**Part eight, and we're not quite at the end yet. Enjoy.**

They say that she had both sharp eye and mind, as a true Queen should. It is the crack of dawn when I awaken to the sound of rustling nearby. I sit up too fast in bed, and my head spins, accompanied by a dull throbbing pain. I groan.
"Elsa? Elsa?"
Calixto is standing over me, his dark curls hanging in his face. He is already dressed in his warm coat, gloves, hat, scarf. He tosses mine to me.
"What are you doing?" I ask, wrapping the quilt tighter around me, shivering.
"The docks. We start at the docks," he says.
"What?" My groggy mind grasps at his meaning. "We're going out there now? Why not wait until someone can come with us, or at least until the afternoon--"
He shakes his head, and I know what he is thinking. The two of us may search for the answers, for Bronach, but we cannot bring anyone else. First of all, in our condition they would be constantly fretting over us. Secondly... This is Bronach. She lived in complete solitude, venturing out in a boat for us, risking her own life with us, and somehow I know that no one else will quite understand us, her, the entire situation. 
"It's foolish," I whisper sensibly, but I pick up my coat anyway. 
"I know," Calixto replies calmly. "I'll meet you out front. Hurry, but be careful," he adds, nodding at my bandaged head.
"All right," I say, and when he has left and closed the door behind him, I dress swiftly. I fumble with the coat's buttons, then reach into the pockets to find the gloves that were given to me by the doctor's wife. Once sufficiently bundled up, I lace up my boots and tiptoe down the hall, down the stairs, out the front door, latching it behind me with a quiet click.
Calixto is leaning against the front of the house, staring out at the empty brick street. Though the sky is lighter, it is grey again. I can tell that the sun's brief appearance yesterday will not be repeated again for some time.
"Are you ready?" Calixto asks softly.
I nod.
"To the docks, then."

They say she had a level head and an even temper, as a true Queen should. Calixto and I stride almost silently down the streets, making sure to slow down so that my head doesn't spin and Calixto's side doesn't flare with pain. Finally we make it to the docks-- the one place in the Capitol that is already beginning to bustle with life. Fishermen going out for the day or coming in after a long night, everyone tying knots in their heavy ropes, tossing their nets, hoisting their sails. Many of them look at us curiously as we pass, staring at Calixto. Surely they have heard the news of the shooting, so perhaps they wonder too why Calixto would be out and about so soon after the incident. Still, they ask no questions, only nod or tip their hats and then return to their work.
"You!"
Calixto and I freeze, and slowly turn around. I breath out in relief; it's Ebber, waving us over, lumbering forward with his uneven gait.
"Good morning, sir," I say.
"Ah, yer lookin' well," he says, and nods at Calixto. "You too, lad."
"This is Ebber," I tell Calixto, who recognizes the name.
"So you are the man who saved us," Calixto says, and bows to Ebber. "I cannot thank you enough-- but I say that anything you need, I will assist you with."
Ebber grins. "I'm just glad to see you two recovering," he says. "But I might take you up on that offer someday. Maybe."
"Good," Calixto says, and he and Ebber shake hands.
"So what're you doin' here this early in the morning?" Ebber asks, raising his bushy grey eyebrows, his questioning glance aimed mostly at me.
I swallow. Suddenly my throat feels dry. "We're... looking for something," I say quietly, and my words hang in the air with my breath, a cloud of vapor that rises slowly until it vanishes.
"What might that somethin' be?"
Calixto shoots me a look, but I say, "A... a boat. A little wooden boat." I bite my lip. "Did you see one, when you found us?"
Ebber rubs his stubbly chin, his wrinkled, weathered forehead crinkling up even more. Finally he murmures, "I can't say I did." He looks me in the eye and adds meaningfully, "But I'm sure you'll find it. Just maybe not where you'd first think to look." He glances up at the sky. "I better be headin' off to the Inn," he says, too quickly. "And good luck in yer search."
Then he is lumbering away, his worn boots scraping along the rough wood of the docks.
Calixto watches him go. "An odd character," he muses. "Seems to like giving advice."
My mind suddenly echoes with that day, before Calixto was shot. Ebber's words to me ring through my head: "Believe me, girl!... Just follow him!" He had told me to follow Calixto. Had I not heeded that advice... I look up at Calixto, his features so familiar to me now. The way that he stands, walks, speaks. The way that his eyes watch the world and capture the light somehow, even on an overcast day like this.
The shot rings through my head as it has every night since the incident, shattering, terrible.
If I had not heeded Ebber, Calixto would be dead.
The thought makes me colder than I have ever been, a chill that is ten times the icy wind that cuts across the grassy hills. I shiver and step closer to Calixto. The chill passes, but a shadow of it lingers. 
Ebber's seemingly crazy advice that day saved Calixto's life. Perhaps today, his words will lead us to Bronach. 
"Not where you'd first think to look..." I murmur.
Calixto turns. "What did you say?"
I look out past him, past the docks and the fishermen and the boats, to the sea. The calm waves rolling smoothly, whispering.
I say, "I think I know where we should look."
Calixto studies me for a moment. "Where?" he asks slowly.
I don't answer that. I am not entirely cure I can answer it. So instead I ask, "Can you sail?"
He glances out at the water. "It looks calm," he says. "So... I think I can remember how. My tutor used to have a sailboat, but that was a long time ago."
"Good enough," I tell him, and then scan the docks, looking for a small sailboat. "There." I point. "Let's ask if we can borrow that one."
Calixto leads the way to the sailboat and its owners, a strong-looking young man and his elderly father.
"Excuse me," he says. "Do you think... you could lend us your boat? Just for a few hours?"
The young man squints at us. "Why?"
I step forward, speaking up. "We need to get out on the water," I explain. "I can't really tell you the whole story. But it's very important."
The young man slides over to his father and says something in his ear. His father replies, and I can't make out what they're saying. Finally, though, they finish discussing, and the young man crosses his arms.
"Listen," he says. "I'd love to lend you the boat, but we're losing valuable time as it is. I'm the only breadwinner in the family, you know, so I gotta get out there and fish, else we're not eating much this week, see."
Calixto reaches wordlessly into his pocket and pulls out a small pouch. He dumps its contents out into his palm; a pile of coins. He extends them to the young man. "Take this," he urges, "please. Use it to buy food, new nets, whatever. This is all I have with me, and I wish it were more, but we need your help."
The young man doesn't look like he is going to move, but from behind him his father's willowy voice can be heard. "Use the boat. We are glad to help you."
His son takes the money and stows it away swiftly, then helps his father off the boat. Calixto and I board, and then the young man starts to untie the rope that keeps the boat docked. As we slowly slide away from the docks he says, "Thank you."
Calixto smiles. "It's you who deserves the thanks," he says, and we slip out to sea.

They say she was always calm and composed, the way a true Queen should be. It's frigid out on the water, with the wind blustering across the wide open space, making it impossible to stand still. I watch Calixto adjust various strings and ropes until suddenly we catch a gust of wind and are pushed even farther out to sea.
"There," Calixto says, his voice carrying to me over the sound of the wind and the waves. He seems pleased that he remembers how to sail. But then his expression turns serious. "Elsa," he asks, "where are we going?"
"Just... just keep the boat moving," I say, dodging the question. Even I am not sure of the answer. Where are we going?
For a while Calixto and I lean on the side of the boat, often adjusting the sails to steer ourselves away from shore, to keep the wind pushing us on. I don't know how long this goes on, with neither one of us talking, but finally Calixto speaks.
"What are we looking for?" he asks suddenly. "The body? The boat? Her house?"
My voice falters as I open my mouth, because inside of me my heart is slowing, freezing over like the water that is puddled in our borrowed sailboat. I can't answer. I don't want to.
"Because, Elsa... We can't very well find Bronach, can we?" Calixto looks away. "She's gone."
I press my lips together and turn to the sea, feeling the icy wind snatch at my hair and clothes. The gentle waves, deep blue flecked with foamy white, their whispery voices as they slip up and down, draw my eyes outward, toward the horizon. For some reason I think of that summer day so long ago, watching the Queen's funeral boat glide out toward the vanishing point. For a moment I can almost feel the warmth of that day, see the little boat...
"Look," Calixto says, and points. Far, far out beyond us, there is a tiny boat bobbing on the waves, like a child's toy. It hs no sail, only oars, which are pushed by the water, flapping like broken wings.
"There," I say, staring at it, my pulse quickening. "That's where we're going."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. It has to be hers, Calixto."
He nods, the look in his eyes saying that he knows it, too. "Let's go, then," he says softly, and together we pilot the sailboat toward the horizon, out across the constantly moving sea.
It takes some time before we reach the little boat. We were lucky that it was not carried farther away by the waves, but instead managed to stay there, as if it were waiting for us. The wind dies down as we come near to it, the little wooden boat that from just a few yards away is unmistakable as Bronach's.
Calixto and I struggle to bring the boat closer. Finally, he throws a rope around the corner of the bow, and as he pulls the boat almost comes to us of its own accord. As it grows ever nearer, I want to close my eyes. Something inside me is frightened, shaking, and I look away, giving in to the feeling. I can't understand why I am suddenly weak at the knees until I hear Calixto's voice, wavering just slightly.
"Elsa..." he whispers. "It's her."
Tears sting my eyes. "Is she...?"
He says nothing, but I hear him leaning over the side of the sailboat and reaching out to her. There is a long pause.
"She's frozen, completely frozen," he says, his voice cracking. "She's... She's dead." 
A sob escapes my throat and I feel like crumpling into a heap. I had known it all along, yes, but there was a tiny part of me, an unreasonable and hopeful part of me, that would not let it be so. 
Slowly I turn around and gaze down at Bronach. She lies in the boat on her side, curled up as though she might be asleep. She is so pale, tinged with blue, but beautiful. 
Her veil is gone. 

They say the only time that her shell of composure and reason ever broke open was once, at a funeral. 
I am becoming salt water, my tears falling into the sea as I weep for Bronach. I barely knew her, but my soul is wounded by her death. The way she looks, so peaceful yet so cold, shakes me to the core. Calixto puts an arm around me, strong and comforting, but I know that he, too, feels the gnawing grief.
At last my tears subside and there is only an empty cold within me, slightly numbing the pain.
"Now what?" I murmur.
"Now... we say goodbye." Calixto solemnly, carefully, secures Bronach's boat to ours. "Shall we take her to shore?" he asks quietly. Then, "No. That wouldn't feel right."
"The cliffs," I manage. "By her house. We should take her there."
Calixto nods, and slowly he guides the boat around. The wind picks up almost immediately, our fleet and invisible courser, and the distant cliffs loom grim and dark as we sail on.