Gareth man's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Gareth Pell had eight days to reach the lighthouse, and no boat would carry him there. He sat in the corner of the inn's taproom, a strange gold coin turning between his fingers. The coin bought him food and a bed, but it bought no answers. Six months ago a ship had passed through this harbor. His daughter had sworn she would wait for him at the lighthouse across the cove. He meant to keep that meeting, even if he had to swim. The trouble was the water. Fishermen called the cove's channel a killer. Rocks, fog, and a current that dragged boats under. Only one kind of sailor ran those waters at night, and nobody would say who. Gareth set the coin on the table and spoke to the innkeeper. "I need a pilot for the cove. Someone who knows the quiet work." The innkeeper wiped a mug and looked away. "No such person here." Two men by the fire went still. A woman near the window stood and left her stew unfinished. The whole room decided, at once, to forget him. Gareth understood. Fear kept these people quiet, not ignorance. He pushed back his chair and climbed the stairs to his room. Something glowed under his door. He opened it and found a kitten on his bed. Its fur gave off a soft light, pink and gold, like a lantern wrapped in fog. A scrap of paper lay beneath its paw. Gareth lifted the kitten and read the note. Three words, in a shaky hand. "The gray net." He went back down. Along the harbor wall, fishing nets hung drying in rows, all brown with tar and age. One was gray. Beneath it sat a man mending line by a single lamp. The man did not look up. "The channel kills men who ask too loud," the man said. "You asked loud." Gareth crouched beside him. The kitten glowed inside his coat. "Someone put you up to this note." "My girl." The man nodded toward the inn. "She hears things. She likes you. Says you've got a sad face." He tied off a knot. "I run the cove. Not for coin that marks a man. Where'd you get it?" "A place I can't go back to." Gareth pulled out three of the strange coins. "Take me to the lighthouse. Eight days, before the new moon." The man's hands stopped. He stared at the coins, then at Gareth's face. "I know that mint. Only one ship ever carried it here." He set down his needle. "Six months back. I unloaded her myself." Gareth's breath caught. "You saw what she carried." "I saw a girl come off that ship," the man said. "Alone. Crying. She paid me a coin just like yours to row her out to the lighthouse." He met Gareth's eyes. "Nobody's rowed back for her since."