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Conch had been battering my knee, no doubt to let me know he wanted off this ship so he could get started on eating every bit of foliage on that island. I winked at Ala’tris. ‘I’m staring because I’m an Argosi, sister. We can’t help but be mesmerised by beauty.’

Ain’t trying to make you jealous here, Arissa. It’s not like I fancy to Ala’tris, not in that way anyhow. Just speaking the plain truth. Doesn’t much matter now, anyway, because here’s what’s going to happen next. I’m about to hand this letter to her and remind her to be kind to my horse while I’m gone. Then I’m going to snatch up Conch and run to the side where the gangplank is being lowered. I’ll leap over the railing to slide down that plank just as reckless and wild as you would if you were here. Stoika can send whoever she wants to scout the island, but me and the spire goat? We’re getting there first.

Hold that image in your mind for me, will you, Arissa? Picture me bounding across that onyx causeway, rushing into who-knows-what new dangers with a spire goat in my arms and a gambler’s grin on my face. I ain’t fooling myself, you understand? I know there are perils aplenty waiting for me. Undiscovered lands and treacherous magical forces; wondrous adventure and heartbreaking betrayals.

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this letter to you now instead of later after I’ve gotten a good look at that island and can make you jealous for not exploring it with me. You remember how you told me I shouldn’t let myself be weighed down by debts I never really owed in the first place? That’s good advice, but the thing is, I’ve finally come to understand that the debts that brought me to this island weren’t debts at all. They were . . . gifts.

An Argosi’s path is more than a road we walk. It’s a theory about how a person can transform this cruel and often treacherous world into someplace wondrous with every step we take. The Path of the Wild Daisy winds away from the self-doubt and melancholy that shackles my people as surely as any mage’s binding spell. Truth be told, I’ve spent too long held back by those same chains. So now I’m going to do this thing, this hard, terrible thing, because I’m gonna prove once and for all that even in the coldest, darkest moments of our lives, something wondrous can bloom if you just look hard enough.

Oh, before I forget: enclosed you’ll find a card. I’m not the one who made it – that’s Durral’s surprisingly gentle hand painting all those beautiful brush strokes. He gave it to me years ago. Technically it’s not a debt card at all, but I reckon it’ll serve the purpose. I’m hoping that every once in a while you’ll take it out and spare the red-haired girl with the frontier hat and the righteous gleam in her eye a passing glance. Maybe wonder what kind of trouble she’s gotten herself into and ask yourself whether maybe it’s time to look her up. I’ve a feeling she might be in need of rescuing.

With equal parts admiration, irritation and love,

Ferius Parfax,

The Path of the Wild Daisy,

Your Rat Girl.