Sure, I'll write one tomorrow. Do you want to name the 'Strange Man/True Prince'?

Part 2!

Gallin sat quietly in the back of Baroul’s floating barge. Baroul and the supposed ‘prince’ were carefully managing their descent, turning dials and reading gauges, engaging in brief but spirited discussions over the proper speed of descent, and generally being too busy to talk with their stupefied passenger. Gallin could still learn a lot just by observation, of course.

The main thing to look at was the rim of the word, which filled his entire field of view to the right of the barge. It was covered in a sort of rocky crust, with harsh outcroppings like a young mountain range. Gallin supposed that if the edge was simply exposed dirt the whole world would have crumbed ages ago. At first, nearer the top, the rocks had been weathered, and some even had moss or other plants growing on them, but they had bene descending for two hours or so and the face was harsher. Gallin had indulged in some fanciful daydreams about mysterious creatures that could live on the face, perhaps hardy goats or lizards, but there did not appear to be any. Even the vegetation had petered out only a half-hour into their journey. As they descended, they had distanced themselves from the face – Baroul mentioned that rocks sometimes fell from higher up, which Gallin wished he hadn’t been told until they arrived safely at this secret city – and the mist that swirled in the depths was beginning to rise around them. Gallin didn’t really need to know any more about the cliffs, anyway – he wasn’t a prospector. Gallin dealt with people.

The two men up front seemed to know each other well and were working in harmony. Baroul seemed to acknowledge the ‘royal’ status of the other, but only a little. They behaved more as comrades than as master and subject. Baroul’s behavior in general was surprising. Gallin had known him in the city, but hadn’t had much use for him. Baroul had struck Gallin as an expensive plaything of the king, since his inventions were interesting but rarely useful, and he had the air of a mad alchemist out of a story. Voting for his exile had been an easy choice, frankly – Baroul had no allies, no power base, and no defenders once the king tired of him. Gallin had extracted a few concessions in exchange for his vote but hadn’t seen the need to push too hard; it was like banishing a specialized jester. Now, he seemed focused, and he had apparently built the floating ship that was the only thing keeping Gallin out of an infinite void. Supposedly he had a whole city hidden under the great falls. Not a single mad laugh had passed his lips and he didn’t even exhibit his usual fidgety shifting. Gallin had to wonder if the Baroul he had known in the capital was simply an act. A fine one, if it was – Gallin’s job was to notice such things, and he was good at it. Usually.

The other man was another matter. He did resemble the prince that had stabbed him in the back, but not so closely that they could have been swapped for each other without notice. Presumably, the prince that Gallin knew had always been the one from the ‘other side’. He knew that it was custom for princes of the royal house to live most of their early lives apart from the reigning king, but it seemed implausible that some swap had happened without anyone noticing, even so. Gallin was prepared to believe that the prince had been some sort of sinister plotter, since he was such an asshole, but it the whole story didn’t seem plausible. Of course, this was not the time to start raising complaints. He didn’t want Baroul’s sudden compassion to abruptly run out and to find himself flung over the rails.

Baroul then came towards the aft of the ship, leaving the new prince to manage the controls of the vessel.

“We’ve about three more hours to go until we have descended to the level of the city. For now, you should rest. I want to begin our work as soon as we get there. There’s some food in the crates near the back, and some posts you should secure yourself to as you sleep. Make sure you’re ready for our arrival. I’ll wake you before we enter the falls; it can be dangerous.” Baroul then returned to the helm without waiting to see if Gallin would follow his suggestions, and without giving Gallin a chance to respond. It wasn’t really a problem – the forced journey through the desert up top had left him tired and hungry. He opened the crate, which held some dingy-looking bread and pale mushrooms. The strange food made Gallin realize that he would never return to his old, comfortable life in the capital. He wondered if the waterfall people ate like this all the time. Now, he supposed, he would too. Usually, Gallin only indulged in great shows of emotion to manipulate others’ responses to him, but the vision of his old life crumbling away to be replaced with an uncertain situation living under a waterfall brought out a genuine tear. He had readying himself to die for the entire journey from the capital, but he had not prepared himself to live. He forced down some food, secured himself to the damn post, and fell into a troubled sleep.

Baroul awoke him just as he said he would. “We’re approaching the city. Grab one of the waxed jackets from the back – it’s cold, and it won’t do to get too wet during the approach.” Gallin put on a foul-smelling but thick coat and joined the other two in the bow. Straight ahead, an enormous arc of water came down from the surface. The River Garna was the largest in the world, but had no waterfalls up top; this view could only be seen from their current, bizarre position. Gentle lights shone through the water, almost imperceptibly; Gallin supposed they were the lights of the Free City.

“So,” said Gallin, “how do we get in there?”

“It’s simple,” the prince replied. “We simply angle ourselves downwards and dive the boat through the falls. I see you have your waterproof coat already. How strong is your grip, by the way? Wouldn’t want you to get washed overboard.”

A sudden, paralyzing bolt of fear flashed through Gallin’s spine. Only for a moment, of course.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re lying,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Baroul, this guy is quick,” said the prince with a broad smile.

Baroul smiled, just a little. Gallin wondered if he had relished the brief moment of terror. Sure, he said he would help – but even mad scientists living over the edge of the world had to take exile a little personally.

“We’ll go around the side,” Baroul said. “There’s a lot of water vapor in the air; the coat isn’t suitable for complete immersion.”

“Ah well,” said the prince. “I had another fake approach ready to tell him.”

“There can be some sharp maneuvering,” Baroul continued, “so make sure to stay stead and hold onto something.”