The Isle of a Thousand Worlds: The Weirdwater Confluence, #2

By Dani Finn

An aging alchemist seeks the key to the Universal Tincture said to unlock the Thousand Worlds of the mind, but she never expected to solve the riddle of her hermetic heart.

A meditation acolyte travels the mystical social media known as the Caravan and finds that the Thousand Worlds lie just below the surface, if she can only learn to see the space between the stars.

This spicy romantic fantasy exploring the union of the physical and the metaphysical is book 2 of the Weirdwater Confluence duology.

It is the sequel to The Living Waters, but it could be read as a standalone.

Author's note: this book contains explicit, consensual sex scenes between characters in their 60s and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dani Finn
• Release date: Mar 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224313327

Book preview

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The Isle of a Thousand Worlds

Weirdwater Confluence #2

Dani Finn

Dragonheart Press

Copyright © 2022 by Dani Finn.

This book was previously published by Shadow Spark Publishing in January 2022 and rights reverted to the author in December 2022.

Cover art by Karkki

Very minor changes have been made to the manuscript in this version.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Content warnings

Previously in the Weirdwater Confluence

1.Chapter 1

2.Chapter 2

3.Chapter 3

4.Chapter 4

5.Chapter 5

6.Chapter 6

7.Chapter 7

8.Chapter 8

9.Chapter 9

10.Chapter 10

11.Chapter 11

12.Chapter 12

13.Chapter 13

14.Chapter 14

15.Chapter 15

16.Chapter 16

17.Chapter 17

18.Chapter 18

19.Chapter 19

20.Chapter 20

21.Chapter 21

22.Chapter 22

23.Chapter 23

24.Chapter 24

25.Chapter 25

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26.Chapter 26

27.Chapter 27

28.Chapter 28

29.Chapter 29

30.Chapter 30

31.Chapter 31

32.Chapter 32

33.Chapter 33

34.Chapter 34

35.Chapter 35

36.Chapter 36

37.Chapter 37

38.Chapter 38

39.Chapter 39

40.Chapter 40

41.Chapter 41

42.Chapter 42

43.Chapter 43

44.Chapter 44

45.Chapter 45

46.Chapter 46

47.Chapter 47

48.Chapter 48

49.Chapter 49

50.Chapter 50

51.Chapter 51

52.Chapter 52

53.Chapter 53

54.Chapter 54

Also By Dani Finn

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter

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Content warnings

This book contains explicit, consensual sex scenes and is intended for adult readers only.

Keep this book away from children.

Give it to their grandparents instead.

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Previously in the Weirdwater Confluence

This incomplete recap is intended as a brief refresher for anyone having read The Living Waters, and to give a little context for those who might be reading The Isle of a Thousand Worlds by itself.

In The Living Waters, two painted-faced nobles named Temi and Sylvan went on a guided raft trip on a muddy river in a traditional ritual called a roughabout.

Temi’s family had fallen on hard times, and she planned to slip away during the trip and make her way to Rontaia before she was pressured into marrying someone who cared only for her skin tone.

Sylvan hoped to advance his scientific knowledge of the fish and other wildlife in the river, and perhaps uncover the truth behind the mythical wetlands known as the Living Waters.

Leo, the raft captain, was obsessed with mysterious swirls that kept appearing in the water and believed their secret could be found in the Living Waters.

Gilea, an herbalist and the painted faces’ minder, was tasked with keeping them safe and returning them with their precious skin tone intact.

They discovered there was more to the legend of the Living Waters than they ever imagined, tall creatures called ipsis and shape-shifting watery beings called sitri. When Temi fell ill, the ipsis and sitri helped heal her, with Leo and Gilea’s help. Gilea found herself falling for Temi during one of the healing mindshares under the guidance of the sitri, though her code as a minder made acting on her feelings unthinkable.

They became embroiled in a political conflict between factions of the ipsis and sitri, which almost cost them their lives. They played a role in ending the conflict, and in the process, Temi experienced an attraction for Gilea she hadn’t known she was capable of, and they shared a single kiss.

The book ended with Sylvan staying in the Living Waters to study the wonders he had found, while Leo took the raft downriver to Rontaia, planning to scout out a new roughabout exploring sea caves. Gilea and Temi said a tearful goodbye, with promises to meet again and travel to Rontaia together. Temi returned to reconcile with her mother, while Gilea joined the meditation practice in Endulai, which she had been yearning for all her life. The book ends with Gilea being introduced to the mystical social media known as the Caravan.

Of import, though seemingly minor in the book: while investigating the swirls, Leo and Sylvan met an alchemist named Patia, whose quicksilver had been stolen by the swirls in a frenzied attack on her workshop. Patia and Gilea are the main characters of The Isle of a Thousand Worlds.

1

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Patia checked the stoppers one last time, then laid out the slender vials on a rag. She rolled the cloth over the first vial twice before adding the second, repeating the process until all four were snug and secure. She wound a ribbon around the bundle to hold it tightly, then tied it off and put it in the waterproof case. Four vials of meditation tincture, though not her best, should net her sufficient coin from Endulai to make her way downriver to Rontaia, with enough left over to feed her until she could find Paoro. Whether or not she could convince him to share his secret was another matter, but she had other means to persuade him if her alchemical skills alone were not compelling enough.

If the rumors were true, Paoro, a second-rate alchemist with his head in the clouds, had somehow produced the Universal Tincture, the key to unlocking the Thousand Worlds of the mind. She’d spent the past thirty years struggling to survive by making meditation tinctures for the Endulians, with such paltry recompense she could hardly afford the time and materials to pursue the Great Work on her own. Over that time, she had developed the knowledge and skills she was sure would allow her to solve this ancient puzzle if she only had the time and money to focus on it, but Endulai’s stranglehold on the market forced her to accept too little coin for far too much work. And though alchemists were secretive about the prices they’d received, Patia was convinced Endulai paid her less for her tinctures than her male colleagues.

She often daydreamed of walking into Endulai with a vial of Universal Tincture, seeing the taster’s wide eyes and shocked expression as he realized what she had made. She would listen to his offer, so low as to be laughable, and politely tell him to stuff it up his metaphysical ass. If she alone held the formula, she would become rich beyond her wildest imagining, and the old boys club of Guluch alchemists would mutter in grudging recognition of her talent.

Anyone who bought her tincture could travel across the continent in their minds, connecting with whomever they wished at any time, with no need for the phony meditation training or magical tech the Endulians guarded so closely. Every city, bank, mining company, and family of painted faces would have to deal with her. Endulai would no longer hold the monopoly on the Thousand Worlds, and their precious Caravan would be relegated to a sideshow. She might even give away her formula once she’d cemented her nest egg and her legacy, just for the pleasure of watching their little fiefdom crumble.

She tucked the case into her bag, casting a last wistful glance around her shop. Filimin had agreed to look after her things, no doubt eager to test out Patia’s custom-made aludel from the Silver Docks workshop. Though it pained her to leave her most prized possession behind, she had a long, uncertain journey ahead of her, and she had to travel light.

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She booked passage on a boat called the Dashi, run by an all-female crew. It wasn't the cheapest boat at the docks, but it was the least sketchy, and the smell of cooking fish and pungent spices wafted up from the galley. It was a monthlong trip down to Rontaia, and a decent cook would make a world of difference.

A dark-skinned woman with a pink scar running down across her nose squared up to Patia and took her hand with a firm grip.

Captain Olin, nice to meet you.

Patia. Pleasure. She looked at Captain Olin's brawny shoulders, then up into her eyes, which were hard, but with a twinkle beneath. You do stop off at Endulai, correct?

Two hours, not a minute more. Olin released Patia's hand and relaxed her posture, crossing her thick arms over her chest as she leaned against the cabin wall. You got business at Endulai?

I do.

Well, hopefully, you can get it squared away in two hours. In the meantime, let me or my crew know if you need anything, and welcome aboard the Dashi.

The passengers were a mix of tradespeople like herself and middle-ringers from Tralum and Anari. Some of them spoke the Rontai dialect among themselves, which brought a smile to Patia's lips. She hadn't been to Rontaia in decades, and she missed the exuberance and the flights of verbal fancy inherent its speech. She had once been fluent, and she still understood it well enough if someone was speaking directly to her, but she caught less than half of what they were saying to each other with all the noise of the boat. It would make a nice backdrop for her trip, and help her find the tongue more quickly, which would make finding Paoro much easier.

They reached Endulai by early afternoon. The docks were festooned with faded flowers and tattered ribbons from one of their seemingly endless ceremonial days. Patia had seldom seen the docks without some sort of decoration. The herb and flower market was in full swing, and a half-dozen alchemists waited outside the tincture tent holding bags and boxes close to their bodies.

I'll ring this bell twice when you've got fifteen minutes left, Olin said to the passengers assembled for the stop. "If you miss the boat, you just paid thirty lep for a one-way trip to Endulai."

Patia wove through the children hawking sweets and charms to the flower market, where she cast a quick eye on the stalls to see if anything exotic was on offer. She didn't have the money to buy, but she liked to keep a mental inventory of what was available in case she ever needed something for one of her tinctures.

She took her place in line behind the other alchemists outside the tincture tent. They were all men, and she recognized several of them from Guluch, but only one of them, an apprentice in Thea's workshop, met her eye. He flashed a shy smile at her greeting, and she contemplated his lithe stature, the soft skin on the back of his neck, and imagined what it would be like to place just the tiniest kiss behind his ear. She shook her head to clear it as the line shuffled forward. An alchemist exited the tent, his face drawn as he clutched his hand to his chest, where he had no doubt stored the coin he'd received for his wares, less than he'd expected if his frown was any indication.

Patia made it inside the tent within half an hour, moving forward as Jeno summoned her with a gentle wave. Jeno's table was flanked by two Endulian guards, who stood with fingers tented together, their faces eerily blank. Though they carried no weapons, Patia knew their hands and feet were as deadly as any blade, and their minds doubly so. The counter, a beardless little man who looked like a twelve-year-old boy, sat at a smaller table behind Jeno with his hands on a lacquered wooden box. Jeno dipped his head in a slight bow, and Patia returned the gesture.

Patia, so nice to see you. Have the days been kind?

They have, but the nights have been lonely. And yourself?

I find my peace when I can, and embrace the chaos when I cannot. She rather liked Jeno, despite the role he played in keeping her in poverty. He looked her up and down, and his face took on a questioning look as he eyed the small case in her hands. You have brought something?

Patia nodded, opened the case, and laid the bundle on the table under the watchful eye of the guards.

Jeno rubbed his hands together as he untied the ribbon, his eyes alight with anticipation. Such a small amount, I assume it must be something...special?

I'm sorry to disappoint you, Jeno, but I've had a bit of a setback with my quicksilver supply. I'm headed down to Rontaia for a bit, to look into some things that have caught my attention.

I'm truly sorry to hear that, he said, unstoppering one of the vials and inserting the tiny testing spoon. We have been quite pleased with your output of late. Patia’s stomach roiled at the thought of the precious few coins they’d given her to show their alleged appreciation. He lifted the spoon beneath his nose, which wrinkled slightly. He slid the spoon into his mouth, closed his eyes for a moment, then laid the spoon in a bowl of greenish-tinted water. Six, he said, twisting his mouth sideways. You repurposed the quicksilver from something else?

A batch of antiseptic salts, and some vermilion ink. She smiled ruefully at the ease with which he’d detected her clever workaround.

Jeno raised his eyebrows and shook his head with a smile. With your talent, you could come work at the Annex. The equipment we have there—

Yeah, I've heard all about it. How they have you watched every second, so you can't concentrate, and certainly can't come up with anything new. In truth, she would have killed to get access to the equipment in their fabled Annex, but not on their terms. I prefer the life of a freelancer, thank you.

He held up his hands as if in self-defense. As you wish. Fifty. He waved five fingers over his shoulder, and the little man fiddled with something on the box's lid, opened it, and laid out five stacks of coins on his table. Patia had expected forty, but she took the money without comment.

The extra is for your troubles, which I am sorry to hear of. I hope you will come visit me on your return and show me whatever it was that drew you all the way down to Rontaia.

Count on it. If I find what I hope to find, you're going to be seeing a whole lot more of me.

I certainly hope so. The offer still stands, regardless. About the Annex, that is. If you were ever to change your mind.

Never going to happen, but I appreciate it all the same. Patia bowed to him, and he inclined his head slightly in response.

A waft of grilled nut twists hit Patia as soon as she walked out of the tent, and she held her coin purse tight to her chest as she forced herself past the food stalls and made her way back to the dock. Olin stood on the deck, leaning against the cabin and smoking a cheroot. She glanced up at the water clock, then smiled at Patia through a cloud of blue-gray smoke.

Get your business all squared away?

Patia nodded. She didn't get the sense Olin was prying, but the look in her eyes showed she had guessed Patia practiced the Good Works.

You been sitting on this ship the whole time?

The Dashi is a boat, not a ship. She pointed to one mast, then the other. Takes three masts to be a ship. And yes, I don't leave her alone for a second. Not even at Endulai. She must have noticed Patia eyeing her cheroot, and she pulled another from a little leather case and offered it to Patia, who nodded, salivating. Olin handed it to her, along with her own cheroot, and Patia lit it, sucking the harsh, earthy smoke into her cheeks and blowing it out in a thin stream. She held it up in thanks, and Olin blinked in response.

You been to Rontaia before? Olin asked after a long silence.

Went to school down there for a while, then worked in one of the big workshops. Besides its arts and shipbuilding industries, Rontaia was known for its alchemical workshops, which produced good-enough tinctures at affordable prices. Patia had met Paoro in Helo’s workshop there, and they'd shared a room for a time, and occasionally a bed, when Patia needed a release. He’d been the most respectful of the crew she’d spent those long, sweaty days with, and he exuded a kind of quiet magnetism. Paoro had been too timid to make any advances, but he'd never turned her down either. She wondered if that would still be true. He'd always had a cute smile, and was fun to be around when he wasn’t on one of his little mystical kicks.

Patia was stirred from her reverie by the sound of the bell ringing two times. Olin tossed her cheroot stub into the water and ran her hands over her face.

You ready to head downriver?

Patia stubbed out her half-smoked cheroot and tucked it into her belt pouch.

How long til we reach Rontaia?

2

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Gilea burst through the coppery light and found herself standing in the central courtyard of Endulai with soft sunlight pouring through the open dome. She swayed and might have fallen, but Amini’s gentle hands propped her up. The fountains burbled, the little birds chirped in the upper eaves, and a few acolytes flashed serene smiles. Gilea blinked several times, thinking the illusion would dissipate, but she was here, in the courtyard, which looked the same as it always did. The scent of jasmine reached her nose, and she closed her eyes and breathed it in. It was as rich and delicate as ever, and she turned to Amini, whose wrinkled face showed understanding.

"It feels so real," Gilea said, and the acolytes nearest her looked at her with indulgent smiles.

You don’t have to broadcast your thoughts to everyone. Let your words flow, mind to mind, as you have trained for.

Sorry, I… Gilea touched the leaves of a rosebush, fingered the thorns, which were as sharp as needles. "I guess I thought I’d be able to tell the difference."

I’m not sure there is a difference. Amini gestured toward the nearest pool and knelt, and Gilea joined her. Two thinkfins circled the edges of the pool, turning to meet in the center, then shimmied away after barely touching, just as they did in a dozen other pools in Endulai. "To these fish, the water is one world and the air another. Who is to say which world is more real? There are a thousand worlds, a thousand realities, but they are all connected. They are all one." She lowered her fingers into the water, and the thinkfins swam over and brushed against them. "You will come to see this too, given time and experience."

I thought the Thousand Worlds was just a metaphor.

Just? Amini lifted her fingers from the water, and the thinkfins resumed circling the pool, meeting in the center, touching for a moment, then repeating the cycle. "A metaphor is as real as a stone, just as our thoughts and our souls are as real as the leaves on a tree, or the wind that moves them."

Gilea watched the fish for a time, losing herself in their rhythm as Amini’s words sank in. A breeze tickled the back of her neck, and she closed her eyes and felt it caress the fine hairs there. She heard the sound of bees humming in the nearby flowers, felt the sting of little rocks under her knees. She had often tried to picture what the Caravan would look like, how it would feel, but she had never imagined it could be so physical, so real. She opened her eyes again and focused on the pool, on the space between the thinkfins’ movements, the ripples they left on the surface as they circled, touched, swirled, and circled again. She sank into the movement, letting her eyes lose their focus, and her mind soon followed. There was no pool, no fish, no dome, no courtyard, no Amini, no Gilea, only an infinite sea of interconnected currents, mixing and flowing without end.

Gilea’s attention returned slowly as Amini’s gentle presence surrounded her like a cloak.

It’s time we return, for now.

So soon? It feels like we just got here.

Amini smiled, cupping Gilea’s cheek with her warm, wrinkled hand.

Most people tire after a short while on their first trip. Even for you, it’s best to take one step at a time. Close your eyes and follow me.

Gilea closed her eyes, and in the darkness behind her lids, she saw the copper tunnel stretching out before her. She flowed into it, but it felt like she was leaving a part of herself behind.

3

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Patia eyed the passengers as they returned to the Dashi, some carrying flowers, bags, and assorted goods, others empty-handed. Most of the passengers were paired up in some way or another, either couples or families or friends. There was even a group of three painted faces, though why they would be traveling on a boat such as this was a mystery. Perhaps they weren’t all as rich as the rumors told. There were a few solo passengers, but one, in particular, caught her eye and stirred the itch she so badly needed to scratch. He was in his fifties, she thought, cleanish if not well-groomed, and his worn coat could not hide the sturdy build of someone used to manual labor. His fingers were those of a craftsman, strong but subtle, and his bushy beard did not entirely hide the hint of a smile he flashed her as he passed. He had noticed her attentions, but whether he was just being polite was impossible to guess.

It took Patia only three days to bed the man, a glazier named Iski returning from a big job in Anari. He was a bit more traditional than she preferred at first, but within a few days he came out of his shell a bit, and they passed many a pleasant evening together until they reached Rontaia. They got in a good hour’s workout most nights while Patia’s bunkmate visited with her parents, and they mostly ignored each other during the daytime, as if by some unspoken agreement. He spent his days playing Seven Rings and cracking wise with a group of older gentlemen who formed a quaint little cadre between meals on the dining deck.

Patia split her time between watching the passengers on deck and leafing through her Works book by the weak light of the porthole in her bunk. There was nothing new to see in either case, but above as below, she discovered hidden facets to already familiar figures. The painted faces were headed to a funeral in Rontaia; one couple was on their honeymoon; another couple had recently broken up but hovered near each other for the entire trip, never touching, as if bound by a tether but kept apart by repelling magnetic fields. Below deck, as she scanned the pages of her book, her eyes lingered on the shapes and orientation of symbols in the mystical diagrams, some of which were words, others more esoteric.

Patia had copied eight pages from a book in the workshop in Rontaia where she’d done her apprenticeship decades before, sneaking into Master Helo’s study while he slept off his drink. It had been a risk since everyone knew what Helo did with young women he cornered in his study, but Patia knew the stages of his drunkenness like the most basic alchemical formula, and he had not stirred from his stupor. She would have felt guilty for stealing his secrets, but he was a lazy, lecherous slob who surely didn’t deserve whatever ancient knowledge was in that book.

She’d had no idea what most of the symbols meant, and she had never studied ancient languages, so her copy was bound to be imperfect. Occasionally, if she stared at them long enough, she would puzzle out the connection to a symbol she knew; she’d figured out the symbols for quicksilver, water, and fire, and a handful of others, but the majority of them remained a mystery. She was convinced that somewhere in those eight pages, among the seemingly random arrangements of symbols and seaweed-like mystography surrounded by lines of tiny notes, she could find something related to the Universal Tincture, if she kept coming back to look at it with an open mind.

The principle was simple enough in theory: separate the gaseous essences of the four elements, maintaining them in incorruptible vessels, each at the appropriate temperature, then unite them in a bath of living water under pressure. She had commissioned her alembic from the Silver Dock workshop to accommodate just such a feat, but there were so many possible permutations for each step, each of which took time and money to try. In the last few years, she’d largely given up on the decades-long project, focusing her efforts on producing concentrated meditation tinctures for Endulai, which paid the bills with little left over to save up for the main work. There were always hitches with the supply of quicksilver or other precious ingredients, not to mention thieves, accidents, and one long bout with Ulver’s cough that had put her out of commission for several months.

When the swirls had wiped out her entire supply of quicksilver, she’d raged for a few days, but once she’d recovered, she’d chosen to see it as an opportunity. She’d never achieve great Works if she kept being underpaid for her work by Endulai and scrabbling to make ends meet. If she could find Paoro and wheedle his secret from him, she had a chance to disrupt the system entirely.

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Patia had taken to sitting with Olin and the crew as they drank whiskey at night under the stars, or under the roof of the dining deck when it rained. They played skip-stone, wagering mop and cleanup duty in high-stakes tournaments, or engaged in games of word play. The word games were fascinating, as they used words from many dialects of Southish, and even a few words from the languages of the southern seas. Patia never joined in the games, as they moved too fast for her, but she enjoyed the back and forth, and when the games were over, they would sit and talk until they were too drunk or sleepy to continue.

One night when the rest of the crew had gone to their bunks, Patia sat with Olin, who drank a steady stream of whiskey that would have laid low a lesser being. Olin put down her cup and looked to Patia with bright, glassy eyes.

How’s it going with your glazier friend?

I’ve had worse, Patia said with a wink. Anyway, it’s good to keep the body in shape.

Olin raised her cup and took a sip. Think you’ll keep up with him once you get to Rontaia?

Patia waved her off, taking a larger sip than she intended, as she was fairly drunk already. He’s got a wife down there, who will be in for a few surprises when he gets back.

Olin’s laugh echoed off the roof of the dining deck, and she covered her mouth with a guilty look. I expect you’ll have business to attend to anyway. She was fishing, and Patia was feeling unusually loose with the whiskey in her system.

I do at that. I’m looking for a man I knew long ago, who I’m hoping has need of my skills.

Olin raised her eyebrows a little, but she said nothing. Patia could tell Olin knew she was an alchemist, or had some idea anyway, and she didn’t figure there was any harm in sharing a little with this boat captain.

He’s in the same business as me, you know, and rumor has it he’s made some kind of breakthrough with one of his tinctures, but he never had the precision to pull off much by himself. So, I figured I’d see if he could use a pair of skilled hands.

Olin poured another two fingers in her cup and one finger in Patia’s. She leaned back in her chair so far Patia was sure she would tip over, drunk as she was, but she did not, and when her chair landed flat again, she put down her cup and looked up at Patia, her face twisted with something like mischief.

You said he lacked the...precision to pull it off by himself. So, how’d he make this breakthrough then, do you think?

Patia looked down in her cup with blurry eyes, wondering if she was drinking the same whiskey as Olin. That’s exactly what I’m going down there to find out, and I won’t take no for an answer. She smushed her index finger into a puddle of water on the table. You know, that’s just why I got on this...beautiful boat. You should be really proud by the way. This is a nice sh—boat.

She is. Olin raised her glass and took a sip, and Patia followed suit, slapping the table as the whiskey burned down to her stomach and most of the way back up. "But you