Sedgewick stared at his reflection and grimaced. The dim light of the ship's cabin revealed just enough to know that the glass had seen prettier faces. "How do I look?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. The black dye had stained the tips of his fingers and the lack of his usual red glinting from about his face was disconcerting. But it had to be done. With the hair dye and his typical pale complexion, he'd pass as one of the dark-haired Northlanders.

"Like someone who burns Abreylian villages," Rivian called out from the other side of the cabin.

Sedgewick turned and gave him a withering look.

"Like someone who appreciates his favorite apprentice?" Rivian corrected quickly. His lips twitched in a grin.

"You're my only apprentice. And you've made me rethink ever having another," he muttered to himself.

"Heard that!"

Sedgewick chose to ignore the younger mage. The journey here had been uneventful, but the ship would be ducking into a discreet inlet within the hour and then the real work would begin. He ran his fingers through his now-black hair again and sighed. Good thing he wouldn't be wearing his hat. The dye might stain it. He could have used an illusion spell but hair, with all of its individual strands, could be...tricky. And illusions weren't his specialty. Not that he couldn't do them in a pinch, of course.

A knock sounded against the cabin door. Sedgewick turned but Rivian answered it first. Crayden's white smile flashed as he stepped into the room. His arms held a bundle of clothes. "Master Alverdyne," he greeted before unceremoniously dropping the clothes into the cabin's only chair. "Haven't you moved up in the world."

"You two...know each other?" Rivian asked.

Sedgewick grimaced, searching for a way to describe their tenuous former connection. "We—"

"Were friends," Crayden cut in quickly. "Don't let the mage's reluctance fool you. He doesn't want to admit that he used to waste his magic levitating shipment boxes in the shipyard with me," he added with a conspiratorial wink.

It slowly dawned on Sedgewick that his questionable—and embarrassing—former occupation was not about to be unfurled before his apprentice. Sedgewick covered up his hesitation with a snort. "You were just jealous that I wasn't ruining my back like you were."

"Working under royals ain't improved your attitude," Crayden quipped with a grin.

"Working as a captain hasn't improved your face." Rivian stifled a laugh and a weight fell from Sedgewick's shoulders. "I'd offer you a chair but it seems your habit of dropping things where they don't go hasn't changed either." Sedgewick plunked up a gray undershirt made of a courser, thicker material than most of his Abreylian clothes.

"The rest of your disguise," Crayden said. "Can't be tramping through the Northlands in Abreylian silk."

"The only one wearing silk during a war is you." Sedgewick jabbed a finger at the bright red vest casually slung over Crayden's shirt.

"Can't abandon all the comforts of home. Prince Rodren is expecting you," Crayden added before Sedgewick could make another retort.

Sedgewick swore. "You might have started out with that. Rivian! Go distract him. The last thing I need is Rodren on my case for taking too long."

"But Prince Rodren thinks I'm irritating!"

"Then that makes two of us, now go!"

Rivian scurried away while Sedgewick snatched up the clothes and stepped behind the changing screen. He fingered the material of his Abreylian clothes then reluctantly undid the knots tying the overshirt closed. "I suppose I should thank you for your discretion," he called out from behind the screen.

"I know not to ruin a good thing when I see it." Crayden let out a whistle. "Far cry from that rat box I found you in."

"Indeed." His chest panged again. If it hadn't been for Alena, he might still have been living there. Sedgewick tugged his new clothes straight. Instead of being clasped closed at the side with a higher collar, the dark gray overshirt hung loose in a straight neckline with a leather belt to tighten it against his waist. He ran his hands through his black dyed hair one final time and stepped out from behind the screen, moving towards the mirror. The disguise wasn't perfect but it would do.

"What are ya passing yourself off as again?"

"A traveling alchemist," Sedgewick said. He gave his shirt a final tug and waved Crayden out the door. They climbed up to the main deck where Rodren and Rivian were waiting.

Rodren gave him a cursory glance and nodded in approval. "You'll do. Captain Blacksun?"

Crayden cast his gaze about the forest on either side of the inlet they were now traveling down. The air had become slightly cooler as they'd sailed further north. "We can stop now if you wish, my liege."

Rodren nodded and Crayden barked commands at the crew. The prince jerked his chin at Rivian, who stepped forward to hand Sedgewick a pack of supplies. Other than a few words about the mission, Rodren hadn't spoken to him for the whole journey. This would probably end up being their longest conversation.

The plan was simple. Sedgewick would get off here and walk to the village closest to Creststone. He would stay for a few days, or less if possible, observing the fortress and the soldiers stationed within. Depending on how safe it was, they'd also selected a meeting point for him to check in at and share what he'd learned so far. Then he would depart from the village and meet back up with the ship. In and out. Nothing too risky.

The ship lowered anchor. Sedgewick's heart dropped with it but he kept his face bored. A quick row to the shoreline with Rivian and it was finally time to leave. "You'll be checking in, right?" Rivian's normal flippancy had given way to him wrinkling his brow.

"Hoping to get rid of me, lad?" Sedgewick asked.

"I haven't taken my final apprenticeship test yet. You can go die after that." The wrinkle in his brow vanished under his usual insolence, and Sedgewick fought a sigh of relief.

"Try to limit your stupidity while I'm gone."

"I'll follow your excellent example." He bobbed on his feet and clasped his hands behind his back, twisting them.

"Spit it out, lad," Sedgewick finally said.

"Be careful."

He snorted.

"This is more than magic," Rivian rushed on. "It's subterfuge, it's getting people to talk to you."

"I'll be fine, boy. Get on back to the ship." He jerked his head toward the vessel.

Rivian's lips thinned but he did as he was told for once. Sedgewick watched him row away and then dragged his gaze up to the ship's deck. His eyes met Rodren's. The prince half turned but stopped abruptly. He raised his hand to Sedgewick in farewell. It was a far cry from Eldain's chastisements of concern but he would take it. Sedgewick responded in kind before finally turning and walking into the forest.

Curse the Northlands, Sedgewick thought to himself. It had decided to start raining shortly after he'd set off and had not let up for the entire walk to the village. Perhaps the Northlands had decided to punish him. Or maybe he'd drawn close enough to the Elberic Peaks for Elberin, the Divine Helper whose name the mountains shared, to decide to punish him for daring to leave the cursed mountain range of his birth. Either way, by the time he reached the doors of the inn, he was soaked and irritable.

Two stories and made of a dreary gray-white wood, the sign hanging above the inn's door labeled it as The Drunken Ferry. If the name hadn't been hint enough, the rancorous laughter peeling from inside showed that this wasn't one of the sophisticated coffee or tea houses found back in Abreyla. Sedgewick braced himself before opening the door and slipping inside.

Taverns, at least, were somewhat in his element. The fifteen odd Onryx soldiers swarming the tables was less so. Spilled ale and splattered beer soured his nostrils as he stepped inside. He'd entered with an equally sour expression and changing it now would be more suspicious, so Sedgewick let his irritation linger. He weaved through the mixture of soldiers and civilians alike until he'd reached the counter.

An older fey sporting a scar that stretched from the tip of his ear to the middle of his cheek sat behind the counter. His mouth twisted into a grisly smile. "Care for anything?" he asked in a thick Northlander accent.

"A room. And... would wine be asking too much?"

"Any man picky enough to want wine isn't going to like what I 'ave," the older fey answered, raising a thick eyebrow.

"Ale then," Sedgewick agreed reluctantly.

"A realist, I see. Valra! An ale!" he called out.

A young, dark-haired girl huffed and slid off the lap of an Onryx soldier. "Fine..." She sashayed over to the counter despite the protest of her former seatmate.

"Show him to one of our rooms when he's done," the elder fey added before leaving to attend to someone else.

Valra sniffed, her mouth twitching downward as she looked him over. Having to leave the attention of whatever soldier she fancied to wait on a scrawny man who looked like a wet cat clearly wasn't what she had in mind. Sedgewick smiled awkwardly but it didn't win him any favor.

"Here's your ale." She plunked down a mug in front of him. "Take your time before I show you the room." She wandered off back to a soldier calling her name and promptly took a seat in his lap.

Sedgewick sipped the sour ale and grimaced. He took another sip anyway. Any alcohol was better than none.

"They'll be rutted back to their mud pit by spring, mark my words," the tallest of the soldiers said. He twisted one of Valra's dark curls with one hand and took a drink from his mug with the other.

"I heard on the roads that we'd been pushed back," Sedgewick cut in. Valra shot him a scowl but the man placed a hand on her shoulder and relaxed her back against him.

"Temporary." He waved his mug and the concern away at the same time. "They won't break through Creststone and the mudskin barbarians won't last a month once winter hits."

"And you'll be there to push them out when it happens, won't Captain Kier," Valra cooed, her voice several octaves higher than it had been with Sedgewick.

"Of course I will, pet," Kier crooned. He turned back to Sedgewick. "And what brings you to this rock?"

"I'm an alchemist. I stopped to gather ingredients and rest for a few days."

Several soldiers barked out laughs and shouted out requests for potions involved in vulgar activities. "Not that kind of alchemist."

Kier silenced the men with an elegant wave of his hand. "You ought to stop by the fortress, alchemist. I might have work for you."

Sedgewick smiled. "I think I'll take that offer."

*****************

Author's Note: And we're in Onryx! Kier just sprung into existence a few hours ago and he's awful but I kind of love him for it. How long will Sedgewick hold onto his cover? Will Rivian annoy Rodren to death while Sedgewick is gone? Let me know in the comments!

Current Word Count: 7,542