A light breeze had started blowing and the waves were hitting the boat's hull at a regular rhythm as it cut through the sea. Will was lying down, his back against the damp deck. He had folded his legs to press his bare feet against the cold railing. The night had been eventful, and he needed to collect himsefl.

That night, as the ship was sailing along the French coast, it found itself caught in a sudden storm. The alarm had been sounded, and each member of the crew was bustling to ensure the maintenance of the sails, turbines, and cargoes that were in danger of tipping over as the swell threatened to engulf everything. Will had to treat the leg of a sailor, Joshua, who had ended up under a pile of crates that had toppled over. The wound was deep and gave him a hard time. He had to fulfill his role as the storm intensified and seasickness churned his stomach. So he took advantage of a few moments of respite in the sun, his arms folded behind his head and Kirjava lounging by his side.

Despite the gentle warmth of the sun on his face, the light wind that dried his clothes, and this brief break, Will was annoyed. He was annoyed by his stomach that threatened to turn over every time he moved. He was annoyed, above all, by the turn of events that proved to be frustrating even though they had been anticipated. When the cargo ship had docked at the port of Alexandretta, Will had been able to negotiate a day's leave to go to the city where Lyra and Pantalaimon were supposed to be. The captain had granted it on condition that he left accompanied and returned to the port at a precise hour. She didn't want to risk one of her essential crew members not coming back. Will had been accompanied by Morten, a Danish sailor whom he got along well with but who kept an unwavering loyalty to the captain. Morten had kept an eye on the time and when they finally arrived in this ghost town, he warned the young man that time was running out. Will had wanted to negotiate an hour of peace to properly find Lyra and have time to explain her everything, but the Dane had decided otherwise... Kirjava rubbed her silky head against his forehead.

"There's no point in brooding," she said, stretching. "You know it's not Morten's fault and that it's up to Lyra and Pantalaimon to find us, not the other way around. Besides, going to meet them was a good thing..."

Will knew all that. He knew there was an order to be respected, and that was what annoyed him the most. He was not naturally impatient, but it concerned Lyra and all those years of waiting.

A shadow came between his face and the blazing sun. He squinted, his hand shielding his eyes.

"Feeling better, Doc?" asked the shadow.

"I'll manage," he replied.

He sat up, wincing at the unsettling gurgles in his stomach. The shadow sat down next to him and handed him a bottle of water. It was Mette Rasmussen, the captain of the ship. Despite her youthful appearance, Mette was an experienced navigator who had been sailing the seas for twenty years now. She had owned this ship for about ten years, named it "Havets Perle"*, and significantly improved it. It was now a medium-sized sailing cargo ship with a powerful anbaric turbine. This combination of traditional and modern propulsion provided her with the luxury of having a relatively fast and safe ship in inclement weather. Thanks to this renovation work, the boat had become a staple in the trade of fragile, perishable, or sought-after goods. She traveled the oceans, sailing from port to port to pick up or deliver all kinds of cargoes: precious fabrics, rare flowers, exotic fruits, fine wines... Mette was proud of her ship and her crew. She was a small, petite but vigorous woman, with thick red hair and sparkling green eyes. Her dæmon, a Persian cat with ivory fur and the same emerald eyes, was named Nils. When Will had first met her, he had wondered how a woman like her could manage a ship of this size, composed entirely of a male crew. And then, he quickly understood. Mette had established strict rules, kept her ship firmly in hand while creating an environment of kindness and safety. Each person had a role and a well-defined position. It was rare, but everyone had an individual room, a room had been dedicated to communal living, meals were taken together, and, above all, Mette's office was always open for questions, doubts, and claims. While she did not allow any rule to be broken, she remained concerned about the well-being of her team. The crew consisted of a dozen people, and she gave everyone the time they needed, knew the stories, lives, and affairs... Her great altruism was appreciated as much as her wrath could be feared. She had created a floating family, and Will, who had sworn not to get attached, had found his place and felt good there. He was the ship's doctor. The term "doctor" did not seem deserved to him, but that was how the crew considered him. Mette had given him her trust when he had been able to heal her boil with a fenugreek poultice. Medicine on board was rudimentary, so Will learned on the job about herbalism and the use of medicinal plants. This was enough to treat everyday ailments, more or less severe injuries. Fortunately, during their stopovers, he could stock up on medication and plants. Better-equipped hospitals were present on land, and the most seriously injured or ill sailors could sometimes find life-saving care. However, he enjoyed this mission and started liking concocting infusions, oil macerations, and other preparations, ensuring the health safety of this ship. At each port, he looked for new plants to add to his inventory and gained expertise in taking care of the herbs, flowers, bulbs, and other plant parts sold to him by merchants or that he could pick himself.

This round trip between Bodø and Alexandrette was his second long voyage aboard Havets Perle.

"You seem quite upset," said Mette.

"Seasickness," Will replied, taking a long gulp of water. "I thought I had finally gotten my sea legs, but apparently not!"

The captain burst into a loud laugh, then immediately became serious again.

"I can see that something else is troubling you and it's not just because of your stomach's whims. Is it about the young woman you found during our stop in Alexandretta?"

Will remained silent. The memory of Lyra kept coming back to his mind. She haunted every thought of his, even more so now that he had briefly seen her again. Their reunion had been shorter than he had hoped for, and he still felt bitter about it, making him grumpy. Whenever his mind wandered, he heard her voice, felt the sensation of her hands on his face, and thought of her entirely, making his throat inevitably tighten. He hadn't had time to explain anything to her, just to tell her how much he missed her, how much he loved her, and the port where he would be waiting for her…

"When is she supposed to meet you again?" the captain asked.

That was the problem. He didn't know, and it was driving him mad. If Mary Malone had been specific about where to find Lyra the first time, she had no information to give him about the rest, except to "let things happen, not force destiny," that "Lyra and Pantalaimon will come to meet them in due time," and that "rushing their true reunion would mean aborting other projects that were unfolding for her." Damn Chinese divination…

Will and Professor Malone had remained in close contact since their return to their world. Will often visited Mary at her home or office, and they would talk for hours on end. She was the only one who could truly understand what he had been through and how he felt. When Elaine, Will's mother, had fallen ill, Mary had been a great source of support. And when he was working to catch up on his schoolwork and preparing for medical school exams, she had been there for him. The clairvoyance he gained through the Subtle Knife had allowed him to begin his studies and even skip a few steps in his exams, which never ceased to amaze his professors. And when Mary had left to live in Norway, they continued to exchange long emails. She continued her research on dark matter, attempting to make rational sense of what she had learned from the Mulefa and the discoveries she had made. In parallel, she was perfecting her skills in I Ching divination. Will suspected her of looking for potential windows to return to the Mulefa's world. And then, on one November morning, Mary called him to tell him she had discovered a particularly dense and surprising magnetic activity and was convinced that a window had been left open in Bodø, where she lived. He didn't hesitate for a moment. He negotiated a year off from his university, knowing full well that if the discovery proved true, he would not return. He packed his things and left for Norway. There, it took them weeks of searching to find the window. Nevertheless, Mary had refused to travel. She had met a glaciologist whom she had married and had a little girl with, and she was afraid she wouldn't want to come back home if she found that the world the window opened onto turned out to be the Mulefa's... Will, far too impatient, didn't hesitate to go through the window. He felt an extreme excitement when he realized it was Lyra's world. He told Mary about it when he returned, and she used her divination skills to help him find the young woman. The divining rods had been clear: Lyra would be in the Middle East, in a deserted city, and he would reach his destination by sea. But, if he could meet her, he must not invite her to come with him, for Lyra had a path to follow before she could find him. All Will could think about was that he was going to see her again, at last! Talk to her, hold her in his arms... it seemed so incredible to him. And now that it was done, the waiting had a bitter taste.

Captain Rasmussen, seeing him downcast, had given up hope of getting a response from him. She gently nudged him.

"Do you have anything to make yourself an infusion for seasickness?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he replied. "But for that, I need to be able to get up first..."

"Come on, sailor! We'll be docking soon in The Hague. We'll stay there for a few hours to unload the soaps and take on the tulips crates. And then we'll head back home."

She returned to the helm where her second-in-command, Hassan, was waiting. Will waited for a few minutes and then, gathering his courage, stood up. He leaned on the railing and looked out at the horizon. The salty wind whipped his face, calming his upset stomach, and he took a deep breath. The captain was right (the captain was always right), he could see the port of The Hague.

As the ship docked, Will put his shoes back on and grabbed his satchel. He had an urgent need to stretch his legs, and as soon as the boat came to a stop, he jumped onto the solid ground, with Kirjava following him. The contact with the ground made him wobble. His body had grown accustomed to cushioning the swells caused by the waves and he had to get used to being on a static ground again.

The entire port of The Hague was like a bustling hive, resonating with the cries of merchants and the exclamations of passersby. Here, fishermen unpacked their nets overflowing with catches, there, negotiators bargained with merchants, and over there, shipowners discussed transport clauses for goods. The various smells awakened Will's senses, which were accustomed to the sea breeze and the damp, poorly ventilated rooms of the ship. Life overflowed on every side, and this return to the vibrant civilization was good for his morale. He searched for an herbalist's shop. In Alexandretta, he had been able to recover a good number of nigella seeds. He hoped to be able to exchange them for some absinthe to treat seasickness, precisely.

He caught sight of an herb vendor's stall, but as he was about to speak to her, cries were heard behind him. In front of a brick house, a crowd was gathered, and he saw two men in uniforms holding down a third. The man on the ground was shouting words in a language that Will did not understand. The rottweiler dæmons of the guards were easily overpowering the man's, an ermine with auburn fur. Will felt his fists clench.

"The Magisterium," a voice behind him said.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Morten, hands in his pockets, who did not take his eyes off the scene.

"I thought it didn't exist anymore for several years," Will said, frowning at the brutality of the guards.

"Oh, it's still very much around. Weaker in some regions, stronger in others... But it still punishes those who contradict its laws, spins its web... Do your business, doc, let's not stay here too long."

They watched as the man was forcibly loaded into a Magisterium-colored van. One of the uniformed men met his gaze and Will shuddered. He quickly slipped away, haggled with the herbalist, and returned to the ship as fast as possible. After stowing his trade in the small room that served him as an office, he went back up on deck. The crew members were already bustling about, unfurling the sails in the favorable wind, and he settled on a capstan to watch the port of The Hague fade away. Kirjava took a place on his lap and he affectionately stroked her.

"Do you doubt?" she asked him.

"No... I'm just... worried."

Kirjava gave him a little nudge in the chest.

"Will... Lyra is strong. She was before you met her, and she's even stronger now."

"I know! But I can't help but worry..."

Kirjava nestled into his lap. His head was pounding. Looking at his dæmon, who was sleeping more than usual, he knew it wasn't just the seasickness... In two days, they would dock at Bodø. Will could then pass through the window for a few hours of respite before finally waiting for Lyra.

* Havets Perle = Pearl of the seas (danish)