Islaran Manor, unlike the Vanderboren estate, was not surrounded by walls or gardens, though a garrison tower loomed right beside it. Built of old ship timber, the manor's easiest access was from the two piers jutting from what one might call its front, facing the harbor. There was, grudgingly, a servant's entrance on one side - but that was no way for an heir of the Islaran family to return home. Talib knew he'd never hear the end of it should he make the attempt.
            Thus did Talib, Gbele and Loupin arrive at the manor by gondola. Even this late at night, servants padded about to make them welcome, and to alert the patriarch of the family. The manor was, unsurprisingly, clearly the home of a family with a nautical tradition, with sea charts hanging along with portraits on the walls, and various shipboard equipment displayed on pedestals and in vitrines. Before long, they were shown into a dark, lamp-lit study, where an old man sat stiff-backed and with hands folded on the table behind a massive desk.
            "Sit," Keltar Islaran growled. Talib could see that his condition had grown considerably worse in the years since he'd seen him last. The father he'd known would never have let guests see him disheveled in any manner. Despite his spick and span attire, he was unshaven, his gaunt face shadowed more deeply than the mere darkness could account for.
            "Talib," he said, his tone neutral but his piercing eyes angry at his son, at his situation, at the world. "I don't suppose you've come to your senses and decided to take your brother Aaron's place in a few years?" Despite his stern demeanor, he seemed tired. Talib didn't believe it was due to the hour. His father coughed long and deeply into a handkerchief, then tucked it away and nodded at Gbele and Loupin. "Who are they?" he asked incuriously, taking a drink from a glass on his desk.
            Talib hesitated a moment. For once in his life, he was speechless, literally without word.
            His father did not look well. Before him was not the bold, proud mariner he remembered, whose salt-flecked hair shone in the sun and whose smile was supposedly brighter than the Lighthouse he managed. This was a different man. A dying man.
            It couldn't have been Keltar. This must be a trick, Talib reasoned, a means of getting back at his son for his disappearing act. Surely the mighty Lord Islaran had not been reduced to ... to this.
            But he had. And he had done so in Talib's chosen absence. And the son felt a sharp pang of guilt in his chest at seeing what his vagabond ways had torn asunder between parent and child.
            " Aaron will come home, father," Talib finally spoke, his voice dry and cracked for a moment until he worked his tongue in his mouth a bit.
            " I did. They'll both come home - we always do."
            He tried to sound reassuring, but in truth even Talib was worried about Aaron and his sister, Alyssa, who suddenly left with their eldest brother. His siblings had vanished without a word to him, but wasn't that exactly how Talib had treated them? Why would they return a courtesy he never showed?
            " And I'm ... I am not here on family business. I mean, I am, but not, that is ..."
            Talib knew that coming home would be difficult. All it brought back were memories. Siblings missing for years. Other sisters who cared only about losing the Islaran name for someone else's. A younger brother who couldn't swim, who could not even bring himself close to the water's edge without collapsing in terror. When Aaron left, it was assumed Talib would take on the role of Harbourmaster as the eldest child remaining.
            Instead, the wayward Tashlutan did anything and everything to avoid the responsibility. He went whaling despite hating it, just to get away from dry land. He gambled and drank and slept around, even consorting with the Kellani family's daughter despite that family's intentions to seize the Islaran's titles and duties. Talib had been running away from this confrontation for years.
            And he was still running, moving quickly onwards.
            " This is Loupin, and this is Baba Gbele," Talib introduced his compatriots with a wave of his hand to each at their names, " They are associates of The Vanderborens: we met there this day with Lavinia."
            He hoped that at least the name of a close friend of the Islaran family would pique his father's interests towards the present and not the future.
            "I see where this is going," Lord Islaran growled. "Don't even think that you and this riff-raff-"
            " We're here on her behalf, actually - Her vessel, the Blue Nixie, seems to be tied up, figuratively and quite literally." Talib leaned forward on his seat, his hands gesturing gently with his words.
            " The Lady Vanderboren claims she paid her mooring fees for the past four months to Soller Vark to access her ship. One hundred dragons: a hefty sum. Yet, Vark and his men will not let her aboard her own vessel, and keep claiming that the money was never paid."
            Talib's expression softened. This was beneath his father, utterly and entirely, and Talib knew it. The man had enough to worry about, why add in disputes over he-said she-said? Yet, if the group was to make progress against Vark, Talib would have been foolish to not have his father aware of the problem in case things became heated later.
            "I am ill, not senile," his father growled. "The Vanderboren girl spoke with me of this already."
            " Now, I know Vark is one of our men, but I've little reason to believe The Lady would lie to us," Talib said, appealing towards the friendship between nobility, " All she needs is an item aboard the Nixie. I was hoping that if we cannot clear this matter of payment up, you could at least grant myself and my friends here permission to board the ship to retrieve this item. And I'd like to review the way this Vark fellow is handling your docks, if a family friend is now being accused of lying to us."
            He could not say that name without a bit of bite in his tone, especially seeing how sickly his father had become. That anyone would take advantage of such a respected man? It was enough to get Talib's blood boiling.
            "You never did understand the meaning of 'chain of command,'" Keltar said, weary and cross. He coughed violently once more into his handkerchief, took another drink, and stoppered the flask while eyeing his son.
            "I don't know this Vark, but I trust in the men that I've placed in command of the harbor. If there has been any irregularity, they will find it in due time. Trusting in your judgement and delegating are skills you should have learned by now." Talib had the sinking feeling that the friendship he had imagined between his father and the Vanderborens may not have survived their deaths. He certainly didn't appear charitably inclined towards their daughter. "This matter will be resolved through proper channels. Do you understand me, Talib? If the Lady speaks the truth of this, where are her witnesses? Vark has several, I'm led to understand, while she has none. And as for trustworthiness, I'll have you know-"
            He broke off, glancing at Loupin and Gbele. "This is not a discussion to have in front of strangers," he said coldly. Then he gave Talib a considering look, anger seething behind it. "But I will make you this offer. Come back home, immediately. Take on your responsibilities, and leave your reckless life behind. If you do this, I will see what can be done about the Vanderboren's claim."
            "I friggin' told you he was in on it, Talib," Loupin said in disgust. "'No, no, he's a great guy!' Bullshit. You and Lavinia are chumps. And Baba and I are chumps for letting you drag us up here. Why does he think we came? He doesn't want witnesses, he wants to line his own pockets. Nah. Enough of this dysfunctional crap. C'mon, Baba. Let's go testify against people who don't suck." She tucked her hair into her hood and pulled it back up.
            It was a goofy gambit, but it occurred to Loupin that they might not want to let Islaran guess exactly why they had come just yet -- that Lavinia had hired them to, well, do something, maybe even something illegal. Loupin wouldn't do illegal stuff, not unless it seemed like they were actually preventing a crime by doing it, and something told her Baba wouldn't either; but whether or not he was dirty, Islaran might not appreciate their motives. It might be better to mask their true purpose. In truth she wished they had never even come into the room with Talib, and somehow the chance to avoid it had slipped past them. The best they could do now was not alert Dear Old Dad or his friends to their activities. If only the other two could appreciate what the hell she was trying to do.
            Gbele gave Loupin a disapproving look, then turned to the elder Islaran. "Apologies for intruding. It was a pleasure to meet you." With that, Baba Gbele rose from his seat, politely held the door for Loupin and offered her the opportunity to leave first. He made it a point to begin closing the door behind him, but not too quickly, in order to allow Talib to stay behind and continue the conversation with his father in private, if he so chose.
            Talib did choose, and though he could not directly echo the anger of Loupin, the younger Islaran was furious at the demand his father would make of him. The sailor stood and pushed the door closed, wheeling upon his aging father with the same coldness the man had showed his son.
            " Is this all there is to the Islaran name anymore, then?" he asked with incredulous anger, " This ... This damnable Lighthouse is worth more than our name, than our honor?"
            "Don't take that tone with me." His father's stern anger was colder than Talib had ever heard before, even when he'd nearly started a shipfire as a boy. "It's honor you speak of now? Allowing the riffraff of the streets into my home, bringing them here to accuse me of some kind of crime?" Keltar slowly rose, planting his white-knuckled fists on the table and leaning forward. "What nonsense is this about the Lighthouse? The Islarans are the Harbor, boy. If you had the sense the gods gave a mule, you'd see that honoring your family, honoring your name, would restore the harbor! Drive out the smugglers, end the thieving! You'd-" He broke down into a coughing fit, thick noises coming from his chest and throat. He waved Talib off curtly, his fury unabated even as he took another drink with the measured, precise movements Talib remembered of his father.
            "You refuse to honor your name, your duty, your father. Don't speak to me of honor when you have none."
            Talib's composure left him, his concern for Keltar's condition vanishing amidst the ultimatum leveraged on him. The nerve of the man to present such an impossible demand, to try and use his son's honor to force him into a position that both men knew he did not want.
            " You wonder why all of your children would rather be anywhere other than the Harbor, and in the same breath you seek to chain us to the land. What about what we want? What about your health!? You work yourself to death over this harbour, but then ignore the word of good families over those of, of ... crooks! Crooks who shame the good name of Islaran! I may have been a poor son, but at least the city speaks my name with pride! What will they say of Keltar Islaran in a month!?"
            Talib threw up his hands - this conversation was one they had stomped through many times before, and it always ended the same: Keltar wanted Talib to take up the role he never wanted, and Talib had to admit that he loved his own life more than he respected the wishes of his father.
            Perhaps coming here had been a mistake.
            " I have learned to delegate, father," Talib said cooly, going back towards his parent's criticism, " But I have also Captained a ship, and I know that when I want something done properly, I do it."
            He sighed and made for the door. He paused, turning over his shoulder to look upon the man he at once loved and despised more than anything.
            " I hate to disappoint you, father. I only hope the feeling is mutual."
            "I am well acquainted with disappointment," Keltar said in a clipped tone. "But I am not sorry to disappoint a man who puts drinking, whoring, and running from his duty like a whipped mongrel above his respect for his father and his name."
            And with that, Talib left.

            The docks of the Merchant district never slept, and there were plenty of people wandering the streets, though most of the merchants in the marketplace had closed their stalls for the night. Without the market and streets full of fruit and spice stalls and hawkers of suspicious grilled spears of meat, the smells were considerably less pleasant. On their way to the other end of the district from Vanderboren Manor, Lillia, Reginald and Syd chewed on what they had seen when they walked by Pier Five, where the Blue Nixie was supposed to have been docked. Instead, they saw that it was moored to a float in the moonlit harbor, a hundred feet from the end of the pier.
            "Clever, that," Reginald noted, casting more than one assessing eye across the harbor to gather if mooring to floats was common, or unusual, and the relative density of other moored vessels in the vicinity of the Nixie. Whether the mooring was for practical purposes of keeping the piers clear, or for enforcing a higher degree of control for impound, or for distancing the vessel that much further from the city such that whatever Vark had in mind could be perpetrated upon it, didn't much matter.
            He cast a second and third look at the vessel, minding for signs of lamps lit or activity upon it that had no care for staying concealed behind closed ports below the rails. There were other ships moored to floats here and there, but not many vessels near the Blue Nixie, and the pier was clear. More interestingly, there seemed to be some activity on the ship, though no lights were lit other than the occasional flash of light from a hooded lantern; visible only by the bright moonlight, he spotted sailors doing... something.
            But then, it wasn't unusual for sailors to return to their ships to bunk.
            “Not clever enough by half, I’d wager,” Lillia replied, barely casting a glance toward the sequestered vessel.
            "Still begs the question; why." Syd pursed his lips in thought as they walked past the pier. "Likely intentional, to make it difficult to reach, and available for whatever our friend has in mind."

            Gbele didn't speak again until they were well clear of Islaran Manor. Even then, he was circumspect. "We are going to need a boat, I think."
            Gbele allowed himself the thought that possession by evil spirits sometimes manifested itself outwardly as physical illness. He kept his thoughts to himself, however. He had learned the hard way that loved ones did not like to hear of these matters. If Lord Islaran was such a threat, he would make himself known in the fullness of time.
            "We may need more than that if Islaran realizes we're not giving up," Loupin responded in a subdued tone, wondering if she hadn't feigned anger too well. It was easy to get mad at whimsical officials, but for all she knew he would come running after them with a sword or something. She kept an eye on the manor. "Y'know, I wasn't really serious about leaving just then, Baba, I was just trying to shame the old creep into helping us. Never take me seriously when I get angry at people. It's always just a tactic, okay? For future reference. Anyhow, what is the boat for?"
            "Ah. Among my people, we do not shame our elders, or call them...creeps?" The holy man gave no indication whether he had followed Loupin's ruse or not. He considered her words for a moment, then asked, "Do you find this tactic effective among your people?"
            "Depends on how they were raised," Loupin said. "Seems like he thought it could work on poor old Talib. Man! I didn't know what the hell to do right there. We can't exactly clue him into the fact that we're preparing to 'reason' with his goons, and it looked like he might be wise enough to guess. Anyhow, what's the boat for?"
            Gbele was surprised when she asked about the boat, as he felt that the need was obvious. "To...reason with Vark, we must...confront him on the Nixie. Of course, it will all end in blood."
            "I doubt Vark will be alone on the Nixie, if he even stays there," she said with a grimace. "It's a trading ship. It'll take some guys to maintain it. Not necessarily guys who are part of his scam, either. You wouldn't rather find out where Vark hangs out, maybe corner him when he comes ashore? Things don't always end in blood around here. I mean, they do, but maybe we can get paid and get out before the end happens... unless, uh, you're not in it for the money..."
            She wanted to ask him a lot of questions, but figured he wouldn't be comfortable with them. What was he even doing in the city? Did his people kick him out for something? And how the heck did Lavinia Vanderboren come to recruit him? She tried to picture ol' Baba reading the dinner invitation on his neatly swept doorstep. Maybe in a nightshirt.
            Talib had been rather reticent through the exchange between his two companions, still feeling a mixture of frustration and sorrow. Now that he had calmed down, he regreted the way he had spoken to Keltar. The man was old, sickly, and still doing much for Tashluta: it was unfair to assume otherwise. And, in a sense, Keltar did have a point.
            Talib was responsible for the Harbourmaster's position now that his older brother was missing. All his life he had dreaded the possibility, and now it was here. The sailor had spent the better part of the past decade running from that responsibility as quickly as he could, but now it had finally caught up with him.
            The Islaran name was his to grow and cherish, and how did he show it respect? By insulting his father and finding wine and women more worthy of his time and effort.
            " A ship may not be a bad idea," Talib suddenly added, as if snapping awake, " The Harbour has many eyes upon it. Even if we are quiet about what we're trying to do, there's no guarantee our other friends haven't been noticed asking about the Nixie. If Vark gets spooked, he may try to flee: we'd have to give chase."
            He shook his head, wiping his mind of bad thoughts and putting back on his characteristically beaming grin.
            " Thankfully I know a few people. That should not be too difficult to haggle for. But Loupin has the right of it: I'd rather we settle this on land, swords sheathed," he half-lied.
            There was a part of him that loved the imagery of Baba's approach: a stalking game on the high seas, the salt air carrying calls of threats and oaths between the ships, until the hooks were away, timber crashing against timber, leaping from deck to deck as he had before, scimitar flashing in his hand, laughing as he whirled as a dervish ..!
            But Talib was not a bloodthirsty sort. Adventurous, but not murderous. And Lavinia would be more apt to pay them if they did not damage her ship in an act of piracy.
            " We should check in with the others," Talib reasoned, " Maybe they've had more luck, and we'll be able to work together on how best to please Lady Vanderboren."
            "Okay," said Loupin, and hesitated. "Sorry, man. We shouldn't have come in with you there."
            Loupin did feel sorry for him. For all she knew her own family was just as bad, but at least she didn't have to wrestle with the weird pressure of having to decide whether wealth and status were worth misery and embarrassment.
            The ride back to the docks was kind of quiet.
            Once they'd paid off the gondolier, it was just a simple matter of tracking down the other buckaroos. Talib could point out the noisy taverns where they ought to have gone, but it looked like luck had abandoned them for the night: all they bumped into were one or two stories of their passing.
            Loupin and Gbele finally came back out of the last one, having left Talib across the street to avoid any unwanted attention.
            "I don't think this is gonna work out," said Loupin. "It's getting late, and I know Reginald and Lillia at least are good at talking to people. They've probably finished up already. I guess we can always meet them tomorrow. The Merchant District is where I live. Do you guys need a place to stay? My room isn't very humongous, but you could sack out on the floor. It's not far from the Fifteen Horses. Unless you think we can track down a rowboat in the middle of the night? I'm not too tired yet, myself -- half-elven and all that, y'know."

            The closest tavern was The Drunk Sun Bear, behind the temple of Shaundakul. Filled to the brim with sailors on shore leave, it was exactly the kind of place they were looking for.
            Walking in was like walking back into the noon heat. Lanterns and packed bodies made it near-stifling, and the sailors were raucous and loud, but ale and spirits flowed freely, loosening tongues already inclined to gossip.
            "I do think I like this place!" Reginald beamed at their entry, press of heat notwithstanding. He elected to keep his hat upon his head both for the perimeter it established and the visual cue the plumage offered that the space he was standing or seated within was occupied. In deeper conversation, he might forgo it, but not as of yet.
            The best introductions were participatory; and, after seeing fit to quickly secure the necessary social accoutrements of mugs of ale to establish their presence; Reg eagerly gravitated towards a group of mismatched-and-happenstanced sailors belting our sea shanties and roaring for more at the end of each verse. He eagerly motioned Syd and Lillia to follow along. Reg merged into the group as naturally as if he'd been there all along, raising mugs and joining into song -- and contributing the start of one or two. By the gods, whatever toils these fellows had borne, tonight, they were as one and celebrating life and spoils and fortune.
            After a few hours of discreet inquiry, they were able to leave the drunken revels with the knowledge that Vark had hired a number of dockhands of sketchy repute... but no one seemed to know, or care, why.
            Reginald made one last attempt, timed with the near-last of his ale he'd allotted for this establishment, to dig for a name; any name. "Sketchy repute?! What, surely not the likes of Ol' Smark the Lark? Or Petunia Pete? By the gods, man, you've set the hook and caught me; 'sketchy repute' by way of dodging governors' lorn daughters, or 'sketchy repute' as in as like to kick you as raise a mug with you? Who'd he snag?"
            “C’mon, leave it, Reg,” Lillia leaned down and grabbed his hand, raising her voice over the din for him to hear. She had been largely hanging near Syd in the tavern, a hand through his arm when he was willing, to fend off the worst of the pawing drunkards. “Let’s go around the corner to Gregair’s. They’re’ll be some folks dicing there for sure.”
            With that, she pulled the pair of men into the cool night air, laughing in good humor. “Oh, I haven’t been out like this in so long!” Lillia exclaimed with a grin as she guided the men around the corner southward toward the gaming hall.
            As soon as they cleared sight of the Drunken Bear, Lillia’s laughter died off and her face dropped into a placid state. Walking along the shadowed road, she pulled her hair back into a tight tail and laced it with ribbon. Crossing the bridge, she knotted the cloth of her leggings higher to reveal a great deal more of her toned legs. A couple of buttons were undone and a splash of color was added to her lips, such that when they came once more into the light of the nearby buildings, her visage had changed considerably. She turned to stop the two men once more, and the lascivious smirk she wore completed a startling transformation. Moonlight gleamed on a healthy spray of cleavage that bordered on wanton.
            “Call me Moira,” she addressed them with quiet instructions. “You won my favor for the evening but would be willing to trade it for the right bit of information. You’re the money,” she said to Reginald. “You’re the muscle,” she looked at Syd.
            “And I’m the prize,” she finished, her eyes glittering with mischief. “Any questions before we go in?”
            Syd had worked the pub crowd with practiced ease. Finding the cues to listen into, and a strategic prodding word. He weaved from drunkard to drunkard, never really getting more than a rough estimate to the number of men working for Vark. As soon as he prodded further, they suddenly became mute. Curious.
            Upon Lillia's transformation, Syd's eyebrows rose subtly. Then she suggested he was the muscle. That made him break out in laughter. "Oh, my dear, I am sorry," he managed after a moment of collecting himself, "I believe I can approximate the part." He then undid his own ponytail, ruffling his long blonde locks into a mussed coiffure that partially hid his eyes. Sleeves were rolled up and he assumed a more aggressive stance, a hand resting on his rapier's basket. A step to the side and he retrieved a stray piece of straw. Breaking off a few inches, he stuck it between his teeth to finish the look. "Just tell me who's face to stab," he intoned in an affected deeper voice.

            The temple bells sounded the fifth hour of the morning by the time Syd, Lillia and Reg stumbled out of Gregair's Place. At this hour, the city was just beginning to wake, but merchants had not yet erected their stalls for the day. Weariness dragged at them, but they had not emerged unsuccessful; they now had the names of the sailors on board, a few details about them, and were reasonably certain there were no more than nine. Still, just what they were doing there was unclear - they hadn't been around since they took the job Vark had offered. Indifferent rumor suggested smuggling, but that was a ubiquitous rumor in the district.
            Lillia looked down at the length of fine, coppery chain in her bloody hand as the trio wandered home through the early morning mists. The night had been profitable with information, even more so at Gregair’s. Now they had names, and names could be powerful weapons. So she hadn’t needed to rip free the thin piece of jewelry which had stretched between an ear and nostril, but truth be told, she had wanted to. Seeing that cretin’s wry smirk after he had slapped her ass, without invitation, ooooh, that had lit a fire under her.
            But seeing that face after she had left two bloody holes in it had been fair compensation. She had slipped away in the general mayhem that ensued and suggested that it was time to depart. Both Syd and Reginald were more than ready to leave their long night behind them.
            Now they just needed to regroup. Sleep first though. They needed to recharge before agreeing upon the best way to retake the Nixie. Because ultimately, that was what they were going to do. She dropped the chain into a pocket as they neared a convenient intersection.
            “Gentlemen, I will bid you goodnight then,” she said, then glanced around at the lightening sky. “And good day, I guess, too. Thank you for a wondrous evening. Until we meet again for lunch at the Fifteen Horses.”
            Having split up earlier with the expectation that Loupin’s trio wouldn’t get to see the harbormaster until the morning and without knowing how long Lillia’s trio would be out on the town, the group had decided to reconvene at the Fifteen Horses and a Mule tavern for the midday meal the next day. The tavern was within eyeshot of the Vanderboren estate, in case they needed to check in, and the food was varied enough to suit a variety of tastes.
            Lillia smiled as she came within sight of her workshop. Everything was falling into place nicely.

            After a morning's rest, the party reconvened at the second bell after highsun at the Fifteen Horses and a Mule tavern to share what they'd learned.
            Gbele arrived at the Fifteen Horses and a Mule tavern well before the meeting time, as was his standard practice. He did not like to hurry, or worse, to be late to an appointment due to some unforeseen circumstance. He felt that he made poor decisions in such circumstances, and Baba Gbele could not afford to make any poor decisions while he was employed by Lady Vanderboren.
            He sat stiffly at the table, and inhaled the hoppy aroma of his ale. The floral scent reminded him of Chult, and he felt a slight pang of longing for his homeland. Of course, such insignificant concerns were to be ignored.
            Next to arrive was the corsair of the Azure District, looking and feeling as sour as the wine he ordered with a wave of his hand to a waitress. Talib's conversation with his father had left him bitter and resentful, and it didn't help matters that he had mistook Loupin's offer from the night before, much to his chagrin. What else was he to think when a gorgeous Half-Elf was inviting him to her abode and dropping hints that she wasn't exactly keen on sleeping, only for him to eagerly accept and then be handed a pillow, pointed to the common room, and be introduced to a locked door? He had slipped away as early as possible after that moment, and could only pray that Loupin did not realize how Talib had so wrongly misinterpreted their exchange.
            " I must've drawn the ire of some terrible djinn," he lamented into his goblet, not even acknowledging Baba Gbele until the grapes were on his tongue.
            " I hope your day is going better," he offered to the Baba, raising his slightly glass to the Chultan's ale, " As my luck continues, it appears. I searched for a boat today. Nothing so far."
            It was an excuse to get moving early (and extradite himself from an awkward situation), and so Talib had relished the chance to call in his favors and procure a seaworthy vessel for the party's use. Yet, for all his trouble, it seemed that every conversation with every sailor and deckhand came back to silver: how the captains wanted more, and how Talib had little. The best he had found was a small rowboat, enough to fit everyone but barely a craft built for speed or comfort, and even that required a purse suitable enough to fund a tenday of entertainment and then some!
            The holy man seemed visibly agitated at the mention of djinn interfering with their mission until he realized that Talib was making a grim joke. He relaxed visibly, took a sip of his drink, and asked, "Have we any plan other than taking a boat to the Nixie to confront Vark? The ship may be moved at any time, and we would lose our opportunity to act."
            “Confront him with what?” Lillia asked, dragging a chair over to the table and sitting down. “Our word against his?” She shook her head. “These thugs always stick together, using numbers and the law to their advantage while they can. We need something tangible, we need proof, if we’re taking that tack.” She took a sip from the mug she had carried over. “Or, we could just find the ring ourselves and be on our merry way.”
            “Things not go so well with your da’?” Lillia turned and asked Talib. The storm clouds on the corsair’s features were answer enough. The pretty girl offered him a smile and a reassuring squeeze on the forearm.
            “Family is what it is,” she said simply. “Be grateful enough that you have some. Many don’t.” Not a reprimand, but only an altered viewpoint to help dull some of the sting.
            " True enough, true enough," Talib admitted, returning the seamstress' smile and resting a hand above hers on his arm for a brief moment, before letting go.
            " I used to have more, if you'd believe it." he chuckled solemnly, " But my sisters are all out hunting husbands and wives as voraciously as a jaguar, and my older brother left home about ..."
            He counted to three on his fingers before waving his hands, " Ah, too long ago now. Hope he and 'lyssa are okay."
            It was kind of Lillia to reassure him, and his respect for Tashluta grew.
            " Enough about this Islaran tragedy - I long for fairer weather and company," he grinned, leaning back in his seat and supping from his goblet.
            " How did your trio make out? We tried to find you but all we seemed to catch was your wake, and the story of a rather feisty lass who gave a fellow a reminder to keep his nose out of her business," Talib chortled, feeling considerably more relaxed.
            Lillia cast a sidelong glance and smile at the corsair. Her features slipped into a bit of confusion though and she said, “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re suggesting.”
            And though Talib thought he knew better, he second guessed himself, because everything about Lillia conveyed that he was mistaken.
            She had, after all, dumped the silver linkage in the water this morning en route to the Fifteen Horses, along with Moira and the folly of the night before.
            Syd leaned back in his chair, resting his boots on the empty one opposite. The chair balanced perfectly on it's back legs. He frowned at the length of straw still in his teeth somehow. He pulled it out and made a sort of annoyed click at it and tossed the offending grass aside.
            "Got his numbers, mostly," he offered, a hand waving vaguely as he gazed at an apparently interesting spot in the rafters. "Vark seems to have bought the loyalties of nine toughs. Not hired for their brains, if you get my meaning."
            “Oh but we got their names too,” Lillia said with a wry grin. “Numbers are good, but names we can work with. A few well chosen words, and we can turn this bit around to our favor. That’s the truth of it.”
            " Well then, out with 'em!" Talib demanded with hearty joviality, " Names and numbers are a far sight more then we started with."
            It was the best news of the day so far. The sailor leaned in conspiratorially to the table, keeping his voice hushed while they plotted the downfall of the loathsome Vark and the return of something truly great to the lovely Lady Vanderboren.
            " If'n we're quick and lucky, we may not need to scuffle with these folks at all: little bit of the ol' charm and lie and we may be able to get aboard the Nixie and back to the manor before you could say Ten Teetotaler Tashlutans. Easy pay day and a grateful Lady, and I don't even have to draw my sword."
            Talib grinned at the concept.
            " Simpler than a Con in Calimport."
            “Haha! My kind of thinking,” Lillia said with a smile, glancing around the table. “The way I see it we have two p--”
            She stopped cold and her face fell when her gaze came to Baba Gbele’s countenance. What she saw there did not sit well, and she exhaled a decisive breath. Sitting back, she crossed her arms and eyed the Baba for a moment before speaking.
            “You and I, Baba, we are cut from very different cloth,” she said, watching him. “But a patchwork garment can still be extraordinary if woven properly, no?”
            She waited for him to process the language and reply, if he wished, before continuing.
            “The key, is knowing which tool is best to use when,” she said. “You, are like a HAMMER!” And she slammed an empty mug down on the table with a loud bang for emphasis. “Strong, resilient, and good when force is needed.”
            “I,” she continued, lifting a dagger to hand from below the table and spinning it idly with admiration. “Am like a needle. Sleek, and pointed, and subtle.”
            Lillia smirked as Talib realized it was his dagger she was handling. She offered it back to him hilt first and continued speaking to the Baba.
            “Can we agree that different weapons have value depending on the beast being hunted?” The question was directed at Baba Gbele, but her eyes darted around the table, welcoming input from any that wished.
            The holy man answered openly, without a hint of defensiveness. "Ah, but I am the weapon chosen by Ubtao to hunt this beast, whatever form it may take." Gbele finished his ale with an efficient swig, and placed the cup neatly on the table. He gave no indication that he was particularly pleased by his mission.
            “So that would be a ‘no’,” Lillia responded in her own frank tone. “Good to know.”
            She sat back in thought for a few moments, one thumb idly cracking a few knuckles of her hand. The faithful were difficult to convince but usually the easiest to manipulate. The necessary strings need only be pulled. Consequences could always get a bit sticky however, if the truth were ever uncovered.
            She then glanced at Talib and Syd in quick succession. She didn’t expect any real problems working with them. They felt right, smooth and flexible. Loupin was Loupin, and as long as the coin was good, she was usually game. Brushcutter was a bit of an unknown, but he seemed the reasonable type, a negotiator.
            Her eyes popped back to Baba. So this would be her challenge then. She quirked a bit of a smile in response.
            These thoughts and a few plausible scenarios riffled through her mind in a handful of heartbeats. There was no rush, not for her anyway. She knew how she was going to handle it.
            “Suggestions then?” she asked of the table. “Other than boating out and murdering everyone?”
            Loupin entered the taproom. She looked more puny than usual, having stayed up late and then put in half a day's work already at the shop; mustering a few scant supplies had made her a little late. Her fancy wizard coat she had left at home; today she lugged along a fairly unimpressive dagger and a few odds and ends they probably wouldn't need.
            She looked around before joining them, one hand fiddling with the flap of a battered-looking scroll case. Apparently she'd missed Lillia's question. "Hey, guys. Where's Reginald?"
            "He has not yet arrived," the holy man responded absently to Loupin as he considered Lillia's last question. He clearly wasn't sure whether it was meant to be rhetorical or not, but her comment had clearly struck a cord with him. He eventually decided to answer, after a few moments of deliberation. "If I kill the enemies of The Father of Chult, then it is a sanctified act. It is not murder."
            " Or, ya know. It's still murder according to someone else's laws. Namely Tashluta's," Talib the Sailor chimed in, still fiddling with the dagger that Lillia had so expertly pilfered from him. He was still curious how she had gotten that close to his belt without him feeling a thing ... But a part of him preferred that he did not know that particular secret.
            He gave a small nod and cheer of his drink to Loupin's entry, avoiding her eyes and glad that he had Gbele to focus on instead.
            " Besides, nobody is saying Vark needs to die. At worst, he's stolen some things and has locked down a ship. He'll serve his time in a cell once we expose him for the lying sack of aboleth shit he is, but I'm not so sure he needs to lose his literal head over this."
            He paused. Stroked his beard.
            " Perhaps his figurative one. If we have the information to go after his accomplices, we should do that. Learn more of what we're up against, get a feel for his schedule. If anything, we can get aboard the Nixie when Vark is not around, pilfer the ship for anything that might incriminate him, grab Lady Vanderboren's item, and get out of there quick. We may have to crack some deck hands, but ..."
            Talib sighed.
            " My ... my father said he trusted Vark. Completely. And he was not keen on Miss Vanderboren. If we attack Vark, well ... the Islarans are a powerful name with powerful pull here, and I'm not exactly a favored son at the moment. We do not want the disfavor of Keltar, no we do not. The quicker (and quieter) we can get this done, the better. Then, we let Lady Vanderboren take this to the authorities and they clean up through official channels. We don't get involved with the Guards nor my father's men, Vark gets what's coming to him, Lady Vanderboren gets what she wants, we get paid and hopefully future employment with her Estate."
            The sailor swirled his sour wine and polished it off in a satisfied gulp. It was finally tasting better.
            " Information. Always information should be our goal. We cannot work against the unknown."
            "I gave back a magic scroll to Reginald a couple of hours ago," Loupin told them, dragging the spare chair out from beneath Syd's feet and half-kneeling on it. "It was for his friend. It may have held him up."
            She rested her bag on her knee.
            "Not to muddy the water, but what's Lavinia's priority, here? Getting her old ring back, right? Because if she has the ring, she's a wealthy lady who can afford to write Vark off -- you know, 'price of an education,' or whatever -- but if we go after Vark for her platinum instead, and he gets us into trouble with Keltar, well then, ol' Lavinia can't even afford to spring us outta the dungeon, much less pay us. But Vark probably wouldn't try to use that ring himself, right? It may still be on the boat; he may not realize how important it is. Maybe we could just steal it back..? I've got sleep spells and distraction spells and stuff... killing a bunch of sailors isn't gonna make our lives much simpler..."
            Syd made a face at Loupin stealing the other chair, but it quickly morphed into a chuckle. He re-set his seating to a more normal vertical alignment as he considered their options.
            "Vark's men are, from all we've heard, just doing a job. They might not be the most reputable sorts, but do they deserve to die for taking a job?" He drummed his fingers upon the table for a moment. "Subtlety and precision are our friends. Perhaps the more magically inclined of us can create an intimidating environment within which we can either convince the men not to go to work on a particular day, or get more information from them." He shrugged, "Either that, or we sneak aboard and get what we need without hurting anyone."
            Lillia smiled at the group. This was a sharp bunch. Even Baba, who was sharp like a hammer, had his qualities. She suspected that if Brushcutter were here, he’d have already composed a magnificent ode in the group’s honor.
            Not that there was honor in anything they were about to undertake. Results were what mattered to Lillia, and there was good talk going around the table which she amplified.
            “Long game,” Lillia pointed at Loupin, giving her props for thinking along those lines. “Is Lady V. wants access to the vault. The coin, the Nixie, are both just bonuses. I don’t see a reason for her to lie to us. We’re in the public eye at the moment and could cause her some headache if she were lying. No, I think she’s playing us straight.”
            “Problem is,” she continued. “Vark’s got a backer. A thug like that doesn’t take coin from nobility without some muscle to back it up. I mean, he’s got to know she’s going to call him on it, to do something about it. Right? So he’ll be expecting some kind of trouble and feels confident enough to see it through.”
            “If we go in hard, we show our hand to whoever is pulling the strings,” she said. “We need to go light and quiet. Find the ring first and let Vark get squashed by his superior.”
            "I don't really have anything that could intimidate anybody," Loupin admitted, with a glance at Baba, in case he did. "I do have a charm spell, but it's not always reliable, and you don't, like, forget what you did under its influence or anything. So even if we charmed one of those guys into retrieving the ring for us, he'd remember it was me who asked him. Kind of a problem, if they catch him stealing it. They'd realize it was important then! So I think we might have to steal it, and then let me and Baba and his Father clobber anybody who tries to stop you. But I'm probably not sneaky enough to do it myself without being spotted -- although I do have a telekinesis spell. If you got me close enough to it I could maybe whisk it out of the room, or the cabin, or whatever it's called. I also have spells that would allow us to communicate real quiet. Just tell me what you need, man, I got it! Uh, besides intimidation. I suck at that. To be honest, guys, I suck at almost everything. I don't even know why she wanted me for this job."
            " Says the woman who casually admits that she commands magic," Talib chuckled, " You're far too humble, jamila. We'll have to shake you of that habit."
            “Charm’s the right idea, and Syd’s spot on about Vark’s men. I think our best play is the jilted mistress,” Lillia said with a nod. “Tell one of the cronies the late Lord V. and I were lovers, and that he had set aside some special jewelry for me and our daughter. Tell him I know where it is on the Nixie, and if he lets me get what’s rightfully mine, I’ll make it very worth his while.”
            “Then I swap the ring with a counterfeit and either drop it while ‘escaping’ or leverage my way clear,” she said. “Pretty standard fare, all in all.”
            “I could have someone on hand for the initial meeting,” she said, more thinking out loud. “And a small craft and crew nearby in case things go sideways or I have to swim clear.”
            " Let me come with you aboard," the Sailor asked, " I've been around enough deckhands and brigands in my time to know how to deal with them. If anything, my name and face may give us a little leverage if these hired hands truly do listen to my father: they probably wouldn't know what goes on in the house of Islaran. And last I checked, my blade was still as quick and sharp as ever if these crooks mean to draw steel."
            It was a good plan. The best plan? Probably not - the best plan probably involved far more skills and magic than they present had access to, Talib mused to himself. But regardless, it was solid enough to get the job done. Lillia seemed confident enough to pull off such a con, and with the others as a Plan B should things fall apart, Talib was certain of victory.
            " If it looks like things go northerly, those in the watercraft could even act as a distraction: board the ship, act as if it were a raid for something else. In the confusion, we'll grab what we need and scatter to the four winds."
            “Ah Talib, you are a pirate and a prince,” Lillia said with a smile. “But you’re missing the point. If we do it this way, our target needs to feel in control, as if he has a distinct advantage. For that to happen, I need to go with him to the Nixie alone. Plus, what I’ll be promising him is something he won’t want anyone else around to spoil.”
            “One other obvious person can be at the initial meet, but that won’t be you,” she added. “I need someone less…threatening, plus you’re practically royalty around here, and being recognized is what we’re trying to avoid.”
            “He’d take me to the ship at an odd hour, when fewer eyes are open,” she continued with a shrug. “Because he knows I shouldn’t be there. Once on board, he’s as guilty as I am, so managing him would be easy.”
            “What I would really help is knowing that the cavalry is nearby,” she offered him. “Muscle and experience who can keep a craft incognito but then get to the scene as swiftly as the wind.”
            “But if this doesn’t sit well with folks,” she offered with a shrug. “We can always muscle our way in, bloody and blunt. Or, maybe a second person could slip on board if they were sly and nimble enough.” She glanced over at Syd. “Someone who seems to have some second story experience.”
            “We all have our specialties,” Lillia finished. “I just know what mine are.”
            "And Gbele is your distraction, yes?" It sounded like a joke, maybe, but the holy man wasn't smiling. He rarely smiled. "What will you do when they do not give the ring over, because they do not know where it is, or will not part with it?" He didn't seem to be against the plan, just clarifying some points. "We must have a signal to...begin the distraction." He thinks for a moment, then adds, "And we will need a boat."
            "Baba's right, this is really risky," said Loupin reluctantly. "Unless Talib's father is an idiot, he'll have warned Vark and his men to expect something. Talib, I don't think me and you and Baba should even show our faces, except as a last resort." More than ever Loupin wished they had never gone to see the old man.
            "Lillia, if you're determined to do this, you could take Conway with you -- maybe as a pet, like he was some Vanderbozo gift or something. He could signal to me if they grab you two below deck. Otherwise I don't see how you could warn us. I have an awesome whispering spell that would do the trick, but it only lasts for ten minutes... it'd take a guy that long just to row you out to the ship..." Loupin knew her stupid parrot would hate it, but at least he also knew Lillia a little. He might not fuck it up just to spite them all. Maybe.
            "Second, and third, and fourth..." Syd smirked to Lilia. He considered their options and frowned into the drink he had somehow acquired. "They most likely are already expecting something. They have the ire of Lady Vanderboren, and random people have been questioning about them." Another glance to Lilia. "Our best bet, I think, is to be stealthy. The more... martial of our group should hang back as backup in case the sneaky types get into trouble." As an afterthought he added, "We should get an alchemists fire for a signal."
            "Conway is my little bird buddy," Loupin explained. "If nothing else, he can sit on a mast or something and watch what happens down on deck. It's better than alchemist's fire. He can talk to me from a distance, sort of -- or anyway, he can signal to me if he sees somebody is in danger." She paused. "If you want to go yourself, Lillia, I'm willing to trust your judgment, but Syd might not be wrong. I mean, If they took you hostage or something... well, it's your call, I guess."
            "No excuse; no excuse," Reginald waved off any explanation one might attempt to offer for his tardiness as he arrived at the table. "Only my humble apology." The gnome appeared slightly but uncharacteristically distracted, and his eyes flitted about the room, gathering his bearing. It was in that process that he gained the full sense of the gravity of conversation -- expectant gazes, conspiratorial postures, illicit eagerity, stoic resignation. Instantly he was in the moment, and he folded his hands upon the gathering table by which he stood adjacent, leaning forward himself to the intent cluster of furrowed brows and serious eyes.
            "Oh, my, I do appear to have arrived right in the thick of it, haven't I?"
            He met the mark of each present, and his countenance became a bit more serious as personalities filled in the blanks. "Oh. Well, for what it's worth, while there might be ten ways onto that vessel, it's the way back /off/ it that'll matter. If the intent is to board, it'll need to be done with brisk force, I'm afraid. Too many chances -- nine of them, at the least, by our recent count -- of anything less becoming even more so unpleasant. So our first means need be to whittle said chances -- two or three men absent from their appointed duties would be a significant start in our favor."
            "Said men, who will still draw breath and see dawn in modest health a week hence, to be clear, if they and the gods in any way give us that option. Blood is not water, to be spilt without regard."
            " Good points all," Talib the Sailor concurred with Reginald's assessment, gladdened to see the gnome back amongst their number.
            " And with the information we have, we may be able to arrange this. Find the deckhands prior to their shift, remove them from the equation. Bribery, coercion, liquor, what have you: every Jamal and Jamila has their price, in my experience."
            He pointed his empty glass towards the largest amongst them.
            " Baba Gbele is right. We're gonna need a watercraft of some type. Something for easy escape, a place to spy from, and an alternate way for us to board the Nixie as needed. We can rent one for a few silver in the Azure District."
            Talib set his drink down and clapped his hands together. " So we've a bird playing messenger and warning signal, a list of names to try and dissuade from showing up to work, and the workings of a plan. That's more than I had when being hunted by the Crimson and I managed to survive that, so if nothing else, we've got a day to get to, yes?"
            "Now, hang on a second, fellas," Loupin said, frowning a little. "Keltar is suspicious of us, remember? But even if he hasn't tipped off Vark that something might be up, and even if Vark isn't alarmed enough by the disappearance of multiple men to try to get Keltar and the Watch involved, he can always use Lavinia's dough to replace a few goons -- even hire additional goons, just to be safe. There's also the question of what we do with these two or three goons we're supposed to take out, even if nobody sees us do it -- and how long will we need them to stay out of the picture? And what happens if just one of them gets away from us?
            "Checking out the opposition is a good idea, but Lillia and Syd are willing to try to get that ring without any confrontation at all, and I think Lavinia would vote for that. I think she hired us because we aren't just thugs. If it comes to a fight, I have a couple of sleep spells that could take out several of them at once, if I cast well enough. It seems to me it's better to risk that, and use violence if necessary, than risk tipping off everybody from the outset. That's still my vote. If we're voting."
            " Keltar has enough to worry about," Talib dismissed, looking away from the group with a bit of a scowl on his face. After a moment of anger, it faded from his features and leaned in close to the others.
            " What I say stays here, at this table. If any of you breathe a word of it, I will find out." Despite the charm and friendliness he had displayed to the party as a whole, Talib was clear he was not joking in the slightest.
            " And I will not be kind in how I respond."
            It was a gamble, but Talib needed the group to lay off of his family - suspicion of Keltar was not going to advance their cause and it distracted from the goal at hand. Was it a betrayal of the family trust to bring in outsiders? Maybe, but the sailor was not exactly on the best of terms with his father as it were. What more damage could he possibly do?
            Lillia’s eyes snapped open a bit in surprise. She glanced back and forth with uncertain alarm, looking as if she were weighing options. Then she closed her eyes and with pointed disbelief, stood and moved away from the table.
            “I’ll be back in a bit,” she muttered as she darted for the bar. She waved the barkeep over and ordered a short sniff of something saucy. There she waited, clearly out of earshot, fingers drumming quietly on the wood.
            " Keltar ... My father is dying," Talib confessed, leaning back in his seat and staring hard at the table and his empty glass. His distance did not stop him from lifting the goblet and waving it softly in the air, and by the time he set it back in front of him it was filled once more with sour wine. He waited for the server to be out of earshot before continuing.
            " You want to know why he was so agitated that we showed up, Loupin? It's because he knows he does not have much longer on Toril, and not a one of his children are prepared to take over his position. Myself included. Something that has been in the Islaran name for generations, something he has built into a wonder of the South, and it will either fall to another or into ruin."
            Talib tossed back the drink, shaking his head vigorously to try and loosen himself up literally and figuratively.
            " I have siblings missing, including our Eldest. Another that can't even stand the sight of water. And enough sisters seeking husbands that I'm sure I'll be related to one of you by matrimony before the season's end. So, my father turns to me as his backup plan. Take over the Harbor. Stay ashore and in Tashluta from now until I, too, am old and infirm. Give up the entirety of my life so that I can watch others cross the sea."
            He made sure to keep his voice as low as possible: he knew that there was one family in particular that would kill for this information. One that Talib had mixed relations with, but even he knew his loyalty was always to Islaran first, no matter how wayward of a son he became.
            "That is why that conversation went so poorly. That is why I know my father will not concern himself with something as minor as a godsdamned single ship and a criminal watching over it: he has enough to occupy him. And ..."
            Talib found his voice stolen for a moment, a clenching in his throat. He turned away and washed it down with more wine, letting the alcohol burn in place of that horrible feeling.
            " And he probably does not have much longer to handle it all. I was right, and I know that I was right: Vark is beneath my father's notice."
            Talib sighed, wanting to discuss his family history and matters about as much as he wanted to go bathing with aboleths.
            " We don't waylay Vark's men and then wait a week to make our move," Talib said, moving on from the subject entirely, " We don't give him time to account for a change in his plans. We'd need no more than a few hours at max. I'm all for keeping my blade sheathed, but it's going to be a lot harder to get to that ring with, say, ten men aboard than seven or six."
            He looked away again, towards the doorway of the tavern. They were burning light, although this plan seemed to be made for the dark as it were.
            " At the very least we should see how strongly Vark has a grip on his men. Fear and silver work well to get a man's loyalty, but it does not make it ironclad. We can probe without drawing suspicion, get a feel for the state of the crew, so to speak."
            Talib polished off his drink again, frowning at the empty glass. His mood had dipped considerably and it was notable in the venom that had seeped into his tone.
            " Whatever we plan to do, we do Lavinia no favors by sitting and spending coin here. If subterfuge is our play, then we need to get the actors into position and open the curtains on this stage."
            Loupin felt some sympathy for him, but his explanation didn't change very much. "I just got here," she said with a small shrug, "and I haven't spent anything yet. Look, even if your father is dying, Talib, you haven't seen him in a while. Don't ask us to take it on faith that you're in the best position to understand what he'll do. It's his job to stop us, even you must acknowledge that. And I never said 'days.' But what you two will have to explain at some point to us four is what 'waylaying' means, and how you plan to accomplish it. Because if we wipe out people -- people who aren't actually criminals, remember? -- this thing isn't necessarily going to end just because we want it to. But I suppose that explanation can wait, assuming you need time to generate one. I am ready to go, friends, if you are." She squeezed the pack which was still in her lap.

            As it turned out, they didn't have to go all the way to the Azure district to find someone willing to lend them a rowboat for a price - a raptor was enough to secure the service of a boatman, but he proved less willing to let his livelihood sail off without him. "Fifteen lions," the boatman demanded, adding grudgingly (after some haggling), "You get ten back when you come back with my boat. In one piece! Think of my wife and ten starving children, who I must feed and clothe! This will ruin us, but I must do this out of the kindness of my heart, may the gods witness it."
            Finding the hired deckhands proved more difficult. Asking around revealed that since they'd been hired a few days ago, they hadn't been back on the docks.
            That left their approach to the Blue Nixie.
            The elf listened to the group form their plan. They were zeroing in on something substantiative, as each laid out their ideas. "There is but one detail we are forgetting, I think," Syd suddenly added. "From what we gathered, Vark hired his men very recently, and since then, they had not been seen ashore. It seems they are bunking aboard the vessel. I don't think we will be able to waylay a few before our nautical assault."
            "We'll take a look," said Loupin, gathering herself. "Something may have changed since last night. Once Lillia is ready, we'll go."
            " A look would be best, yes," Taib concurred, nodding slowly, " The more we know, the better we can plot."
            His dark eyes settled on Loupin. The sailor's features softened slightly, enough to take the furrow out of his brows.
            " I am not a killer, jamila. My sword stays in my belt unless necessary, and even then I'd rather it not see any more blood. Not like ... Ah, it doesn't matter."
            He waved it off and pushed himself up from the table.
            " Waylay, Loupin. Deter, detain, discourage. Not kill. Never kill."
            The sailor tossed a silver piece onto the table to pay for his wine before striding over to the bar. It had not left him how suddenly Lillia had left the discussion, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was perhaps a better way of phrasing himself he could've used to prevent it. He did not want to scare others: he, himself, was scared of what was to come in the future, and he hadn't quite figured out how to deal with that just yet.
            He slid another silver onto the bartop near Lillia's drink, leaning against the wood and gazing at the bottles against the wall.
            " Bad talk is over, rafiki," he told her, sighing under his breath, " Just ... troubles I'd rather not anyone involved in, secrets I hate keeping, and Tashluta is getting a lot more complicated lately. I didn't mean to frighten if I did, but there are still a few things that even I have to take seriously still."
            With that, he flashed Lillia a wide grin, nodding behind them to the door. The talk at the table was put behind him and he seemed to be back to his familiar self.
            " But that's then, this is now. Ready to get a move on? We've a heist to pull and we certainly can't do it without you," he admitted, giving her a wink.
            Lillia cast her dark eyes at Talib, and there was fire behind them. “Afraid?!” she hissed. “You think-- How could I-- You don’t even--” She stumbled over her normal eloquence with stuttering disbelief. She snarfed down the remainder of her drink and smacked the glass vessel onto the wood of the bar with a loud clack.
            The whites of her teeth shone in the light as she grimaced against the burning swallow and leaned in close to the corsair, not touching him, but the heat of her and the smell of alcohol was a thin veil between them.
            “I manipulate and control people for a living, you honorable dolt. It’s what I do!” she whispered fiercely. “What I am. I use secrets and skeletons to destroy. You cannot offer up such a weapon and expect me not to use it.”
            “You just… can’t,” she said, taking a step away from him. “I’m too fond of you for that.” The words drained out of her, but she followed them with a stout punch to the chest for emphasis before she walked away. The impact was nothing that caused physical pain, but in retrospect, physical pain didn’t seem to be on her agenda.

            Once she'd actually had her first real glimpse of the big ship sitting motionless out on the water, Loupin felt the reality of their situation sink in a bit more deeply. She was glad Talib didn't want to kill everybody -- although to Loupin, who was no heroine, it was as much an issue of practicality as morality -- but the Nixie somehow looked both too far from shore and too close to it.
            Maybe that was no accident.
            "Even if we did it in the dark," she pondered uneasily, "I wonder if somebody couldn't hear screaming on the deck from here. It's not that far away. Dang, I hate to say this, but maybe Talib had it right the first time. Maybe the name Islaran is our best bet? We could all go along, then -- posing as the bodyguard, maybe? Tell them we came for Vanderboren's property. Like, not even bluff very much. If Vark gave us any grief, all Talib would have to do is explain what kind of deal Keltar offered him -- justice for taking up the family mantle. You know, 'I'm the new boss, I'm here for my piece of the pie, I know what you did, shut the fuck up,' that kind of thing. I mean, Lillia, they won't kick the shit out of you on deck... somebody could hear... they'll wait until you're below, if they have any brains at all..."
            The truth was, Loupin was pretty scared. She didn't know how to climb up onto a big wet ship. She didn't know how to fight in the day time, much less the dark. Nor was she certain her sleep spell would work on grown-ass sailors. Mostly she'd only ever used it during her babysitting gigs. But if they were really going for broke anyhow, trying to protect Talib from further family problems might not be worth it. He could always pretend he was testing Vark to find out whether his father's offer was worth taking serious.
            Maybe that could keep them out of the slammer.
            The holy man smiled when he realized that they were able to obtain a boat. It was humorless, but it was a smile. After all, no matter how they went about their task, sooner or later they would need to board the Nixie. For that, they needed a boat. Gbele had sat in the bar, listening to the talk, talk, talk, the frustration building in him until it was palpable. In His wisdom, The Deceiver spake, "Chultans plan, Ubtao laughs." And it would surely be so. Stealth, guile, confrontation, no matter. Their plan would go the way of all plans, descending into chaos upon contact with the enemy. Gbele would then do what he was sanctified to do, and Ubtao's Will would be done. His frustration eased away like water from a banana leaf. Then he realized that he was smiling, and wiped it away.
            "We wait for darkness, maybe?" He said at last.
            "Not all of us are as effective in the dark as you humans are, Baba," Loupin informed him. "But don't let it hold you up." She found herself envying Lillia that drink.
            " We'd be better off in the day," Talib surmised, having been rather reticent since they had left the tavern. He kept stealing glances over at Lillia, chewing on his lip without opening his mouth to address it. Now, however, there was something else to focus on, and he was thankful for that.
            " If we do go with plan 'I'm the Islaran in Charge Here', we're arguably better off with more light than less: Vark may be a crook but he's not going to strike a noble in broad daylight, not unless he wants his neck to become intimately familiar with hempen rope."
            He shrugged.
            " I don't make the laws, but using them to our advantage is our best bet, here."
            He turned to the assembled, regarding them - a fine crew if ever there was one, even if Talib wasn't sure if they had ever spent a day at sea.
            " Alright. Loupin's idea has merit. We walk onto the deck like we own the damn ship and we don't budge no matter how they protest. If it all goes to shit, well, I've a bit of a reputation anyway, I'll just wave it off as Talib is deep in his cups again and I'm the lousy Islaran Keltar thinks I am. Wouldn't be the first time the guard has hauled me off to the jail for a night ... But estranged or not, I'm still the harbormaster's son, and no two-bit siren bait is going to overrule me in this District."
            There was still a bit of anger in him over the idea of his father trusting Vark more, but Talib knew that was because of his own actions. As far as the sailor knew, at least Vark showed up to work. All Talib had ever done was ran from the harbor on the fastest galley available.
            “The Nixie is moored to a float. Lines to the float, to be sure, but with ruffians in residence, they’re sure to have pulled and coiled the ladder to the ship’s rail. ‘Walking’ onto the deck is all well and good, mind, but do you have a proposal to get to it with a swiftness that’ll preclude them from mustering force to repel boarders?” Reg asked.
            " Pose as my entourage," Talib told the party, " It wouldn't be uncharacteristic of me and it gives you all an out. We get whatever info we need from Vark and his crew, we scout the Nixie and get the ring if we're able, and then we get the hell out of there before the idiots aboard can put together what we were even doing here."
            He didn't envy the idea of a fight on the ship: ships weren't exactly designed for rolling battles across their decks, no matter how often that happened at sea. They were cramped and filled with clutter to trip, stumble, and impede anyone trying to brandish sword and axe without being familiar with the layout.
            " With enough confidence and bluster, you can get into the damn palace. I don't think we'll have too much issue getting onto a ship."
            "Maybe you could still take the ex-mistress approach," Loupin suggested to Lillia, in case she felt disappointed. "They might want to know why the heck Talib is so keen to raid the Vanderborens. You could be the babe with the dead lover that he's trying to impress. Nobody can resist sad babes. It could even be our excuse for the judge -- the rest of us thought an Islaran had the right to impress his date. 'She was sad, Your Honor, and also hot. You know how it is.'"
            “I’ve missed something, I have – are any of you suggesting you can either demand or entice the occupiers’ cooperation in letting us come aboard?” Reg said.
            "There are lines. Say no more." Syd grinned toothily. He extended his hands, fingers intertwined, cracking his knuckles. "I am accustomed to accessing places not normally accessed. Get me to a line, I'll drop a ladder." He glanced to the others, "That is, if our friendly neighborhood Islaran can't get us aboard directly."
            “We need to keep it simpler,” Lillia said. “With that many men off shore for so long, they’re either looking for something or guarding something. And Vark’s not the type to deal, I guarantee it. So if you won’t send me in alone, our next best bet is Syd dropping a ladder for us to board at night.”
            “Too many other factors to account for,” she finished with a shrug.
            The holy man had reached a point where he had completely withdrawn from the ongoing discussions among his new companions. He hummed tunelessly as he meticulously stripped off his armor and placed his hide shirt in the little boat, with his big oval shield on top of it. He stood there, in his thin, sweat-stained tunic, and scratched his belly absently, his gaze drawn to the Nixie. He took each javelin from the quiver over his shoulder, one at a time, and checked the points, ensuring that they had not dulled and that the shafts had not warped.
            "To me it looks like they're just guarding it," Loupin said, with an idle glance at their jungle weirdo. "It couldn't take ten of them that long to search it, and Vark's not the only guy who works the docks. Somebody would've noticed they were out there by now if they had no permission. Ah well, Talib. They don't think you can manage it. But even if Lillia could get out there, we'd still need to be able to sneak up on the ship, just in case. How easy is it to do? Assuming they don't share Baba's nocturnal prowess."
            " What if we do both?" Talib offered, folding his arms softly across his chest, " Lillia approaches openly, while Syd sneaks close to drop the ramp in case things don't go according to plan. Either Lillia will get what we need, or she provides enough of a distraction that Syd hands us the means to crash Vark's party."
            He sighed, running a hand through his salt-flecked hair.
            " Either way, we must commit to something. If we keep dancing between two cliffs to skirt these narrows, we're going to wreck eventually."
            Syd nodded, shifting from foot to foot, anxious to get rolling on their plan. "I agree. Get Lillia and/or Talib in the front door... while they do their distraction, I'll sidle up the mooring line and drop the boarding ladder for everyone else. Hopefully we can get this done with minimal fight, but it may be inevitable, given how many men Vark has."
            "You may not be able to use their boarding ladder, Syd," Loupin said. "She'll need her own boat, remember. They may post somebody to guard it, even if she goes in alone, which she probably shouldn't do, unless a crazy lady who rows around by herself in the dark might distract them more effectively than a charming ex-mistress used to being underwritten by her beloved dead sugar daddy. A legitimate coquette would probably just hire a boatman."
            " And do you not have a pilot here?" Talib asked with a raised brow and a grin, " With a suitable covering for my face, I can manage the boat, and then we have one more person close at hand in case things go awry."
            "In that case, we'll definitely need our own ladder," Loupin sighed. "And a second boat. I'll let you guys find that stuff. I have to memorize spells and convince Conway to help us. And get the rest of my gear. I think I'll write a note to my boss, too -- Conway can deliver it to him if we get into trouble. He'll help. I owe him money."
            “So a two boat approach then,” Lillia said. “Dusk would be the best middle ground if we’re knocking on the front door.”
            “Talib, Reginald, and I draw their attention, asking for audience,” she said, then adding to Talib. “Just let me know if you want to take the lead, and I’ll play the Lady’s representative. Or if you want me to lead as the buxom mistress who came to you for aid and comfort.” To Reginald she said, “And you’d be the role of boatman for this.”
            “Syd, Baba, and Loupin in the other boat, rear approach,” she continued. “With Syd gaining access unseen. I’d recommend a grapple and rope in each boat, just in case.”
            “Sound about right?”
            Syd shrugged, "Sounds fair, I know my job."
            "As long as I'm the sort of boatman who owns the boat, hires the oarsman," Reg nodded to Talib, "likely holds a lantern at the bow, and has the good nature to insist on accompanying the lady in her hasty evening trip, for her safety, that all works for me. I prefer the open battle of wits and manipulation with Vark's lackeys to stealth and subterfuge, as it were. Looking forward to the part!"
            "Are you sure you need Reginald with you?" Loupin said, gathering her bag. "Lillia can hold the lantern, and they probably won't let anybody board except her -- if they even let her. Two can distract them as easily as three. But if he's stuck down on the boat with Talib, a lantern will just make him an easier target. We could use him. I'll have to guard the other boat, and that leaves Baba and Syd with a whole lot of fighting to do, if they spot us while Lillia is busy down below."
            “Reg stays with us,” Lillia said, shaking her head. Then she turned pointedly to the gnome, “And he stays on the boat. You’re way too recognizable, take that as the compliment it is, and the play is that we hired a boatman. It would be too odd for you to leave your craft. Trust me, these men will be on alert, and we cannot give them reason to balk. Two aboard will be stretch enough.”
            “And you trust me too, Loupin,” she said to the half-elf. “They’ll let us both up, or we won’t go up at all. Either way, we’ll buy you the time you need. Plus, you won’t have to guard the other boat. We’ll be sailing back on the Nixie.”
            Baba continued to hum his low tune, some sort of hymn, it seemed. Whenever his name was mentioned, he looked up and nodded, confirming that he understood his place, and his role. His companions seemed to have developed a sensible plan, and it seemed near to execution. Good. Ubtao was not a patient Power.
            Loupin seemed a bit less satisfied than the priest as she pulled on her pack.
            "I don't trust any of it, Lillia," she said. "You'll either have to recover the ring yourself -- in which case the three of us won't have to do a thing -- or you'll have to signal Conway and distract them until Syd can track it down. Pick a signal and call it good, but if we take the ship back without Lavinia's fee, we all go to gaol whether you guys murder anybody or not. I'm not counting on Vark to still have all that stolen loot in his pockets, and I'm not murdering his men just for guarding a ship impounded by the city government. You three can trust that if you need some inspiration."
            Lillia cast a winsome half-smile at Loupin. “So you’ll extort additional funds from a wealthy noble,” she said, “And trespass and conspiracy are okay, but you draw the line at theft and murder. Good to know.”
            “As far as I’m concerned though,” she added. “That debt has been paid, and Vark has stolen the Nixie. He’s the criminal here, and we’re going to bring that to light.”
            Reginald chuckled at the picture of it, and put his arms out to their full width. "See a lot of gnomes rowing their tallfolk crafts, a stroke with one oar, a shift across the bench, then a stroke with the other, do you?" His gentle laugh didn't carry thorns. "Can always tell them on the water by the zig-zag, back-and-forth pattern they cut, I'm certain."
            “Which is why we’d be going in a gondola.” Lillia cocked her head at Reginald a bit, and then tried to calculate his angle. What she realized was that he either didn’t know or that he was concerned about the larger body of water. “If you’re uncomfortable piloting one, we can make other arrangements.” The notion wasn’t entirely beyond reason, as some natives weren’t keen on taking they’re smaller craft into the deeper waters. But gondolas were a common enough conveyance in the waterways of the city, and certainly they could be piloted by one person.
            Lillia then turned to Talib and said, “And never mind, I’ll take the lead. Our odds are better playing the mistress card. Breasts trump blood here. You can get all official if matters start to sour.”
            " How do you know they don't prefer my type?" Talib teased, but ultimately nodded in agreement, " Aye: you know how to captivate an audience. I'll just glower at them until they prefer looking at you more and hopefully spill a few secrets along the way."
            While the pirate did agree with the sentiment and approach, there was still a part of him that cast a curious eye over at Lillia, and not just because of her charms.
            Wasn't the woman supposed to be a seamstress? And yet she carried herself and acted as though she understood the underground ways of Tashluta even better than he. Coupled with the earlier scene in the tavern, Talib came to realize that he understood very little of his new allies, Lillia chief amongst them.
            But, he trusted her. He trusted them. Had to. A job and their lives were on the line, and when the grappling hooks came out, not a single sailor let doubts about her fellow crewmen keep her from doing all in her power to save their lives, just as she knew they would do for her.
            " Right. Well, we've got a plan, we've got the means to execute it. All goes well and I'll be buying the first round on Vanderboren's coin."

            The half-elven woman that approached Reginald and Talib was unfamiliar to them, but she had assets that drew their attention none the less. Strong cheek bones knifed down to succulent lips and a curving neckline that was almost beyond recourse. She bowed with adequate respect and shifted her weight to address them.
            “Are you gentlemen in need of the services of the feminine persuasion tonight?” she asked. The heat of her voice and the elven lilt to her dialect left little to the imagination. This was a woman who not only knew what she was about but did so without reservation.
            Before they could respond however, the woman snorted and covered her mouth with one hand to stifle a laugh. “Gods but how I love that look, that first glimpse,” Lillia said, her tone and voice reverting to one that dispelled the illusion for the men.
            “Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to their gondola.
            Talib worked his jaw, but no words seemed to come out. Whatever reservations he may have had towards Lillia before melted away in a warm haze the sailor was all too familiar with, and yet a part of him was prepared to admit that the woman was exactly the kind of lure that sated and slayed him all at once. Warned to keep distant, the pirate knew that wasn't going to be an easy task. It was almost in spite of the danger Lillia supposedly posed that Talib was prepared to chart directly towards the storm.
            This one's going to be trouble, he admonished himself while a knowing grin crept across his face, Beautiful, Dangerous trouble.
            The cries of seagulls and more exotic birds mingled in the dusk air of Tashluta with the smell of the harbor: all saltwater, fish and just a hint of sewage in the cooling breeze, beneath a fantastic sky of orange, red, pink, and purple. Loupin squinted as she watched Conway take a perch in the rigging of the Blue Nixie. At her signal, they began to row and pole their respective boats out into the harbor, slowly approaching their target.
            As Reginald guided them across the waters, the lies flowed from Lillia.
            “My name is Amarian Taredain,” she began. “Scribe to explorers lost to the jungle some years ago. My written craft and the ability to tutor the unruly brought me into the circles traveled by the Vanderboren’s. Carefree and at peace for the first time in this wild arena, I shared my various passions with lord of the manor. Those exchanges culminated in our daughter, Poldora, who bears more resemblance to mother than father. I came to you as blood of the harbor master in an effort to get aboard and retrieve jewelry the lord had promised me and our child…”
            And so the story went, unending with its nuances and depth until they were finally hailed from the Blue Nixie.
            It was clear, as they got closer, that the sailors were preparing to set sail in the dying light. It looked as though the preparations were just getting underway, with a small handful of the lowlifes the tavern team had learned about scampering about the deck and rigging. Every now and then, one would go belowdeck, or one would appear from there.
            It was ten feet from the waterline to the main deck, but for a bit of good news, there were plenty of algae-slimed ropes to climb.
            For the bad news, it didn't look like a stealthy approach to the Nixie would be possible without a major distraction. Busy though the deckhands were, it was hard to miss a lone gondola being paddled out into the harbor by a flambuoyant gnome, with a cowled man and what looked like an angry tart perched in it.
            "You lot! Thith shipth impoundedth! Puth off!" Three-tooth Sally yelled down to them as they came within hailing distance. A squirt of tabac juice followed this proclamation, and Sally wiped her chin with a tabac-stained grin that revealed her three missing teeth. The other deckhands (from their descriptions, burly and tattooed Gul, long-limbed and mean-looking Yarsa, and flat-out ugly Prettyboy) ignored them, going about completing their own tasks.
            Between two other nearby ships, Syd, Gbele and Loupin began their own cautious approach, ready to put on speed if there was a change in the activity aboard the Nixie.
            Lillia leaned and whispered over to Talib, “I bet she prefers your type.”
            " I'd sooner marry Umberlee," Talib spat back with a suppressed shudder, blessing all the Gods that Lillia was on charm duty for this leg of their adventure.
            "Peace!" Reginald called upward, exhasperated, his hands still rolling the gondola's paddle in the water, moving them towards the Nixie. He shook his head in a pronounced what-can-you-do fashion intended to be visible from the rail, then noted sotto voce to Lillia, "All you."
            “Right,” Lillia said quietly to them. “Things have changed though. They’re shipping out. Doesn’t bode well. We’ll have to play the greed card to get aboard. Then I bluff about jewelry.”
            “That’s why I brought a representative of the harbor master!” Lillia shouted toward Sally, her tone and voice changing to match her guise. “We’d like to pay the fine!” She held aloft the sack of 100 copper pieces and jangled it musically.
            As the gondola drifted closer, she added, “And I have a healthy business proposition for Master Vark, if he can find the time.”

            From between the other moored boats, Syd eyed their quarry nervously - everything hinged on the next few minutes. He stood, as a gondolier, though his feet were upon the sides of the boat rather than the bottom. His expert balance kept him and the vessel perfectly still in the water. He watched from their hidden position for signs their distraction was working. In the meantime, he spotted his method of ascent. "There," he whispered to his compatriots, a finger extended towards the rearmost mooring line, "Once their attention is drawn, I'll climb that one."
            "Say the word, and I will row." The holy man sat ready at the oars.

            While Lillia kept the attention of the deckhands, Talib's trained eyes peered from under his cowl to see what the ruckus aboard ship was about. The vessel was impounded but being prepped to sail? No, no, that didn't seem right. Couldn't be right. Was Vark using Lady Vanderboren's ship for his own private trips the entire time the ship was supposed to be anchored? He felt his indignation towards the rat climb: to forcibly beach a ship was one thing, but to take it for joy rides while its owner languished without it was a cruelty akin to clipping the wings on a bird.
            The sailor tried to get a sense of where the ship was at: he wanted to know near how much time they would have if things went north. Of note, his eyes scanned for the anchor, visions of racing to drop it flooding into his head if Vark tried to make a break for blue water.
            He hated the idea of fighting aboard a ship he wasn't familiar with. It was always the worst part of being at sea.
            That and the storms. And the pirates. And the food. And the sickness. And the bilge water. And the splinters. And the salt. And the rope burns. And the barnacle cuts. And the sea serpents. And the dragon turtles. And the ghost ships.
            And the tedium.
            But mostly it was fighting aboard an unfamiliar ship. That was truly the worst.
            And the weevils, now that he thought about it. Definitely the weevils, firstly. Then unfamiliar ships. That was the right of it.
            Bloody weevils.
            "A reprethentative of th' harbor mathter?" Sally jerked upright from where she'd been hanging on the railing, and waved down one of the other sailors. Yarsa joined her, his dirty-blond hair lank below the dull blue scarf tied about his head. He looked annoyed, but not as sunburned as his description had told of; maybe he had been spending his days inside.
            "Thure," Sally said loudly, elbowing him. "Throw that bag on up here, an' we'll take th' fine to Wark." She held out her hands, ready to catch any thrown bags of riches. Whatever backup she thought she had in Yarsa, though, she might as well forget. His sneer had turned into a leer the moment he saw Lillia.
            "We'll be happy to tell him about your business proposition, too. If he don't got the time, I can make some," he snickered, winking at Lillia lewdly. Charm, as she had been told, was not his strong suit.
            Sally spat into the harbor again, still chewing. "Come on now, miss. Toth it on up." Prettyboy wandered over to see what the fuss was about, and broke into a wolf whistle when he saw Lillia. His ugly mug split into the most hideous grin imaginable.
            Lillia leaned toward Talib conspiratorially and mumbled briefly, nodding at the words she pretended he said back. She knew her craft, and the way she moved in the fading light caused her outfit to billow slightly, enhancing the shadowy expanse that plunged into her top and offering a saucy promise to those above. She then turned to face the trio of deckhands once more.
            “I’ve been informed that the fine must be paid on board and a handshake exchanged for it to be official,” she called up with a slight air of impatience and huff. “And do we have to continue to shout like this? I’ll not discuss business worth over five times this meager fine at the top of my lungs.”
            When the sailors hesitated, Lillia lifted her arms up in the air and added, “Look! I’m unarmed and would be ever so grateful just for the opportunity to chat about it.” She spun slowly in a circle that bordered on delicious. “Whaddaya say? Permission to come aboard?”
            They bought it. Hook, line, and sinker.
            Yarsa and Prettyboy hurried to lower a rope ladder, while Sally rolled her eyes, but didn't seem suspicious. She sauntered off to find Vark, leaving Lillia with the practically-drooling deckhands. Gul came over as well, and Pickethead, whose sharp nose was unmistakable, came out of the lower decks and veered off course to see what was going on.
            Lillia leaned in to speak with Talib once more as the ladder was unfurled. She lowered the sack to one of the seats as she did.
            “This is a hundred copper. Leave it here. Act like you forgot it if I ask you for it,” she said quietly. “And give me a few moments with them before you clear the rail.”
            Lillia then began to climb, slowly and poorly. Her progress was not hand over hand, but one careful rung at a time, buying team two a little time. About midway, she lost a handhold and gasped a bit, swinging one arm out wildly and offering a bosomy view to those at the rail.
            Once she was within reach, she offered a hand up and said with mild desperation, “Please help, whoever is stronger, lend a hand!”

            Syd watched as the activity rapidly focused on the other side of the boat. Crewmen were heading away, to see what all the hubbub was about. He grinned and whispered to Gbele, "Now."
            As the little gondola slipped through the water, he crouched slightly, preparing to grab the line and climb aboard.
            Reg, for his part, let loose the gondola's tiller to take to anchoring the rope ladder and craft; hooking a boot to the bench and twining one arm through the ladder to steady it and keep the gondola at its base.
            He gestured for Talib to get a boot on the ladder's base and be ready to climb once Lilla had cleared the rail at top.

            The men aboard the Nixie laughed, and brawny Gul reached a tattooed arm down to help scoop Lillia onto the ship. Yarsa, however, happened to glance down into the boat.
            "Hey! Knock that off! Just her for now," he sneered down at Talib and Reg, his face being permanently sneery. "Ya fergot the fine, ya daffy tart," he chuckled, leaning over the side and reaching out a hand. "Give it 'ere!"
            “Oh. My,” Lillia said to Gul, squeezing a muscled arm with her off hand as she settled on to the deck. “Aren’t you…expansive.”
            Then her face soured as she heard Yarsa’s comment. Lillia wheeled on the mouthy sailor, using her ire as a means to extract herself from Gul’s grip, hopefully.
            “You expect me to climb with that weight?” she asked with some heat. “I may not be strong, but I am far from daft. Did you expect a lady to board your ship without an escort? Truly?” She eyed him like he’d gone mad.
            “I said I came with a representative of the harbormaster,” she continued. “And he’ll be coming aboard to witness the payment of the fine and to see to my safety.”
            “Now,” she added, smiling. “That does not preclude us from having some fun, but business always comes before pleasure. Always. So, not a coin exchanges hands until I’ve talked with Vark. Or I’ll simply be on my way. Clear enough?”
            Yarsa was taken aback by Lillia's sheer gall, but Gul had heard what he wanted to. "Yeh. Let 'er talk to Vark, then let's do our business," he grinned, clapping her behind. The other men gathered around murmured agreement, though they didn't sound as certain. Lillia caught them glancing away, no doubt at the tasks they'd left unfinished.
            Then again, if they'd been good deckhands, they'd probably be on ships that weren't tethered in the harbor.
            Both Talib and Lillia couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be animal noises coming from the hold.
            Talib had flatly ignored Yarsa's demands and warning, instead resorting to pulling his cowl back and letting the man see his face.
            " You presume to tell an Islaran what to do?" he asked pointedly, no scowl upon his face but no mirth that could be spoken of. He began to ascend with practiced ease: every finger a hook, his boots not minding the wet wood at all.
            At the mention of Talib's family name, every thug on the ship froze. Yarsa's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
            " You'll get your coin," Talib reiterated as he climbed, " The little bag and plenty more. After my client has spoken to Vark."
            If Yarsa did nothing to stop him, Talib swung himself up and onto the deck, the sack of copper coins still resting in the rowboat with Reginald. His fists rested upon his hips as he scoured the deck with a steely gaze, assessing the situation and the ship. He kept up his own silence, ignoring the deckhands and any questions or threats they may have made with the same presumption of authority that a captain might take with his own crew.
            " At least the vessel is still in good shape," he scoffed finally, " I see my father's faith in Vark was not misplaced: this is good for me."
            His eyes slid over to regard Yarsa.
            " And profitable for you, if all goes well. See that it does, yes?"
            He let the proverbial raindrop hit the metaphorical bucket by announcing which Islaran he was, wondering if Vark's men would even know his face. Talib waved a hand dismissively towards the aggressive sailor, pointing him towards the cabin.
            " Fetch your master for the lady: I am a busy man, but my client's proposal was certainly worth my time. You can wait a few moments more for your precious coin."
            It would have been a strange sight for the easy-going and charming Talib to suddenly adopt such an imperious and arrogant posture and tone, but at his heart he was still a noble. The superiority never left his blood: he just preferred showing he was worthy of it rather than simply telling others he was.
            But that didn't mean he was incapable of the latter.
            While the other deckhands were stunned into silence by Talib's proclamation, Yarsa actually muttered, "Yes, Cap'n," while taking off and wringing his dull blue headscarf. "Only, see, Sal's gone to-"
            "What in Umberlee's blackest trench are you lot doing?" an angry man roared as he stomped out of the quarterdeck cabin, shrugging into a ratty vest. More or less bald, though the stubble line suggested it was an affectation rather than nature's doing; a scruff of beard decorated the center of his chin. The ring in his ear; the missing tooth; the skull and crossbones tattoo on his right arm; it could only be Soller Vark. He was accompanied by two women - Sally and a woman Talib and Lillia quickly identified as Ketrana, an unpleasantly smirking hanger-on with clothes in disarray.
            When Vark spotted Lillia and Talib standing on deck, calm as you please, he nearly had an apoplectic fit. "Get them out of here, you idiots!" he screamed, and his voice sent a jolt through the crew. Suddenly, everyone was fumbling with weapons - at least, everyone but Yarsa, who was visibly sweating and backing away from Talib.
            As soon as the line came within reach, Syd leaned over and grabbed it, transferring his weight with graceful ease. He glanced upwards briefly before climbing the line towards the boat's gunwale. The sounds of increasing agitation on the decks concerned him greatly. The plan was going sideways, and fast.
            The temporary crew of the Nixie may have had trouble reaching for their instruments of violence, but Talib had his scimitar clearing his sash in an instant. He took a step next to Lillia, pointing the curved sword at Vark while glaring the man and his brigands down.
            "Sheathe. Your. Swords!" he demanded loudly, hoping his allies off the vessel would overhear, " Lest you mean to draw blood from a Lord of The Azure and his guest."
            His hand did not waver, the steel glinting between the sun and its reflection upon the calm waters of the harbor. The situation may have become volatile, but that did not mean it necessarily had to descend into violence.
            Not yet, anyway. Not until they had the advantage, which the pair on deck most certainly did not.
            " Soller Vark," Talib slowly drew out the name, letting his blade droop a little, " We have business. I come representing the Harbor; the lady at my side has a proposition that could make us all richer men. Call off your crew and we'll discuss this."
            He let the curved tip of his sword down until it touched the wood on the deck. His grip on it was just so, however, that a small flick of the wrist would present it again to catch any attack that neared him.
            " The choice is yours: attack a Noble and bear the wrath of Keltar Islaran, or earn silver and time with a beautiful woman. I know which I'd choose," Talib admitted, letting the grin slip back onto his face to try and diffuse Vark from making the stupid, aggressive call.
            " Prove to me you're the man my father says you are."
            Prove me wrong, you little roach, Talib thought to himself, calm on the exterior but seething at seeing how quickly Vark had called for violence. Was this now what passed for justice in the Azure District these days?
            Prove me wrong that I may prove myself to my father.
            He looked to Lillia, hoping her quick tongue would get them out of this mess, or at least buy them a little extra time. That or something else: the woman appeared to have plenty of tricks that the sailor was not privy to.
            Lillia did not cleave to Talib. Had matters not devolved so quickly, she likely would have. That would have been the right play, not to mention the more pleasurable route. But she sensed they were moments away from bloodshed. Such a reaction could only mean Vark was hiding something significant. So she had to strike hard and fast where it would hurt them most.
            “Please, we have only come to talk,” she called out as she stepped from behind Gul’s girth into plain view. “I know where Lord Vanderboren has treasure hidden aboard this ship.”
            Now they would see just how big a secret Vark was keeping.
            Lillia's voice filtered down from above, muffled for the route it was forced to take over rail, through humid sea air and off odd surfaces. But the tone was clear; the situation had gone well outside of any measure of predictive plan. That odoriferous, boot-stamping yell could've been none other than Vark, a conclusion reinforced to Reginald by Lillia's change in posture. Talib's demand for weapons to be sheathed had not been met with the distinctive slide of steel back into leather; blades were out.
            Ten options sprang to Reginald's mind to either aid or complicate the situation. The challenge was in guessing which side would benefit by what. Loupin's earlier warning; that the party's actions brushed through harbor trespass; crossed his mind, though if the cause was true, a thwart of a rule or two for the good of things would do no major harm. Murder would be another matter, and Vark would have no need to mount explanations if he and his hires cut down boarders on a vessel for which he was charged to impound and retain. But that would probably lead to more questions of Vark's activities on board the Nixie, questions Vark would just as soon not wish to need to answer for. Reginald had to hope to the gods Vark had enough wit about him to realize the consequences of any blood spilled on that deck.
            Reg stepped out of the base of the ladder, choosing instead to keep one hand on it to keep the craft near the Nixie. Shortly, he anticipated he'd be leaping for the gondala's oar to wheel it about and pick up one or perhaps two comrades who'd elected to make hasty exits from deck to open water.
            "I'll cover you if I can, Syd," whispered Loupin, clutching at her light crossbow while trying not to topple against the gunwale, as poor old Baba rowed for all he was worth. "You'll wanna hurry. It'll shock you, but I'm not the world's boss archer."
            As soon as the line came within reach, Syd leaned over and grabbed it, transferring his weight with graceful ease. He glanced upwards briefly before climbing the line towards the boat's gunwale. The sounds of increasing agitation on the decks concerned him greatly. The plan was going sideways, and fast.
            The seaweed-slimed ropes were nothing to Syd; the all but walked up them like he was taking a stroll on a promenade. He climbed up the back of the ship and hopped over the railing near the wheel.
            Vark had drawn a rapier - one a touch fancier than a thug like him had any business carrying - but he hesitated at Talib and Lillia's words.
            "Hold it, you seadogs!" he barked at his crew. Peering at Talib and Lillia (or at least, Lillia's chest), he asked, "What treasure's that, then? This ship's impounded, Lord... who are you, again?" Sally whispered in his ear, and he nodded, unfazed. "The owner isn't to have anything aboard back until the fine is paid." He sounded like a dutiful worker ensuring that his job was done properly to Talib - but Lillia wasn't fooled for an instant. Everything from the places he looked to the way he stood and spoke told her that he was more interested in the "treasure" than he was willing to let on in front of an Islaran.
            His crew had drawn their weapons, but stood about uncertainly. They glanced at the hold a lot, as well as at each other and their "guests."
            With the blades still out, Talib kept a loose grip on his own, prepared to use it at a moment's notice. Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief: Vark hadn't ordered for their heads yet, and as far as the sailor was concerned that was a victory in and of itself.
            He gave Lillia a subtle nudge of his elbow, a "You're Up" gesture: his mind was too occupied with the shining steel about the deck and wondering just how he was going to take on so many swords alone. Well, not alone - Lillia was there. But even the two of them would have to be master warriors to take to task seven attackers at once.
            Please tell me the others are ready ...
            Lillia and Vark danced a troubled line of sight past the main mast until she stepped clearly away from it toward port. She took a deep, inflating breath and began.
            “My story is a long one,” she said. “But I will be brief to benefit all. I asked Lord Islaran to accompany me here tonight.” She nodded both a gracious, and slightly salacious, smile in Talib’s direction. “His reputation precedes him, and once he heard my tale, well, he readily agreed.” She took another steadying breath, each moment buying time for her allies.
            “I both served and…serviced the late Lord Vanderboren,” she said with a knowing tilt of the head. “Owner of this vessel. Well, former owner now.” She paused to let any sullying comments slip by or slow witted minds to process what she had implied.
            “Point being,” she continued. “Is that we were close enough such that he saw to set aside a goodly amount of jewelry for me and…our daughter.”
            Again she paused to allow the weight of what she had said carry through, wringing her hands slightly as such revelations crept into the light.
            “And I know where he kept it hidden,” Lillia said. “Look, I’ve no care what you’re about on this boat. I only want what’s rightly mine. Let me fetch it, if not only for my daughter’s sake, and your share would be a fifth. Well beyond what any harbor fine would offer.”
            “So, can we deal?” she asked.
            "I wouldn't know nothin' about any jewelry, miss," Vark told her sadly, though she could see the keen interest he was trying to hide. It was there in the way that his eyes were now on hers, rather than her chest. He smiled at Talib unctuously. "It's really the Harbormaster should look into this, saer." He may have been drooling at the thought of fine jewelry to pawn, but he wasn't fool enough to admit it in front of Talib.
            Syd dropped to his knees once he came over the gunwale, eyeing the situation developing on the main deck. At least, as much as he could see from his vantage point. They were moments from drawing blood, he could see. Hopefully Lillia and Talib would be able to delay it until everyone could get aboard. With his mission in mind, Syd tore his eyes from the tableau and searched for the port-side ladder. There wasn't much cover, but hopefully their attention was on Talib and Lillia.
            Oddly enough, he found as he bellied over to where he could see the deck, the portside ladder appeared to have been removed. Below, Loupin and Baba Gbele waited, patient.
            Fortunately, the sailors' attention appeared to be focused on the tableau before them at the moment, but it could only be a matter of time until one of them glanced up and spotted Syd at the stairs of the aft deck.
            Syd frowned as he noted the absence of the port-side ladder. For some reason Vark's men had removed it from the side. That spoke more to their questionable motives. Either way, he cast his eyes around to find another solution. Then he remembered the small weight on his hip opposite his rapier.
            When preparing for the boarding, he had absently tied a rope around the ladder bundle and thrown the makeshift strap over his shoulder. Now he was glad for the preparation. He sidled to the port gunwale and secured the ladder to the side and rolled it over the edge for Loupin and Gbele.
            Loupin rested her crossbow on her knees long enough to secure the other end of the ladder loosely to the rowboat's painter line. She did not know enough about knots to tie anything reliable, but finding a little boat drifting around in the harbor after sundown would be too difficult.
            "Go ahead," she whispered to Baba, reaching for her weapon again. "I'll cover you."
            The holy man nodded in Loupin's direction, wondering idly if he should wait for some sort of signal from above. He reasoned that as long as he stayed out of sight, the point was moot. He glanced at the pile of gear containing his armor and shield, then looked at the ladder. He decided that he could handle carrying his shield without too much difficulty, so he quickly slung it over his shoulder before he began to climb.
            Well, at least Lillia and Talib had Vark’s attention; Reg could tell that much by the change in tone and the tense silence above. Much better than the unpleasant sounds of steel ringing or punching through flesh. Unfortunately the logical progression of this would require Lillia and Talib to negotiate with Vark somewhere away from the deck; and that much harder to subsequent escape from, much less coordinate with.
            From the craft below, Reg gestured up towards Talib’s back at the rail as he whistled a little flutter; something readily lost in the ambient creaks and wash of the harbor.
            “Just keeping an ear to you,” Reg’s voice whispered to Talib.
            Talib tried not to jump at the voice of the adventurous Gnome in his ear, his eyes locked on Vark while sparing glances Lillia's way.
            Good, he thought, At least we've eyes on us. Hopefully the other boat is in position too.
            Feeling a bit more confident than a few seconds ago, Talib still kept his sword drawn as none of the others had seen fit to stow their weapons. Returning Vark's sly smile, he inclined his head respectfully to the corrupt dock worker.
            " Ah, but that is why I am here," he informed the man, his tone equal parts diplomatic and authoritative.
            " As the Harbourmaster's son, I am looking into this, on behalf of my client. If such riches are indeed hidden aboard this vessel, then I intend to root them out - My client here shall receive her just do and, as caretaker of this impounded ship, you and your men will be entitled to the rest in compensation for your time and hard work on behalf of the Islarans, as was said."
            In a show of trust, Talib carefully slipped his curved blade back into his sash, showing his intentions to resolve this peacefully. It pained him greatly to do so: he wanted nothing more than Vark's teeth knocked out of his ugly mouth and clattering against the deck. However, if they had a chance to acquire what they needed and leave before they attracted more attention, that was a worthy outcome as well.
            " My client knows where the treasure lays aboard this ship. You allow myself and her permission to retrieve it, you receive your cut, and we are all richer for it once we depart. Savvy?"
            “M’lord,” Lillia said toward Talib, eyelashes flickering. “These sailors have work to be done. We don’t wish to hold them up.” Her head nodded deferentially toward the deck. “We needn’t root through the whole ship. Only a select area or two. They’re beholden to the harbormaster enough as is.” There was that word again. Lillia was trying to tell him something.
            “And of course we would expect an escort,” she continued, turning to Vark. “A man or two, no more to keep an eye on us. We wouldn’t want to delay your efforts any further.”
            Vark was sweating. On the one hand, he was clearly (to Lillia, at least) keenly interested in the supposed "jewelry" that she and Talib claimed he could share a cut of. On the other, he must have been hiding something, for still he hesitated. His eyes cut to his crew - those thugs had heard Talib's offer of cutting them in, and there was only so far their loyalty reached. Vark may not have been the most brilliant man, but he was cunning enough that he knew refusing their offer flat out might result in his crew turning on him - now, or in some dark alley.
            "Well now, that certainly seems to be in order, saer Islaran," he said slowly, stalling. "Only, where exactly do y'need to be lookin'? I can spare you the trouble, and have a look myself."
            Lillia thought she caught movement out of her peripheral vision on the poop deck. That she couldn’t confirm or deny that fact spoke highly of whoever or whatever moved there. She prayed it was one of hers, Syd if she was lucky. If it was one of Vark’s people, the dice were weighted against them. Still, she moved to refocus attentions on her.
            “I could do that,” she replied to Vark, picking her way across the deck grate but pausing a moment to gamble again. She slapped Gul hard on the ass as she walked behind him, snatching a hold of his one buttock. She let out an almost feral grunt.
            “I could do me with some of that too,” she cooed to the hulking man. Then she drifted on before he could recover from her presence. She came to rest lightly against the main mast.
            “But you don’t have the key,” she said once more to Vark, twiddling the ring on one finger of her hand. “And the poison barb waiting there would make short work of you, I imagine, though…that’d be just a bigger cut for your comrades.”
            She hovered near the opening to the hold. She did not look down, but she was keenly aware of her location.
            “I may be a doxy,” Lillia said to Vark. “But I’m no fool. One or two may follow us to the treasure. You all get your cut, then Lord Islaran and I sail away. Just business, and easy money for you and yours.”
            "_No bodies over the rail; no ringing steel,_" Reg observed in his spell-carrying whisper to Talib. "_You'd forgive me, certainly, if curiosity gained the upper hand such that my feathered brim crested the rail to witness firsthand what is most surely a marvelous play. Alas, I've enough mind to bear patience for sake of the risks you're in. But do, dear man, work in deft commentary and health of the situation as you can, in your spoken word._"
            Talib once more had to try not to wince or startle at the dancing words of the gnome in his ears and head. the entire situation was surreal: Lillia was an enchanting actress with a rapt audience, magic words formed in the sailor's mind's eye, and somehow neither him nor the 'doxy' were dead yet. So far? Better than expected.
            Reginald wanted him to recount what was going on ..? Well, Talib supposed he could flow that into natural conversation ...
            " The woman speaks fair," Talib began, dipping his head slightly and giving Lillia a grin that was a touch predatory, " And she does well to remember my _Title_." He turned to Vark, moving slowly across the deck towards his companion. A hand rested casually upon the hilt of his sword, the other dancing in the air as he spoke to point out or reference things, as much for theatrics as for Reginald's possible view of them.
            " I will escort her to the treasure, along with two of your men," he informed Vark as if the man did not have much of a choice in the matter (and he was frankly being rather generous by allowing two of the deckhands to come along).
            " You stay here with the other four and continue to mind the ship, as my father _pays you to do_," he noted, calling out the number of possible foes to Reginald, " And we will return shortly with Lord Vanderboren's gifts to split between us, and then be on our way. My father will be _most_ pleased to hear of your professionalism when I return to him. And once I take his place as Master of The Azure, _I_, too, will remember your help." He came to stand next to Lillia, giving her a knowing smirk before his dark eyes lifted back to Vark.
            " And as you can see, I can be a _very_ influential friend to have."
            Vark's face had twitched as Lillia strode over the hold grate. He was sweating freely now, despite the cooler evening air. The pungent evidence of it wafted towards them as he and his thugs slid forward, half-blocking the ladder to the dark hold.
            "Well, Lord Islaran, you've a right good offer, there," he smiled with snaggle teeth. "I'll be happy to take you up on it in the morning, but for now I've the harbormaster's schedule to keep. I have to be moving this ship to another berth, and it'll probably take a bit of time, what with the dark and all the other ships. Not worth waiting on. You understand, of course. Got to keep everything on schedule. But we'll be anchored at the pier in the morning, and there'll be better light. Got to keep the harbormaster's schedule." He offered Talib a particularly unctuous smile, and that's when Lillia knew.
            To give up immediate satisfaction with bait like this, whatever was in the hold must be hanging grounds. It seemed the other sailors knew it as well; they were silent, rather than voicing urges to accept the deal to Vark. Even Three-Tooth Sally had paused in her tabac chewing; everyone was staring at the tableau.
            The situation was precarious yet.
            Lillia gave Vark a winsome smile and said, “Oh, you played it so well, right up until the end there.” Then her face fell. When it did, her whole mien changed. The doxy costume sloughed away, and it was replaced with something more terrifying for the brigands, a thing rigid and unyielding.
            “How long until the other harbor patrol arrives?” she asked Talib. “About three or four minutes?”
            " Give or take," the sailor mused dryly, letting his blade once again slide slowly from his sash. Catching onto Lillia's ploy, Talib lightly waved the tip of his sword about the deck to point at the rigging and anchor rope. " This ship couldn't even push off within half an hour as is. She's not going anywhere anytime soon, oh no."
            Nodding in response to his affirmation, Lillia delivered the second punch while the pirates were still reeling from her first question. “Sergeant Sidious,” she called up to the poop deck. “Are your men in position?”
            Syd's adrenaline kicked in as soon as he recognized the change in tack. He smirked as she gave him a rank as if he was constabulary, and that name... it took all his willpower to resist laughing.
            Now leaning easily against the wheel pillar, his rapier free and pointing directly at Vark. "Oh yes, very much in position, ma'am." He grinned widely at any who turn in his direction.
            Lillia continued to project her voice ship wide as she announced with practiced ease, “Prettyboy, Pickethead, Yarsa, and Gul, Finney Threelegs, Pick-‘em-up Rors, Mera Veskat, Ketrana, and Three-tooth Sally…drop your weapons…and you are free to go.”
            “We only want the ringleader,” Lillia said, her eyes coming back to Vark. “Soller Vark, you are to be held accountable to harbor law for the crimes of theft, conspiracy, and the transport and exchange of illegal goods. Yield…and you may yet cut a deal.”
            “Any who resist!” she cried out. “Will hang.”
            To emphasize Lillia's point, Talib flourished his scimitar with practiced ease, letting the steel glint in the sunlight and water's reflection.
            " _If_ the Azure Marines even take you alive, that is," he added wickedly.
            "Somehow I doubt it, Lord Islaran," Syd added with a dry, humorless chuckle.
            Reg may have only caught bits of the change in tone, but that along with some hints from Talib’s spoken replies gave him enough context. From the waterline and craft Reg was steadying, About a hundred feet away, the splay of a muted bullseye lantern came visible from around the hull of another anchored vessel and swung towards the Nixie, its glare bobbing gently with the waves but with inexorable progress towards the ship.
            Vark's face had slowly paled as Lillia and the others spoke; the bobbing light was the final straw. _"Burn them! Burn them all!"_ Vark bellowed, his unctuous smile turned to a grimace of rage and fear. He backed off toward the rail, blade raised, as his crew scattered, diving into the dark harbor water on the far side of the ship from Reg's light. A few clambered into the rowboat that Baba Gbele, Loupin and Syd had left behind, and began to row for shore with all their might. The rest swam for their lives!
            A few moments later, two more confused-looking thugs - Rors and Finney - burst out of the aft cabin with weapons out, even as smoke began to waft from the hold. The shrieking of panicked monkeys, parrots, and other creatures welled up from the hold - along with a high-pitched human scream, and a strange, shrill keening.
            “Fire!!” Lillia shouted. Whether it was to indicate the state of the Nixie's hold or to launch ranged weaponry was anyone’s guess. Likely it was both.
            “You’re a fool _and_ a murderer now, Vark,” she said to the pirate, then shouted, “Take him!” She tilted her head and spoke in careful tones to Talib over one shoulder. “He’ll have the keys for below.”
            Then the half-elven-human doxy-turned-sheriff darted off with a sudden burst of speed. She bolted for the aft cabin, disappearing through the doorway and into the shadows beyond. Looking around, she found herself in a wardroom, with two other doors. Choosing the one straight ahead on the assumption that the captain's cabin lay beyond, she stepped up to the closed door.
            Syd chuckled as he watched Vark's toughs abandon him as quickly as they could. Ah, honor among thieves, indeed. The Elf watched the scene below as Vark positioned himself along the port side, the two remaining toughs at his side. Syd recognized them and smirked. He hopped down from the aft deck to the main, seeming more cat-like than one might expect. He calmly walked over to the group, his lanky legs allowing him to traverse the surface quickly. He pointed his rapier at the first man, though he didn't make a move to use it beyond that. "Come on, Finney, you really going to go down with Vark here? He's the one we're after, not you. After all, since Siobhan's left you, who's going to look after your kid? He's what? Five, six now?" Syd shook his head, "Won't be easy living on the streets with his Ma in gaol."
            "Wh-what?" Finney's expression was equal parts astonishment and worry. "Do I know you? Have you been following me?! You leave my boy alone!" The shaken thug wavered, clearly having second thoughts about fighting when she was both outnumbered, and apparently under the heavy regard of the authorities.
            Vark was concerned with entirely different matters. "What? Whaddaya mean?! I ain't no murderer! Don't you pin nothing on me, you lubbers!" he yelled, climbing onto the railing. There he paused, glancing toward the aft cabin where Lillia had gone with a strange expression that Syd interpreted as regretful greed. His fine rapier in hand, he balanced on the railing in a crouch, ready for any attackers.
            Reg wasted no time on quips or random thoughts. The scream had set him to determined action; he had not for a moment previously considered Vark might be keeping people or creatures bound within the vessel, and it put the entire endeavor into a new height of risk. Trespassing on an impounded vessel was one thing, quite different from coming to the aid of a ship aflame with people trapped inside. Reg threw back his hat from his head; it would fare fine on its own in the boat; briskly climbed onto the ladder, braced against the side of the Nixie, and kicked the launch away with a shove of his bootheel. With eyes only for the rail above Reg ascended to reach the deck.
            Twenty yards away, what was the bobbing light of the approaching force shifted to alternating pulses of bright red and white, and streaked upward to circle and be better visible by all the craft in the harbor, signaling the Nixie's distress. It may only be as bright as a torch, but Reg counted that its movement and position and color would all work to their favor.
            Loupin had barely managed to get up on deck, and mostly she wanted to kick the crap out of those guys who stole their boat, but even without the lights zipping around she could see Talib was in trouble. She dipped into her spell pouch. There wasn't too much in it at the moment, other than what she was looking for.
            "Onward I sped at the time, " she incanted, against the licking of the waves against the stern, and across the violet shadows of the folded sailcloth, "but now of their forms at night, I dream, I dream..."
            Then she blew a pinch of white petals off the palm of her hand.
            The breeze picked up the petals and blew them gently around the three sailors, settling softly on their hair, clothes, and sweaty skin. As one, their eyes rolled back, and they slumped to the deck - or in Vark's case, smacked into it as he toppled off the rail. The sudden impact jarred him awake again, but now he lay flat on the deck with his rapier inches from his hand. "Whur," he garbled, trying to get his bearings.
            Baba Gbele took in the scene before him, and quickly determined where his efforts would be most productive. He saw Loupin casting a spell of some kind, so he paused in his action, rocking back and forth on his heels to get his balance. Once the spell went off, he broke into a run, leaping off the aft deck in the direction of the thugs. He let out an ululating warcry as he arced into the night air.
            The Chultan holy man was caught in the last dying rays of the sun, vengeance personified as he leapt for the thugs. However, his feet were still slimed a bit by the climb up the algae-covered ropes, and he skidded on his landing, going to his hands and knees.
            His warcry didn't wake the thugs under Loupin's lullaby spell, but Vark looked up in horrified fear. Meanwhile, the roars, hoots, screeches and howls had grown louder and more intense as smoke poured out of the hold.
            Talib had barely time to act before his new comrades fell upon the crew and, like magic, they all seemed to lose consciousness and clatter to the deck. Curious at the display, the sailor approached cautiously, noting quite quickly that though his goons dozed in arcane sleep, Vark was still very much awake.
            Talib was upon him in an instant, the hawk above the rabbit as his foot kicked the man's blade away towards Syd, his own scimitar brandished right at Vark's thick neck.
            " Move, and I will run your deck crimson," the former pirate growled, gently pressing the steel of his sword a little more firmly against Vark's neck. With a glance away towards the lithe Elf of the party, Talib jerked his head towards the downed pirate. " What do you reckon?"
            The elf shook his head as the toughs fell. Well, at least they aren't swinging steel. His rapier dropped but remained out as he loped over to Vark. He picked up the man's fine rapier, idly comparing it to his own. His eyes glanced to Talib during this. "We should tie him up," his chin thrust in Vark's direction. "There's rope at the mast."
            Talib nodded to the suggestion. " Indeed. But there's more to do here than wrangle pirates."
            He leaned down and grabbed Vark by the collar of his top, dragging him up to be face to face. " Count your blessings. Had you met me a few years ago, you may not have survived this encounter."
            "Mercy! Mercy! What in Beshaba's black underwear do you want? I'll give you anything!" Vark whined, hands up. "I've got money, d'you want money? Let me go, please!"
            The rich tang of smoke reached Lillia even inside the aft cabin. She’d never been on a burning ship, and the threat of fire kept her heart and senses running at top speed. How long did she have if it got out of control? A minute? Maybe two? Depended on the type of fire started. She had to find the ring while she could still see. Salvage that at least if the ship went down.
            ‘Idiot,’ she mentally cursed Vark for having such a horrific contingency in place. Despite her ire toward the smuggler, a slice of reproach was also self-served for not having imagined the possibility.
            She swept aside the torrent of thoughts and reached for the handle, casting Istus a fleeting, wishful promise.
            The door opened easily at her touch, and swung open to reveal, as she had expected, the captain's quarters. The bed was rumpled, suggesting what Vark and Ketrana had been up to, but the captain's desk and chair sat where they ought. Lillia went in, going behind the desk to begin her search.

            Reg finally crested the ship's rail, small hands grabbing with determined urgency followed by the gnome heaving himself up and onto the deck with belated aplomb. He took in the rising smoke, the wary blades-out confrontation at the far rail, and unaccountedfulness of one or two expected compatriots. What Reginald presumed to be Vark looked sorely pressed, so Reg saw fit to undo his own exerted rope-climbed altitude earnings and turned to descend the stairs to the lower deck.
            The stairs led down to the galley of the Nixie, where foodstuffs were stored and a small stove resided. There was a door to his right, and he moved toward it.
            Loupin scrambled to the rail and leaned out far enough to see the sailors down in their rented rowboat. She wasn't sure what she was thinking, exactly, except that if the ship sank with the ring still aboard, they probably weren't going to get paid much of anything.
            "Hey you," she yelled down at them, while threatening with an empty palm, "I'm a bad-tempered wizard, and that's our boat. You're not our target -- we know it was just a job -- but if you want to avoid trouble, stay put. We'll lower one of these dinghies down to you. You can leave in that."
            Ketrana yelled back something highly unlikely about Loupin's ancestry, while Three-tooth Sally finally got the knot holding the boat anchored untied, and Prettyboy grabbed the oars, beginning to row with all his might. The boat moved so suddenly that Sally nearly fell into the harbor, and she harangued Prettyboy while Ketrana paused in heaping foul-mouthed insults on Loupin long enough to laugh, despite their situation.
            "Row, thtupid! ROW!" Sally insisted, and Prettyboy snarled back at her. Around them, the sailors who had leapt overboard were struggling to shrug out of their leather armor, making very slow progress in swimming away. Here and there, abandoned crossbows and bolts floated.
            Talib dropped the man back to the deck and took a step backwards, wary but confident that the situation above decks was in hand. " Watch him," he called to Syd and Gbele both, " Tie him and his crooks up and get them on our boats."
            The holy man stood, appreciating the efficiency with which their wise-woman dispatched the thugs. That being said, he couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that he hadn't been needed in the fight. He visibly took a long, deep breath, and decided to follow Talib's suggestion, despite the fact that it was barked as more of an order. Gbele took orders from no worldly man, but a good idea was a good idea.
            Gbele grabbed some rope, and began to tie Vark's hands together. He spoke not a word, but stared into the man's eyes the entire time, in a manner that was stern and unsettling.
            Talib sheathed his blade and then turned towards where Lillia had vanished below. Tearing at his shirt sleeve and running it against the exposed blade of his scimitar to cut off a neat, long strip of cloth, the sailor ran the fabric against the gunwale to soak in the seawater that collected on the wood. With the cloth wet, he tied it over his nose and mouth, muffling his voice. " There's someone else on this ship. I can't let them go down with it."
            With that, the sailor rushed off to go below. He knew he had heard the scream of someone once the fires began - a sickening thought, that Vark was willing to burn someone alive just to hide his crimes. While Lillia went for the ring, Talib was solely focused on finding whoever it was that was trapped.
            " Hello?" he called loudly, peering into the dark and the smoke, " Can anyone hear me? Do you need help?"
            No one answered - at least, that he could hear over the alarmed noises of the sickly exotic animals caged there, one atop the other. At least two dozen cages, from what he could make out from around the mast by the light of the lantern at the far end of the hold, through the haze of smoke. It wasn't just the smoke from the flickering few flames set in some of the cages at the far end that was riling the animals, though. The largest of the cages, this one of iron bars, was unlatched and open, and many of the smaller ones smashed, their occupants dead and strangely dessicated.
            Then he saw it, through the smoke; an arm lying lifeless at the far end of the hold, the body obscured by the cages... and something enormous and horrid skittering over it. Some kind of insect, but the size of a man!
            It crouched over its prey, eyeing Talib with far too many eyes. That strange keening sounded again, high and unpleasant.
            " By all the Winds," Talib scowled at this new encounter, drawing his blade again and preparing to face the new adversary. First pirates, then a burning boat, now some monster! He reminded himself to have a talk with Lady Vanderboren after all was set and done on the _Nixie_.
            Speaking of, it seemed there was still a chance to snuff the flames - they had not spiraled out of control yet, and it would be most depressing to lose a ship so beautiful. Plus, there was probably a bonus in it if the _Nixie_ could be returned, as well as the Lady's keepsake. But first, the beast with too many eyes.
            " I've fought hurricanes and red sails," he admonished the creature, his eyes darting through the smoke to see the way that some of the animals had been ... drained, it appeared. He didn't care that the monster couldn't understand him, but the sight was definitely enough to send a shiver up his spine.
            " Hey! There's some kinda monster down here, and a bunch of caged animals too!" Talib shouted, " The flames are still infantile, we can snuff them if we've some water or sand or the like!"
            He inched closer to the insectile creature, trying not to stare into its plethora of disturbing eyes.
            " I was not ready for today," he bemoaned, brandishing his scimitar and still keeping up his approach. He swept through the air at the creature, steel gleaming against the fires and through the sunlight that pierced through to here. " Back! Back you beast! Lest you face Talib the Sailor!"
            _I'm threatening a bug. This is what my life has come to._
            Trying to peer around the monster to see if the person he intended to rescue was even still alive, Talib kept his guard (and his sword) up, prepared to deal with the creature if it proved hostile.
            Hostile it was, and larger even than it had seemed at first. It rushed at him, mandibles snapping as it emitted that terrible keening, scurrying along the stacked cages and sending some crashing to the floor, trapped animals and all! Its ten flailing legs knocked into Talib, trying to pin him, and brushing aside his parrying scimitar. It knocked him to the floor, a bizarre pony-sized ant-spider mix grown nightmarishly large and aggressive.
            Lifting his legs, he booted the monster off of him and regained his feet, but it was circling the mast with him, pedipalps testing his resolve. He slashed at it, but it was horribly quick, like most insects. Theirs was a game of cat and mouse, for now.
            The question for Talib was which was the hunter and which the prey, for he did not feel very much in his element all of a sudden. The insect's forelimbs kept lashing out, trying to feel, trying to grab and restrain, and each time Talib swept his blade at them, both man and monster trying to seek the advantage in this contest.
            " Little help here!" he shouted above the scrambling of eight-too-many-legs, the creature shrieking at him again in its frustration to pin down this quarry. Talib himself was just struggling to stand: the monster had knocked the wind out of him thoroughly, leaving it hard to breathe in the cramped quarters while still trying to dodge the ant-spider-_no_'s attacks.
            " _Really_ would appreciate a hand!" Talib called desperately, the monster lunging for him as he stepped deftly out of the way, trying to slash for a leg only for it to quite literally knock his sword aside in a flourish that a fencing master would be proud of.
            _Oh, so you can do that but I can't!?_ he raged inwardly, standing off with the arachna-insect. Indecapod? Bug. The bug.
            He doubted he could escape - it was too fast. Talib had little choice but to hold the line until help could arrive. With that in mind, he studied the creature's movements, trying to find his best chance to get past its guard and strike it down for good, all while his blade carefully tracked the monster. He was taken unawares once: he would not let it happen again.

            Syd watched Talib vanish into the bowels of the ship, half wanting to follow. But the thugs could wake up at any moment, best to keep the situation in hand. If there was need of his assistance, he was sure someone would let him know. He stood there and nodded to Gbele, "Hand me a length of that rope, would you?" He slipped both rapiers into his belt to free his hands for the work.
            Gbele tied up Finney without waking her, surprisingly deft for such a powerful fellow.
            In no time, Syd had tied Rors up as well, while Baba Gbele watched Vark. The scumbag knelt with a look of confusion on his face; how had this all happened so quickly?
            Reg paused for a few precious moments in the galley, looking about for smallkegs of water storage or similar -- something he could confirm contained water or weak ale, something he could grab to hand and carry to potentially use to douse a small ship's fire that hadn't yet caught hold in earnest.
            Casting a discerning eye about, in a trice he had found a barrel of semi-dirty water with a bucket beside it, as well as several kegs and barrels of indeterminate content.
            Loupin, having decided it wasn't worth it to start a fight with anybody -- and not being sure whether a wet crossbow was a useless crossbow -- went to work on freeing the nearest launch. She probably couldn't haul it into the water herself, but maybe she could get it ready and help Baba do it. He looked strong for his height. She had her dagger, too, in the event that the knots defied logic.
            She heard the yelling coming from below deck, but didn't know what to make of it. How bad could one bug be? She'd seen some pretty big bugs back on the plantation; most of them just ate other bugs.
            "Let me know if you guys need help," she called to Baba and Syd. "I'm just making new friends over here..." The knots were tight, but meant to be freeable; in short order she had one of the launches free.

            A quick glance through the captain's cabin revealed a large trunk, stowed beneath the relatively wide bunk; what caught Lillia's eye was the fancifully carved headboard of the bunk. A search with nimble fingers revealed a secret panel.
            Lillia’s hands were moving before her mind was, quickened by the smell of smoke. Almost too quick. Almost.
            Her fingers paused as they contacted the patinated wood. This headboard would no doubt sing an epic tale if able, of lords and ladies, captains and crew, pirates and mistresses beyond number. That last thought made her sneer at the state of the sheets she was kneeling upon. Would such stories, such secrets be worth guarding with lethal promise? Could her lie about the needle waiting for Vark have been unwitting premonition?
            She knew Istus was fickle, and she had been lucky getting this far so swiftly.
            Her hand withdrew slightly, and she studied the panel mechanism carefully for a few moments more. Then Talib’s voice rang out, and the urgency of the night crashed home once again. She let her instincts guide her as she worked to reveal what lay hidden within the headboard.
            Her diligence brought no hidden needle, tripwire, or other sinister precautions to light, and so, with a breath to steady her, she opened the panel.
            There lay the promised signet ring, a scrap of parchment threaded through it.
            It was the work of a moment to tuck it away.
            Lillia only paused for a moment, eyeing the trunk and other potential valuables in the salty cabin. She had what they came for and that would be more than enough. But her eyes still wandered…until she heard Talib cry out. Then she broke into a run for open air.

            Down in the hold, the situation seemed dire. The horrid insect seemed bent on devouring Talib's juices as it had most of the other animals' in the hold. It circled the mainmast with him, probing, probing, with two of its hideously long and alien legs. In a sudden lunge, it wrapped him in its legs, dragging him toward its mandibles. They clacked against his slender scimitar, which he managed to interpose with a twist of his wrist. Unable to pierce his defense, yet able to keep him from doing more than trimming its bristling hairs with its legs securely grasping him, it seemed to have the upper... leg.
            The bug hissed and Talib _screamed_ into its face. Not cries of fear but roars of anger and vitriol as he clattered his blade against its mandibles, unable to remove himself from the _horrid_ feeling of its insectile hairs holding him in place.
            " I'm going to turn your gods-damned shell into a rowboat!" he shouted, trying to kick at the monster's abdomen while keeping his back flat to the deck in an attempt to stay as far from its sharp jaws as possible, " And I'll use your karkin' teeth as the paddle! _Nobody_ eats Talib Islaran and lives!"
            Frankly, it seemed very much that the bug _would_ eat him, however.
            "Ah." The holy man looked down at the bound prisoners, then over to the hatch that led below. "Perhaps," he responded to Loupin, "you could watch these while you take that boat." He didn't wait for an answer, judging the certainty of Talib's danger against the low possibility that any of the prisoners could effectively escape and do harm to them. He moved toward the sound of Talib's voice, drawing his pick as he did so.
            He made it halfway down the ladder to the smoky hold before realizing that Talib and a nightmarish creature were struggling right below him. Jumping off the ladder, he landed in the nearest open spot, on the far side of the mainmast from the squirming thing.
            " By the favorable winds, Baba, _get this thing off of me_!" Talib demanded upon seeing one of his companions. His momentary distraction had his blade slip and the creature lunge forward to lop off the sailor's head. At the last second, the scimitar was wedged back into its mandibles, man and beast both determined to kill one another. Talib twisted and turned where he could, desperate to break free - Tashlunta would _never_ stop talking about how Talib The Sailor was devoured by a _bug_ of all things, and he refused to give the city that pleasure.
            Lillia assessed the situation upon the deck swiftly, registering all those still upon the deck. Then she careened to a stop above the drop into the hold and leaned her head over the side.
            “Would you quit messing around down th--” she started to shout before drawing up short. “By the forgotten gods,” she hissed, her eyes wide and transfixed on the giant insect.
            " Forgotten Gods, Remembered Gods, Eldritch Gods, Lost Gods, Dead Gods, _please just stab this thing repeatedly_," Talib called above to Lillia, still trying to kick the inserachnapod off of him and break out of its creepy and deadly hold.
            As if he didn't have enough to worry about - if he survived this, now _Lillia_ got to see him roughly pinned by a man-eating bug. Not exactly a flattering portrayal of Talib the Sailor.
            Try as he might, he couldn't wiggle free of the thing's two grasping legs. Whenever he made leeway with one, the other would grab him again!
            Vark staggered to his feet, alarm clearing the dazed expression from his features. "The rhagodessa's loose?" He glanced at Syd, though the hatch to the hold had most of his attention. "We'd best swim for it, if y'know what's good for ya!"
            Syd glanced nervously between Vark and the hold where Talib was shouting alarmingly. He rocked on his heels for a moment before making his decision. "Shit," he said simply. "You, stay put," he pointed a finger at Vark before stepping over to the hatch. He glanced down to take in the tableau and judge positions before stepping back and dropping gracefully into it. He aimed his descent towards the giant bug itself, intending to vault over it to land behind the skittering creature.
            The space between the heaving back of the squirming insect and the deck above was narrow - but that made little difference to one with Syd's grace and skill. Using the thing's bulging abdomen as a springboard, he vaulted lightly over the struggling combatants, landing behind the spider-ant creature and drawing his new sword with a flourish. The rapier's thin blade glittered in the light of the fires behind him.
            Talib’s calls for assistance pushed through the bulkhead door and the general tumultuous cacophony readily enough. Satisfied he knew where to find a bucket and water, Reg drew rapier to hand and opened the galley door to what he presumed would be the hold proper. Egads! Talib’s frustrated yells and scrabbling dance partner quickly drew his eye even through the disarray of the hold. He immediately felt the absence of Setoa at his side; the jaguar would surely make short work of… whatever that was upon Talib… but no, the kindled flames would give Setoa due caution.
            Reg moved through the cargo to assist; chiton that insect-thing may have, but even chiton had gaps a rapier could find.
            As he moved into the hold, he realized that one of the sailors - a woman he recognized by description as Mera Veskat - lay on the deck, motionless, mostly hidden from the others by the piles of crushed cages and bodies of unlucky animals, including a dessicated leopard that reminded him strongly of Setoa. What few animals hadn't yet fallen prey to the nightmarish insect were in an uproar, squawking and screeching and trying to get loose. A lantern burned on the bulkhead wall, casting light along with the sputtering fires on the chaotic scene.
            A hulking carapace wriggled at the far end of the hold, half-hidden by the stacks of cages lining the walls. Far too many hairy, segmented legs the size of fenceposts clattered on the deck as the creature strained to sink its mandibles into Talib. It must have succeeded, if the noise Talib made was any indication; in fact, its mandibles had just barely managed to penetrate his armor, pinching the flesh beneath.
            Talib redoubled his efforts to keep the thing at bay as Gbele hesitated.

            “No worries,” Lillia said to Syd as she moved past him while he eyed up his entrance. “If he moves, the only thing he’ll be swimming in is blood.”
            A blade had appeared in her hand. The narrow slip of metal was dusky and didn’t catch much light, but the wicked looking tip and the way she carried it conveyed its purpose clearly.
            She placed that sharp tip against the base of Vark’s skull and leaned in a bit closer. “If anything happens to Lord Islaran,” she growled at him with low heat. “You’ll _wish_ I’d thrown you down to that _thing_.”
            And the more she thought about it…the more she liked the neat closure of that idea.
            Vark slowly sank to his knees again... but there was murder in his eyes. He eyed Loupin and Lillia from the corner of his eye, speculatively.
            Loupin had to suppress an eye-roll as she let go of the little boat. If Vark was willing to burn the entire ship down in front of their party, was he really just going to stand there quivering in front of a lone girl? His back was to the water. But with all the threats flying around, a lame charm spell seemed suddenly like a waste of effort, and judging by the way Syd and Gbele were swinging their wieners around it didn't look like anybody was actually going to bother putting the stupid fire out. She should have memorized a spell that would have taken care of that, but it hadn't occurred to her that an experience sailor like Talib would have ignored that in favor of pooping his pantaloons over a weird bug.
            "So I guess I'll just douse this fire so we don't all wind up dead or in a prison," Loupin said loudly to nobody, trotting towards the water barrel on the deck -- which wasn't right at hand, leaving her time to send to her parrot a little mental message that he ought to consider flying out far enough to monitor the progress and fate of their stolen dinghy, as losing track of that would result in her not having enough money to feed him tomorrow. She might have warned him to use real caution in getting too close to the thieves, but he was a coward without any additional prompting, and maybe all enemy crossbows were in the water already.
            The water barrel was squatting by the mast, just by the hold grating. Smoke billowed up in thin plumes from the hold, rank with the smell of burnt feathers and fur.
            Now at close quarters with the giant arachnid, the horror of the thing finally hit Syd. He was momentarily taken aback, but recovered quickly. He was looking at the rear of the thing, after all. The business end was busy with Talib. He shook his head and focused on the lurching abdomen. He poked Vark's Fancy Sword ™ at the thing, attempting to get under the chitinous carapace and into the soft underbelly. "Get off him, you ugly beast!"
            The rhagodessa made an unpleasantly sharp keening noise again as Syd stabbed it in the rear, bunching up its legs to lift its abdomen higher into the air.
            First things first. Bucket in hand, Reg moved into the hold and tossed the water he had to dash the aspirations of Mera’s fledgling flames. He flung the empty bucket back towards the kitchen doorway to free his hands, and drew his rapier. He gave Mera a passing thought; she may not be through for this world, yet; but Talib’s call for help took priority.
            The fire sputtered and hissed as it went out where he threw the water, but still there were other fires growing amid the cages.
            "Sorry if this makes everything worse down there," Loupin yelled down into the hold, as she laid hold of the barrel to tip it or the water or both over the grate.
            The remaining fires were quenched in the sudden deluge from above. The still-living animals quieted momentarily as they were drenched, shaking off water and blinking in soaked surprise in the steam.
            “Capital! The fires are extinguished! Well done!” Reg called upwards through the main deck’s grate over the hold. Reg pulled his rapier to hand and closed to join the scuffle with the insect.
            His first attack fell short as the monster's legs simply scuttled about more quickly than he had anticipated. Still, they had the thing all but trapped now.
            The rhagodessa dropped Talib and whirled on the source of its pain - Syd. With a swiftness that stunned the elf, the creature grabbed him with its two pedipalps and sheared through his armor with its mandibles - only enough to pinch him before he fended it off with his fine rapier, but those huge mandibles would leave large bruises where they had pinched him.
            The holy man appraised the situation. He had seen big bugs in the jungle, but never anything so large and dangerous as this. And so aggressive! He would contemplate the callousness of people who would burn animals, and potentially people, alive in order to cover their selfish crimes later. Now was time for action. The holy man said a quick prayer to Ubtao, then touched Talib on the arm. He then took a moment to study the monstrous creature, looking for its weaknesses.
            There were the expected chinks in the creature's chitin, but Gbele believed that there were spots - just _there,_ and _there_ - where a blow might prove more effective than otherwise in separating vital organs from each other, or at least poking holes in them.
            Having finally been dropped by the horrific monster and now with fresh allies to join the fight, Talib Islaran leaped back to his feet and, shrugging off the pain of having his insides thoroughly squeezed by the bug's pincers, he threw himself into the fight to save Syd.
            A swift step put him right behind the monster, giving Syd and Gbele ample room as well to fight. Seeking to force the creature to let his elven comrade go, Talib swung his sailor's blade towards the soft underbelly of the creature, prepared to hack at its limbs as needed to force an opening on the damnable thing.
            All the while, he kept a sharp eye out on the monster's movements: he had been taken unawares too many times for his taste - the blood ruining his white shirt was proof of that.
            He would not allow it to happen again.
            His blade shaved some of the bristling hairs off the creature's abdomen, scraping its carapace. It tried to back right up the wall of the ship, like a much smaller insect, but its weight kept it from performing such a trick, and its abdomen continued to bob at Talin's head-height.
            Syd gritted his teeth when the big arachnid bit into him. It was unnaturally fast! He had always counted on his speed and agility to avoid strikes from larger opponents, like this damned beast. He was afraid the bite would have done more damage, or injected him with poison or the like. Thankfully it wasn't the case... that wouldn't last with the pedipalps grasping him.
            He reached forward and stabbed the damn thing in the face.
            The creature stretched back to avoid the blow, its long legs keeping Syd caught, but it still suffered a poke from his swift attack. It keened again, knocking his rapier aside with its mandibles as it drove in for the kill.
            “This isn’t your moment,” Lillia said to Vark with a reassuring poke of the dagger tip. “You might get your chance. You _might_. But this is not it.”
            Lillia didn’t like the sounds she was hearing from below. Although in truth, silence would have been more horrible. Information was her greatest weapon. She wanted to see what was going on. Or, at least, that’s what the darkness within said to convince her nobler side.
            “Crawl forward to the edge,” she ordered. The blade skated around to the side of his neck when he balked and she added, “On your knees.”
            Lillia was poised. She held her dagger at the ready if Vark chose to make his play. If he did, she had no problem ridding the world of that sneer.
            Vark knew that this was it - his only chance, no matter what she said. The lying drenchrag only had a dagger on him, and the other one - elf-looking, she was, too frail for a real fight - was busy pouring water into the hold. Besides, what could two women possibly do to him? It was only because of her lies that he'd lost his crew - lost everything! Well, he'd teach her a thing or two about wrestling with sea-snakes.
            He made a show of reluctantly crawling forward - and then lunged at Lillia's knees!
            Her reaction time was split-second - she slashed at him with her blade the moment he tensed, but he threw up an arm and caught the worst of the cut on his leather bracer. Thrown off balance as he slammed into her legs, her retaliatory attack missed, but she remained on her feet. Vark lurched to his feet as well, a snarl on his sneery face.

            The rhagodessa had no expression that Syd could read, but he could feel the wrath in its mandibles as they crushed down on him. He could feel ribs crack and skin rupture under the pressure as it squeezed his armor.
            Baba Gbele stared at the insectile creature with the focus of a predator stalking its prey. He took one long, slow step forward, his pick poised over his shoulder, then he attacked like a striking snake. His pick sank deep into a vulnerable spot in its carapace, and the hideous creature recoiled, trying to shake him off by spinning in place, back and forth, taking Syd with it. It succeeded in wrenching the pick free, but its slower movements suggested that he had, indeed, hit something vital.
            Hearing Syd cry out in pain was a familiar feeling Talib was not ready to relive: he know how strong those jaws were.
            " Let him go, you bastard!" he roared, kicking at one of the creature's many legs to try and get its attention. With three men all ganging up on it and restricting its movement, one of them _had_ to land a solid blow.
            _Surely_ one of them would.
            With that in mind, Talib added to the assault, trying to overwhelm the monster by once again attempting to hack and cleave at the giant bug, scimitar making graceful slices through the air with the intent to maim. This time, his scimitar left ichor-bleeding gashes in the thing's torso. It keened loudly, the sharp sound grating in their ears.
            Syd cried out in pain as the beast bit into him. It was quite a bit less dignified or courageous than his entrance, but he wasn't quite expecting to be eaten! The elf squirmed in the creature' s grasp, desperate to break free.
            He made a truly heroic effort to slip out of the rhagodessa's entangling palps, swinging his feet up and over himself to twist free while the bug was distracted - and lithe as he was, the tactic worked! He found himself weak-kneed, but standing, on the creaking deck of the Nixie, amid a confusion of broken and intact wooden cages. Monkeys and parrots shrieked at him from close range as he took stock of his injuries; he could feel blood flowing down his sides.
            Reg caught Baba out of the corner of his eye; surely, with four of them on this beastie, they'd shortly put the insect down. He called report topside, "Fires are out, one beastie scrabbling about, but with all of us upon it, it'll be in hand shortly. Nasty bugger!"
            He stabbed at the creature's joints in an effort to disable one of its pedipalps, and while his rapier couldn't penetrate its carapace, it did curl in that pedipalp for a few precious seconds.
            Cornered and injured, the insect proved that being in such a situation did not make it _less_ dangerous. It pounced on Gbele, and though the powerful warrior tried to keep its mandibles from closing on him, it managed to clamp them around his waist before a blow with the pick to its face drove it back. It bunched its legs around it against the hull of the ship, multifaceted eyes inscrutable. Ichor dripped to the gently swaying deck beneath it.
            The holy man was loathe to use healing on himself, but the situation called for it. He was convinced that he couldn't survive another mauling like the one the bug just dished out. He considered healing Syd, but he couldn't easily reach the elf. So, he took a step away from the fight, and cast his spell as quickly as he could.
            His chant called on the magic of Ubtao, and his hands directed it. In a few moments, nothing remained of his wounds, and he felt better prepared to deal with the spider-ant-creature.
            " So you _do_ bleed, you monstrous malcontent!" Talib roared in victory at seeing the mutli-eyed menace's blood upon his blade. He refused to let up - it had already injured several of them and he didn't want the creature to strike yet again. Pressing the attack, the son of Islaran flourished his blade, trying to get around its bunched legs.
            He'd cut each of them off if he had to at this point - the archna-insect was clearly too dangerous to keep alive at this point. It would cause chaos if it got loose.
            What was it even _doing_ on Lady Vanderboren's ship??
            Despite its tough exoskeleton, Talib managed to give one of its legs a solid whack. It rounded on him, as expected, but he had already raised his blade back into a guard position, and it had learned to be wary of that.
            Back on his feet, Syd took a brief moment to take stock of himself. He allowed a ragged breath, and cringed as a sharp pain erupted along his side. He slipped his left hand under his tunic to feel the stinging, broken flesh, and brought it away dripping blood. "Yeah, that'll take more than a beer to fix," he muttered to himself.
            The big bug was still a threat, though, and he focused back on it. Vark's Fancy Sword ™ was still in his hand, so he made use of it, lunging towards the creature in retaliation for his pain, though the action itself aggravated the wound and caused further pain. Discretion being the better part of valor, he stepped back after making his strike.
            Vark's fancy sword had the perfect tip for punching into small crevices, and Syd managed to poke a hole in the rhagodessa's abdomen.
            “I say! I think that’s a rhagodessa! Wind spider!” Reg exclaimed mirthfully at finally getting a good look at the beastie. “You ought to see one tear across the desert sometime. From a safe vantage, that is. And not _this_ particular one.” Reg shuffled places into the bit of the fray that Syd had vacated, squaring off the rhagodessa opposite Talib, and sliced in with his rapier. “Quickly now! Before my hat drifts too far away!”
            Sharp though Reg's rapier was, when he struck the bend in one of the thing's legs, the rapier bent, unable to penetrate its tough chitin. It sprang back into form when he stepped back, being a well-made blade, but now the spider-creature scuttled towards him, its long stilt-like legs clattering on the deck. With lightning speed it pounced, grabbing him with its palp and trying to crush him with its mandibles. He was able to fight it off, for now, but with each passing moment his strength flagged as he was forced to turn those nasty ant-teeth away again and again. It keened again - perhaps not a sign of pain, as one might expect, but a threat?
            Gbele was not much for conversation during a fight. Not any time, really, truth be told. His wound healed, he took a step forward into the fray, and swung his pick at the creature. Surely it must be badly wounded by now?
            His pick cracked through its chitinous hide and sank deep, causing the monster to spin about and try to back away from the source of this new pain.
            " Reg!" Talib cried out as the rhago-monster set itself upon the charming gnome, the corsair chasing after the spider with a sweeping slash.
            " This is insane, have we nothing but these useless blades!?" he called out, trying to find something, anything else that would put this thing down for good. He spared a moment to look skywards, letting his voice ring out further.
            " Ladies, if you wouldn't mind wrapping it up with our guest up there?" he asked, dodging a flailing leg and trying to slice through the creature's abdomen again, " No rush though!"
            Quips aside, Talib continued his swashbuckling duel with the back end of the rhagodessa which, despite Reg's assurance otherwise, the sailor was quite sure he never wanted to see again in his entire life.
            Talib just managed to rake the tip of his blade under the giant ant-spider's belly before its flailing legs drove him back - but gooey ichor continued to drip from its body, and it no longer moved with the startling speed that it had to begin with. They were wearing it down, slowly, but surely.
            Syd cringed as his side throbbed in pain. His free hand crossed his chest and held it. While the act didn't really do much, it helped him concentrate on the ongoing battle. He had hurt the bug, the hole in between two chitin plates made him smile, though not at the sick-colored ichor that dripped from it. "Remain vigilant, friends. It is hurt, and if we are smart, we will get out of here alive." His words were braver than he felt. With Reg tangling with the creature, he stepped back in to help the little gnome. He poked his sword towards the base of a pedipalp, hopefully dealing enough pain to cause the thing to retract it.
            His terrible wounds threw off his timing, making each thrust a bit slower and off-center; he poked the thing multiple times, but never managed to penetrate its hide.
            "Bah! Don't you worry about me, I'm just holding it still for you!" Reg grunted as he twisted to try to hold the beastie at bay a bit more; by the gods, but its mandibles had a squeeze!
            Reg had gotten out of plenty of sticky scrapes before, and had some small skill at it, if he had to toot his own horn - but the hairy palps of the spider seemed nigh-impossible to escape as they curled around him.
            Then, not moments later, he was dumped unceremoniously as the rhagodessa lunged at Gbele, having finally identified him as the worst threat of them all. Long, bristly hairs clung to Reg as he rolled to his feet, still in view of some of the monster's multitudinous eyes, but no longer at its dangerous front.
            Now grievously injured, the rhagodessa no longer bothered with trying to pin its opponent to crush the life from him, jumping straight to the biting. Its spider-fangs tore into him, chewing horribly. Post-like legs braced it against the ship's hull as it tried to kill him.
            The holy man had seen a vision of fighting evil spirits in his future, so it never even occurred to him that he might have his vitals chewed out by this monstrosity. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered how formidable the prey of this spider demon must be. Did it eat rhinos? Lions? Dragons? In any case, Gbele only really had one option, and that was to continue to attack. If he fell, he was confident that his new compatriots would finish the fight.
            The rhagodessa had grown wary, and scuttled away from each swing of Gbele's deadly pick. Driven by how dangerous the creature was becoming, abandoning a meal for the sake of just killing to survive, Talib kept up his assault, determined to not let the beast get the better of him and his new companions.
            The creature turned at his sharp pokes, trying to keep everyone in view with its multitude of eyes, and keened again, the sharp sound scratching at their eardrums. It raised its palps threateningly, though for now it was held at bay.
            Syd blinked as his vision began to swim. The rhagodessa was wavering before him, making his strikes more difficult. He'd for sure need a rest after this. He took a moment to recenter his focus, taking a breath. Then he resumed his assault upon the giant bug.
            His strength was waning, there was no questioning it. He couldn't quite summon the power to punch through the rhagodessa's chitinous armor, and the pain it cost him was enervating.
            "Damnation!" Reg expoused colorful as he got his feet under himself again and his hand itched for his rapier's hilt; he cast about hoping it was within quick arm's reach. "You might say we've knocked the wind out of the beastie! If wind looked like yellow, hairy ichor," Reg reported topside, a bit rueful.
            His rapier skirled across the thing's abdomen, leaving a trail of cut bristles and a scratch in its carapace, but it reacted with a bite that drove him back before he could press the advantage. [DM - new] A nightmarish, many-legged monstrosity the size of a horse, dripping yellow ichor and waving its palps and mandibles about in threat, met her eyes with its far-too-many. At least, she guessed that it saw her, as it was hard to say what it saw with those strange orbs. Unable to help herself, she squeezed her eyes shut as she flung her spell. The others saw the glob of whatever she'd thrown hit the deck and burn into the wood, eating it away as though it were melting. The rhagodessa lunged at Gbele again, giving him a nasty bite - but then its jaws loosened, and it abruptly hit the deck, its legs no longer supporting it. It lay still, eyes glittering in the lantern's light.

            By now Loupin had recognized that something catastrophic was going on down below, and that she had the means to help; but Vark's decision to fight instead of flee surprised and frightened her. Lillia was quick as an eel, but was she really a warrior? Regrettably their group hadn't thought to do much serious self-assessment in advance.
            Forgetting all about the stupid barrel, Loupin clasped her hands lightly together and turned each finger delicately to match their orientation."'Admiring you shall find,'" she murmured urgently, "'Their roots are intertwined Insep'rably...'" Then opened her hands outwardly in Vark's direction.
            She had never dared to cast this enchantment on anyone, for fear of seeing it backfire, and was less than certain of how to read its failure or success.
            "I beg you both hold a moment," she pleaded with either of them, fearing to take more than a step in their direction, "None of this is unforgivable. Business is business, yeah? Nobody needs to suffer for it..."
            Vark scowled, but he didn't press his attack, backing away a few wary steps instead. "Business is business? Girlie, she _wrecked_ my business! I have a reputation to think about!" His gaze never wavered from Lillia, despite Loupin's slow movement off to his side.
            "Unless yer saying that she _does_ have that promised coin. Then we can talk," Vark allowed, his scowl lessening as he watched Lillia like a hawk, fists raised in preparation for mayhem.
            Lillia didn’t know what was going on, but something had changed. Vark went from burning it all down to talking business in the blink of an eye. Talking was better than blades any hour of the day, especially since the fires had been managed. So now she would just try to buy them time below.
            Lillia relaxed her stance and held up her free hand in a staying gesture. “Alright,” she said. “Maybe we can still deal.” Her dagger flipped with greasy ease in her other hand, disappearing from Vark’s line of sight along her forearm.
            “But I’m not taking all the blame here,” she continued. “Did you think this business of yours wasn’t going to end? This is all but a stolen ship.” She shook her head. “If you would have just let us about our business, you’d still be about yours.”
            “I mean it took me less than _thirty seconds_ to find the hidden compartment in the headboa--” The look on Lillia’s face was one of shock that she had said too much. But in reality, it was all a calculated play. Giving Vark information, something to chew on, might stretch out the dialogue or even help ferret out what had changed here on deck.
            The phrase, "hook, line and sinker" came unbidden to her mind as she saw the shifting thoughts behind Vark's eyes, plain as day.
            "You're not harbor patrol - I knew it! And this ship wasn't going nowhere... for long. I was just borrowing it, like. No one would've been the wiser, if you hadn't mucked everything up like Beshaba's own get. I'd say you owe me a share of what you found in there," Vark told her, his tone threatening and his face reverting to its usual sneer. Any normal man would have run (or swam) for it by now, she judged; he must really have wanted whatever he had left behind, as well as what was clearly to him some new sort of treasure.
            Or maybe he really was as overconfident as he seemed... but he couldn't be so stupid that he didn't know his time alone with Lillia and Loupin was limited. He had edged to a point where he was close to the aft cabin door, the railing, and Lillia, but hadn't quite made a move in any direction just yet.
            Reginald's reassurances notwithstanding, the bedlam filtering up from below set Loupin's teeth on edge. She had a couple of spells left in her arsenal that might help the boys, and she also had the feeling that her charm on Vark may have worked; still, leaving him alone with Lillia seemed like a risk. Especially since Vark's goons were going to wake up at any second.
            "We don't blame you for trying to make a living," she said hastily. "The Gods know harbor employees aren't overpaid, and the exotic animal trade keeps arena taxes flowing into the city. But Keltar Islaran is ready to retire -- you've seen him lately -- and he won't let his son take over unless he can prove that he knows how to control employees and serve the wealthy trading houses. That's why we're here -- to get Lady Vanderboren her ship back, whether she paid her debts or not. Talib Islaran needs to know you can work with him the way you worked with his father. So he needs you to sign his release on this vessel. Sign that and we can help you make up what you've lost. The family can't afford to make a big public story out of this, Vark. Keltar's position is vulnerable. You know that."
            Enough of it scraped reality that Loupin felt covered in the bluff, but mostly she was just trying to buy the others more time. Once the bug was dealt with, they and Lillia could terrorize Vark at their leisure -- but in the mean time, she wasn't sure she and Lillia could keep him from jumping overboard just by being honest.
            "You're in bad comp'ny, girl," Vark advised Loupin, pausing in his edging about to give her an appreciative look. "You don't wanna be hanging with their sort. Liars and 'lubbers, that's all they are. You come with me, your fortunes will change, I promise you that. I've got cashy money comin', lots of it, and I can share it if you just send her off to sleep like you did those two fools." He gestured at Pick 'em up Rors and Finney Threelegs, who were still snoring on the deck, even bound. He winked at her salaciously.
            In his mind, that was a tempting offer.
            "I could work with you," Loupin admitted, and might have considered it, although the wink didn't help. Vark obviously wasn't a hero, but neither was she. The others were frighteningly brave -- and to be honest, she didn't trust a spinster heiress like Lavinia to pay them even with that ring back on her finger. "But not until after you've signed the young lord's release. Otherwise, they'll just come after us both -- especially if that kookaburra thing down in the hold wipes him out. Besides, Vanderboren can afford mercenary companies, Vark. She already hired one. We met them, man, and they're plenty gross. If you aren't dealing with us, you're dealing with them. I sure wouldn't."
            "If the rhagodessa gets 'im and his pals, who's to say what went on here but you an' me, eh? No need for anyone to get sent anywhere. That's why you should send _her_ off to dreamland, luv." He tipped his head at Lillia and grinned.
            The grin left little doubt as to the fate he had planned for Lillia. He was already eyeing her blade.
            Lillia continued to assess the situation as the two spoke, and the realization finally came through with Vark’s provocative wink. Loupin had him in thrall somehow. Lillia had seen it, hell had done it, with her words, but Loupin wasn’t quite hitting the right chords with her mouth. She must have been amplifying her allure with magic.
            But for how long?
            Lillia glanced at the sleeping pirates when Vark referenced them and then back at Loupin. Time it seemed was no longer their greatest ally, and the sounds from below were far from promising.
            “No such luck, love,” she said to Vark with a smile. “Elven blood keeps me safe from such dozing. But I’m a reasonable woman. We can still deal. If you want your share though, you’re going to have to do some of the heavy lifting. No?”
            “There are two latches in the captain’s cabin,” she added. “Too far apart. I need another set of hands. Feel like you’re up to that?”
            Greed warred with sense on Vark's face. He glanced toward the hatch, from which a horrible racket emerged.
            His eyes flicked back to Lillia. He was considering it.
            "Why don't you toss me that dagger you had before, and we'll see what's what," he finally said. His greed apparently knew no bounds - either that, or Lillia's performance was even better than she thought.
            "She won't give a dagger to you," Loupin told the smuggler. "Not after you went after her. Look, Vark, I won't let them screw you if you help us out, all right? I'll have plenty of money from this job to invest in your plans after this over. Just do me a favor this once? These people have to listen to me if I tell them to leave you alone when it's over. I've got lightning bolts and stuff. We can money."
            Lillia knew that there was only one way this could end. She had been fooling herself otherwise for a time, but the truth sauntered into view just as she all but sashayed across the deck. The delicious carmel skin of her legs carried a sheen of moisture in the dusky air. She passed near to Vark, the smell of her carried on the breeze.
            “You’re still thinking about making bad choices,” she said with a smile to the pirate. “If you run, you leave us with all the treasure _and_ the cargo, and you get nothing.”
            She came to rest at the door to the aft cabins. “But we’re willing to deal,” she continued. “If you behave and do your part, you get your cut of the spoils and a chance to start over.”
            She reached out and grabbed the handle to the door, preparing to open it. “So what’s it going to be?”
            Vark gave them a long, considering look, but Lillia could tell that it was just for show - Vark wanted whatever was in the captain's cabin, and he wanted it badly. "All right. But you leave that pig-sticker out here, along with any other blades you're carrying, luv." Casting a look back at Loupin, Vark added, "Just remember that you'll be filthy rich if you pick the right side, here. _Filthy_ rich." The sneery expression tilted on his face into something approximating a grin - he was sure of which side Loupin, and possibly Lillia, would pick. A cocky one, he.
            "Sounds good, okay," said a relieved Loupin, practically yelling because it sounded pretty horrible down in the hold but she didn't really want to deal with Vark any more, because she couldn't tell how well her spell was working and it was stressing out.
            Loupin didn't really want to deal with creepy bugs though, either, and was pretty sure she would either barf or pass out when she saw it, or maybe both simultaneously.
            Bracing for this, she flattened herself out at the edge of the hatch, her crossbow bolts practically spilling out everywhere in the process. She didn't even try to understand what was going on as she leaned down into the space below, instead leaning on the importance of wiping out whatever hideous mutant she saw first.
            "'Nor hath the scalding noon-day sunne the power To melt that marble yce,'" Loupin yelled, pressing her hands together, then flinging one of them outward at whatever. She did try to keep her eyes open.

            “You’re in no position to make demands,” Lillia said with a crooked, pirate smile and chuckle. “Help me work the double lock, or forfeit your share. Plain and simple. It won’t take them much longer below.”
            She opened the door and waved her hand toward the opening, inviting Vark to enter the aft cabin area. She was honey and love on the surface. Beneath, she was coiled iron and venom. As soon as the smuggler made his move through the doorway, Lillia intended to strike.
            Vark may have been enchanted, but he hadn't gotten to the top of his personal scrapheap by being a _complete_ fool. He kept his eyes on Lillia as he moved toward the aft cabin, spinning as soon as he had entered with his fists raised-
            -just in time to take a dagger to the face.
            He caught the worst of Lillia's attack on his armored forearm, but still had to step fast to avoid having his throat cut. "Lying wench!" he snarled furiously as she came after him, quick as a mongoose. Ducking into the captain's cabin, he slammed the door shut between them.
            "You'll never get the coin! I'll dump it into the harbor first!" his muffled voice threatened through the door.
            Lillia darted after Vark with lunging strides, her dagger biting through the air behind him. She thumped into the closing door with shoulder and blade, following it with a booted kick.
            “You wouldn’t dare!” she railed back at him about the coin. Her hand played with the handle a bit, and she tossed herself against the door again for effect. “Go ahead! There’s way too much for you to carry anyway!”
            She growled in frustration, continuing her mockery of trying to open the door. She wanted to keep him pinned against it, thinking she would come through if he forestalled his efforts, and to keep him from retrieving a weapon.
            Her off hand slipped a thin spin of cloth from her waist, and she pulled the cord free with her teeth. She was deciding which implements to use to lock Vark in the cabin, when Talib rolled up.

            Syd's breath came in ragged gasps as the battle came to a head. The thing finally dropped and lay still, and he sighed in relief. He leaned heavily against the mast, doing his best to look dashing, but most likely failing miserably. He waved vaguely toward the bug, "Finish it off, would you?" he asked nobody in particular as he stared woozily at the puddle of his own lifeblood staining the deck.
            Unsteady on his feet, Gbele nodded in Syd's general direction, and almost toppled over. He knelt down by the awful creature, in order to get a lower center of gravity, and planted his pick in the center of the thing's head.
            “Egads,” Reg shuddered once more, all too glad to see Gbele’s pick buried in the rhagodessa’s chiton for a finishing blow. Reg sheathed his rapier and moved back to where Mera had fallen in the hold. With the immediate threat gone, Reg wasn’t quite so cold-hearted as to leave her without aid if her life could still be saved. The wounds of the party were front on his mind, but they were all on their feet, and Gbele was there in their midst.
            Talib took in a deep breath as the creature finally succumbed to its wounds. A quick look around, though, revealed that his fellows were doing the same. Before he could see to _that_, though, there was more shouting coming from upstairs - Vark yelling at Lillia, and what sounded like steel upon steel.
            " Well that can't bode well," he breathed heavily, waving a salute up to Loupin for her assistance against the monstrous bug before flicking his sword from Reginald to the wounded warriors.
            " See to them - I think Vark is about to do something incredibly stupid."
            Loupin had reopened her eyes by then, and was about to congratulate herself loudly for having finished off their stupid monster. Sadly for all of them, no such announcement was now possible, since Lillia was apparently incapable of functioning without help either.
            "You all must be related," she yelled down at the battered heroes, before withdrawing from view as quickly as she'd appeared.
            With that, Talib dashed up the stairs to the top deck, where one glance at the closed door and Vark's shouting from beyond it told him (he thought) all he needed to know. Striding up next to Lillia, he paused to clean the ichor on his blade by wiping it on a scarf that hung from his hip, thrusting his chin at the wooden barrier.
            " I take it he's not been compliant," he stated flatly, lifting his scimitar up to rap gently on the door.
            " Shall we try it my way?" Talib grinned at the con woman.
            Lillia didn’t answer Talib’s question with words, but the arch way she looked at his blood soaked clothing and then at her own clean attire and then back to the swashbuckler conveyed a great deal. Then she broke into a chuckle and said, “As long as I don’t have to mend the clothing.”
            " It's not my clothing that needs tending to after this," Talib grumbled, stretching the shoulder of his sword arm. Every shot that had deflected off that monster's chitinous hide had really rattled his muscles, to say nothing of the wounds they had all suffered against the beast.
            Lillia stepped aside and waved him forward, the thin spindle of tools snapping closed in her hand.
            “Last chance!” she called to Vark. Then more quietly to Talib, “There are weapons in there.”
            Loupin was climbing to her feet just a meter or two away, still smooshing her crossbow bolts clumsily back into place. She looked a little irritated at seeing her progress with Vark eroded so quickly.
            "Or maybe you could stop being suicidal for a moment, and listen," she grumbled, trying to keep her voice low so Vark wouldn't hear.
            " Me? Suicidal?" the sailor pointedly asked, completely aware of his bloodied and bruised appearance from having rushed off into danger unceremoniously. But, he kept his tongue still for the moment to hear Loupin out.
            "I've got him under a charm spell, Talib. I told him you'd brought paperwork to release the ship to Lavinia, and we would let him go, if he would just sign it. Also that I'd join his crew after this was over. I guess that's totally screwed up now -- man, what _is_ it with you guys? -- but if there are lamps in there too, he could decide to wreck everything we've accomplished. Be cautious, just this once, huh? It wasn't exactly easy to pull that off." Loupin unlimbered her crossbow. She knew those sleeping guys were going to wake up any second, and doubted anybody could help deal with that little problem, either.
            She wanted to deal with the sleeping guys, who were about to wake up any second, but even if they helped each other, it would take a second for them to get free of their bonds.
            "I might be able to burn through some door hinges or whatever, or at least weaken them," she told him and Lillia quietly. "If it's barred. Or I can attend to these other assholes. Your call."
            “You can burn it to the waterline if you want,” Lillia said, nodding at the door to the captain’s quarters. “Preferably with him in it.”
            " In my experience, pirates only understand the sword," Talib mused quietly, looking off towards the distance for a moment before shaking his head and returning to reality. To him, Loupin didn't seem to understand that blood _was_ inevitable on the sea - but that didn't mean it had to be sought after with every opportunity.
            Taking a breath to steel himself, Talib lowered his blade and stepped towards Vark's door. He cast a glance over his shoulder to Loupin.
            " I'd make sure our other 'friends' aren't going to complicate this. If we hold all the cards, we needn't even bluff anymore," he whispered quickly, before raising his voice and addressing the hiding captain.
            " Soller Vark! This is Lord Islaran!" he called, his tone suddenly booming and commanding as if he were addressing a crew within a hurricane, " The ship is ours. You've one, last chance to have terms with me and my crew."
            He shrugged to Lillia and Loupin at addressing them so: it wasn't technically _untrue_, all things considered. They had arrived by boat, after all. That it had been a rowboat was of little concern.
            " Captain to Captain, we can deal. Your life, your freedom, that of your crew's: it can all be maintained. This needn't go any further. If you spurn me now, I'll have no choice but to afford you the Sea's Mercy - by the Winds of Shaundakul, do not force me to take that voyage."
            The sea was a cruel mistress, unforgiving and uncaring at those who plied her vast expanse for their livelihoods. But Talib was not a cruel man, despite his threat: he never truly had been. It was why he had made quite honestly a terrible pirate, but it was also what stayed his hand, even at the critical juncture. Despite his anger and misgivings towards Vark and how he had seemingly abused Islaran hospitality, Talib knew he was not a killer. Despite his father's criticism of the boy, Talib knew he had the potential to be much better than his wayward siblings.
            " Don't throw it all away so rashly, Vark," Talib sincerely asked of the man, " How this ends is entirely in your hands."
            “Not entirely,” Lillia murmured. Then she held up her hands in mock surrender and turned to go. She paused and stepped closer to Talib, taking up the soiled rag she had seen him use. She cleaned Vark’s blood off her own blade and spoke quietly.
            “There’s a crossbow in there,” she said. “And windows. I’m going topside to keep an eye out.”
            “Stay until this is done,” she said to Loupin as she passed. “Please. I’ll keep an eye on Vark’s git.”
            Lillia crossed the deck and leaned into the hold, intending to call on Syd for aid…until she saw the man. She smoothly shifted her words. “Vark’s still a problem. We could use a hand or two topside when anyone gets a chance.”
            Then she climbed to the poop deck and kept watch on the rear of the ship, captain’s window, to captain’s window, to bound pirates and through the cycle again.
            Syd looked up to the face in the hole and nodded. Honestly, even though the thing is finally dead, the sooner he left that damned hold the better. "No rest for the weary, eh?" he quipped, his half-smile disarming any complaint. Still, it pained him to walk. He cast a quick glance to Gbele before heading topside. "Would you happen to have a cure in your repertoire, Baba?"
            The holy man answered Syd with a simple "No."
            He rose unsteadily to his feet, and considered his options in such a depleted state. Of all those on board, Vark was the most likely to be possessed by an evil spirit, and was therefore the greatest danger. It was Baba Gbele's calling to deal with such things, and a large, weeping puncture wound just under his ribs would not deter him from his duty. Knowing nothing of the configuration of sailing ships, he watched to see which way Syd went, then followed him. A wave of pain washed through him, and he prayed to Ubtao to remain conscious.
            "Gents, hold up," came Reg's voice at hearing Gbele's negative; Reg hadn't accounted that the healer may have expended all the effort he could, at the moment. Reg reversed direction; Mera would need to abide her fate a few moments more, for any aid he could offer would better serve the heroes than the villians.
            "As skilled a healer I am not, but being a traveler of the coastlines and jungles necessitates a certain degree of preparedness. To that end, if that beastie crushed out more than you can safely abide going without, let me help."
            Syd paused at Reg's offer. "I would most certainly welcome what aid you may offer. Thank you, Reg." He brought his hand forth from within his tunic and cringed at how much blood he was losing. He stared at it a moment before roughly shoving it back within. He managed a smile of appreciation in the gnomes direction.
            Loupin was still near enough the hatch that she could sort of hear what was going on down below, but didn't bother to offer her help; it was too obvious just then that securing this damned deck was the priority for exactly one person.
            She had rearmed her crossbow, and concentrated on monitoring the remaining captives for any sign of movement. Hopefully both would suddenly develop the intelligence to feign unconsciousness. As long as they didn't cause problems, she wasn't going to mess with them.
            They needed to get the boat back. She sent out a mental inquiry to Conway, half-expecting to find he'd already been killed by gulls or something. Loupin felt a pang of guilt for sending him out like that on his own; she felt pretty alone herself at present, and it kind of blew.

            With the rhagodessa dealt with and mercy offered to Vark, the oily seadog had no choice but to accept, still seeming quite cowed by Talib (and friendlier toward Loupin). He, and his two remaining crew members (who had woken after Vark gave them a boot in the side), were kept under watch as Reg verified that Mera had died trying to light the hold on fire, and that the fires were definitely out.
            Conway was a bit ornery at being sent all over the harbor without treats to make up for it, but still alive. Lillia had a second look around the captain's cabin, opening the trunk - only to find it empty. A quick search turned up its likely previous contents, though - a leather satchel filled with platinum dragons, stuffed under the mattress of the bed. Whatever one could claim of Vark, it wasn't a good imagination.
            The holy man, having struggled up to the deck, upon which he dribbled the occasional spatter of blood, stood unsteadily and looked around at his compatriots. He ascertained that he was, in fact, the most seriously injured of the group, and he also recognized that his full contributions might still be needed in the event that further violence occurred. All considered, he finally replied to Reg. "Yes, I would take this healing, so kindly offered."
            Gbele was not surprised, knowing that Vark was a smuggler and a liar, to find out that he was also a thief. He was surprised that the man still lived. His companions handled the Vark confrontation with much less violence than he would have, and now, if he was possessed of an evil spirit, he would have more opportunity to spread his evil. Gbele considered Slaying the man on the spot, just to be sure, but thought better of it. He felt that the rest of the group had not yet come to realize the depth of the threat that they all faced. They would, in time, come around to his way of thinking. He was certain of this.
            Without question, Reg set down the line he was working with and nodded to Gbele, readily summoning what small healing magic Reg had a grasp of, and sending it to mend the worst of Gbele's wounds.
            Syd leaned lazily against the jamb to the rear cabins, watching the exchange. He still wasn't 100%, thanks to the rhagodessa, but Reg's healing was well received. "What a coincidence," he remarked dryly at the sum found being the exact amount Lady Vanderboren had paid.
            Lillia had watched from the poop deck as the fervor of the Blue Nixie had faded to the aftermath. She had sheathed the length of steel some time ago, and now, as the adrenaline faded, the gravity and bravado of it all washed over her. She felt light headed and suddenly…not so well.
            Darting to the aft rail, she emptied whatever remained of her sparse supper into the choppy waters below, her own sour offering to the gods that had favored them this night. She lingered for a moment, breathing deeply and turning her face to catch whatever small breeze might cool the perspiration on her brow.
            When she had regained composure and color enough, she moved forward and gazed down from the upper rail once more. Anger rose in her again at the sight of so much blood upon those who helped her retake this ship. Her gaze fell to Vark, and she welcomed the fate which awaited him no matter the discussion at hand. This type of smuggling would serve him the noose, plus the harbormaster had to save face.
            Yes, one way or another, Soller Vark was not long for this world.
            With the situation under control, Reg scrounged around a bit for a line and a weight or a grapple; something he could throw from the rail over and past the boat he'd cast adrift at the start of the fray, and pull it back up alongside to the ship's rope ladder. Vark's ill-gotten gains would pay the loss of one of the two rented vessels; may as well try to save the other. They always had the ship's launches on deck if they needed to.
            Reg spared a glance skyward; the dancing lights he'd had flaring above the ship's masts had exhausted some time ago; and he looked around the harbor for any other rowboats that might be approaching to investigate.
            As he worked his mind churned, constructing a faceted series of tales about the venture, his thoughts betrayed only by an occasional gleam to his eye or quirk of the corner of his mouth. Keeping Vark and Company cowed and subdued was of higher priority than sharing half-constructed prose, and as such prose didn't favor said brigands, Reg saw little gain in twisting the poetic knife of antagonism.
            The recovery of the platinum had sealed Vark's character for Talib Islaran. He could barely contain himself upon spying the hefty amount of coin - all he could think back to was his argument with his father.
            Talib had been _right_. Hah! Too immature to be Master of the Harbor, and yet with a nose for this that his ...
            _Dying_ father (he reminded himself) had not shown. Keltar truly was losing the time and energy to deal with such matters, Talib realized. How much longer had he for this world ..?
            Questions for later. For now, Talib made sure to check upon Syd and Gbele, making sure both were up and moving - the fight with the beast in the hold had been a daunting one. The corsair removed a silver from his belt pouch and tossed it overboard into the sea: an offering to the Gods that had surely watched over them during the conflict. Now that the battle had ended, it came time for answers.
            Talib brought himself before Vark and his lackeys, thick brows narrowing. He folded his arms over his broad chest, glowering in disapproval and cold rage.
            " Lady Vanderboren informed me that a sum of one hundred dragons had been paid to keep this ship docked," he stated bluntly, " But then her ship was impounded, with you, Soller Vark, claiming that no such fee had been paid. My father _believed_ this."
            Squatting down, Talib looked Vark dead in the eyes, his features firm but composed.
            " _I_ did not. I know your kind. I've sailed with your kind. You're a disgrace to every valiant man and woman who braves Umberlee's depths. You robbed a woman of her ship. You stole from a member of the nobility. You _insulted_ my family with your lies and took advantage of _my father's trust_, and for that _alone_ I should have you put to the noose and leave it enough slack that you strangle yourself upon your own weight ..!"
            Talib suddenly drew his hand back as if to strike Vark, but, thinking better of it, he turned away to let himself cool. With a deep breath, he waved at the others.
            " Decide what you want with him. I've no mind and too much stake to decide fairly here. I'll see what else this _haramia_ has used the Lady's vessel for."
            Upon Talib's exit, Syd pushed off the jamb and eyed Vark, a hand lazily resting on the basket of his newest acquisition - Vark's own sword. He didn't make any point to hide it. "He should be clapped in irons and spend a few moons behind bars where he can think about his life choices. That sum of coin and The Lady's testimony should suffice to ensure that end."
            Nobody disagreed, but nobody really stepped up, either. Since she was probably the only person Vark didn't want to stab repeatedly, Loupin eased up a little bit on the old crossbow routine, at least for long enough to adopt something like brisk optimism.
            "See?" she said to Vark, a bit weakly. "I told you it'd be all right! And once I get paid for this, I'll be able to more than refinance the whole business. Maybe, uh, we could just get our own boat next time, and a crew that doesn't suck. I could pay for it. But hey, your _supplier's_ pretty solid, huh? I mean, it'd be tough to get that giant thing safely aboard all by yourselves, right? Ha ha ha -- without some, you know, special assistance of some kind, magical-type people, etcetera. These rutabegas live in, uh, Calimshan or something? I've never seen one before. They're really pretty."
            Vark gave her a look that suggested he might have misjudged her sanity. "All right? The rhagodessa is pretty?! Your _business?!_ Didn't you hear him? He promised me that me mates and I would walk free! Now they's talking hanging or prison and whatnot!" Vark spat on the deck. "There's the honor of the mighty Islarans for you." His two remaining crew, the bulky man Pick-em-up Rors and the inexplicably named woman Finney Three-Legs, stared at the deck morosely. They, at least, had no illusions about what their actions had earned them.
            "Imagine you just got your ass kicked in by a bug," Loupin said reasonably, eyeing the goons without comment. Unlike the others, she hadn't bothered to memorize anybody's name, much less their nickname. She had memorize the fact that Vark was an irritating asshole, though. "They'll get over it. As for you mates here, they didn't even do anything; we'll drop 'em off on shore, provided they cooperate. The question is, are you willing to bury the hatchet and get on with business? If you've got reliable sellers and buyers for these things -- I assume the bug's for the arena? -- and are willing to cut people in on profits, improving moods around here won't be too difficult, amigo. But maybe you're in some hot water without somebody who put down a deposit? If so, you're gonna need cash. I can get you that. I might be crazy, but I'm not broke... and we're going to need a new cash hobby, some of us here. Including the hurt ones. Make us a creative offer."
            Vark seemed mollified by the idea that the party would do business with him, trusting Loupin's word without a thought. "If it's money you lot want, I think we can come to an arrangement," he smarmed, his sneery grin doing him no favors. "I can get money, I just need a few days to get it." Rors and Finney looked up, hopeful, but not without a healthy dose of skepticism that was missing from Vark's reply.
            Lillia watched Loupin’s process with cold eyes. She didn’t expect Vark to offer anything creative. He was the worst kind of cretin, and he was an exceptionally blunt instrument. She also thought it likely that Vark’s contacts would never have dealt with such a vagrant directly. She wouldn’t have. Still, whatever information could be gleaned was worth taking a stab at.
            And speaking of stabbing, the state of some of her wounded comrades sliced at her heart and her conscience each time they moved. She cursed herself for not thinking of the smuggling dangerous creatures. A rhagodessa! She wanted to be there when Vark got what was coming to him.
            Lillia kept her peace for now. She didn’t like to interrupt a performance when it was hitting its stride, though she wished Loupin would pick one tack and see it through, barter, bargain, or bribe. To juggle all three devalued each. Lying was more than an art form. It was a lifestyle, if you wished to excel. But there were also elements at play Lillia didn’t understand, mainly Loupin’s magic, and so she was content to watch…and to learn.
            Talib would soon be back, and then matters would get much more final.

            The captain's cabin was messy, from Talib's perspective, but though he found a few suspicious scraps of burnt parchment on the desk, there was no sign of whom Vark had been planning to smuggle the animals to, or that anyone else was involved at all.
            Within the captain's cabin, Talib scowled at the burnt scraps left on Vark's desk. Of course the man had taken the coward's way out - He was more spineless than a jellyfish. The sailor swore he could've heard the rubbish pirate cursing his family name, but in all honesty Talib couldn't care. What weight did the word of such a bilge rat carry? Grabbing some of the burnt tatters and ashes, the Islaran turned for the door.
            His anger continued to simmer as he stepped back outside, glaring at Soller and his crew even as Loupin appeared to be trying to negotiate with them. Why, Talib wondered? They were scum, liable to betray. What did Loupin hope to gain from such people? If she so naturally chatted away with pirates and thieves, what had she done prior to her appearance at the Vanderborn estate? It suddenly struck the sailor that he knew practically _nothing_ about his current accomplices, and all of them had their own reasoning and goals for their dealings with the good Lady. Where, then, did that put him?
            Rage, apparently. He looked down to see his arm shaking still, the fury encompassing his very being as he looked upon Vark, cowed now before the successful boarding party. Anger clouded his eyes and misted the seas red. Anger at Vark for his betrayal of Keltar. Anger at himself for the same thing? Anger at Vark for his piratical ways. Anger at himself for _the same thing ..?_
            With that the wind shifted, and Lillia’s countenance changed once again. She descended the stairs with a swift grace and drifted towards Talib as the man stormed internally, making her presence known in his periphery.
            She paused in her approach, hands clasped in concern mid-torso. She held there for a moment or two, gauging his battle within. Then at the pinnacle of his conflict, she reached out one gentle hand and placed it reassuringly on his bicep. A heartbeat or two later, her other hand alighted on his forearm.
            It was an uneasy moment for Talib as he stared silently at the deck, a realization slowly washing over him. While the battle had heated his blood, it was not Vark he was truly enraged with. Not really. Vark was a terrible man who had done a terrible thing, but Talib had fairly offered him mercy and surrender. To go back on that now was to tarnish his pride and his nobility as an Islaran. A breeze blew across the moored ship, and with it calm, salty winds came a breath of fresh air. Talib took it into his very being and released it slowly, stilling his pounding heart.
            Vark was a terrible man, yes. But he did not deserve to die. It was not Talib's way to take a life if he could help it. That was what Loupin was fostering: not some sort of underhanded collaboration, but trying to prevent death. The world came into clearer focus, and it was a calmer man that strode back towards the prisoners.
            He gave his wounded comrades a small nod and a smile for their assistance as he passed: without them, he'd be dead.
            " I owe you all quite more than a drink," he whistled lowly, shaking his head at his own rashness, " And an Islaran pays his debts. We'll have ourselves a night after this is all settled, oh yes."
            Next to Lillia, whom earned a roguish grin and a wink.
            " Not too bad for a seamstress," he admired, " Makes me wonder what else you have up those sleeves. Maybe some day I'll get to find out, hm?"
            Lillia's demeanor had shifted once more with the passing of Talib's storm. “Might be a sight more than you bargain for,” Lillia replied, cocked eyebrow and hands on her hips echoing her cheeky tone. “Certainly more than _he_ did,” she added, throwing a nod at Vark.
            Talib laughed with the wind, finally turning his attention to Vark, It was a much different man that stood before him now than had left in a fit earlier. Standing next to Loupin, he regarded her with an affirmative nod, using body language if he could interject briefly. Crouching down to Vark, he gave the captain a small, sad smile.
            " Forgive my countenance earlier: I tend to get upset when I am made to bleed," he chuckled, letting one of the scraps of burned paper slide up from his closed palm.
            " I found some destroyed documents in your room, Soller. Not good, not good - every sailor knows fire is bad for a ship. And we will get to that, and to your fate, and the fate of your crew, we will get to that, The storm has passed - I promised mercy, and mercy you will find from me, at least. But there is one thing I need to know, Soller. One thing I need you to be honest with me on. Captain to Captain."
            He stood again, slowly: letting his frame tower over Vark. He was not some bleeding pirate: his shoulders were raised, his eyes piercing. He was a _noble_, and he carried himself like one in that moment, where he rose above his petty need for vengeance and let his honor represent him.
            " Why did you lie to my father, Vark? Why did you need this ship so badly to betray his trust and steal from the Vanderborens in one measure?"
            Lillia circled away and took a deferential position near Gbele as further questioning got underway. Nothing in her countenance or bearing conveyed her intent, but Lillia knew that the Baba was actually at the greatest risk for serious harm right now. She watched the discussion from his general vicinity to deter any reckless attempts to harm the holy man that might flit across Vark’s mind.
            Loupin looked wearily at Talib. The party didn't much need the answers to either of those questions, she thought, even if Vark wanted to supply them. She was getting petty tired of having to readjust her own approach every time someone in the group suddenly decided to trip it up. The issue of whether Vark's business partners might have a mind to come after them, or after Lavinia, seemed more relevant, but Loupin mostly just meant to keep the smuggler occupied until the others were satisfied to leave. She looked around, spotted the gnome up at the bow, and guessed that maybe they were.
            Vark couldn't meet Talib's eyes, not when the man painted his actions so clearly as villainous. The difference between them was stark; Talib with the calm and regal bearing, Vark cringing like a kicked cur, but still hoping his oiliness would let him slip free.
            "It wasn't like that," Vark protested, looking everywhere but directly at Talib. "It was just business! That girl will tell you! Business!" He jerked his chin at Loupin. "Everyone knows that the law of the harbor's gone tits up with Lord Islaran sick. You can't spit without hitting a smuggler or a thief. I just wanted my cut, that's all! It weren't nothing bad, I was bringing the ship back! Wouldn't nobody have known it was gone, come morning. Look, she said you was willing to deal, and I'm a reasonable man. I can get you money, if that's what you need. Just give me a few days." ***
            Reg tied off the line he was working and slipped down the side on the rope ladder. He stepped into the gondola he’d retrieved, secured the line to the gondola’s bow, and retrieved and settled his hat upon his head. The colorful brim and feather preceded his return to the deck like the first hints of sunrise, catching odd bits of lanternlight in the mostly-dark.
            “We’ve one gondola and two ship’s launches.” Reg eyed the docks, a hundred yards off. “I’ll defer and lend hand if we’ve option to get this whole vessel back to the main docks, but my thoughts are more towards escorting said ringleader to shore in a launch under careful eye. Or, we hold until the harbor takes greater note and comes to aid.”
            Figuring Talib probably felt he knew best, and being more than tired of Vark, Loupin moved away from their prisoners and towards the gnome.
            "I sent Conway to follow the other gondola," she told him. "It'd be nice to get that deposit back. Lemme try to figure out where he went..." She paused, noticing he looked a little banged up. "Eh, are you all right, Reg? You need a potion? I bought two."
            Reg smiled cordially but with a stoicism that wasn't entirely feigned, "Much obliged, my dear, but that 'dessa just knocked the wind out of me. I'll be fair to catch my breath once the work's done. Our holy warrior put himself squarely in harm's way on our behalfs, and we'd all be well-served if one or both of those could go to him and mend a rib or two. If one gets him through, Syd would welcome the second."
            Gbele prided himself on reading people. It was an important aspect of his profession, and though he tried to remain dispassionate, he couldn't help but feel gratified when he worked out a particularly complex set of motivations. Watching Lillia play her role, the Baba wondered what she was about. Maybe it was the loss of his vital humours, but he found he had little insight into her actions, which made him feel uncomfortable.
            Oddly enough (and perhaps a sort of proof of Vark's claims), no one in the harbor seemed inclined to investigate what was going on onboard the _Blue Nixie._ That had been unthinkable just a few years ago, but now... the laissez-faire attitude of the other ships and shorefolk seemed to indicate that they were more inclined to keep their heads down and mind their own business than help.
            Loupin offered Gbele one of her potions, bracing for his refusal on some obscure religious grounds; and the other to Syd, although she wondered idly whether she'd ever see that money again, if either of them were in the same shaky financial shape as her just then. Something must have brought the shaman to the city; she doubted it was something good.
            Syd smiled at Loupin's offer of the potion and bowed slightly. "Thank you. I will purchase a replacement for you once we are paid for this job."
            "I don't mind going back to shore with these three," Loupin offered, trying to summon her courage. It seemed slightly less likely that Vark and friends would attack her than anybody else, since she'd more or less saved their asses, and losing one of Lavinia's boat might be costly. "I think I might be able to get our gondola back. I mean, maybe Reginald could squeeze in with us, too, since he's, uh, just winded."
            She didn't point out that he could probably sit on her lap.
            Loupin's words helped pull Talib away from the befouled explanation that Vark had given him. Such underhanded behavior was now just a fact of life within The Azure District? Suddenly his father's wrath made much more sense: it was not a man entirely enraged with his son's dereliction of duty, but instead an architect watching the foundation he had laid crumble bit by bit. That Keltar's illness and lack of awareness was such common knowledge was also deeply disturbing - it would probably not be long before The Kellani Family, the Islaran's rivals, made their play to take the Harbor for themselves. Talib was not entirely unconvinced that they were even sponsoring such daylight robbery. Was Vark involved with them?
            But that was not Talib Islaran's focus at the moment. Turning his paralyzing stare away from Soller Vark, he gave Loupin a nod and a small smile.
            " Yes, that might be best," he agreed to her plan, " I don't think we've much reason more to stay aboard ship: we've got what we came for."
            He sounded slightly distant: Talib was certainly rattled by the events and information that had come to light under the Tashlutan sun. Yet, he retained his poise and motioned for Vark and his crew to stand, even helping the captain up to his feet.
            " You were right to be honest with me," Talib told the man sincerely, patting him slightly on the shoulder, " But the Harbor will not always be like this. Mark my words, it will not."
            He gave a glance down to the hold - a crewman had died down there to the beast that had nearly claimed for of them.
            " My condolences for your fallen _bahar,"_ he offered, " I will make sure to conduct the proper rights to the Sea. Umberlee will not claim them, no."
            As someone who bore the weight of dozens of drowned men and women, death at sea, even in a moored ship, was something to be taken seriously to Talib. It seemed to him, though, that it was not _all_ that was to be taken seriously on this day.
            " After this business is handled with The Lady," he told the group, turning particularly to Lilia out of them all.
            " I think I need to see my father once more. The Azure cannot dim - this city depends upon it."
            His hand curled to a fist of determination.
            " I may be no Harbor Master myself, but I cannot sit idle any longer. There must be something I can do that does not involve dropping my anchor just yet."
            Talib cast a wry smile to Vark and his ilk, breaking into a wide, white grin.
            " Who knows? You may find yourselves employed in a very different manner in the near future, eh?"
            The seriousness swept over him and he returned to his swashbuckler's swagger about the deck, moving to help dispatch the gondola that he had arrived in so that Loupin, the _Nixie's_ crew, and whomever else could take the first boat ashore.
            "You guys will come with us in those other boats, right?" Loupin asked the others somewhat anxiously as they loaded up the gondola."The one at the back is untied already."
            She had not actually expected Talib to agree to putting all their prisoners in one craft; it was undoubtedly foolhardy, and she wouldn't have suggested doing anything like it if she weren't equally nervous that somebody in the party might get into a brawl with one of them.
            As a resident of the city, and one who was apparently easy enough to track down, she couldn't shake the feeling that any fight they started now wouldn't end just because somebody, even the right person, got killed. Personally Loupin didn't need to hear Six-Tooth Sally's grieving half-ogre widower banging on her shutters at two in the morning, especially when they didn't even know who these guys really were -- or who Lavinia Vanderboren really was, for that matter.
            But she didn't want the others very far away, either.
            Syd frowned at the sky. "There are three of them, six of us, and two boats... If we all fit, we should put Vark in with Lord Islaran, the Baba, and Lillia? Reg and I can look over the other two with Loupin." He pushed himself off the wall against which he had been leaning through the whole discussion. "Unless you have a better plan?" The question wasn't directed at anyone in particular.
            And there it is, thought Loupin, fighting the urge to get in a boat and leave them all to it. Was there any better plan than putting Lillia in the same boat as Vark? A mystery of the cosmos.
            To a casual observer, Baba Gbele may have appeared to be in a mild form of shock brought about by loss of blood. It was not the physical trauma that caused him to gaze into the middle distance and passively go along with whatever plan was initiated to return to dock, however.
            In fact, the Baba was going through a crisis of confidence, and not for the first time since he left the routine and familiarity of his jungle home. He had always trusted his visions implicitly, but now he was not so sure. Did he commit his efforts to this cause so that he might stymie crude theives and traffickers of enormous vermin? How did this further Ubtao's goals? He hoped to find out soon.
            Once back at the pier, Talib sought out the local guards while the others watched Vark and his crew. Before long, a grey parrot flew down to alight near Loupin, and from its squawks she garnered that the missing gondola had been rowed to Shadowshore and abandoned. In that district, it probably wouldn't be abandoned for long.
            The harbor officials notified, Talib was assured that the Blue Nixie would be seen to - as would the three criminals. The guards seemed puzzled at Talib's wish for clemency, but weren't about to defy the Islaran heir.
            "Shall we reconvene at the Lady Vanderboren's estate at half the hour past dawn? News of this will reach her very soon, and I would she have the whole story, that any arrangements being made for the return of the Nixie to her can be conducted fully informed." Reg said.
            "Lastly, with bonds made and words given, I'll put my hands to the safe return of that gondola. It seems I've developed a certain adeptness at oaring them about this evening, and have a bit left in me to get it back to its owner."
            Syd nodded to Reg, "Let me accompany you. Shadowshore isn't a place to go wandering by one's lonesome. Least of all a brightly-colored gnome with a large hat." He grinned good-naturedly as he tousled his own hair and rolled up his sleeves to build the presence of a "tough guy" he affected earlier. Once done, his hand rested easily on the basket of Vark's Fancy Sword ™.
            "C'mon, Conway," said Loupin, bearing her arm for the bird to ride on. "It's not too dark yet. If we can get it back, I'll have the money to buy you something nice to eat."
            Though he would normally accompany the boat-returning crew, the holy man considered the practicalities. "Be safe, Ubtao wish it," he intoned to Reg. "I will rest and heal." With that, Gbele walked away, stiffly as he favored his abdomen, toward his humble abode.