Elowen stood on the wet stones of Brineglass Quay with her hands on a heavy rope, helping Tobin haul up a cargo net that had come loose from the still, dark harbor. The net sagged with seaweed, dripping green water onto the quay, and Elowen was already thinking of where to lay it so nothing inside would spill or break. She liked to keep fragile things close until she knew they were safe.
“Mind the edge,” Tobin called, bracing his feet. His wool cap slipped over one ear as the net rose higher.
Then the seaweed slid apart.
Out of the tangled green came little sleeping lantern-lights, round and warm as candle flames inside glass. They had been caught in the net as if they were fish, and now, as they woke, they blinked gold in the dim morning light. One drifted toward the clock with the cracked face. Another floated toward the market carts and the smell of pear skins. A third bobbed up over the low wall, testing the air beyond the quay.
Elowen reached fast, but the lights were already making up their own minds. Tobin laughed once, then stopped when he saw how quickly they were slipping away.
“Mira!” he called toward the steps, where the little harbor helper had been watching from below. “They’re waking up!”
Three lantern-lights were already out of the net, and the rest quivered as if they might follow. Elowen looked from the drifting lights to the long quay ahead of her. If she grabbed one, another might get away. If she called for help, she might lose time. She drew a breath and had to choose what to do first.
What happens next?
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