A Tale of Discovery and Danger
It was coming again, and Zephyr was finally ready for it. The Traveling Temple came full circle in its visitation of the majority of the lands in the Plain of Skies but once every two years, and for those in the Listing Lands, it was a momentous occasion. For the entirety of its week-long stay, it strengthened the Heart Stone that steadied the floating islands and mitigated their gradual, alternating tilting. Once again would come the merchants and the traders, hawking their goods. Once again would come the sightseers and storytellers, here to give and receive tales. The Festival of The Arrival would bring to the Listing Lands both the stability of remission from their wobbling and the chaos of the arrival of a hundred discordant personalities from a hundred different walks of life.
This year, though, seemed far more important than those before. At least for Zephyr, that is. He was finally old enough, and had saved up enough, to travel with the temple and seek his fortune, the way the story tellers told in their tales. He would see the world. He would look for wealth and renown. He also had a less well-known ambition. His grandmother and her ancestors on his mother's side had been from the Roaming Isles, and he hoped that by going there he might awaken a hereditary talent. He had kept this dream from his parents lest they mock him as others had done. Even the stonekeeper, custodian of the ancient magic that kept the islands from tipping over, oft considered the wisest person in the land, had scoffed.
"Preposterous! Yes, magical talents do indeed flow more often through the mother's side, true, but talentless have been born not uncommonly from mothers of great renown, and your grandmother had but weak talent. You are right, it is possible for you to have her talent, but even if you did it would be most likely the weaker, or the same at best. Having exceptional talent would be beyond reasonable possibility. The world is an incredibly dangerous place. Live here, and let your children have talent as the land shapes you and them."
Zephyr was dead set, however, and would not be dissuaded. It was a belief repeated by many who voyaged telling tales that all had some talent, though it be weak, and just needed to be found. Thus he was encouraged in his scheme. But things were often not as simple as they appeared.
"What do you mean it's not enough!" Zephyr cried.
"I am sorry," said the secondary lodging official. "Prices have near doubled since last cycle. With the amount of people wanting to come, you're lucky it's not higher. I know this is important for you personally, but it's not as if you will die if you don't come, and others can pay a lot more. This is the best price you're gonna get. You want to go two stops, to reach the Shifting Lands and their shipyard. That cash won't get you to the next stop at the Rotating Isle."
"Very well," said Zephyr, outwardly resigned, but inwardly as determined as ever.
It wasn't getting into the temple that was the hard part. Everyone was granted free entry to the temple during the day for the duration of its stay - the difficulty was finding a place to stay at night. Owners of housing charged absurd prices, so even a cot in a common space for a one stop trip cost more than many could afford. The only alternative would be sleeping in the public walkways, but the guards always made sure that everyone was in their proper housing for two hours before the Temple left. In addition, they patrolled the walkways every night for an hour after curfew at sundown. No, the key was not getting on, but staying on.
Zephyr had waited until two days before departure. Soon enough to not have to pay too high reservation fees, but not too late that all the space would be filled or the prices rise too high as space disappeared. Now that he realized his predicament, however, he needed an alternative on short notice. Furthermore, it had to be unexpected. If he was to sneak aboard, he would need originality. The most obvious methods were certainly already protected against. Incoming goods were searched, as were the roofs of buildings, as were all the nooks and crannies where a stowaway might hide. There was one place, however, that he believed no one had been brave or foolish enough to try: the underside of the island.
So, three hours before departure, he entered the temple with a knapsack containing a grapple, a tetherable platform, and food and water for the first leg of the trip. Zephyr had made some - so he supposed - subtle inquiries. Apparently, it took the guards an hour to make the rounds of the Temple, but as he did not know where they began, he had assumed he would have but a short window of time to grapple down, position himself, go back up to retrieve the rest of his supplies, return down, and unhook the grapple, all without being noticed. Zephyr paced through the Temple and its outbuildings and walkways looking for an out of the way place with access to the under sky to hook his grapple.
This was an unexpected kink in his plan. He had not counted on the guards beginning their check so near to his location. So, with all possible haste, he gathered all his supplies, even those he had planned on bringing on the second go, and almost fell down the whole line. Zephyr was at the end of his rope, and barely holding on. He was relieved that he had packed light, but this was already harder than he had anticipated. He wrapped the tethered rope around his left hand and tied it together, letting himself hang by the arm. Reaching the first bag on his back with his right hand, he fastened the first tether to the underside of the island that the temple rested upon, then the second as far apart as he could reach. He strung a line between them and pulled himself over it, then fastened the other two hooks and a line between. Zephyr leaned on the two lines and unfastened his left hand, which was beginning to hurt. He attached the net to the tethers and secured his provisions. He turned to shake the grapple down, and looked straight into the eyes of a guard looking over the railing.