Rylan had expected Nazyr to lead him up the ladder onto the deck, but instead, the former pirate ducked underneath, and brought him to a door on the side of the hull. It didn’t open on Nazyr’s first pull, but then he yanked it open with a grunt, revealing a slanted hallway leading into the quarters.

  “Pantry’s still pretty intact, so we never moved the food out,” he explained, briefly glancing back at Rylan with his good eye before he lumbered inside.

  Rylan followed him in, his eyes trailing around the insides with fascination. He was inside an actual pirate ship! It was a wrecked, former pirate ship, but it still counted. Moreover, it was The Soggy Shepherd of the infamous Black Sheep pirate crew.

  Grumpy Gordo used to tell them pirate stories sometimes, and the stories of the Black Sheep disappearing into thin air, slipping past blockades like they weren’t there, had always been some of his favourites.

  Wait till I tell Zahra about this...

  He’d have to tell her in a letter, but still.

  Bemusedly, Rylan followed him towards another door that led into the pantry.

  “So, we got enough rice, dried mushrooms, and pickled bamboo shoots to last us a couple of weeks,” Nazyr grunted, indicating some woven kelp bags, wicker baskets, and clay jars holding the aforementioned foods. “Other than that, we got a bit of salted fogfish left, but that’s about it.”

  Rylan took a moment to look it all over for signs of spoilage, but thankfully didn’t find any. It seemed the dry air did more than just repel sharks.

  “It’s quite a bit of food,” Rylan said. “Were you planning to make a long trip?”

  Nazyr shrugged. “Pays to be prepared. Hungry sailors make for poor company.”

  Well, that wasn’t quite the thrilling tale about exotic locales Rylan had hoped to elicit.

  “Still,” Nazyr continued. “Folks are getting tired of rice and shrooms. It’d be better if we could catch some fresh stuff. Problem is, that’s hard to come by. The ramtusks are going to be difficult to track down again—took us days the first time—plus they’re tough bastards. Fogfish won’t come near the bubble. Crabs wander in sometimes, but they don’t like it here neither. Too dry, I reckon. And ever since ol’ Dreadmaw showed up, prey’s gotten even more scarce.”

  Rylan frowned. Fresh ingredients were definitely preferable. “Does the bubble cover all of the city?”

  Nazyr shook his head. “City extends into the fog quite a bit on one side. If ye’re thinking the buildings there will provide cover from Dreadmaw...” He scratched at his stubble, thoughtfully looking up at the ceiling, his milky-white eye seeming to stare through it unseeing. “Well, they probably ought ta. Somewhat. Yuel and I ain’t really been out there, though. Never know what you might run into. And the last thing ye’d want is to get turned around out there.”

  Rylan nodded. Before he’d gotten lost down in the cloudsea, he might’ve made fun of grown men—former pirates to boot!—being afraid of a little fog. But he knew better by now. Things were scary out there.

  Still, it sounded like a good place to go looking for prey, and at the very least, he probably didn’t have to worry about getting lost again. The tingles were gone now, but he had a sneaking suspicion they would return the moment he left the bubble.

  “Of course,” Nazyr said with a grin. “A mighty Thar like yerself wouldn’t fear going out there, would ye?”

  Rylan shot him a dry look. “I wouldn’t expect your captain to fear it either. Why hasn’t she gone hunting?”

  Nazyr snorted. “Please.”

  Rylan frowned, not quite understanding.

  “Food gatherin’s a job for flunkies,” Nazyr explained. “Ye’re a Thar now, but from your story... Well, ye know what it’s like, right?”

  “Right...” Rylan said with a sigh. “No, I get it. I get it all too well.”

  “Figured you would,” Nazyr said with a grunt. “Most of us have stories quite similar to yers, really. Though Halloth most of all, I reckon—he’s a runaway too.”

  “Really?” Rylan asked. “I gotta say, I find it hard to picture him running from anything.”

  Nazyr snorted, leaning back against a slanted wall with his arms folded over his dark-brown tunic. “Well, he weren’t always so big, you know? He was actually an indentured servant like yerself. Except he were owned by the Bloodtalons, and they didn’t pretend like he were actually anything but a slave; especially the youngest son. The little clodmonger really liked to show off to his friends by giving ‘im inane tasks, shoving ‘im to the ground, that kinda stuff.”

  Rylan had never heard of that particular branch of the Talon family, but he made a mental note to take a wide berth if he ever crossed their path.

  “Of course, you can only push around a growing boy for so long,” Nazyr continued. “And one day, when the little bugger came to bother ol’ Halloth while he were cleaning out the stables, our pal snapped and bashed his skull in with a shovel.”

  Rylan’s eyes widened. “How’d he get away? Did he run off into the cloudsea like me?”

  Nazyr guffawed. “Nah, he weren’t that stupid. Or maybe he were just lucky, I suppose. It happened at the family’s mansion in Summit. He just ran off, hid in the slums. Managed to get hired by a sailing merchant that didn’t ask too many questions. Was a few years before he crossed paths with the cap’n.”

  Rylan nodded slowly. “Did the King really make her a Baroness just because she made it to Sapphire?”

  Nazyr grinned, “Well, I’m sure his men tryin’ and failin’ to apprehend us for years played a role. Guess when she hit Sapphire, he just threw in the towel, decided to bribe us instead.”

  Rylan shook his head in wonderment.

  Nazyr narrowed his eyes at Rylan. “Is that your dream, son? Become some hoity-toity noble like the cap’n?”

  Rylan shrugged. “I just want to pay off my debt, be my own man. Then... I don’t know. See the world, I guess?”

  Nazyr let out a grunt, a small smile playing over his lips. “I like you, kid. Ye got a pirate’s heart. Maybe you’ll join our crew someday, eh?”

  Rylan smiled back. “I thought you were reformed?”

  Nazyr scrunched up his face. “Eh. We are, I suppose. Being legit’s better, anyway.”

  “Then why’d you become a pirate in the first place?”

  “Why’d ye run away?” Nazyr retorted with a meaningful look.

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  “Because it beat the alternative,” Rylan replied honestly. “And I didn’t have many other options.”

  Nazyr nodded. “That’s the rub, innit? Being legit’s better, but only if ye can afford it.” He chuckled, his eye fixing on the wall with a faraway look. “You know, if it’d been up to me, we’d have sailed off to the horizon years ago, and just kept going. Left all this piratin’ shite behind, found some uncharted land and lived off the cloudsea.”

  “Oh man,” Rylan said with a sigh. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve prayed to Zeph for just that...”

  “Hah! I bet,” Nazyr replied with a grin. “Well, that’s the trouble with our Lady of Change; she’ll get ye out of one mess, but into another.”

  Rylan blinked. I did get what I asked for... Could it have been Zeph who put me on this path?!

  Despite his frequent prayers—and the occasional, suspiciously well-timed gusts of wind he’d experienced—the idea that he might’ve attracted the attention of a Greater Spirit was disturbing. Of course, he still wasn’t sure they even existed, and it could all just be a coincidence...

  “I guess we just gotta have trust it’ll turn out right, eh?” Nazyr continued as he pushed off from the wall. “Keep the faith. Anyway, I’m gonna see if Halloth’s got some fresh bamboo fer me, get some work done on the ship. Let me know when ya need yer sous chef, yeah?”

  “Right. You got it, Naz,” Rylan replied as the man walked by, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough that his Mana Shell actually lit up.

  “Milord,” Nazyr said, taking a small, almost teasing bow, before he walked off.

  Rylan took a moment to gather his thoughts, then followed after the man with a goofy grin on his face.

  Actual former pirates... I still can’t believe it!

  Outside, he looked around for Tamina, and quickly found her sitting by herself on a cot, calmly applying some oil to her prosthetic.

  “Hey,” he said as he dropped down next to her. “Want some help?”

  She glanced up at him, her face unreadable, but she didn’t drop the small bottle of oil in his waiting hand like he expected.

  “Enjoying yourself?” she asked coolly. “With these people?”

  His grin drooped a little. “So what if I am?”

  She leaned towards, her eyes narrowing dangerously, and he reflexively backed off a little. “They’re pirates, Rylan.”

  “They’re reformed,” he reminded her.

  “That doesn’t wipe the blood off their hands,” she hissed. “It doesn’t make the disappeared caravans and ships come home, or return the stolen food to starving people who could already barely afford it.”

  Rylan felt the blood rise to his cheeks. “Things aren’t always so simple. You think they chose that life because they wanted to?”

  Tamina leaned back. “There’s always a choice. Others shouldn’t have to suffer so you can live the way you want.”

  Rylan frowned, looking down at the ground between his shoes.

  Tamina let out a sigh, then held out the bottle of oil. After a moment, he accepted the peace offering, and gestured for her to stretch out her arm in front of him.

  “I’m just saying,” she muttered as he started his work. “Don’t be too quick to trust them. Yeah, they’re being friendly, but we’re Quinthar; they don’t have much of a choice. Though perhaps I’m not giving you enough credit, as at least you didn’t tell them about your spirit friend.”

  Rylan glanced up at that. “You don’t think I should tell them at some point? It’s going to be hard to find the being now that I can’t feel the tingles anymore. The need to keep it hidden from the crew isn’t going to help either...”

  She looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “Look for it? Why in the depths would you want to do that? We’ve got our ticket out, don’t we?”

  “B-But...” he sputtered. “It brought us here! We have to return the favour, at the very least. Also, we’re not exactly sailing away yet. Do you really want to add an angry spirit to our problems?”

  Tamina stared at him for a moment, then let out a soft groan. “Fine. But we still shouldn’t tell them! Sailors tend to be really superstitious about these things.”

  “You mean they’re worse with scary stories than you?” Rylan asked dryly.

  Tamina shushed him, motioning almost imperceptibly with her chin at something behind him. Rylan sat up straighter and turned around, only to see Soren and Captain Hammermore approach them.

  Soren looked like he was deep in thought, but the captain seemed very much in the present, and focused on Tamina.

  “Yuel tells me you didn’t have much to say on the subject of hunting before you dismissed him,” she drawled, coming to a halt in front of them with her hands on her hips. “I thought I’d made myself clear about the need to contribute...”

  “Very clear,” Tamina replied, her face showing as much expression as the average rock. “However, I didn’t think there was much point in discussing tactics with someone I don’t intend to bring along on our hunts.”

  Captain Hammermore’s brows rose like a pot of water threatening to boil over. “What, you have no faith in my judgment? You’d rather bring another of my crew?”

  “I’d rather not bring any of them,” Tamina stated bluntly, standing up to look the older woman square in the eye. “They lack Mana Shells, meaning I’d need to worry about keeping them safe, and take point. And no offense, but I don’t make a habit of letting people I barely know walk behind me with loaded harpooncasters.”

  Captain Hammermore didn’t move an inch, her eyes boring into Tamina’s. The sense of pressure Rylan had felt from her earlier came back with a vengeance, and he could feel sweat starting to bead on his back.

  “You think me honourless, girl?” Captain Hammermore asked, soft and dangerous. “You think I’d stoop to having a fresh little green like you shot in the back in the fog?”

  Tamina’s brow twitched, her face darkening. “And what, exactly, is so honourable about robbing commoners of their hard-earned goods? Of taking the food meant for hungry citizens?”

  Oh, fog...

  Captain Hammermore chuckled darkly, her smile pointed and dangerous. “We were hungry too, you know? Why should the people cowering behind the walls of their ‘free’ cities eat, and not us? Why should we let others have what we want when we have the strength to take it?”

  “Perhaps because those people earn what they have,” Tamina spat back. “Earned it through their blood, sweat, and tears as they fight to provide for their children. How can you consider yourself worthy of Ethereon’s gifts if you don’t use them to help people?”

  “Worthy?” Captain Hammermore scoffed. “I haven’t seen any indication Ethereon cares about such things. As far as I can tell, the clodmonger just hands out Skills willy-nilly, caring fog-all for what people do with them, so why should we?”

  Tamina lifted a hand to her ear. “What was that?” she asked mockingly. “I must have misheard you, because I’m pretty sure you were explaining how you’re not an honourless piece of—”

  “Aaaall right!” Soren interrupted loudly, clapping his hands together with a pained smile. “I believe that what my friend here is trying to say, is that while she is most pleased that you have changed your ways, she takes some time to warm up to strangers. Still, I’m sure we can all agree that Yuel is a grown man who is capable enough to not require babysitting, and smart enough not to try to ambush two Quinthar in the fog by himself. Right, Tammi?”

  Smiling stiffly, he gave her an expectant look.

  She ignored him, maintaining her staring match with the captain for a long moment, the muscles on her jaw twitching. Then she took a deep breath, and held up her hands, palms forward. “Fine. Yuel can come. But I’m in charge.”

  The captain kept her eyes on Tamina for a while longer, her expression inscrutable. Then she nodded. “I can agree to that.” They held eye contact for another long moment, before the captain suddenly broke it off to turn to Soren. “Thistlethorn. You got five minutes, or I’m leaving without ya.”

  Then she spun and stalked off, the heavy steel hammer glinting on her back.

  Soren took a deep breath. “Please stop antagonising the people who are pretty much our only hope of getting out of here alive.”

  “Yeah, if they don’t kill us first just because they can,” Tamina muttered sardonically.

  “What did she want with you, anyway?” Rylan asked, his heart still racing from the tension.

  For a moment, Soren seemed to hesitate, then he shook his head. “The Baroness and I had a good chat about family values and the... onus of leadership. I believe we can trust her—to keep her word about getting us out of here, at the very least—but I need you two to behave. Understood?”

  Rylan shrugged. He wasn’t the problem.

  Tamina snorted.

  “I’ll take that as your agreement,” Soren said tersely. “Ryles, please tell me you can make something more palatable than that slop they served us at lunch?”

  “You know, the food I ate back on Thistlebloom wasn’t that much better,” Rylan replied in a dry tone, a little offended on Nazyr’s behalf.

  “I... really?” Soren asked with a frown.

  Rylan let out a sigh. “Yes. Really. Anyway, I believe I can whip something up to soothe your refined palate, ‘milord.’ But we definitely need to hunt.”

  Soren studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “I would... appreciate that. However, I’ll have to leave the hunting up to you two.”

  “And why is that?” Tamina asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “The Baroness has asked me to accompany her in her efforts to explore the city,” Soren replied, absentmindedly running a hand through his messy blue hair. “I expect I’ll be occupied for most of the afternoon. Oh, could one of you maybe ask Yuel if we can get a tent set up for the three of us or something?”

  Tamina folded her arms over her chest, raising a brow. “Who says I want to share? I like my privacy.”

  “Do you, now?” Soren asked sarcastically. “And here I thought you didn’t trust these people, and would like to prioritise our safety.”

  “Yeah, well...” Tamina started, sputtering. “Fine! We’ll fogging share!”

  Soren just shook his head. “I’ll see you both at dinner.”

  “Bye!” Rylan called after him.

  everyone's a fan of pirates, of course. ;)

  Poor pirates. So misunderstood. ^^

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