for the ships just in case Ning-Xa asked. A moment passed.

Daylen was about to break the silence when Ning-Xa suddenly asked,“What brings you so far from home?”

Money.

 “I have always been fascinated by your culture. I hoped to learn as much about Khitai as possible. There are many people where I come from who have no means to travel so far, and who would be grateful of the knowledge that I will bring back.”

“Ah, I see,” said Ning-Xa. “I thought perhaps you were here to make money.” Daylen studied him; he wore a slight smile on his lips. Greed, then, was not as shameful in the East as in the West, it would seem. He allowed himself to smile as well.

“Well, I hope to make new business partners, yes. But a sharing of cultures is my true passion.” He wasn’t ready to let go of his pretense yet.

Ning-Xa bowed his head. “Truly a noble purpose, no doubt.” Then he produced a rolled up scroll from one of his massive sleeves.

“I wonder what else he has up there,” Daylen mused. Ning-Xa unrolled the scroll and read from it, “You come from Ecbatana?”

“Yes, from Northal. It’s a very wealthy city.” Well, not a total lie—there were wealthy people in it.

“And you have only a small cargo onboard.” Daylen suddenly realized the scroll was the ship’s manifest. He was required to reveal his cargo’s contents when bringing it onboard. He was suddenly worried that it would betray his lack of wealth.

“Just a little taste of what the East has to offer,” Daylen smiled casually. Ning-Xa cast a sideways glance at him, and Daylen had the feeling he was being studied.

Then Ning-Xa said, “It is curious that you travel by yourself. Why do you have no entourage?”

The lie came easily to Daylen, “I have found that the common man is more willing to speak with one who isn’t surrounded by a small army of guards and servants. I have been interviewing people in order to construct a full picture of what life in Khitai is truly like.” Well, it was partly true. Daylen was interested in the culture, and he had been writing notes down in his journal, but it was mostly so he could sell the information to the dwarfs at the Great Library of Dergar back in Ecbatana.

“I suppose the question then is, what can we do for each other?” The merchant rolled the scroll back up, and it promptly vanished back up his sleeve.

Daylen set down his steamed bun and said, “I was hoping you would ask that. My question to you then is, how would you like exclusive trading rights to Ecbatana?” It was a bold proposition; after all, he did not have the kind of influence and power to make such a promise. But as far as Ning-Xa knew, he could be the wealthiest merchant in all of Ecbatana. Besides, all he needed was to return to Ecbatana, meet with various merchants, such as the rich and powerful Masu, and write up a few contracts. A small broker’s commission later and Daylen would soon be teaching cousin Valen the true meaning of envy.

Ning-Xa smiled. “I hear that the lands to the west have small, winged elves.” Daylen cocked his head. Small, winged elves?

“Oh! You mean wind children,” he said. He could understand how they could confuse them for elves: standing only twelve inches tall, they resembled miniature elves with dragonfly wings. A harmless race, Daylen had long taken them for granted. To someone who had never seen one, however, they must truly seem remarkable.

“Yes,” said Ning-Xa, pleased he understood, “Wind children.”

“What about them?”

“I would like to own some.” Ning-Xa took a sip of tea. Daylen’s face turned white. Own? He meant slavery. He swallowed. The Keln Empire owned slaves, the Ecbatans did not. Most of the cultures in Ecbatana outlawed the practice over one hundred years ago, and to most, slavery was viewed as an unforgivable sin.

“My people, we Ecbatanans I mean, we don’t participate in the trade of flesh.”

“Ah,” Ning-Xa set down his teacup, “Yes, truly noble.” The way he smiled was patronizing and told Daylen what he really thought about such a “noble” policy.

“But,” Daylen began, “I have contacts with many other resources, like iron, timber—,” he was cut off by a dismissive wave of Ning-Xa’s hand.

“Those I have enough of. I am interested in wind children.”

Daylen’s heart began to sink. “He knows I’m a fraud,” he thought, already starting to mourn the respect he felt he just lost.

“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.” Ning-Xa began to stand.

“I can get you the wind children!” Daylen blurted out.

Even as he heard the words, he couldn’t believe it was himself saying it. What was he doing? He didn’t believe in slavery. If he wanted to deal in the slave trade he could have been rich long ago. But his principles wouldn’t allow it.

“Damn my principles,” he thought angrily. “Where have they ever gotten me? Nowhere. I’ve played the ethical game, and there’s a reason why it isn’t very popular.”

“I can get you wind children,” he said again. Ning-Xa smiled warmly and sat back down.

“Ahhh,” he purred, “I am most pleased.” From his other sleeve he produced another scroll, this one blank. He dipped a long quill in ink and began writing up a contract.

As he watched the graceful Khitain characters appeared on the scroll, Daylen took a deep breath to calm his shaking hands.

It would be all right. He would buy them from Keln. They were already slaves anyway; it’s not like he was going to go out and enslave free, Ecbatan wind children. Besides, they would probably be treated with the utmost respect. Khitains weren’t used to them, after all. They would be a novelty.

Finished, Ning-Xa produced another blank scroll and set it next to the contract. He passed a hand across both of them, and suddenly the blank scroll was a duplicate of the first. He slid one across to Daylen, who felt suddenly even further out

of his league.

“One for you, and one for me,” he said. “It says that I am willing to purchase two hundred wind children for the standard market price.” Daylen took it numbly, folded it, and slid it into his robe’s inner pocket.

“And one other thing.” Ning-Xa suddenly held a small, golden container about half the size of his palm. He slid the container across the table. “For your cargo…” he began. Daylen’s breath caught in his chest. He reached out slowly and lifted the small vessel carefully.

It was cool to the touch. He opened the lid and saw many tiny, icy white kernels sitting inside. Though solid, they looked like small, condensed balls of slowly swirling air.

Air crystals.

There must have been dozens. He counted them greedily: there were twenty. He understood that most vessels designed for carrying air kernels were lined with the precious metal. Air kernels had to be kept apart from heat, especially fire, for they would explode into a tremendous fireball on contact—the science behind the powerful cannons.

Daylen smiled, though he tried not to look too pleased.

“…and for our new friendship,” Ning-Xa finished.

As Daylen was leaving the room, Ning-Xa bowed. He returned the bow, lower than the one given to him by Ning-Xa—a sign of deference in their culture. He left and returned to his room. He set the gold container and contract onto his goose-feather bed and touched the side of a small, brass bowl filled with water that sat on his nightstand. Enchanted with elemental magic, the bowl was designed to warm its contents upon command. After washing his face, Daylen sat down and opened the gold case and stared at the beautiful swirling winds. He reached out and touched them—they were cool, but not too cold. However, the longer he left his finger on them, the colder it became. He removed it, grinning stupidly.

He snapped the lid shut and laid down. This is what it was supposed to be like. The memories of his depression and anxiety melted away like a morning mist, and after a moment he couldn’t even recall what it had felt like. He shook his head; how could he have doubted himself? He was destined for greatness. It was a little late in life, but he was going to outshine the rest of his family.

He probably should return to the West now, but he was feeling too good, too confident. No, he would finish his tour of the Far East. Besides, he didn’t want Ning-Xa thinking he was too eager.

No, this was going to be an equal partnership.

The next time they met, he would be sure not to bow so low.