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of all were the men and women, busy and unwelcoming, unlike the polite, kind-hearted people that Sennar was used to meeting in his land.
    Now that he’d finally reached the coast, Sennar was uncertain of what to do. The sanctuary might even be there, its famed spires stretching upward near Barahar, but how could he know?
    For the greater part of the morning, he wandered the city streets in search of someone who might be able to point him in the right direction, but no one he met was of any help. Only one old merchant claimed to have heard of the spires and that they lay somewhere to the east, perhaps in Lome.
    When Sennar entered the last inn, he was desperate for something to eat. Unfortunately, he was penniless.
    The innkeeper was a squat, bald fellow with the bulging belly of a man well used to lifting mugs. He took pity on Sennar. “Come back at the end of the night and I’ll pass you some of the leftovers,” he said.
    Sennar thanked him.
    â€œI can’t promise you anything, though,” he added, immediately after. “There’s been a bit of traffic in here these days, with soldiers always coming and going.”
    â€œSoldiers? Was there an attack?”
    â€œNo, nothing of the sort,” the innkeeper replied. “A strange group of soldiers just arrived. They docked at our port late last night. They claim to be from the Underworld, but no one really knows who they are.”
    â€œAt the port, did you say? How do I get there?”
    The man eyed Sennar suspiciously. “When you go out, take a right. Then just head straight …” Before he could finish his sentence, the boy had disappeared.
    So the troops had arrived at last. The long-awaited reinforcements. As he hurried toward the port, Sennar thought of all the people he’d met in Zalenia: Count Varen; the king; Nereo … Ondine. He wanted to see with his own eyes the soldiers who’d come to help and whose presence in the Overworld was the fruit of his efforts. He followed the innkeeper’s directions and soon heard the steady sound of the waves.
    He saw their ships right away, fifty of them, long and grand, with the sleek, transparent elegance characteristic of Zalenia. They stretched back in long columns along the port, sails lowered. The soldiers wore extremely light armor and carried long, thin swords and lances that hung at their sides. Though they reminded him of the less-than-sympathetic guards who’d mistreated him in Zalenia, he caught himself missing the Underworld.
    A person aboard one of the ships noticed Sennar enjoying the view of the flotilla and stepped down to greet him. “I knew we’d meet again.”
    Sennar swung around. He knew that voice. When he saw Count Varen standing beside him it was as if he had run into an old friend. The count still made for a robust, imposing figure, his thinning hair tied back in a ponytail, as was the way of his people, but his once snow-white skin was now amber colored. A good bit of time must have passed since they’d surfaced from Zalenia. Forgetting all ceremony, Sennar wrapped his arms around the count, who returned his hug with equal vigor.
    The count invited him back to one of the ship’s cabins. It was a dimly lit room, glowing with the same azure hue that pervaded Zalenia. Varen moved with ease in the semi-dark and raised a bottle filled with a purplish liquid. Shark, Sennar thought to himself. It’d been a year since he’d last had a sip.
    The count filled two glasses. “One of my soldiers brought this back for me last night. He says it’s the drink of choice around here.”
    Sennar smiled. “A wise man.”
    The count tossed back the contents of his glass in a single gulp. Sennar tried following his lead, but when the alcohol assaulted his throat, he had to strain to keep from coughing.
    â€œI never imagined it’d be quite so bright up here,” said the count. “I don’t think I’ll