Thar Shaddin

Both men were momentarily stunned by the voice coming from inside their heads as a figure appeared at the top of the gangway. The shorter man characteristically shrugged off the mental intrusion with a polite answer, keeping his face amiable enough. "I am Tyrcutio Mercurion and this is Piotral Benvoli. We merely saw this ad," long, slim fingers plucked the slightly crumpled paper from the one identified as Piotral, and held it up to light the words in simple print-

Travel, exploration... Hero wanted. See Misumi Ayako within.

"We found this outside a tavern but alas, the employer could not be found within as our timing was impeccably late. We inquired about town and eventually found ourselves here, at your service."

As bombastic the introduction was, the two men couldn't have appeared more benign, having purposefully stepped into the lamps' lights and giving full advantage to the dark-adjusted eyes of whoever came to greet them. On the left stood the speaker, his sharp, angular face, slim build, and innate, almost sinuous grace were faintly reminiscent of an elf, though his ears were no longer than any human's. His brown shoulder length hair seemed to be almost too thick for the black band that tied it back away from his face, and even in the soft light, ruddy, red highlights were apparent. Dark green eyes were ever shifting, ever assessing the surroundings, belying a cunning, quick mind. He was simply clothed, a collared short sleeved green tunic over black leggings, partially obscured by a black, practical traveling cloak.

The other man was only taller than his companion by a hand-span, though he had a slightly thicker build, as if he had capability to put on muscle if he put effort into it. His face was more squarish, with light blue eyes looking out eagerly from behind a shaggy thick mane of dirty blond hair. The small, well-kept goatee seemed only to accentuate the boyish features, instead of making him appear more mature, as no doubt was its purpose. Though his manner lacked the other's certainty, his more solid build caused him appear to be the more grounded one of the pair. His clothing was slightly ornate, though still retaining the same utilitarian function of his friend's. The wide hemmed long sleeves of his dark blue shirt had an embroidered pattern and he wore thick leather boots of the current style, with slightly noticeable stitching along the outside of the foot, laces running nearly the full length of the knee-high boot. His cloak was also black, but worn completely open and pinned behind his shoulders by the straps of his pack.

Each man bore a long, thin sheathed sword at his right side, but Tyrcutio had two long knives, sheaths strapped to a leather belt he wore diagonal across his body. Both also wore large packs, no doubt full with journeying provisions. Piotral's expression was a little more closed than Tyrcutio's, the distinctly male voice in his head still echoing, leaving something akin to a bad taste in his mouth, and he was content to allow his friend do the talking for the moment.

Kate was in the process of removing her boots when Salovuje returned with her announcement of guests on the dock. She shared a glance with Elemire, then casually checked that her dagger was still secured at her hip. “Is that so?” she remarked and settled down in a chair. “Let’s give him a few minutes, then, to settle things.”

Out on the deck, Yyan gave the two men the utmost scrutiny, utilizing both natural and altered sight, as well as the sense of Salovuje’s coin. Nothing about them spoke of anything other than what they declared themselves to be: a pair of travelers seeking high adventure.

Yyan twitched his lips wryly. If it was adventure they sought, they were likely to find more than they could ever desire…

He stepped down the gangplank and into the half-light at the edge of the dock lamps, allowing them to get a decent look at him while maintaining his sight within the dark. His expression was relaxed and assured, but his gaze was focused as he looked between the two men. The speaker, Tyrcutio, seemed a touch shorter than him, while he shared height with the thus-far silent Piotral. It was hard to discern their ages, but Yyan wouldn’t be surprised if they judged him to be their younger.

He nodded his head to them in greeting but did not take his eyes off of them. Forgive my abruptness, he told them, giving no explanation or apology for his unusual method of communication. The nature of our task has forced us to take precautions. You expressed interest in joining us. If that is so, then I will allow you to speak with the leader of our expedition. Silently, Yyan wondered if the two might change their minds once they learned the truth of things. They seemed to be the type that craved excitement and the promise of rich reward. However, if they possessed the stomach for this mission… well, any help available would be welcome.

With a second nod, Yyan turned. Please follow me.

He gave a brief warning to Salovuje, Elemire and Kate before leading them up the gangplank.

The newest additions were led to the Captain's stateroom. Within they would find the three women waiting expectantly for them. Katraea Burling, captain of The Starling, sat at her desk. Dark curly hair framed a strong, weathered face. Not classically beautiful, she was still possessed of the beauty that came from health and vitality. Captain was a handsome, sturdy woman with moss green eyes.

Elemire sat loose-limbed and relaxed on her cot. Snug, well-made elven armor fit her body to allow her the most flexibility and protection possible. Breast plate, greaves, bracers, gloves and pauldrons had been removed; stowed neatly beside the bed leaving only the supple leather under armor. A sheathed sword lay across the cost beside her and a quiver and bow, leaned against the wall. A dagger was strapped to her left thigh. A simple, leather clasp kept the hair back from her face while allowing it to hang down behind her shoulders. Her eyes were almond-shaped, her cheekbones high, and her ears ended in delicate points. Her expression was reserved and a little aloof, but that would not be unusual for an elf at a first meeting.

Salovuje/Misumi stood before the Captain’s desk, engulfed in Kate’s sleep clothes. Dark hair hung in loose waves around her face. Blue-violet eyes were wide as she looked over the two men. At first glance, one might assume Elemire or Yyan the leader. Certainly Salovuje did not look the part. Finally she spoke.
“Thank you for joining us. Yyan had asked me to tell him what I know.” A soft smile brushed across her lips as she remembered the way things had been before. The tone in her voice was wistful.

“Music and art filled our days. Imagine a land filled with peaceful prosperity. That was the way it had been. We were well educated and debated many things. Debate and questions were welcome. Beneath the soft glow of the Gem scholars would spend hours discussing all nature of things. Our knowledge was kept through oral as well as written tradition. The memory books were our way to keep the knowledge pure and untainted. When debates became too heated, we would return to the books to consult the truth. The knowledge was always there, but it was the duty of the Scribes to access the knowledge and keep the history of our people.”

"Once, we were blessed with gentle skills. Respect and balance were the keys to our happiness. Our Numen... no more perfect place could have existed. We were the blessed children of our Mother and Father. Arts, all of them, were encouraged and practiced.

Some of shaman excelled in the Green arts. Beneath their fingers crops and herbs grew. Others excelled in the Totem Arts. These folk were blessed with the ability to shape-shift their forms so that we could understand the world around us and those that share it with us. Earth arts, Water arts, arts of the Air, arts of the Fire, arts of the Word… these were ours to learn, to understand, to manipulate. Through this we understood the ways and means of the land We aged slowly, allowing us time to accumulate wisdom, so that we would be respectful of the gift the Father and the Mother had given.

Our shamans were granted the ability to cure illnesses that beset our people. All of these abilities originated and were channeled through the Gem of the Sun. Once we lived closely in alignment with the Father and Mother. The Gem, both a physical and meta-physical thing, was our proof of their existence and granted us access to them. ”

Salovuje clasped her hands together, clenching them tightly. Her voice tightened and she focused her gaze on Yyan’s. She had to admit her guilt in this. “Listen to me, speaking still in couched terms. Certainly what was hidden then is known now. The Gem allowed us to access the abilities we dream of, to exceed the physical world and bend the laws of nature to our will without destroying our physical world. It acted as a doorway, if you will, between our world and that of dreams- the astral.”

Salovuje sighed a little. “But, what if you wanted to do more than just debate? What if you wanted more? Wanted to control others around you like puppets? Just to see if it were possible?” She barked out a soft, rueful laugh. “Hungry for knowledge, power and control? So hungry to prove yourself right that you would willingly tamper with things…” Salovuje shook her head and looked down at her hands.
“Worse still can you imagine being so naïve as to think no one could ever be like that?” Salovuje looked up. The expression on her face was stark and raw. Her voice cracked as she said softly. “I was.”

“Aerago was brilliant. He was a shining star, adept at all the shamanic arts. He applied himself diligently and spoke with passion. He drew others to him… myself included. I thought to make him a scribe. I thought he loved the knowledge as I did – reverently and with care. I petitioned and sponsored him; giving him entrance to the heart of the Gem where the knowledge was kept. But, there must have been something broken in him. Why else would he have betrayed the Covenant we shared? No…” she shook her head again and looked away. “The potential is in all of us… to be seduced away from what you know is right in pursuit of something that is bad for you but consumes you.”

Salovuje hugged herself. “I still do not understand his motivation. I do not think he wished to destroy us all and everything we were. I think he just wanted to know more, to increase his knowledge. There is a fine line between knowledge and power. There is an old saying “power corrupts,” and it was never more true than in the case of Aerago. Aerago and his followers broke the Gem*. They shattered it and in doing so opened a rift between the physical and the astral worlds. What happened next was pure nightmare. Bodies and minds were warped. The very firmament of Numen was warped and poisoned. Creatures of the astral bled into our world like a flood. A war ensued. Those of Numen who had chosen to follow Aerago were powerful, almost god-like in their abilities. They cultivated the creatures of the astral to fight on their side. The result nearly destroyed the world as we knew it. Certainly, it was changed. ”

“Thankfully, Téodynus was there to lead us. He was the strongest of us. He had been a follower of Aerago, at first. But when he realized the devastation, the danger… Without him, we would have been lost. He was a shaman of the elements.” Salovuje shook her head, remembering. “The very land moved at his thought. Using the primordial nature of the astral and the land around us, Téodynus blended his essence with that of an astral creature and created warriors to help us fight. ”

Elemire straightened, intent on Salovuje’s words. Was this the origin of her people?

Sighing softly, she continued. “There is a reason why a barrier is needed. Our bodies and minds require strict discipline in order to tolerate the illogical nature of the astral. In the end, the only way to fight back was to try and reverse the constant flow of the astral into our world. Twelve of our finest shaman volunteered to use themselves as a living barrier to repair the rift.” Salvouje’s brows furrowed as she moved to take a seat on the cot provided for her.

“Téodynus hoped the seal would last forever, but we knew there was a possibility the magic which had created it could diminish. The laws that govern our world do not apply to the laws that govern the astral. Those laws, in conflict with one another, wear down the integrity of the spells holding the seal in place. But, so long as the twelve stood strong, the stuff of dreams only seeps into our world.”

Looking down at her hands, she said, “We know now that there are only eleven remaining. We do not know whether the jadeite* which housed Eifandir’s soul still remains at Numen or if it has been removed. We also do not know how long Eifandir’s vigil has been broken. Other than what Elemire noticed six months ago, has there been an increase in the number of people who shift their forms or do other types of magic?”

For the listeners, there would be parallels between Salovuje’s story and the story of the Changer’s War. The origin of the War changed as a whisper is changed when passed from one person to another. Across Pal Tahrenor, the story has variations, each told from a cultural point of view.

The pair followed their mind-speaking greeter like docile sheep toward the bow. Tyrcutio guessed they were heading toward the Captain's cabin, while Piotral made a face at that particular image and started lagging behind to two others, tip-toeing and peering around corners and into the dark shadows. Sensing his friend's discomfort, Tyr was about murmur a typical sarcastic quip when they were ushered into a doorway.

Green and blue eyes blinked to adjust to the soft lantern light inside and simultaneously widened as they saw the three ladies inside. Tyrcutio and Piotral bowed in the same fashion, in the same breath. Except for their distinctly different appearances, one might have thought the two to be brothers- at least they had been friends long enough to have adopted something of each other's mannerisms.

Despite these similarities, each man listened with a different perception as the dark haired, slender, rather meek looking lady started her story with no prelude. The brown-haired man betrayed nothing by his expression, but his attention was completely held by the woman in front of the desk. His dark green eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she started speaking of things past, as he started to read between the lines. This was the strategic leader of this group, she held the purpose behind this "adventure," and she was more than she appeared to be. He started to wonder at their luck at picking this advertisement to answer.

At the start, Piotral took the opportunity to look over the other ladies in the small but comfortable room, as the fairy tale beginning didn't exactly catch his interest as well as the opposite sex. The captain looked weathered, almost old, the elf looked... foreign, but the young thing narrating... she had potential. Even if the glance between her and their mind-speaking greeter seemed somewhat lingering. As she continued, he started to shift uncomfortably through the telling, her words marking her crazy old or just crazy. She was speaking of things beyond his ken, but they nonetheless tickled old, dusty memories that were more ephemeral than dreams. By the end, Piotral was brimming with curiosity but managed to hold his tongue in check, barely, until she finished her story with a question of her own.

Aghast at the scope upon which they had stumbled, both men were silent for a long pause after the woman finished speaking.

"Is this for real?" Piotral finally sputtered, though out of hesitance or reluctance. Instead, hope lit his blue eyes and he could do nothing but grin like a dog who just found the best bone in the world.

Throughout the retelling of Salovuje’s tale, Yyan kept his eyes trained upon their two guests and his ears listening to her words. Salovuje retold much of what she had written in her memory book, as well as confirmed a few pieces of information that he had managed to guess. But the historical particulars—names, places—those piqued Yyan’s interest, and gradually his focus drifted more and more to Salovuje’s voice.

At last she concluded her tale, and Yyan went back to studying the newcomers. They seemed just as astonished, more so even, by the eye-witness account.

“Is this for real?” Piotral asked, the first words Yyan had heard from him, with a wide grin to match. Yyan couldn’t help but chuckle.

It is indeed, he said, with considerably less force he had first used on the gentlemen. He walked over to stand beside Salovuje’s desk, facing Tyrcutio and Piotral. I hope this explains, at least in part, my earlier greeting, and forgive me if it was unsettling. I have pledged what abilities I possess to the restoration of the seal, and already there are dangerous enemies that would seek to interfere.

Yyan let his gaze drop down to Salovuje. You are our guide in this task. If these men wish, of their own accord, to assist, yours is the final say. Though he addressed Salovuje alone, he allowed all in the room to hear his words.

“Is this for real?”

"Yes, it is." Salovuje's reply came almost in unison with Yyan's.

Yyan spoke. You are our guide in this task. If these men wish, of their own accord, to assist, yours is the final say.

Salovuje was looking at the new comers. "I suppose now that they know the story, we need to know what they hoped to gain or obtain by participating?"

She smiled then at the men. "And, I launched into the telling without so much as an introduction. This is Captain Kate Starling." Salovuje gestured toward the captain. "We have chartered her boat for the voyage. "

"Elemire Oranrae," Salovuje's hand gestured open palmed, upwards toward the elf, then toward Yyan. "He is Yyan Ilnari and I," she touched her fingers to her chest, "... am Salovuje."

Piotral's grin faded slightly, noticeably as the one introduced as Yyan spoke in their minds. It appeared to be a determined effort of his to keep it on his expression. Sensing his comrade's struggle with the tall, thin man's method of communication, Tyrcutio stepped slightly forward, attempting to draw the majority of the attention to himself with his movement. With a slightly deeper bow than his initial one, he began his own introduction.

"My ladies, Sir Yyan," his emphasis on Yyan's title would have been easy to interpret as sarcastic, as both men, while not old, showed signs of previous adventures and appeared older than the willowy built man, "I, Tyrcutio Mercurion, would be quite delighted to embark upon this dark and dangerous quest, if you could find such a grace within you to bestow such an honour. The only gains I seek are to see my dearest friend here through whatever adventure should seize on him. Of his goals, I cannot speak as they are not mine."

The blond man cleared his throat, regaining his composure by giving the other man a rough shove. "Tyr, as I'm sure you all will be calling him soon, speaks entirely too much for his own good. One of these days he will induce laryngitis on himself. I can't wait for that day. I am Piotral Benvoli and as cliche as this might sound, I'm only looking for high adventure. My sword arm is yours to direct, m'Lady Salovuje," his blue eyes danced again, momentarily forgetting Yyan's invasive voice in his head.

Tyr rolled his eyes at his comrade's words and returned the not-so-soft shove. "Manners, manners. Good Captain Starling, our thanks for your permission to board this magnificent vessel. And Lady Elemire, it is quite an honour to meet you, Elfkind." The word he used did not sound exact- it might have been elf kind or elf-kin, and though he spoke without a glimmer of an accent, it was not a common language word, nor was it elven.

Captain Burling’s lips curled in a faint, calculating smile, and the look in her eye was harder than the crystal substituting for the other. "A flatterer is Master Mercurion," she remarked dryly in her rich, rolling voice. "I’ve known a few flatterers in my day, and with most… well, let’s say only that their words held as much worth as a snot-rag. I’m a plain-spoken woman, sirs. Comes from too many years wrangling men who are all too quick to skewer themselves on their own boasting."

Then her smile broadened; somehow, it managed to make her seem even more wolfish. "But seeing as we’ve only just met, t’would be impolite to pass judgment so quickly. We’ll let time be the scale of merit."

She stepped forward and rested a hand on Salovuje’s shoulder, with a piercing glance at Piotral to assure him that oh yes, his attentions had been witnessed. "If you would all journey together, then you will have the protection of my vessel and crew. However, my men are not servants. You will treat them respectfully and not seek to interfere with their duties. That extends to all of you," she said with a glance around the room, making sure she caught the eye of every person before continuing. "Any talk of rabble-rousing that reaches my ear will be met with what we sailors call ‘the justice of the sea’. Simple rules, aye?"

Once again, her gaze fixed on Tyrcutio and Piotral. "Now, our plan is to set sail at sundown tomorrow. You may make your bunk onboard, or you may seek accommodations for the night in the city. If you miss the boat, then we leave without you."

Elemire stood and placed her hand over her heart, bowing to the two gentlemen as she was introduced.

"May the Lady keep your paths green and golden."

The way Tyrcutio greeted her gave her cause to wonder. There was something familiar about the greeting, but she couldn't place it.

Salovuje looked up at the Captain as a hand fell on her shoulder. Tyrcutio's flowery speech amused her, but apparently not the captain. Piotral's assessing look had been missed, what Salovuje saw was the broad smile the man wore indicating he thought the idea sounded like fun. She hoped his desire for high adventure would not result in reckless behavior. Salovuje waited for the captain to finish speaking before she addressed the two men. Regardless, she suspected they would need the man power.

"You are welcome to join us." This was followed by a short smile. "Elemire, would you care to show the captain the maps? She will need to them to plot our course.

Elemire nodded, "Of course." Reaching into her pack, she produced the ebony case and opened it. Carefully unfolding the maps, she placed them on the Captain's table.

"If I am not mistaken, the maps indicate that Numen lies just off the coast of Theogios' causeway." Elemire looked at Yyan and then the Captain.

The causeway lies on the south-western corner of Darleone and is made up of unusual rock formations. Basalt columns, most in hexagonal shapes, lead like steps down into the sea. The site is a place of strong magic, with a high concentration of ley-lines indicating a possible point of entry from the astral plane or perhaps the source of Theogios’ Seal. Many stories exist regarding the place, most regarding the origin of elves and the great Seal. Despite its location, the oceans surrounding the area are treacherous and the causeway is accessible only by approach from inland.

"The edges of the causeway are enveloped in constant mist, but rumors of an island within the mist have carried on for centuries. The island is seen only twice per year when the tides are lowest. The rumors say that Theogios, mover of mountains, sank the island under the waves." Elemire looked at Salovuje. "But perhaps, it has just been hidden in plain view this whole time..."


(OOC: the causeway is based on the Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland)

(Burling? Starling? I suppose i wasn't paying attention, the ship is the Starling, she is Burling, although introduced as Kate Starling a few posts down.... we can just pretend Tyr said "Captain Kate of the Starling or Captain Burling...)

Neither man's easy attitude was affected by the lady captain's words. In fact, Tyr seemed to rise to the challenge and widened his own grin to match her own. "Aye, 'tis simple rules indeed. In fact, we've not had much luck with sea adventures, so perhaps we could learn some ropes, so to speak, promising not to get in the way. Who knows, maybe I'll be a better sailor than swordsman."

The two moved to look over the womens' shoulders at the map. Piotral adopted a faux sage expression, comically quirking one eyebrow high and squinting his eyes as if deep in contemplation. Tyrcutio wavered between thoughtful and bored, a strange combination. He finally settled on tired and barely stifled a yawn. "Sundown tomorrow, Captain? Why wait so long, are the stars truly better tools with which to navigate the high seas?"

"Well, I hope we shan't be sailing entirely under the moon. I've heard some say its not good for one's general health- humans simply weren't made to be nocturnal and I'd hate to be out of comission due to some ailment like scurvy."

Tyr snorted at the ridiculous statement- no matter how many times his hypochondriac friend complained, he never failed to amuse with absurd and often misinformed diseases. The darker haired man kept his tongue in check behind a smirk as he waited to see the response from the others.

Yyan shared the glance with Elemire, then gazed down at the map. I had no notion that Numen would lie so close to Darleone. This is good news for us.

“Don’t start your cheers yet, old man. Getting to Darleone at all remains the challenge,” Kate said, studying the map intently. Yyan tossed an eyeroll and a cheeky grin at her back, then moved away from the crowded table. “Elemire, would you permit me to keep these for a spell?” Kate asked. “Having them at hand will be invaluable at keeping this overgrown washtub on course.” To Tyrcutio’s query she replied, “My crew still needs time to gather necessary provisions before we make our start. If I thought it would be safer to wait for the morning after tomorrow, then we would leave then.”

Piotral’s comments regarding scurvy made her lips curl sardonically, but she chose to keep any disparaging ‘land-lubber’ comments to herself… for the time being.

Yyan stepped farther away and sat down on the edge of one of the bunks the crew had provided for the ladies, his face clouded in thought. Tomorrow, barring any other trouble or disaster, would see them all off on this journey. Where Tyrcutio and Piotral fit into the tapestry being woven about them all, only time would tell. He hoped—and a small but critical part of him believed—that it would be to the good.

It was late. He could feel the hours weighing him down like a heavy cloak, but he knew from experience that sleep would be out of his reach for a while yet. There was still much to think about.


(OOC: Things seem to be winding down. Might I suggest a couple more posts to close things down, or even switching to next day if no one has anything else to add.)

(doh. my fault on the Captain's name. I got confused. Agreed, we can move on until the next day. Feel free to post whatever your charries would do in the evening. Oh, and... "time passes...")

Trusting in the coin, Salovuje fell into a deep sleep. Misumi's body needed the rest. For Elemire, sleep took longer to gain. She had, of course, agreed to let the Captain use the maps. What bothered her, though, was the story Salovuje had told. If the story were true, then...

Elemire lifted her hand in the darkness. Even with the small amount of light given off by the moon, she could see it. She contemplated the mark upon her palm. If Baresi were not truly a goddess, but some elf-like creature from the astral realm, did that make her faith any less valid? When she was young, she had always imagined Baresi to look elven, a dryad of sorts. Perhaps she had not been so far off. Elemire clasped her hands over her stomach and forced herself to focus. She would meditate and hopefully, find sleep soon. When she opened her eyes once more, dawnlight filtered through the shuttered window. It would seem sleep had found her after all.

(Forgive my "auto"ing of the setting- if i'm too presumptuous, feel free to let me know how to correct.)

Tyrcutio and Piotral were shown to the berthing spaces. The Starling, being a practical, flexible ship, had a fairly large cargo bay for whatever her Captain needed to transport for way of money. As her current customers were people, the fore section of the cargo bay was curtained off into sections and cots, along with a few sets of bunked beds, were fixed into place in each of the "rooms".

"Well, at least we won't be sleeping with the sailors," Piotral muttered as they settled into a space to call their own. "Who knows what kind of infectious diseases they pick up in ports, probably nothing any common doctor could cure..."

His rambling went on for a short while, largely ignored by Tyr as he idly wondered where the mind-speaker was being berthed. The two made their hasty preparations for sleep and after a quick game of odds and evens* the blond man took the bottom bunk and the other lithely climbed onto the top, carefully making sure to misplace his foot squarely on Piotral's outstretched leg as he did so. Both men were asleep within seconds of extinguishing their oil lamp.

It was a narrow crawlspace, accessed by a hidden seam between the cargo bulkhead and the wall. As soon as goodnights had been passed around, Yyan slipped away into the smuggler’s hatch. The thin sliver of a room was immediately plunged into darkness, but he felt along the curved wall until his fingers grasped a rolled-up blanket. In the center he also found a small pillow and a long nightshirt. Smiling in the dark, Yyan slipped off his boots and set about constructing his sleeping arrangements.

The door clicked open an hour later. With eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could just make out Kate’s figure as she squeezed into the room and sat down beside him. The ladies are asleep. Her presence within his mind was far gentler this time. I figured you would opt for this bunk.

It’s familiar, Yyan replied, keeping his tone neutral. He felt calloused fingers brush through his hair.

Do you still think about it?

Depends on what “it” you mean.

Yyan felt Kate shrug. The voyage. Leaving home, and what led up to it.

Sometimes. Seven years isn’t enough time for it to fade completely. But… less than I used to. He must have conveyed some of his unease, because Kate shuffled closer and slung her arm around his shoulders. Almost unconsciously he eased into the embrace. Have you heard anything new?

No. Dweios keeps everything buttoned up tight. We stopped hearing news from that region, oh… maybe four years ago. She paused, concern making her tense. I would have thought you of all people would know what is afoot.

It has been several months since I could reach Father, Yyan said unhappily. Kate had been an old friend of his father’s for years, and despite her stoic demeanor he knew she worried. I would have felt it if something happened, he was quick to assure her.

I know, old man. I know.

After that, they spent the better part of an hour chatting about lighter subjects. As promised, Kate filled him on his hot-headed younger brother Trillan’s latest exploits. Yyan had a few stories of his most recent activities before falling in with Elemire, Misumi…and Salovuje, which led to a question that had already been weighing on him.

How much do your lady friends know about Dweios?

Nothing. Truth be told, they know very little about me. They have scarcely known me two days, hardly enough time for a life story. Do you think I should say anything about him?

I think you should tell them something, Kate agreed. Perhaps not all. Bless the Guardian’s stars, but the seas are not as safe as they were. It may bring harm to keep them in the dark. If nothing else, it’ll help that blond stork Piotral to start trusting you.

Yyan clapped a hand quickly over his mouth to smother his laughter. You noticed that, too. All right, I’ll speak to them tomorrow.

You mean “today”, Kate said dryly. Someday you’ll learn how to sleep like a proper human being.

But if I did that, then I would lose out on all of these wonderful late night conversations.

For his impudence, Kate reached over and gave his ear a sharp flick. Then her arm tightened around his shoulder as her other wrapped around his neck. He returned the hug as best he could in the cramped quarters. “Good night, boy,” she whispered in his ear, then disentangled herself and vacated the smuggler’s hatch.

Yyan stayed awake for several more hours, meditating upon a solitary point of light at a far horizon in his mind’s eye, hoping to hear even a faint whisper. It wasn’t until dawn that he finally exhausted himself enough to sleep.

Elemire slipped from the cot and moved to Salovuje's side. A long-fingered hand splayed and then closed. She would leave the young woman to rest for a while. Instead, Elemire chose to move through her morning's routine of stretching exercises. Each pose was designed to keep her body, mind, and soul in alignment as well as maintain dexterity and flexibility. Half an hour later, Salovuje still slept and Elemire had completed the exercises.

Digging into her pack, Elemire produced a leather-bound notebook. Sheafs of paper covered in sketches lay within. Flipping to a clean sheet, Elemire settled back and began to draw. Misumi might write what happened, but Elemire drew it. Others sang or played instruments. Given time, Elemire's drawings could be a symphony of shape and color. Today, she drew sketches of the people she traveled with - Yyan, Misumi, the Captain, the two men. She even drew another picture of Misumi as Salovuje. The difference was subtle, but it was there - in the eyes. When one looked in Salovuje's eyes, one could see the weight of experience. MIsumi's eyes were brighter, lighter somehow, with innocence and inexperience.

Elemire's stomach growled, making her frown. Reaching over, she took a ration from her pack. She could not, in good conscience, leave Salovuje alone.