Dawn was hovering on the horizon, as Pol made his way over the dew-slicked cobblestones toward the harbour. The palace lay far behind and the streets were lined with tall, narrow houses, three or four floors high, most with hoisting hooks protruding from the top to haul up large or heavy items of furniture.

Pol wore a small backpack containing a change of clothes as well as his messenger sash and the empty money pouch, the contents of which had been distributed into various hidden pockets about his person. Two thin daggers sat comfortably in leather shields, strapped to each calf above the ankle, and several strong cords were threaded through the belt of his trousers. Pol felt he was as well prepared as possible on short notice.

The sky was getting lighter and Pol quickened his steps. He needed to reach his destination before the sun rose. He sniffed. Was that the sea he could smell? He must be getting close. Suddenly, the lane he was following, dead-ended at a water-filled canal and although he grumbled to lose a minute retracing his steps, the sight was welcome. Canals meant he'd reached the harbour area.

He turned left, toward the warehouse sector. He thought it must have been a year since he was here last, but he remembered the way to one particular warehouse quite clearly. The red paint had faded but the wooden planks were tight and firm and the sign over the door still read Cloudships Inc in large font. The words, 'Enquire Within', were written in smaller font below.

The door was closed, but a sturdy rope dangled beside it. Pol gave it a hearty yank and a bell chimed inside the warehouse. He hoped he wasn't too late. There was a considerable delay and Pol was just about to yank the rope again when the door swung open. Bright light spilled out, highlighting the young woman who stood in the doorway.

With her shaved head and sturdy leather corset and trousers, studded with shining brass buckles, she looked as if she could eat Pol for breakfast.

"Yes? Can I help you?" She squinted in the dawn light. "Pol? Is that you?"

She reached out and drew him in for a fierce hug. "What have you been up to? It's been ages!"

"Oh this and that," answered Pol, his voice muffled from being clamped to her chest. "How are you, Gwen?"

"Good. I'm good. So, what brings you here then?" she asked, releasing Pol and drawing him inside. She closed the door. They had been childhood friends, but Pol's work with the Palace meant they seldom saw each other these days.

Pol glanced up at the airship, floating just under the warehouse ceiling and tethered to an iron ring in the floor. The balloon was a patchwork of grey and blue silk, the gondola beneath, a light silvery grey to match the clouds. A rope ladder hung over the side, the two grapple irons on the bottom hooked into another set of iron rings.

He heard a shuffling sound and Gwen's engineer and sole crewmate, Violet, put her head over the edge of the gondola. She peered down. "Is someone there? Have we got a passenger, Gwen?"

"It's Pol," Gwen called up. "I'll let you know in a minute."

She turned back to Pol. "You just caught us. We were getting ready to lift off."

"I was hoping to catch a ride today, ideally with you. Or if that's not possible, someone you could recommend. You still go south, don't you?

"Yes, the Cirrus has regular route now, down to Canmorne and back. I take the weavers their dye and bring back their finished garments for Charlotte to sell in her drapery. There's a nice little profit in it. How far south do you want to go?"

"As near to the border as possible."

"The border, eh?" Gwen pursed her lips, thoughtfully. "Palace business?"

"A commission for the Queen," agreed Pol. He trusted Gwen as much as he trusted anyone, but his cover story was as much as she needed to know. His entire line of work was built on misdirection and concealment, and prevaricating had become second nature.

"I know you can't tell me the details, but I'm guessing it's really Eskia you want, right?"

Pol said nothing.

"Let me think," continued Gwen, not really expecting an answer, accustomed as she was to Pol's secretiveness. "There's a little hamlet just this side of the border, called Mizzlebarrow. That's not too far from Canmorne, so I could drop you there. Have you got a map? I can point it out."

Pol drew a brightly coloured map from his back pack and they pored over it.

"There," said Gwen, placing a finger on the parchment.

Pol studied the map. This one only showed Mancuria but he'd already familiarised himself with one of Eskia. He nodded. Mizzlebarrow was only a mile or so from the border, and, he thought, about five miles from Ashvale.

"Excellent. That would be suit me perfectly," he told Gwen. "I have money, so I can pay you the proper fee, if you have room for me today?"

Gwen called up to Violet. "Do we have room for a paying passenger? He's only small," she added with a grin.

"Just because you're six feet tall you think everyone's small," grumbled Pol, accustomed to Gwen's teasing.

"Sure," said Violet. "Climb aboard. Sun's up and we're ready to go."

"Righto."

Gwen pulled on a lever and the roof peeled back, showing a faint blue sky, with a tinge of pink glowing in the east.

"Up you go," she gestured Pol to the ladder.

As soon as he climbed into the gondola, Gwen released the main tether and unhooked the grappling irons. Grabbing the now swaying ladder, she shimmied up as if it was made of solid wood. She hauled it up after her and stored it securely before taking hold of the steering wheel. Violet fired up the engine, and a few minutes later, the airship lifted gracefully up into the skies.
And they were off.