Conway, vocal though he usually was about things that displeased him, became quiet and pretended not to be hiding in the shadow of Loupin's neck as she, Reg and Syd passed through the gate from the Cudgel district to Shadowshore under the disapproving and suspicious gaze of the Cudgel watchmen that guarded the gate.
            Reg offered a tip of his hat and a quirked grin to the gate guards, "May that we shortly stroll out just as readily, gents. Good eve and vigilance."
            The gate guards exchanged looks. Certainly Reg, Syd and Loupin didn't appear the sort of riffraff who commonly came to or lived in Shadowshore, and it wasn't unknown for adventurers and nobles to visit the slums on occasion, for whatever dubious night-cloaked purposes they might have there. Then again, the richest man in Tashluta lived in Shadowshore, and there was no point in offending someone who might have connections, no matter what they might be up to in the shantytown.
            "You all have a good night, now," one drawled knowingly as he shut the gate behind them.
            Syd reflexively patted his belt pouches as the trio entered Shadowshore. His head was on a swivel even more than usual, on the eye out for any sort of shenanigans. He knew the city well, but rarely ventured out here. He could count the number of times he had passed the gate over the past century on a single hand, each time he had spent as little time as possible.
            Shadowshore at night gave the impression of hungrily watching eyes, though no one visibly lurked near the gate and garrison. There was more life by the taverns (and the brothel) that dotted the harborside road, but none of it of a savory nature. The occasional breaking bottle, yowl of a cat, sounds of a fight, or burst of raucous laughter seemed to be swallowed by the waiting silence of the slums.
            It had been impossible to find any gondoleer who would venture to Shadowshore at night, and some had outright laughed in their faces. It having taken a bit of time to walk to the slums instead, it was both disappointing, but not unexpected, that the rowboat was no longer where Conway had reported Vark's fleeing crew having left it. The water lapped at the pier innocently, dark as the night that hung about them like a warm, damp blanket.
            Looking about in the light of Reg's everburning torch, Syd noted that they were very near a few boats bobbing in the harbor, with a few men still busy dragging them up out of the water and into a boathouse in the torchlight, despite the hour - apparently, no one trusted anyone to leave their boats be in the night. 'It Still Floats!' proclaimed a sign in incongruously florid script above the door to the boathouse.
            "Y'know, I kinda figured these guys maybe weren't real sailors," Loupin murmured to the others. "Who would tie up a ship to a float from the back? Maybe they're all just gang members..." She looked and felt quite out of place in this grim neighborhood, and prepared to follow the lead of the others. "But you'd think every gondola in town would have wizard's marks on them, just to deter thievery a little bit. Maybe I'm in the wrong business."
            "Perhaps, perhaps, but let's see if anything was witnessed, or if the hands or proprietor were feeling samaritous and took the craft for care," Reg smiled with a nod towards the boathouse still exhibiting evening activity. He anticipated they'd either have 'seen nothing,' or if they had, that they'd taken the missing craft under their care, 'for a fee,' or by the charge of another, and the three had no means to prove ownership, but just knowing where the craft was and settling accounts might be enough to square things and arrange its owner's reclamation of it during the day.
            Reg strolled up to the boathouse door and rapped smartly thrice upon it. If all hands were at the water such that none could come check the door in response, he was prepared to try its handle himself and enter the building to initiate the conversation.
            Syd shook his head at Reg's optimism. "Most likely, someone saw it, said, 'ooh, free boat,' and acquired it. I doubt at this point we will be able to get it back for anything less than our initial deposit." Despite his more cynical viewpoint of the neighborhood, he followed Reg to the door. "Do not be surprised if we have to... re-acquire it in a less than samaritous fashion." He wore a half-grin, but focused on the door before them.
            "C'n I help you? You lookin' to do business?" A middle-aged man who had been standing with the dock workers strolled over to them, a bit heavyset around the middle but clearly used to work. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing a few colorful tattoos, and dark sweatstains under his arms suggested he'd been helping his men with the boats. He smiled easily enough at them, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which were wary - no doubt a good survival trait in the Shadowshore shanties.
            "I've got a lot of boats, at the best price you'll find in Tashluta," he promised them with a disarming grin. "Whatever you need, we can make a deal." Behind him, his three burly laborers had paused what they were doing to have a smoke, watching the conversation casually.
            Most of the boats that they could see through the open boathouse doors looked battered, but the rowboat the workers were currently chatting around (while casting appreciative looks at Loupin) looked to be in much better condition.
            Syd noticed a figure slinking away not too far off - a thin man, by his stance, in the ratty clothes of a Shadowshore resident.
            Syd frowned briefly as he noticed the man slinking away. It wasn't that unusual in these parts - Shadowshore was known for it's larger than typical population of rogues. His attention, however, mostly remained upon the situation at the docks. He did lean towards Loupin to whisper what he saw, and gave a description of the man. "Perhaps Conway can keep tabs on him?" he whispered before returning his full attention to the dockmaster.
            "I do indeed hope you can, good proprietor," Reg cordially acknowledged the man. "'Tis clear you've a solid eye and best care of the craft that tie here. We've come to retrieve a rowboat, which I'm sorry to say was taken quite without the owner's permission and abandoned at this pier barely an hour ago by three -- Ketrana, Prettyboy, and Three-Tooth Sally. The circumstances were hasty, true, and we've no quarrel with the three for doing what they thought best, so long as the craft is in good condition." Implicitly, Reg would permit the proprietor and his staff to categorize themselves the same, if they had seen to the safekeeping of a potentially-abandoned rowboat for the last hour or so. No fault, no harm.
            Reg turned a casual eye down the length of the dock, now nearly-absent of boats.
            "Quick magecraft helped locate the rowboat; unremarkable by normal means, to be certain; and brought us here. I count it good fortune that you gentlemen are still hard at work at this hour. Perhaps, did any of your staff note this rowboat, and retrieve it from the water for safe storage for the night until its owner called for it, as now occurs?"
            "We will, of course, inform all we know of the excellent service we received at It Still Floats, if you can assist our search." Syd said.
            “Or keep it discrete, if you prefer, of course,” Reg smiled.
            "We would offer you a finder's fee," Loupin added, trying not to feel too nervous at being outnumbered again, "if we hadn't spent our money already on the deposit for the boat. We don't need our entire deposit back, however; if you wanted to send someone along with us when we returned it, we could give you a little over what you paid for it, maybe. We just don't want to lose our entire deposit. We're less prosperous than you gents, by the looks of it."
            The torn clothes and general disarray of her companions attested well enough to that, Loupin thought. Maybe it was better that the three didn't look like they had any money on them. Not that she personally did. But they weren't getting out of there without paying something, not in this neighborhood; so it seemed pointless to leave money altogether out of the conversation.
            Conway couldn't do them any good indoors, so Loupin tended to leave him outside; but she asked him to keep an eye out on somebody sneaking away from the building. She hadn't noticed the skinny fellow Syd had spotted, which made her feel a lot like a half-elf. She sure hoped she wouldn't have to melt anybody's face off just for stealing some crappy old rowboat.
            The man regarded them with bland good humor. "Tracked a stolen boat to Shadowshore, eh? Well, that is unfortunate. But I paid the gent who sold me my latest boat good money, and I have a business to run. I pay my dues, me. Though, I'll tell you what. You pay me what I paid for the boat, and I won't even make a profit on you, poor souls that you are." He gave Reg a look laden with irony - the gnome, at least, was wearing clothes of a much better cut and materials than his own, in disarray or not.
            He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Else you can take it up with the guy who sold me the boat. He just left." He pointed in the direction Syd had seen the thin man go. "You get me my money back, and the boat's yours."
            "Thank you, good sir," Syd offered with a bow, "You shall have your money back."
            “Please permit us to confirm the boat is, indeed, one and the same,” Reg gestured towards the boathouse interior. “And perhaps you can tell us how many coins said brigand fraudulently obtained.”
            Reg elected not to yet point out that the proprietor purchasing stolen property was the proprietor’s fault and issue, not the party’s. Whatever coin he was out was the proprietor’s to recover; the proprietor being a victim of fraud did not make the boat rightfully his. Of course, such nuances wouldn’t well get them the boat back in this neighborhood.
            Discovering how many coins the proprietor reported; and gaining an impression of how honestly the proprietor represented his loss, versus inflating it; might dictate just reimbursing the man some portion of his loss and settling the matter immediately.
            The man's bland smile and watchful eyes gave nothing away. Reg found himself glad that he wasn't facing the fellow over a poker table. The boat-seller watched the party noncomittally with his gang working nearby as they examined the man's newest rowboat. It didn't have the Blue Nixie's name on it anywhere, but given the circumstances, it was likely the same boat.
            Syd led them in the direction he saw the thin man. Once they were out of earshot of the boatman, he turned to Loupin, "Any intel from Conway?"
            "He might not be able to see very well in the dark," Loupin murmured, but listened in for anything from the bird while she followed after Syd.

            The Islaran harborside estate was just as Talib remembered it - and yet, with what he knew now, it wasn't. Here and there, he saw tiny signs of neglect that his father would never have allowed while hale. Minor things: knickknacks out of place after dusting, spots missed in cleaning, a creaking step that needed to be replaced; things his strict father would also have seen, and seen that they were remedied immediately.
            "Everything needs to be ship-shape," Keltar Islaran had often told Talib as a child, with pride and affection... back when he still doted on his children. Before they had vanished, developed a fear of the water, married into other families... or simply gone adventuring.
            Now he was a sick old man, and the orderly harbor was falling apart, just as his family had.
            He was pondering this when he all but ran into his brother, Najib.
            "Talib!" Najib exclaimed, setting aside a bottle with a wicker weave about it. He grinned, spreading his arms wide. "No one told me you had come home! Welcome, brother!" From the smell of him as he pounded Talib's back, he had either been drinking, or at a brothel, or both. It was amazing that he was so afraid of the sea, since he drank oceans of wine. He didn't seem so drunk now, though. He smiled the familiar roguish Islaran smile that Talib had also been blessed with, and dragged a hand through his ruffled dark hair in amazement at his good fortune. "It's so good to see you! I have heard the most amazing stories about you since you left! Come, join me in the kitchen! You can tell me all about your adventures!"
            " Shaqiq!" Talib happily exclaimed at the sight of his brother, the two embracing firmly as if there were no divisions within the House of Islaran. As if for one, bright moment, they were a happy family with a shining future, and Talib held onto this lie despite the discussion he knew was ahead.
            " No one told you I was home?I Now if that isn't the damndest thing!" he laughed with his sibling, knowing full well that the Islaran children were as swift and slippery as the zephyr - gone before you could call their name. Talib threw a glance towards the kitchen and frowned slightly. He had an important reason for coming here, but what was one drink amongst brothers?
            Then again, it was never just one drink with Najib.
            With an arm over his sibling's shoulders, he lead his younger brother towards the galley, glancing upwards.
            " Is father in?" he asked, " I've actually come for a word with him. Just finished running an errand for the Vanderboren's daughter there."
            Talib gave his brother a sly wink, motioning him to sit while he searched the cupboards of the kitchen. It was clear who was in charge of purchasing food for the Islaran household: a small bag with a handful of dates, a half a sack of rice, and yet bottles upon bottles of palm wine, arak, boukha, and other alcohols cluttered the shelves. Talib frowned slightly: while he himself enjoyed the bite and burn, even this was a bit much for him. Reaching for a bottle of mildly fermented palm wine, the sailor poured for both Islarans and toasted his brother before supping a dram.
            " So! What has my brother heard of me, eh? All good things, I assume," Talib laughed wholeheartedly, " And I must equally assume you've been just as well?"
            "Haha! Talib, you sly dog!" Najib laughed, elbowing Talib in passing as he went to take his cup. "'Running errands,' is that what the sailors are calling it these days? I didn't think you'd be sniffing about another of the noble families' doorsteps after what happened between..." He sighed dramatically. "...Rowyn Kellani and I. I thought I'd need to call a healer for Father, when he found out... and for myself." He shook his head woefully, taking a deep drink. "Hah, and not just from Father's wrath. Rowyn is a real piece of work. Never would have worked between us, even if they weren't angling for the harbor. Father is home, of course... ah, have you not heard? His illness is worse."
            It didn't escape Talib's notice that Najib hadn't exactly answered his questions.
            " Sadly this was no day for euphemisms of a more pleasant sort, my brother - I actually did have business with Lavinia," Talib gently corrected his brother. Still, he couldn't blame him - Talib had a bit of a reputation around Tashluta, for better or worse, " Business that may keep the Vanderborens in good favor with us."
            Still, he couldn't help but give Najib a raise of his brow at the mention of his romantic woes.
            " Rowyn, eh? To hear the talk of the harbor, her and I had a torrid affair that included two children and a secret island we stole away to," he grumbled into his wine, " You should've learned from my own tale and deeds, shaqiq - the Kellanis are not exactly our friends."
            "Well, not now," Najib grumbled into his cup. "Father is certain that they have designs on the harbor. You wouldn't know it, dealing with Rowyn," he sighed. "She is not amenable to reason at all."
            Talib gave a playful bump of his shoulder into his brother. " The forbidden grapes are not always sweet, as father used to say."
            The sailor sat in silence for a moment, tending to his wine with more measured indulgences than Najib. There was something about being around his younger brother that brought out a more serious side in Talib Islaran - was it because he didn't want to be become such a man, or was he afraid he already had? Despite his own woes, there was also the matter that Najib had not addressed his older brother's prodding. Had Najib not truly heard anything of Talib, or was father filling him with stories that he'd rather not repeat?
            " Speaking of father, I was here last night," Talib admitted, gauging Najib's reaction carefully, " Had a bit of a row with the old man. Hoping today will go better. I've learned some things, brother, some things about the Azure District I'd rather not be aware of."
            "So that's why... Talib, you should have warned me you were coming," Najib mourned. "Father tore me five new holes when I got home, and filled them all with 'your duty to your family' and 'no son of mine is afraid of the water.'" He tried to make it sound like a joke, but he had an even worse cards face than Talib (another of Najib's favored pastimes, despite that - followingly, another reason for Keltar to fume and complain about wastrels and what was earned being what was kept). Talib could see that Najib was no happier with his father's prodding than Talib was.
            Talib probed further, taking the bottle of wine and unwisely topping his brother's drink off whilst leaving his own half empty. " Have you heard of a man named Soller Vark? He's apparently been on our payroll for some time. Was keeping Lavinia's ship from her and her family. Had strange animals aboard it too."
            Talib lifted his shirt and, with it, the chain armor and undershirt beneath it, showing off the wound that the rhagodessa had given him. " One left me with quite a reminder. Strange, no?" The elder Islaran caught his brother's eyes and held them, curious if the man had heard anything at all about such indiscretions along the Docks.
            "By Bane's black blood!" Najib swore, nearly spilling his drink as he slammed it down and leaned forward to stare at the rhagodessa's handiwork. "Brother, are you all right?! If you need healing-?"
            " Dima' alaliha!" Talib swore with a laugh, dropping his shirt and slapping his younger sibling on the back in good nature. " If I needed a healer, I surely wouldn't have come to you, brother!" The sailor's good jest fell sharply, though - he noticed a dark countenance wash over Najib.
            "I know the harbor is falling apart," Najib admitted somberly. "I never heard of any fellow named Soller Vark, though. But... the people loyal to our family are thinning out, with Father ill. A lot of work has been hired out to people we don't know, and Father doesn't want the public - or the Dawn Council - to know how bad it's gotten." He gave Talib a pleading look. "I would take on the role of Harbormaster if I could, you know I would! But..." He made a helpless gesture at himself, and laughed. It was not a happy sound. "A Harbormaster can't spend all his time on solid ground. And I can't step off it. I can't, Talib. The thought makes me sick!"
            Najib leaned back wearily, and tossed back the remainder of his wine. "Wouldn't that be a lovely sight - the Harbormaster, a noble Islaran from a long lineage of seafarers, projectile vomiting the moment he stepped onto a pier. I'm amazed that Father hasn't disowned me yet. The old goat is stubborn as a... mule." He blinked a bit owlishly at this mangled phrase, but it didn't stop him from lowering his voice, and checking over his shoulder that Keltar hadn't suddenly manifested in the kitchen. Whatever else one might say of Keltar Islaran, he commanded respect, even ill.
            "Not like you," Najib sighed. "Off single-handedly saving ships and probably defeating the whole Crimson Fleet with one arm tied behind your back - I wouldn't be surprised! And neither would Father. With Aaron and Alyssa gone the gods know where, and Dalal, Fariha and Ghaliya all married into other families, he's pinned his hopes on you," he said miserably, shooting Talib a guilty look. "Who can blame him? You're everything he has hoped for... and I'm just the black sheep drinking away his fortune." He sighed again, deeper, and poured himself another cup of wine. "Baa," he said, raising his cup to Talib in a toast.
            Before Najib could bring the cup to his mouth, it was slapped sharply from his hand by Talib. Talib who now towered over his brother, whose dark eyes burned like coal as he regarded his younger brother. Before Najib could react, Talib's arms were around him, clasping his sibling tight.
            " You are an Islaran," he whispered sharply into Najib's ear, pulling back to hold the young man by his shoulders and regard him with warmth, the moment of passion passed.
            " And you are my brother, always. Do you truly think father sees me as blameless and you as the source of all his woes? By the Gods! I left him to this miserable state, to seek a fortune that I never came back with. You, Najib - where every other bird flew from this nest, despite your fears you stayed. You did your duty as a noble and as a son, and I could not be more proud of you."
            "Thank you, brother," Najib said, his voice a bit choked. He turned away, rubbing a hand over his eyes and grumbling that the kitchen spices always got in them. "Hezma uses too much spice," he complained, turning back with shining eyes. Clearing his throat, he added, "Duty is such a dreadful word, though. I avoid it when I can." He grinned, the Islaran charm resurfacing.
            Talib genuinely beamed at his younger brother. Yes, the Islarans had faults, all of them. Yes, the household was falling apart into the sea around their ears. But Talib was not going to let his younger brother feel like he had failed them - not when the sailor saw his own crimes as much, much worse. Najib could not become the Harbormaster because of a sickness: for Talib, it had always been a choice. The sin taken was always more heinous than the sin that was forced.
            The older brother ruffled Najib's hair affectionately, letting him go and fetching his cup for him to pour another glass of wine in consolation.
            " You're far too hard on yourself," Talib admitted, reflecting that the same could be said of himself. He set the refilled cup before his sibling, poured more for himself, and toasted properly.
            " But Islarans are always hard on themselves - it's what makes us better men." Talib touched his glass to Najib's and then downed his drink in one gulp - he would need the liquid courage to face Keltar after one emotional scene already.
            " Do not worry about the harbor - I'll speak with father and ... well, I'll sort that out. You, Najib? You find something else to do with your life, eh?"
            "Better than drink and women? You have high standards! You'll have to tell me more about those adventures of yours, in case I become an adventurer too!" Najib laughed, his humor infectious. Whatever else could be said about him, his resilient wisecracking nature could always be relied on to bounce back.
            Talib spared a thought towards his newfound companions, grinning inwardly at the "seamstress" that had quickly earned his respect and affection with her actions aboard the Nixie.
            " If you'd like, Lavinia seems to be quite an excellent judge of character, and it's important to the family that we remain on good terms with her. I can ask, if you'd like, if there's a way you can be in her employ? The Vanderborens come from money, and Lavinia trusts our name - she also needs assistance managing her estate, from what I've seen."
            Najib sputtered into his cup, coughing. "You- you were serious about working for the Vanderborens?" he managed, incredulous.
            Talib shrugged. " Or you can stay here and see if any of the other Kellani women will use you to get to father."
            His serious demeanor broke into a wide grin, giving Najib one last clasp on the shoulder. " Think on it. For me, at least. I hate to cut this short, but I must see father and then head back to the Vanderboren Estate."
            "Just... just a word of advice," Najib said, wiping his chin with his sleeve. "Don't tell Father you're working for the Vanderborens. They are only minor nobles, you know. Father would flip his lid." He shook his head, still amazed. "I hope you marry this one before he finds out!"
            "Good luck with the old man, Talib!" he called after the departing man.

            Conway didn't like flying in the dark, but as it turned out, the man they were following wasn't that fond of skulking in absolute darkness either, and so the parrot was able to follow him from one spot of spilled light to another, his occasional loud complaint thankfully not spoken in Tashlutan, but enough to lead the group after the bird.
            They didn't have far to go. They soon found themselves at the steps of a large, if run-down, wooden house with light spilling out the open windows, along with a number of scantily-attired women, who were smoking, listening to the music drifting from somewhere inside, and cat-calling anyone they saw passing by, including Reg, Syd and Loupin. Surprisingly, in this district, there did appear to be a little traffic on the corner of Rubble and Gull Street, though admittedly most of it was sailors headed to or from the building.
            A sign even more florid than the boat-shop's read, 'The Last-Ditch Lovers.' They had found the place their quarry had gone.
            Loupin could swear that Conway was smirking, even though the bird didn't really have a face capable of it.
            Syd chuckled and shook his head. "Of course. Where else to immediately spend one's ill-gotten gains." He paused a moment, "Or hide in a crowd. We should make haste."
            Loupin had been directing Conway to pick an eave or something across the street to use as a safe place, preferably where some hooker or somebody couldn't grab him and turn him into a feather boa. She suspected that even the other birds in this area were dumb assholes. Also, the cats.
            "Yeah," she agreed vaguely. Unfortunately, both of the guys were even shorter than her, which meant that whatever else happened, someone in that building was going to give her a hard time, if not all of them. "I mean, unless you guys just want to pay the money. That's okay with me. I know you're a little smashed up. Maybe we could wring the extra dough out of Lavinia..."
            “Always an option,” Reg readily conceded. “Ten pieces of gold is exorbitant; the boathouse is surely making a profit; but I’ll concede that or some portion if recovery of the fraud is more effort than it is worth. Let us make one attempt to weigh the possibility of righting this, first.”
            The trio was greeted by catcalls and invitations of a semi-desperate nature as they entered The Last-Ditch Lovers, testimony to the sheer number of people who had gravitated to the city, then found themselves without work. Well... without other work. The parlor was full of winsome (and less winsome) ladies and gents who pouted at them and invited them to step aside for a bit of private time. A large woman, a bit garishly painted and sporting myriad intricate henna tattoos, plowed through them like a slow barge that simply washed lesser vessels aside.
            "Welcome to the Last-Ditch Lovers, saers," she gushed, all smiles. "My name is Masha. What can I do you for here in Shadowshore this evening?" She paused a moment for the "double intendre," such as it was, to take effect, then laughed. "I'm the owner of this lovely establishment. I'm sure that such posh individuals as yourselves are interested in only the finest we have to offer, and the finest you shall have! What will it be? What are your deepest desires?" She put a finger to her lips coquettishly. It seemed that the boatman wasn't the only one who had them pegged as belonging to another district than Shadowshore.
            “Good eve and our gratitude for your accommodating welcome, Masha,” Reg replied with equal cordiality, charm, and a doff of his hat. “My deepest desires might be a litany best recanted hearthside with wine swirled laconically in crystal goblets, catching the glint of the laughter of good friends and company… but I carry a simpler, base desire this evening, and with no intention of souring the room, you’ve like as not a patron just arrived here by the name of Prettyboy who surely promised to spend much of his stolen coin, here. Alas, that coin just taken still has the heat of my ire upon it, and I’d recover it if he’s done you and yours no harm. If harm he has done with it; or services procured for which he thus cannot pay; my desires well include landing my boots into his head and ribs once or thrice for my own gratification.”
            Reg left it to Masha’s conclusions what Prettyboy’s debt to these three may be, and Reg was well-willing to let Masha perhaps make such presumptions as fitting with the earlier ploy they’d proposed on the walk here from the boathouse.
            When the three of them entered the brothel, Syd opened his mouth to address the proprietor. But then, their grandiloquent gnome launched into one of his typical soliloquies. He shut his mouth and took a moment to translate the verbosity into more common vernacular. Doubling down on the ploy, he stood as tall as his elvish stature allowed, letting anyone who cared note well Vark's Fancy Sword™ upon his hip and a hand resting easily upon it. His sleeves rolled up and long straw hair loosely framing his face, he made himself seem as ready for combat as he could. "The coin was meant for payment to the lady," his head jerked towards Loupin. "Point us to him, I'll get it done. You need not soil your establishment with one who would steal from a Lady."
            "Just one of those things," Loupin added weakly. She didn't want to seem too eager to smash up the joint. "This is a nice place. We're not tryin' t' bring you trouble. You could tell him he's wanted outside, maybe, if you don't want us doing this here -- tell him it's Sally, maybe. I... could really use this money back, see." Loupin may not have looked like a neighborhood creep, but she sure wasn't raised to be fancy, and didn't have to mask her real station in life, even if the boys did.
            Masha's face closed down, her eyes flicking between the three warily - but not without sympathy. With a glance at her workers and their clientele, she fished up a weak smile and gestured for the group to follow her into one of the dingy parlors. Two burly men lounging nearby gave her questioning looks, but she shook her head; this was not a matter for more ears.
            Closing the door behind them, she spread her hands in a warding gesture. "I don't want any trouble with you lot. I've a business to run, and I've seen what adventurers in a tizzy can do... and besides, I ain't one to run with men thieving from a lass like yourself." She shot Loupin a more honest smile. "Thing is, if it looked like I was selling out my customers, I wouldn't have many more. Look, I'll make you a deal. You take him down away from this place, never mention this deal, and I'll see that he doesn't spend another raptor here, and give you the wink when he's leaving. And... maybe drop a good word about this cozy little business in your own district, eh?"
            Reg weighed options much as he was beginning to feel the weight of the long day in his stride. He noted Masha had cleanly demured the return of any coin that had already changed hands; her word was that should would accept no more; and like as not Prettyboy had splurged the majority of his moment’s gains. At best, this would end with dragging Prettyboy; bruised and discomfitted; back to the boathouse, where the proprietor would have to satisfied reclaiming whatever coin Prettyboy might still have, and whatever further he might be able to coerce. The proprietor would profess his remedy was not yet complete; the party would insist the proprietor’s qualm is with Prettyboy; but in the end, the proprietor had the craft locked within the boathouse.
            All with an unknown delay, which Reg may not be of mind to patient, until Prettyboy’s already-spent coin was exhausted in this house.
            “More than fair, and you will have our discretion to both you and your establishment’s benefit; I thank you. More as merit to the quantity of coins that may have already changed hands than to Prettyboy’s stamina, I find need to weigh the extent of the loss versus the duration I would need impose upon your hospitality to recover what might be unspent. How long do you anticipate until his welcome here expires?”
            Syd made a face as he realized that their coin was dissolving even as they spoke. He used it, though, exaggerating his displayed frustration, standing to begin to pace. A glance to Masha softened his affected visage and he paused his patrol. "Excuse my frustration, madam, but the more time we negotiate, the less coin my Lady will recover. Your terms are acceptable, assuming we make haste to get our man from your fine premises. We only care for him and the coin; your assistance will certainly warrant what referrals we can offer."
            Satisfied, Masha nodded sharply. "Oh, I'll see that he gets out quick. I've more than one girl with a rounding belly who could settle on him. He's not bright enough to see through such a trick." Opening the door to the smoke-scented parlor, she added, "I'll see you out the back way. Be ready. He's likely to come out of here like someone set his tail on fire."
            Thus it was that the party left via the alley behind the bordello (a burly, dark-clad fellow lurking nearby gave them a look of interest, determined that they were neither drunk nor unarmed, and casually vanished down another alley), and settled into a side-street not far away. Alerted by a sharp whistle not long after, they caught sight of none other than Prettyboy ejecting himself from the building at speed. Positioned as strategically as Loupin and Syd together could place themselves, it was no surprise to them when he came right for their hiding spot, swearing under his breath.
            Both Loupin and Syd could see the fat sack of coin attached to his belt, and hear it jingle as he trotted away. Back at the Last Ditch, a woman called after him, and he ducked his head and hustled faster.
            Syd suppressed a grin as Prettyboy did as they expected. He quietly unsheathed his rapier, holding it against himself and fisting the basket. "Loupin, can you magic him?" he asked generally. Though, even as he said so, he slipped back into a shadow. If she couldn't incapacitate him via magic, he would opt for a physical option. "Let's not kill the bastard, if we can help it." His voice remained low, so that their quarry couldn't hear.
            "Yeah, Syd, I'll try to resist," Loupin muttered, but she nodded and moved to intercept their target, rubbing the damp from her neck and pressing it between her fingertips as she went.
            "You don't need that drama, Prettyboy," she offered, as gently and invitingly as she could manage -- although she was no Lillia, and had to rely on her looks, which probably wouldn't help much if he remembered her too clearly from earlier. Maybe the dark would help. "I can take better care of you, no trouble. After all, 'At dusk the tired Sun asked, Can I rest?'..."
            Prettyboy brightened at Loupin's words, and paused in his flight to grope his way closer to her in the dark. It was clear that everyone in their group could see much more easily in the distant light from the cathouse than he could. "S'right," he agreed, apparently not having given up on his prior pursuits. However, it was equally apparent that he was a native of Shadowshore. A knife appeared in his hand, and he warned her as he approached, "Don't try nothin', and you'll get paid. Any bloke out there to mug me will-"
            He broke off with a curse, sagging as Loupin touched his arm, and the Weave wrapped around his mind and muscles, sapping his strength.
            Then Syd hopped out and whacked the back of his neck with the basket of his Very Fine rapier.
            Prettyboy hit the ground with a jingle of ill-gotten gains. He groaned weakly; they could dimly see his outline making a feeble attempt at getting his arms and legs to respond properly. He still clutched his knife loosely in his hand, hard-earned reflex of Shadowshore life, but it was obvious that he was currently not a threat.
            Loupin was so surprised by her own singularly uncharacteristic boldness, and by the effectiveness of the spell -- which she had never actually used on an adult person before -- that she didn't even move. It occurred to her that she might have been trying to impress the guys in that moment, and that impressing the guys was a stupid reason to risk getting hurt. Impatience got the better of her at times, but she should have known better. She would never have been able to outdraw Prettyboy, if it had actually come to a fight.
            "First off," Syd commented as he disarmed Prettyboy. The dagger in his hand, he deftly cut the man's belt to retrieve the coin purses, and any other valuables he might be carrying.
            The purse most likely to contain the coin they need for the boat he tossed to Reg. The other got tucked in his own belt. "Sorry, friend. This is Shadowshore, after all," he said, patting Prettyboy's head. To the others he said, "Let us make haste and finish this task."
            Loupin said nothing but nodded. She understood what Syd was doing and why, although part of her wondered whether the madam back at the brothel might here about it, and decide they weren't such sympathetic characters after all. It could blow up in their faces either way. The best thing to do was never come to Shadowshore again, probably.
            Loupin could live with that.

            Keltar Islaran was ill. Talib had known that, of course. But the extent of that sickness was driven home when the servants admitted him to his father's bedroom, rather than his study, to see him. Keltar lay propped up in his bed, coughing terribly. The look he shot Talib told him both that the old man was... not humiliated, he had too much self-confidence for that, but enraged at his illness for forcing him to remain bedbound rather than up and working, night or no night, and especially when seeing visitors... even his own family.
            "I see you have a new habit of only coming by at night. I hope you're not a vampire," Keltar growled between coughing fits as the servants quietly closed the door behind Talib. Keltar gestured with a blood-specked handkerchief at the bedroom. "My new domain, since those priests can't pull their heads out long enough to cure me. They can't even admit that they don't know what's causing this. Cowards."
            He eyed Talib critically, his blue eyes still sharp as scalpels. "Stand up straight, Talib. And wipe that look off your face," he said crisply. "I'm not dead yet. So. What brings you by this failing House this time, hmm?" His implied disapproval at the assumption that what brought Talib by was not his duty to his family was made apparent by his frown.
            Talib Islaran listened to his father's commands almost mechanically: his spine stiffened and the sorrow upon his countenance melted away into hard, sailor's determination. Even still - it laid Talib low to see his father in such a state. How long had he truly been away to not have noticed Keltar's failing health ..? Or had the old man succumbed quickly to the sickness?
            He hoped it was the latter. Gods protect anyone from lingering maladies, Talib thought.
            " I ... I needed to speak with you. About the Azure."
            Keltar raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening further, if that was possible.
            Gone was the posturing and the cocksuredness. Gone was even the gentle warmth Talib had given Najib: his father, frankly, unnerved him. Even dying in bed, the old salt had poise and charisma that could make a tiger bow in deference, to say nothing of his legendary temper.
            " There was an incident at the docks today," Talib continued quietly, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the room too much, " With Soller Vark." He let the name hang for a moment but continued on quickly - the last thing he wanted was Keltar jumping to conclusions.
            His father's countenance darkened slightly; sign of a storm on the horizon.
            " The man was about to put the Vanderboren's ship to sea. Towards what, I do not know. But I, and some others, confronted him and his crew. The Nixie, alab, she was loaded with strange and exotic creatures. One got loose, nearly killed me. A member of Vark's crew was not so lucky."
            Talib reflexively laid a hand over where the rhagodessa had wounded him. Damnable bug! He would make sure to take his vengeance upon every beetle, spider, and ant through Tashluta before he died.
            " Vark, he ... he tried to burn the ship, father. He did destroy documents in the captain's quarters. And I found this." Talib reached behind him and undid the purse containing a hefty sum of platinum from his belt, setting it on Keltar's night stand. " I counted it all," he informed his father, " It's Lavinia's payment. In full. Vark kept it from you. He lied."
            Keltar regarded the satchel of money. His brows slowly lowered. In Talib's mind, he could feel the wind pick up, slapping the sail lines and whipping the water to foam.
            His shoulders lost their strength, Talib resolving to lean against a nearby wall as he recounted his tale.
            " To hear Soller and his crew tell it, this has become common. Frighteningly so. Our people taking advantage of us. Guards looking the other way. Bribery. Theft. The Azure is falling apart." The younger man's eyes slipped closed, sighing deeply. " And I see that now. I had been gone and stayed away for far too long, father. But my eyes are open. I do not want my beloved Harbor to dock criminals instead of ships. I do not want the Azure under any name other than Islaran."
            He stepped forward, kneeling at his father's bedside. A man that, while Talib may not have necessarily gotten along with throughout his youth, one that he nevertheless respected immensely. He reached out a hand on the bed, asking for Keltar's in turn.
            " I am young - I still want to live my life. But I also know that I want to restore the Azure, to keep Tashluta and our Noble House in the grace of the gods. I am sorry it took me seeing the problem with my own eyes, but," he grinned slightly, " I am your son, so I hope you'd understand."
            Talib looked solemnly at Keltar, noting the way the salt had creased his skin. How years of wind and waves and sun had aged the man far beyond his years, but how those eyes still held the sea.
            " So I come to make a deal. Let this son live, for now. Let me feel what it means to defy Umberlee while I still can. And, when ... when the time comes," he swallowed, eyeing the bloodstained handkerchief before diverting his attention back to Keltar, " I will see to the Azure. I will make sure she is in good hands and taken care of. If that means that I, myself, must become Harbormaster to do so, well ... Then I suppose I'll have to get my landlegs under me. For a time."
            Keltar reached out and grabbed hold of Talib's hand with strength that, despite his illness, did not surprise the younger man. In his strong, calloused grip, Talib felt the power of the storm... or, perhaps, the captain who tamed it.
            When Keltar spoke, his voice was even. "That is all that I ask... my son," he said, even his coughing reduced to huffs by the force of his will alone.
            "Do not let all we have built fall to ruin. ...As it does, even now," he ground out, the admission cutting him like grinding glass. His furious gaze could stare down the gods, Talib was sure of it. "And this Soller Vark... I'll see him hanged for this. He, and anyone who crewed for him." His voice was flat; there could be no doubt of the consequence of his rage.
            Another bout of coughing took him then, and he released Talib. It was like releasing his grip from a lightning bolt.
            "Unless you saw to it that they paid for their crimes already," Keltar wheezed when the fit had passed. Taking a swallow from the cup on his nightstand, he leaned back, his eyes filled with fierce regard for his son.
            Talib Islaran had heard tales of fearsome storms far to the west. Hurakán, they called them. In the far east they were known as tai-fun. Unimaginable in scale, awesome in their power, able to lay low the strongest buildings, the stoutest ships. Men and Gods alike ducked their heads and merely waited for them to blow by: even mighty Talos could not conjure such intensity himself.
            None of that, none of that across the realms compared to the tempest that resided within Keltar Islaran. Even maligned by sickness, the man still had a soul about him that even Umberlee could not drag down to her depths without a fight.
            It was for that reason that Talib chose his next words very, very carefully.
            " I ... had turned Vark and his crew over to the local guard. For detaining. As their crimes wronged both Houses Islaran and Vanderboren, I thought it only fair that both houses weigh in on their judgment."
            Keltar actually smiled.
            It didn't make his expression less fierce.
            "Hah! There's a politician in there, isn't there, boy? Maybe you can take up my position on the Dawn Council as well, when all is said and done." The old man actually seemed satisfied. "Not letting your temper get the better of you. Well done."
            Talib swallowed hard - a lump had formed in his throat. Whether it was from seeing his father take some measure of pride in him finally or in realizing that he was about to defy him so soon afterwards, Talib could not say.
            " But, were it I in your place? I would argue mercy this once: Yes, these men wronged us, but Soller Vark did not work alone, of that I am sure. He is a cad, a scoundrel, and not altogether bright." Especially if he was so easily taken in by Lillia and Loupin! ... Although then again ...
            Keltar's piercing gaze grew vaguely puzzled. It was like seeing the gaze of a seahawk trying to figure out how to get a giant crab out of its shell.
            "...Mercy? Talib, of course such a lowlife couldn't have acted alone, but for justice to prevail, for order to be re-established, he must be made an example of."
            " He burned papers, father. Something important, something he did not want me to see. If we put him to the noose, we lose the person manipulating him. Let him and his kind rot in a cell where they can contemplate their long days as they span into years, but let me try and suss out who he was truly working towards. The true threat to the Azure." He bowed his head in respect, as he knew his next request would not go over lightly.
            " And allow me time to discuss it with Lavinia Vanderboren first. She deserves her wealth back for a chance to pay you properly, and she seems to favor our family. With the state of the Harbor, we could use a friend with leverage and wealth right now. She also seems to have access to more ... subtle means. Vark knows me and my face, but he does not know Lavinia's agents. Allow her to help us uncover this plot and see how deep the maelstrom goes."
            "Hrrrmph. Well, I suppose as long as he doesn't go free, we can take our time with his punishment." Keltar rested against the headboard, folding his hands and breathing shallowly. "Let him rot while you search, then. And give Lady Vanderboren her money back. She can repay it herself."
            "You have a good head on your shoulders, Talib." His father pointed a stern finger at him. "See that it stays there." He nodded sharply; a captain's dismissal. Talib could hear the wheeze returning to his breath; no doubt another coughing bout was on its way.

            Reginald arrived at the estate's portico barely a quarter of an hour past dawn; fashionably early, but not perfunctorily so. He didn't travel alone this morning, though, for lounging attentively on the stone of the walk was a golden-coated spotted jaguar with a head of near-equal size to the gnome. The jaguar yawned languidly in the fresh dawn's light, coat shining magnificently, and bearing an embroidered-leather collar and a half-tabard of cobalt blue the over his shoulders, meeting around behind his forward legs.
            Reg, standing alongside, stroked the cat's head absently, occasionally responding with a more-vigorous rub when the jaguar rolled its head playfully but firmly into Reg's side.
            The jaguar made particular attentive note of Conway, but at a brisk word from Reginald, lowered its head to its forepaws and offered no threat. The tip of the jaguar's tail flicked.
            "All, I introduce Setoa. Sharp of wit, experienced of travel, and an enthusiastic wrestler if you get on his good side. He and I have been through many a mile of jungle trail and adventure. Worry not; I take responsibility for him, as at times he does for me. Couldn't bear leaving him to his own a third day."
            Syd rolled up at the appointed hour, a donkey in tow. The animal was well loaded with his equipment, including a broken-down acrobat pillar, the weight distributed evenly. Most of his worldly possessions were upon the animal. He led the donkey to a tie-off and oat trough, letting it settle in. "Wait here, Jasmine. Won't be long." He gently patted the beast's neck before slipping into the Estate, a sideways glance given to Reg's cat.
            Baba Gbele looked upon the big cat fondly as he approached the manor. He was, of course, reminded of his home when he saw it, having watched similar beasts leaping nimbly from trees to hunt their prey. He was unfamiliar with this particular species, but it was not dissimilar to a leopard. He had even known wise women who were said to be able to tame such cats, though the stories tended to end in tragedy. Ah well, it was not for Gbele to augur upon the future. If the beast lost control and savaged one or more of them, it would be part of Ubtao's plan, after all.
            He nodded at Reg as he walked past, giving the beast a respectable berth. "A fine animal," he complemented.
            "Why, thank you, Gbele," Reg affirmed, giving Setoa an affectionate pat to imply the gratitude was from both.
            Half an hour past dawn, the party was admitted to the Vanderboren estate by a servant, and quickly intercepted by the wizened old halfling, Kora, who led them into the dining room once more.
            Setoa rose to an obedient sitting position alongside Reg; the jaguar's seated posture put its eyes just above Reg's own standing shoulder. "I apologize for the imposition, and will remain out-of-doors if need be versus pressing upon Lady Vanderboren's generosity," he spoke to Kora. Reg's hand rested easily on Setoa's shoulders. "Setoa is quite trustworthy, and I personally vouchsafe his behavior. If his presence would make any in the household uncomfortable; or impose overmuch; if he may rest on the periphery of the forelawn, he would be quite content."
            "I'll see to it that your leopard is well taken care of," Kora promised, after gaining Reg's assurance that the servants would be safe when dealing with Setoa.
            Talib joined them, hurrying from wherever he had spent the night. "My apologies for being late," he told the others as Kora took them inside. "I had a talk with my father last night." He offered no further explanation, but perhaps none was needed, at least for those who had met Lord Keltar Islaran during Talib's last visit.
            "I'll have breakfast served to you in but a moment," Kora offered, giving them a gap-toothed smile. "Please, eat and rest here until the Lady Vanderboren joins you." She made no comment on Syd or Gbele's battered appearance, though Syd could hear some of the maids whispering... or maybe it was just his looks in general they were whispering about. The maids darted off too their work as soon as they were noticed by Kora.
            Breakfast was relatively modest compared to the dinner they had been served, but there was plenty of it: fresh bread, fruits and fruit preserves, spiced vegetables, and huge boiled eggs. The smell of the black coffee and cinnamon served was in the air as they partook. They were given time to eat before, as promised, the Lady Vanderboren was announced after some time, and came to join them at the head of the table.
            Syd took a seat with the others and lightly partook of the provided morning meal. A couple fruit and bread was all he desired. He remained silent for a while as the conversation began, watching the others. He wasn't sure how much he should share right away, so he remained quiet for now.
            After a few pleasantries and polite inquiries, she leaned forward, lacing her hands together - in an effort not to fidget, Lillia thought. "I can see you've been working. Have you anything to tell me yet regarding the Blue Nixie?"
            Lillia chewed and swallowed the bit of dried fruit she had in her mouth. She wiped her mouth lightly and placed the napkin on her lap. When her hands came back up, she had a small swatch of colorful cloth bound with a bit of ribbon. She handed it to a server to deliver to the lady.
            As Lady Vanderboren revealed her father’s signet ring and a scrap of rolled parchment nestled in the cloth, Lillia said, “We completed our contract as requested.” She offered the noble a warm smile as she looked up.
            “The resistance was a little more invested than anticipated,” she added. “But we managed to achieve an optimal outcome.”
            Lillia took a sip of her coffee and turned her eyes to others in the group, encouraging someone else to pick up the thread of conversation and to share in the accolades of the telling.
            The holy man nodded his head as a sign of respect, and added a clearly rehearsed line. "You will be glad to hear, I am sure, that I observed no evidence of fiendish spirits upon the Nixie, my Lady."
            "Well... that is a relief," the Lady acknowledged, still a bit distracted by reading the scrap of parchment Lillia had offered her along with the ring. "You have absolutely justified my faith in you! Thank you for returning my father's ring to me - I won't press you for details if you wish. But did you manage to reclaim my money, or find other proof of what Soller Vark was up to for the Harbormaster?" She looked up, eyes flashing in anger at Vark's misdeed. "He shouldn't be allowed to get away with his appalling corruption!"
            "Lillia and Gbele are succinct, and speak truth, but the straightforward report omits the heart of the adventure, m'Lady," Reginald observed with a wry grin and a raised goblet, perched upon knees on the dining chair in order that he might rise to a more-commanding height in the gathering. "You might well be interested to know that Vark had indeed commandeered your family's vessel, and was quite nefariously using it to port rare and dangerous creatures as part of the dark trade, having hired hands from a number of the shadier parts of the city. Quite the band of ruffians. What's more, the fee you'd well and truly paid for the release of the vessel was in Vark's plain possession, pocketed, as you suspected, now reclaimed for return to you. At the peak of it, Vark and ilk even attempted to blaze the ship to hide evidence of their activities, but with thanks to quick thinking and a deckside deluge," Reg's goblet toasted Loupin, "the decks are unharmed, if only slightly discolored in a patch from a short burn of lamp oil in the hold. And as Vark claimed the captain's cabin during his unlawful occupation, you might well want to replace those linens and have the bedding warded from the vermin he surely brought."
            "All activities to reclaim your vessel resulted in no loss of life by our hands, though one of the exotics broke free in a panic at the start of the fire and mauled the guilty firestarter in the hold; the only casualty of the affair, not counting the one particularly-irate and -panicked rhagodessa wind spider that nearly proved the match of four of us. Vark, himself, was remanded to custody and justice at the hands of the Harbor." Reg made a sweeping gesture of upturned palm to grant due credit to Talib in that business.
            "And that, as they say, is that. Quite a bit of foul cross and business, that was, in the city, Lady Vanderboren; you've our sympathies for the full plight you've been unjustly subjected to at Vark's schemes, and our well-wishes that with matters now set to right this day dawns particular hopeful for you."
            "That is fantastic news!" Lady Vanderboren beamed, clapping her hands together with a smack of enthusiasm. "And without bloodshed! You've exceeded all expectations!"
            "I think Talib found your money," Loupin added. "You might want to get somebody to go out there and retie your boat up a little better, though. They weren't very careful. We don't know who they were in business with, but it was probably somebody cleverer than Vark. City Watch may have beaten the truth out of him by now, but you'll have to ask them."
            Reginald had done a good job of summing up the affair, and Loupin had watched their employer's reaction carefully; she hoped the others were, too. It might be good to know what, if anything, would come as news to Lavinia. Most aristocrats looking for justice didn't need to go around the local authorities to get it, and Lavinia hadn't offered an excessive amount of explanation concerning her financial situation. It was one very big house for an attractive woman to inhabit all by herself.
            "Oh... oh dear." Lavinia seemed honestly appalled at the idea that Vark and his crew might be being mistreated.
            Talib stepped in then. "I assure you, Lady, that I saw to it that Vark and his thugs will not suffer more than a deprivation of their freedom. They will see justice, make no mistake... but it will be the justice of the law. You have the word of an Islaran." He thumped his chest with his fist, earnest.
            "Oh! Thank you, Lord Islaran," the Lady said, relieved. A tension went out of her body, and her smile resurfaced. She gave each of them a look of gratitude. "Thank all of you."
            Standing, she smiled at them, joy making her seem ready to float off her feet in a gust of flowing blue silk. Leaning forward, she planted her hands on the table. "As promised, I will pay each of you two hundred lions as soon as I have access to my family's vault - but with your absolutely stellar performance on my behalf in mind, I would like to make you an additional offer. I am willing to pay each of you a stipend of one hundred lions per month to stay on as my troubleshooters, agents, and bodyguards. Before you answer," she glanced obliquely at Talib, "I would like to point out that it need not be a public arrangement - if discretion is required, you have my promise that it will be given... though, should it not be required, there are those doors that might be open to any in service to a noble family of Tashluta. Yet even should you prefer to keep this arrangement under wraps, there are advantages to such a connection."
            She stood straight and clasped her hands, taking a deep breath. "What say you? Are you willing to do me this service?"
            Reg quirked an eyebrow, thinking perhaps the Lady had merely -- and innocently -- forgotten their revised arrangement in the enthusiasm of the moment. Readily settled in discourse to come, to be certain.
            Loupin shifted slightly, forcing Conway to catch his balance.
            "Your ladyship agreed to three hundred," she said gently. "We spent seventy-five or so on equipment, more needs mending, and the bulk of Vark's organization is free. You may be more finished with them than they are with us. Neither do we know what we can expect from Vark's business partners, nor from whomever may have benefited from looking the other way." She didn't mention Keltar by name, but then again, more than one city officer would've had to avoid noticing certain horse-sized mutant insects being transported through the streets of Tashluta.
            "And while we're all glad to have your trust, Lady, I for one would like to know what other troubles your family has -- or might have -- that want shooting, before agreeing to a retainer," Loupin added, not unkindly. "If you'd seen us fight, you wouldn't call us born to the trade, necessarily... and Baba's the only one here who's really bursting for a ghost."
            Lavinia blushed a darker shade, embarrassed. "Oh! Of course, you'll have the full amount I promised you. My apologies, I've had so much on my mind just lately that our agreement slipped my mind. As for my family's troubles-" She broke off as Baba Gbele cleared his throat.
            It clearly pains the holy man to correct Loupin in front of her peers, representatives of nobility, and a potential employer, but the strained look on his face illustrates that he feels the matter is of sufficient gravity that it must be set straight immediately. "Ahem." Gbele clears his throat in order to be certain that her ladyship's attention is captured, then interjects, "If you please; it is not ghosts, but fiendish spirits, for which I am...bursting."
            Realizing that he has the floor, he adds. "I accept your gracious offer, Lady Vanderboren. It is for this purpose that I left my beloved homeland. Your cause aligns, at least presently, with that of Ubtao, Father of the Dinosaurs. May he rule over Chult until Dendar the Night Serpent takes the sun from the sky."
            Lillia smirked a half-smile at Loupin. The young wizard’s caution and pragmatism was what endeared her to Lillia. Because they were polar opposites in so many other ways. Lillia wasn’t about to miss her chance to move into the bigger leagues though.
            “I’m in,” she said. When Loupin met her gaze, she shrugged and said with a smile, “Do you know how many hours of threadplay that equates to?” As though the financial ramifications were reason enough for the budding seamstress.
            “One cannot speak for all, though, milady,” Lillia added, acknowledging the independence of her new comrades. She reached to refill her goblet with water as she waited for others to speak.
            Syd leaed back a little, eyeing a fruit in his hand. A small grin spread across his face. "I also accept, milady." He vaguely saluted the table with said fruit before taking a bite of it.
            "Well, now," Reg settled back on his heels, still kneeling upon the chair, honestly considering. So many acceptances.
            "Such a sum as stipend is very generous, Lady Vanderboren, if all you ask is an assurance of modest, continued availability from each of us. I do admit to a bit of whimsy and fortune guiding my path from time to time, and that is my only hesitation. Would it maintain the spirit of your intentions were I to ensure to exchange word with you at least every five days, with any lengthier interval either considered with you beforehand, or at forfeit of the stipend, at your option?"
            "I daresay part of the value we may bring, ragtag as we are," Reg gave a grin to Loupin's earlier observation, "is our individual recognizance."
            "If such meets your mind, then I, too, welcome the arrangement, to mutual accomplishments and tales ahead!"
            "That arrangement will be acceptable, Saer Brushcutter," Lavinia said, her serious tone belied by her smile. "And I wish to thank all of you who have accepted my offer. I understand why you might have reservations," she glanced at Loupin and Talib, "and of course I'll tell you what I can, but the nature of the arrangement is that should I need you, you will answer my call. I can't predict what the future might bring... but I can tell you that I do have a task for you immediately, if you all accept it."
            "I need to travel to Stormwall Keep in the harbor, to check my family's vault. I've never been there before myself, but rumors hold that some of the family vaults there are guarded by traps. Based on what I've heard my father say, through the years..." She paused a moment, emotion briefly stilling her tongue as she swallowed. "I suspect that our vault is relatively small and safe, but there may be a guardian. I would like you to accompany me there to provide protection, and aid in investigating the contents of our... my vault."
            The holy man raised an eyebrow. "Yet your noble parents did not speak to you of this...guardian?" He sat back with a frown, though his concerns were more related to the unexpected direction this adventure continued to take him, rather than any trepidation he might have over vault guards. He supposed it was likely that the elder Vanderborens expected to have plenty of time to pass their knowledge on to their child. This unwarranted optimism, though often disastrously wrong, was human nature. Most people avoided contemplating their own mortality, though it was a near constant consideration in the Baba's mind.
            "Or how to handle it without recourse to whatever we could do?" Loupin added, her alarm bells clamoring. "We thought the signet ring was all you needed."
            "They were still hale, and relatively young," Lady Vanderboren said softly, the grief still fresh for her. She turned away to look at the portrait of the young man hanging on the wall. "I suppose it didn't seem... pressing. However, they did mention that the guardian is a magical construct of some kind. All I need, I have - the ring, this... riddle," she held up the scrap of parchment Lillia had passed her with the signet ring, "and the resources at your disposal."
            "Well, I for one am intrigued," Syd admitted. He shifted forward in his seat and bit his fruit again, his eyes casting around the party to gauge their own interest before focusing back to their potential Patron.
            " I must echo Syd's sentiments," Talib voiced his agreement, stroking the hair on his chin. It had been an interesting chat with his father, the thoughts of which still preoccupied the sailor and so had stifled his tongue. Yet, here before him was now the chance for more coin, to continue impressing Lavinia, and contribute to a family that he would need the assistance of if the Islarans were ever going to wrangle control over the Azure District again.
            A good captain knew which way the wind was going to blow, and Talib had a special kinship with the winds of Shaundakul.
            The noble reached to his belt and undid the tie that held Lavinia's purse to his outfit, striding slowly over to her and laying the coinage in front of her.
            " I, for one, am happy to help - so long as the Vanderborens can count on the Islarans, I hope the reverse holds true should ever I call as well, hm?"
            "Loyalty holds higher value than gold," Lavinia agreed, turning back to the table at which the party sat, and where her payment to the Harbormaster now waited, returned to her. "You have agreed to aid me when I need you - could I, in good conscience, do less for the Islarans?"
            Lillia cast her gaze at Loupin while Talib commanded the room with his delivery of the coin purse. She wondered if her friend would choose to draw attention to the fact that the payment for services rendered hinged on additional services being performed. A dangerous business model, to be sure, but one not uncommon in the streets of Tashluta.
            Lillia glanced around the chamber again, realizing all too well, that these were not the streets of Tashluta. No matter how high one climbed in a power structure though, gambling existed. Only the stakes grew higher.
            “When were you planning on sailing, milady?” The young seamstress had already decided to go and included herself with tone of speech. She wouldn’t miss the opportunity to venture into Stormwall Keep for blood nor coin. Too many legends surrounded the place for her not to feel her heart race a little at the thought.
            More importantly though, what was she going to wear?
            "If you have no immediate need for your payment, and wish to rest after your efforts on my behalf on the Blue Nixie, then upon the morrow is soon enough for me," Lavinia said, a tension leaving her body that was only visible by the contrast it provided to her previous body language.
            Loupin didn't bother to draw attention to the problem Lillia had spotted; not because it passed her smell test, but because she had never met anybody in Lavinia's position who didn't routinely manage information for business advantage. It was the sort of oh-by-the-way she'd been expecting for days.
            Whoever had recommended the six of them to Lavinia had been mostly on the right track: apparently nobody in the group could resist a shot at gold, regardless of having been promised three hundred gold already (which could afford one months of comfort, even in Tashluta), and regardless that this guardian could be anything at all, regardless that greed alone didn't qualify a single one of them to handle the task. For her part, Loupin was especially curious about the latter problem.
            "Lady Lavinia," she said slowly, "it occurs to me that you haven't really had the chance to explain the value of our 'individual recognizance,' as Reg puts it. Even if we're all just part of Ubtao's plan for the Universe, I'm not sure what makes us essential to your scheme, individually. I know Syd is good at climbing ropes, and that he gets a big kick out of fruit. I know Reginald here is pretty handy with a water bucket. That's about it. Frankly I'm not even certain why you want me over to your house; I know too well how many mages are for sale in this town."
            "I didn't want a mage for sale," Lavinia told her solemnly. "Nor was it any particular skill of yours that attracted my attention. What I wanted was a group of people of firm moral character. People known for doing the right thing in difficult circumstances. People who would risk their livelihoods, and even their own skins, to help others. Please forgive me the term, but I was looking for heroes." She smiled. "Rumors have spread of your heroism, all recent, and all by name... and I have not been disappointed. Few enough would have handled your task on the Blue Nixie without bloodshed - that tale was harrowing enough, yet you handled yourselves with aplomb - and showed mercy. You have justified my faith in your character many times over. I consider your monetary reward a token of my appreciation, rather than payment for services rendered. I believe my situation tipped the scale in my favor, rather than the reward."
            She glanced back at the portrait, clasping her hands. "There are many mages for sale in Tashluta... but there are never heroes for sale anywhere, at any price."
            Reginald looked about the table with renewed interest and a wry smile, somewhat envious of Lavinia’s sources to reach such appraisals. Reg had to wonder what tales mostly-untold churned, here, as clearly there was depth upon depth at this gathering. A travel ahead suited Reg well for building a further cadre of trust between them all. From what he’d seen of them individually, thus far – Loupin’s droll observations notwithstanding, taken in good humor – getting to better know each of them might well be opportunity enough to entice him along.
            “As I sit as a guest at a table of diversity, but all of investigatedly-high-if-quiet reputation, and demonstrated character and resourcefulness I myself have witnessed, my bucket-bailing skills seem a pale contribution to the effort. That said, it is not by dangling bootheels alone that I near the forward edge of my proverbial chair, and I count getting to know more of each of you on the journey ahead as much an enticement as the generosity for the engagement. The color of a hundred words adds texture, but my answer requires only, ‘Yes,’ and I look forward to the start of our travels on the morrow.”
            "Look, I'm gonna be frank about this," Loupin said, trying not to look or sound as puzzled about the hero-talk as she felt. "These guys here are insanely brave, but we only beat those smugglers on your ship because they weren't, and because we had a guy named Islaran along, and maybe because I had a couple of good spells on hand which -- I should warn you all in advance -- will achieve nothing against a magical construct. Milady, I think you must be sincere in your offer, and I can just about guarantee you that these five are sincere, but you do tend to offer money before you offer details, and I have to say, I do prefer having that the other way around a little. So maybe we could draw up some kind of contract, you know? 'Cos retainers and lamentable situations which tip the scales in your favor aside, if we're embarking on new adventures every other day, I mean, one of us is bound to get killed eventually -- including you. Like for example, if that ring doesn't convince your family thingamajig, and we can't stop it from eating your face, that kind of thing. No offense.
            "So, you know, I admit I'd like this all a bit more if I had something solid to wave in front of a judge's face, maybe. Something that mentions the tokens of your appreciation we've already merited, perhaps, as well as maybe all the tokens yet to come, etcetera. Not that I doubt your intentions, you understand. Things just, you know, go sideways from time to time. I have my little bird to worry about. You understand."
            Talib Islaran shot Loupin a queer look - one that was a mixture of perplexed and yet impressed. It was not often he heard someone insinuate a noble would meet a grisly end to ... well, whatever this "construct" thing was, but then again it was also not often the sailor was in such a situation as he was now. Her proposition that there be a formal agreement between the adventurers and Lavinia's House, though, was with exemplary merit.
            " Well, I can't say I disagree," Talib began thoughtfully, " We are, for all intents and purposes, within your employ now, Lady Vanderboren."
            No sailor set out without a charter, agreeing in full to the terms and conditions of the boat. In a case like this, while Talib seriously doubted grievous harm would ever befall him, he did take note of Loupin's concern: if Lavinia was injured, or worse, there went their employer along with a strong ally of House Islaran. Considering his chat with his father, Talib wasn't exactly keen on losing the best chance for his family to maintain the Azure District. Not so soon into this little endeavor.
            " Putting intent to paper is a good plan. I'm sure the Vanderborens have a similar agreement with the Jade Ravens, hm?" he inquired, referencing the mercenary group that the party had briefly scene before meeting Lavinia for the first time.
            " I think having a charter of our own is not out of the question. It is a solid idea, Loupin," Talib recognized the spellcaster for her proposal, " And before we set out, I think some time to prepare might be in order. The journey sounds like it will be dangerous - some time amongst the markets may be beneficial."
            "I can certainly have a contract drawn up for you all to sign," Lady Vanderboren agreed, with an oblique glance at Talib. "I would have done so already, but I didn't want to put the cart before the horse. If you would prefer to wait until the contract is ready, we can delay going to my vault."
            "The written word is all well and good, and I've no objection, but my faith goes first and foremost to mutual, honest intentions and the accord of clasped forearms, which we already have. At option, the pen can record the notes; though from page or given word, the heart and mind retain the joy and weight to bring them to renewed life in any present." Reg said.
            "Very well. If you are all agreed, we will continue to the vault in the morning, and I'll have a contract ready for you all to sign as quickly as possible." Lavinia favored Reg with a warm smile. "I do appreciate your trust."
            Talib paused, then suddenly raised an index finger, recalling something.
            " There's also the matter of Soller Vark, the man that was impounding your ship, Lady Vanderboren - As the crime happened within the jurisdiction of House Islaran, naturally my father has certain inclinations as to how he should be ... dealt with." It was apparent from his expression that Talib was uncomfortable with the sentiment, but he continued on.
            " However I convinced Keltar that Soller wronged yourself and your family as well as mine. Judgment should come from both, yes? Although this is something we can take our time on - Soller Vark and his thieves aren't going anywhere for some time." There was a slight hint of satisfaction in Talib's voice at that proclamation.
            "Well done," Lavinia said approvingly. "Not many nobles of your stature, much less with their own jurisdiction unchallenged, would make such a concession for a House as minor as my own. Thank you, Lord Islaran." Her smile turned to a frown as she considered Vark's judgement. "It's a shame a thief such as he was able to inveigle himself into the position he no longer enjoys."