They drove for some time in companionable silence, each with their own thoughts of how this might pan out. Miskit and Cogsley were up front, Emily and Leon occupied the middle, and Navin and Karen brought up the rear. The ride would have been nice of not for the deafening growl of the engine and the constant bumps and jerks of the terrain. The wind in their faces was refreshing for only so long before it started to wear on their ears and sound like a wind tunnel.

After a while, Navin leaned forward. "So I like this airship plan," he said, "but how will we get one?"

"We'll hire a captain and crew," Leon said simply.

Emily turned to him. "With what?" she demanded. "We have nothing to offer them."

"But the Guardian Council does," the fox told her. "Once we find Cielis, payment won't be a problem."

They crested a hill, and the little town came into view. "I don't know, Leon," Miskit interjected. "I get the feeling we won't have a lot of takers."

"Nautilus is the shipping capital of Alledia," Leon said. "Most airships dock here at least once a year. Since rising to power, the elves have forced pilots to fly for much less than their work earns. It's unfortunate, to be sure, but one that works to our advantage."

They drove down into town, and found that it was well named. The town was laid out in the spiral of a nautilus shell, and the whole place was done up in a seafaring motif. Buildings were constructed of cheap, rough wood and interspersed with portholes, captain's cabin windows and the hulls of lifeboats. The paint that had been used to color the front of stores and restaurants was faded and peeling. Even the establishments were given names alluding to the ocean, like the Salty Squid Café, Marlin's Curios and Barnacle Bill's Saloon. The air was hazy and thick with the scents of smoke and ash, making it a bit difficult and very unpleasant to breath. Karen was sure some soot was floating around. The streets were made of shallow, sandy dirt, and water from a recent rainstorm had collected in the low spots.

Looking around, Karen got her first glimpse of the curse on Alledia's inhabitants beyond their guide. She could definitely tell that some of them were under it, and from what she could guess, the effects differed from region to region. Though she'd been unconscious in Kanalis, her children had told her of the many different anthropomorphic forms they'd seen: Snakes, lizards, cats and dogs to name a few.

It was no different here in Nautilus. She saw people under the effects of the curse, and some of them had been transformed into the likenesses of marine animals. Most were fish, slugs and turtles, along with a number of eels and even a few sharks. But she also saw other forms, those which were probably not indigenous to the area: A few stallions, several bulls, at least a dozen different canine and feline species, and numerous normal humans. Aside from theirs, very vew grounds vehicles seemed to be here.

They hung a left at one of the forks in town and stopped at a small place one of the side streets. "This is where most pilots tend to congregate," Leon said.

Karen took it in. It was a tiny, rundown place that looked like a coffee shop, and if it was a coffee shop, then it was the seediest coffee shop she'd ever seen. "Is this a bar?" she asked, giving the place a look of distaste. "My children are not going into a bar."

"It's not a bar, Mom," Navin said. "It's a drinking hole."

"You're not going in there," she told him.

"Fine," Leon said. "Navin can stay out here with you, but Emily comes with me." He looked at the robot in the driver's seat. "Cogsley, watch over them." The stone-faced robot nodded.

"Emily!" Karen started.

"It's okay, Mom," she assured her, then followed Leon inside.

Opening the door, they found this to be one of the most disgusting places they'd ever seen. Like everywhere else, the only normal thing was the interaction of people both affected and unaffected by the curse. Robot waiters whirred back and forth taking and delivering orders. There was a bartender. There was even a poker game going on in a back corner. The reeks of unwashed bodies, stale tobacco and fermented drinks mixed together to create a stench so thick that it was like stepping into a completely different layer of air, and so revolting that it took all of Emily's willpower not to lean around a corner and retch her guts into the drain.

Leon turned to her, a look of concern on his face. She tightened her lips, gritted her teeth and swallowed hard, forcing her breakfast back down, then groaned. She closed her eyes, turned to get a gulp of decent air, then looked at him, nodded, and they entered. Leon, she figured, was accustomed to places like this; Miskit, being a robot, was completely unaffected. "So," she said, leaning down close to Leon's ear, "what kind of pilot are we looking for?"

"Anyone willing to take the job," the fox answered. "And it won't be easy." He spotted a fellow that looked halfway decent and went over to him. "Excuse me, sir." The fellow turned to him. He was an older man with white hair, fair skin and pointed ears. His face was strong, square and scarred, and a pair of small round glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. His expression was somewhere between exhausted and annoyed. "We're looking for a captain and crew," the fox said.

"Where are you going?"

Leon hesitated. He knew that most people considered their destination to be little more than a myth, but also knew that he and his friends—and the whole world—were living on borrowed time. He had to chance it. "Cielis," he said.

The old man stared at him for a moment, then laughed harshly. "Ha! You kidding? Get out of my face, brushtail."

Undeterred, Leon approached another pilot. He was also elderly, with a shovel nose and beady eyes, but taller and scrawnier than the other airship captain. "Excuse me, sir," he said, "we need a crew."

The man nodded. "Hauling cargo?"

"People."

"Where to?"

"Cielis."

"Ha! The Flying City! Right. Take a hike. Cielis is dead, pal. Everyone knows that."

Across the room, another patron carrying two mugs of amber ale was discreetly listening in. He was also a curse victim, turned into the likeness of a cat, so his ears were sharp enough to single out the conversation from the general bar room din. And the mention of the long-lost city sparked a fire of recognition. He walked over to a table were another like him, older and stockier with a pipe in his mouth, sat reading the local news bulletin. "Hey Enzo," he said, "those people over there are looking for the Flying City."

"Shut up, Rico," his companion, Enzo, answered in a warning tone, not looking up from his paper. "I know where you're going with this, and for the last time, I'm over it."

"But Enzo," Rico went on, ignoring Enzo's tone, "what if you're right?"

"Did you not hear me, brother?" Enzo demanded, his tone harsher. "I said I'm over it!"

"Excuse me," another voice interrupted, and they looked up to see a fox and a girl standing before them. The fox was clad simply in a loose white shirt, brown vest and trousers, kung fu gauntlets and a red scarf, with a sword over his shoulder. The girl dressed even more simply in a sky-blue tunic, grey trousers and a sage cape. "We're looking for passage to Cielis," the fox said. "Can you help us?"

Enzo looked at them, his eyes hard. He puffed at the pipe in his mouth. "Do you even know what you're asking, friend?" he asked. "It's like asking to be taken to heaven. Most of these dirtbags don't believe it exists, so you're wasting your time."

What he didn't say hadn't missed the fox's notice. "What about you?" he asked. "Do you believe it exists?"

"What I choose to believe is none of your business, just like what you choose to believe is none of my business."

Rico turned to the pair and said, "He doesn't think it exists, he knows it exists."

"Rico!" Enzo snapped.

"Enzo has seen the flying city with his own eyes."

"Can you not shut up!?"

"But it's true!" Rico continued, blatantly ignoring his brother. "He talks about it all the time."

"Crazy old Enzo!" a gruff, elderly voice called out, and they turned to see an old bald man with a waist-length beard waving a cane. And every other patron looking right at the accused like he was a loon. "Seeing ghosts too, I reckon!"

"Shut it, Francie," Enzo snapped back, "or I'll bust your lip!"

"Join us and we can find Cielis together," the fox offered.

"Bah!" Enzo growled in disgust. "I haven't been able to find the Flying City in ten years of searching! What makes you think you'll fare any better?"

"Because we have a map. It's incomplete, but I think it can lead us to the city's location." The fox reached into the bag at his hip and produced a book with an eight-slice pattern on both covers and a pinkish-red oval in the middle. "These are the notes of Silas Charnon," he explained. "He was a Stonekeeper and former member of the Guardian Council. Sadly, he died before he could complete his guide."

Enzo, his interest piqued, picked up the book and began to skim through it, lingering in the sections that seemed more important. He hummed thoughtfully. "It says here that without a Stonekeeper, you won't gain entrance to the city." He closed the book and looked back at Leon. "Seeing as your friend is dead, this book is now useless."

"I can guide us," the girl said.

Enzo looked at her. "You? Who are you?" he asked.

"Emily Hayes," the girl answered. "Silas was my great-grandfather, and I've taken his place…" She fished the necklace from under her shirt. "…as keeper of this stone." Enzo humphed.

"The fate of Alledia rests on her shoulders, and I must ensure she reaches Cielis…whatever the cost." The fox gave Enzo a hard look. "I will give my life to complete this mission."

Enzo was quiet for a long time, his instinct to keep his head down and his reputation intact warring with his desire to find the Flying City and prove every nay-sayer wrong. Finally, he said, "Look, you're asking the wrong cat. I have other clients waiting."

"Please, Captain," Emily pleaded.

"Sorry, kid. It looks like you're in over your head, and I can't help you."

Just then, the door was kicked open and two elf soldiers marched inside. The lead elf drew his sword and grabbed the first person in reach by the head and yelled, "Nobody move! We're here to search the premises on orders from the elf king!" He pulled a sheet of paper from his belt and held it up. "We're looking for these two fugitives."

Behind him, Leon hastily pulled Emily's hood over her head. "Don't show your face," he hissed.

"Anyone found harboring them will be executed!"

"Go file your teeth, shark bait!" a voice shouted, and all heads turned to a pair of ragged rodents. The elf's gaze also turned to them, his eyes deadly. "Some of us may look like rats, but we ain't snitches!" The elf marched into his face and grabbed his throat. "Get your filthy, bloodstained paws off me!" the rat snarled.

The elf raised his sword, holding the tip under the rat's nose. "One more word and I'll slice your tail off!"

Behind him, his companion turned to a hooded figure facing away from him. "Hey you," he said, "turn and face me." The figure didn't move. "Did you hear me?" he demanded. "I said—"

"We found them!" another voice interrupted, and two other soldiers entered, hauling a middle-aged, hunchbacked elf man and a defiant-faced elf boy with them. "They were hiding in the back alley, sleeping under a cart."

The soldier in charge turned to them. "Prince Trellis," he said in a voice that was silk-smooth but laden with malice. "You seem to have lowered your standards. Sleeping in the gutter like so much trash? It's almost impossible to believe!" He leaned in close, gently running the edge of his blade across Trellis' cheek. "You were always the rebellious sort, but I never thought you capable of this. What heinous act of treason have you committed that makes your father order your death?"

"It's simple," Trellis answered, looking up at the soldier. "He's not my father."

The soldier blinked in surprise, then started to laugh. "That's absurd! Not your father? I never took you for a joker, Trellis!"

But the prince's face was completely flat, devoid of any emotion except hate. "That's because I'm not joking." The stone in his chest-plate began to glow. "Your king is dead!" Before the soldier could react, Trellis hit him with a burst of energy that sent him flying over three tables. One of the other soldiers was armed with a staff that collected and returned energy to its point of origin, and Trellis screamed as his own attack was turned against him. He fell to his knees.

"Your father's instructions were to bring you on…dead or alive," the lead soldiers snarled. "So don't force me to take you back in pieces!" The soldiers with the staff fired on Trellis again, and the prince shrieked.

Across the room, Emily and her friends watched. "We have to do something," she said.

"I don't think we'll have to," Miskit answered. "If you just stay quiet, they might leave."

"That's not what I mean, Miskit," Emily clarified. "We have to help them."

Miskit turned to her in alarm. "Help them? Are you crazy!? That's the elf prince, Emily! He tried to kill you, remember?"

"He asked me to help him defeat his father. I just didn't know who his father was."

"Emily, stay put," Leon told her. "Don't jeopardize the mission."

Emily turned to him. "I feel that by not helping him, we are jeopardizing the mission." She looked back at the scene fo torture still unfolding. "Hey!" The elves looked at her, and she tore the hood from her head. "Leave him alone."

The lead soldier laughed. "Look at this, boys! Prince Trellis has a new bodyguard!"

"Don't make me hurt you," Emily warned.

"Ha! Don't make me laugh!"

"Then go home and save our eyes from your ugly mug!"

The elf straightened in indignation, then bared his teeth in a snarl. "You've got some attitude. I think it's time someone taught you some manners!" He charged her.