The evening air was hot, but only balmy compared to the heat of day, and the wind coming in off the sea helped cool them as well. As was the case in any city when the sun went down, most people had gone to their homes, leaving the streets pleasantly bustle-less, but also dark. Fortunately, the taverns were lit and their doors and windows were invitingly open, spilling light into the streets - and there, people were gathered, and willing to gossip.
            Lillia blended into the night crowd seamlessly, somehow disappearing when toughs or drunken sailors stalked the streets, only to reappear to guide Gbele to each watering hole. For his part, Gbele padded stolidly along the streets, his demeanor warning any who might think him worthy of a peck of trouble or theft.
            It didn't take more than an hour for the two to become reasonably certain: There was no tavern in the Azure called Grog's. Both Lillia and Gbele were sure that was the truth.
            “You are an absolutely delicious distraction,” Lillia said to Gbele as she floated along side the holy man on light feet. She had entertained the notion of wrapping hands around his chiseled arm on a couple of occasions, but the culture was too uncertain and the relationship too underdeveloped to warrant the risk. The pious were often the trickiest marks.
            “We could get into so much trouble,” she said. “Not that we would. Or will. But with you passing by, I become virtually invisible. Think of the possibilities.”
            She walked along side him, but the line of thought prompted a question from her. “Have you ever fought any invisible spirits?”
            The holy man had established early on that Lillia was some kind of witch. He had resolved to be on his guard around her, and he saw the circumstances that placed him alone with her now as a test from The Deceiver. He would provide her with no information that she could twist to her witchy uses. "The spirits are always invisible. The bodies they possess are usually flesh and bone."
            Lillia listened intently to his response, but then flitted away to avoid a trio of drunkards. When she returned, her mental processes had shifted gears too. “So no Grog’s in the Azure,” she stated. “Do you want to expand our search to an adjoining district, or have you had enough fun for one evening?”
            She offered the holy man a clever smile, still trying to fancy what exactly this kind of devotee would consider fun. She assumed it would include bloodshed of some sort.
            The Baba did not return the smile. "I have had no fun this evening. We have done enough, though, I think. Grog will have to go without his fine cup."

            The other group took a bit longer, wandering from tavern to tavern/inn and even to tavern/brothel, but Talib plied his honeyed tongue with the help of Syd and Jabari (while Parant remained silently listening, and Loupin proved too distracting for the men), and with a few bought drinks and a focus on the ladies (who seemed particularly enamored of Talib's good looks), they turned up a bit of interesting information.
            A few people remembered seeing Vanthus at some of the taverns in the Azure, often in the company of a woman named Brissa Santos. It seemed she was a notorious pickpocket turned semi-legitimate artist, who had seen her fair share of brushes with the law. But like Vanthus, no one had seen her lately. Parant gave Jabari a slight nod - that rang true to him.
            Exiting their latest establishment, Syd fell into thought. A pickpocket who turned legitimate. He knew people like that. Hells, he was one. There weren't many left alive from the Hand of Lathlander, his former disbanded guild, but if he could get in contact, maybe, just maybe? "I... might be able to put out some... more subtle feelers, see if anyone knows more about this Brissa Santos," he hazarded when he was confident his words would remain between the 5 of them. "I can't promise anything, but," he shrugged vaguely to conclude the thought. It was better than nothing, right?
            "Better than nothing," Loupin said, while Conway clumsily screwed around on her shoulder. "Better work fast though, Syd, before one of these people bumps into good old Brissa."
            "Right," the elf nodded in response, "I'll see what I can find out... if anything."
            "Better than nothing," Jabari agreed, "but it sounds like both of them have disappeared. Maybe this pickpocket convinced him to raid the family vaults and they got out of the city. It would be the smart thing to do if Vanthus really has turned on his sister. Start a new life somewhere else, with a little help from ill-gotten gains."
            "That's what I would do too," Loupin agreed, cheered somewhat by the idea that their search might lead nowhere. "Plus he got hold of a signet ring right before the parents died. Not a good look. Surely he had to have realized that you two at least might wind up looking for him once you came home? You worked for them, right -- not for Lavinia."
            The young man nodded. "We were working for their parents, right. If not us, then the Ravens. He had to know someone was going to come after him for this. If he wanted to make it impossible for Lavinia to pay people to track him down, he should've cleaned the vault out." Jabari shook his head. "That's what I don't understand. Either steal it or don't steal it. Why do it halfway when all it does is piss off your sister?"
            " Maybe he wants to be found," Talib finally mused, lost in thought at the curiousness of it all. His hands were on his hips, eyes surveying the night time streets while addressing his compatriots.
            " It's almost like he's leaving breadcrumbs, is it not? A half-empty vault where he didn't pay off or silence the keepers at the Vault into not revealing he had been there. If he had another way into the Vault and around its guardians, then he possibly could have known about everything involving The Blue Nixie too: he could have paid off Soller Vark or torched the ship if he didn't need it , something to keep Lavinia from gaining access ... but he didn't. He hasn't exactly been deep into hiding, either, considering people around the Azure remembered him and his partner - they weren't taking pains to be incognito."
            None of it made sense to the sailor, and it was apparent in his tone: frustrated and a bit perplexed. What in the name of the Winds was Vanthus up to? None of his movements made any sense, almost as if ...
            " ... Unless he's being set up." The idea flashed across his eyes like a lightning bolt, a sudden stroke of paranoia and deduction.
            " Brissa, what if ... What if she's using Vanthus? Plunder a bit of the Vanderboren fortune, blame it on the wayward son, messily cover your tracks so he gets nicked and takes the fall while you're off to Calimshan with a treasure trove in gold? Hells, at this point, we don't even truly know if Vanthus is alive, much less if he's left Tashluta."
            He shrugged - it was a hunch, and not based on much other than a gut instinct, but he wasn't about to rule anything out.
            " It explains ... well, a lot. A smarter thief could leave less behind to tail him, and a more malicious brother would have stolen far more than was left behind in the Vault. Neither of those things make sense unless Vanthus is being manipulated or conned in some way - it may not be Brissa, but I doubt Vanthus is the one actually calling the shots here."
            " Besides," Talib went on, waving noncommitally back towards the direction of the Vanderboren Estate, " Lavinia herself said she's ... not exactly mad about this. She's not out for blood or revenge: she just wants her brother back. Maybe, to a degree, Vanthus feels the same - he has need of money and other things, but is not out to sabotage his sister and their name entirely. So he takes the gold he wants and needs, but doesn't completely clear Lavinia out. Nor does he lock her out of the Vault or take any direct action against her."
            Talib took a step away from the group, running his hands through his dark hair and looking up at the night sky. The constellations, bright and vibrant, would have provided some type of answer had this just been a simple voyage. This was no such thing, though: everything was muddled and unclear, and even the luminous North Star couldn't be trusted.
            " This is all speculation," he admitted with a heavy sigh, stepping back in again, " When we meet with the others tomorrow, that might clear some things up."
            Talib turned his eyes to Syd, giving the Elf a nod of respect and recognition.
            " Whatever you can find out that we cannot would be beneficial. I trust this means you need to do this alone ..?" he asked, unsure, " If not, I've still energy enough - the night is pleasant, and I wouldn't mind staying up a bit more."
            A thought occured to him, making Talib snap his fingers. " Actually, I may be able to find a bit about Brissa a different way, actually," he advised, pointing towards Syd, " If she's tangled with the local law before, maybe some of the men and women on my father's payroll might know a bit about her. It may go nowhere, but I feel it helps to hear the same story from two different people , ?wo?"
            Resting a hand on the hilt of his salt-flecked blade, Talib looked about the harbor area for a moment, enjoying the calm breeze sweeping in from the sea. " That's what I'll do, at least. Syd, you see to your people. Hopefully, we'll dig up something a little further."
            His gaze then flitted between Loupin, Jabari, and Parant. " Any other ideas on what we can use or follow? Contacts, acquaintences, old flames?"
            "Not me," said Loupin lightly. She too was enjoying the breeze, although at moments it seemed to be coming down the street from behind Jabari. "But nobody who was smart enough to manipulate him would be dumb enough to keep him in town, or maybe even alive, if they were just after his money. It's possible he's just a big asshole, Talib, and you'll be endangering Lavinia by bringing her to him. Maybe we should pay Soller Vark a visit? Mention Vanthus or Brissa to him, see how he reacts? At least it'd be one less thing to speculate about. I've got another charm spell."
            Talib nodded at Loupin's reasonings - they really didn't know who Vanthus was as a person, and the mage's natural wariness was something the former Captain could do with more of. All they had was a sister's take on a man she admitted she didn't really understand anymore, and some bar talk from drunks, floozies, and sailors. That wasn't much to go on even if Talib happened to usually trust the words of drunks, floozies, and sailors.
            " That's not a bad idea - if Soller can clear their names, we at least know they never knew about the Nixie or what was aboard it, or at the very least that they didn't quite care about it."
            He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, grinning brightly in the dark night. Their last meeting with Vark had ... not exactly been a pleasant one.
            " Though we are certainly going to need that spell. Sounds like we've got a plan to finish the night, however - if there's nothing more we've got up our sleeves, I say we get to it, get some rest, and then meet up again tomorrow with the others. Agreed?"
            "Fine with me," said Loupin, trying not to shrug so Conway would stop fidgeting. "Personally I bet he's an asshole. Who thinks it's funny to dump love potions into the town water supply? Imagine how much could go wrong... family members... ugh."
            Parant nodded, though his face showed that he's clearly been thinking about something. "What does a judge in this city use to signify their status?" He asked the group. The thumb of his right hand was rotating his signet ring around the ring finger. He had mentioned the office he held during the conversation at his and Jabari's apartments earlier that day.
            Jabari's family knew several officials, judges and such. He quickly rattled off what he knew about them. ...which, as it turned out, wasn't that much. He'd left the technical and legal battles to the staff, and hadn't been paying that much attention to their boring talk. He did know that the Dawn Council was the highest "court" anyone could appeal to, and where the judges performed their duties. The specifics of individual judges, though, he was much fuzzier on.
            "We may not need to invent much," Loupin pointed out, seeing some but not all of the direction of his thoughts (as she, of course, knew nothing about him). "I'd rather use that spell as a last resort, since it may not work, especially if he expects it, which he probably will. But we know two things already: one, Vark doesn't want to be locked up, and Talib's in a realistic position to effect his situation; two, Vark smuggles exotic animals, and Jabari here is in a realistic position to make deals of that sort. Between you guys and what he probably realizes I can do -- charm people, including you guys and the prison guards -- we might be able to convince him we have something to offer in exchange for information... if he doesn't betray it accidentally. Which he may not. He didn't let on the first time. I assumed the wind spider was going to be sold on the peninsula, but maybe not. Maybe they were waiting for Vanthus to come aboard. They obviously didn't know how to handle that ship very well. Maybe he did. Maybe he was going to use it to get out of town."
            Jabari chuckled. "I don't know this Vark guy but I know the type. I can make a few comments about building a business relationship." He nodded at Loupin. "That's a good idea."
            "I guess we'll have to try it tomorrow," said Loupin with a shrug that nearly sent Conway sprawling. "I mean if you guys need time for this other crap. Maybe if we're lucky and find Brissa we won't have to go see him. He'll probably try to hoark up a bunch of loogies at me. You'll see." Her expression was grim.
            Syd parted ways with the others, trawling the taverns for more information on Brissa Santos. The problem wasn't that he couldn't find anything - there were plenty of people among the less savory sorts who knew of her - the problem was learning anything new. Long after midnight, he was forced to admit that he was too tired to keep chewing on that dry bone.
            Talib went to speak with the Azure Guard, and he had a modicum of better luck, thank Tymora. The guards could mainly confirm what Talib already knew, but they also knew where Brissa lived, and after getting a few coins as a tip for their excellent peacekeeping, they were willing to pass on that knowledge.
            By that time, it was nearly morning, and Talib headed off to bed as the others had hours before.

            The following day, before the highsun meal, they went to see Soller Vark in prison at the Merchant's Garrison. A few words from Talib, and they were left outside his cell, where he stared back at them sullenly.
            As soon as they had entered the garrison Loupin rapidly developed a desire to leave this to the others - but she was, she supposed, the one who had tried to make Vark think she was interested in developing a business with him. The problem was she didn't know for sure whether he was smart enough to realize it was all charm-spell BS. Sometimes he had seemed approximately cunning; other times not so much.
            "You!" Vark bounded up from where he'd been sitting in the dingy jail, rushing at the bars and trying to reach her through them. "You're the one got me into this!"
            "Well, I see they haven't strung you up by the ankles," Loupin said with as much enthusiasm and self-assurance and grandeur as she could muster, whilst also trying to prepare her reflexes in case he hoarked a loogie at her. "Lady Vanderboren wanted compassion. That's good, though, it means they realize this situation isn't really serious. Our plan is working, Vark! You're holding up your end. I got some financial backing. We honor each other."
            Parant raised an eyebrow at Loupin's direct (if crooked) approach. He had been prepared to act like a bought judge (he'd known enough to know what they looked and sounded like), but that didn't seem to be Loupin's angle. He supposed he could always throw that in later, if it seemed warranted. For now, Parant wasn't going to be able to add much to the conversation - not yet, at least - so he just watched this Vark character, observing and learning his reactions.
            "Honor each other?! You've a lot of nerve, I'll give you that, girlie," Vark snarled. He jabbed a finger at Talib. "He said I'd walk if I played nice!" He drew back, scowling. "Who's this lot? Come to gloat?" he spat, clearly thinking himself a bit more important than matters actually suggested.
            Talib Islaran barely stifled a yawn behind his hand, half feigned, half very much real. They had already been through a late night and now he was in a prison at the break of dawn - not exactly his ideal start to the day. Gone was the elaborate dress from the night before, replaced instead by the simplistic outfit of a sailor: loose trousers, sturdy boots, a bright linen shirt, and a sash in place of a belt into which his scimitar was tucked.
            " You're lucky I convinced The Lady to show such mercy, Lou," he droled, adopting a haughty persona of noblesse oblige that he knew for sure much of the upper class felt towards such concerns, " But this business venture of yours is ... intriguing, to say the least. I think we all stand to make out rather well once we all come to an agreement."
            He tilted his head to the side, regarding Soller Vark like a hawk in front of a mouse.
            " Of course, this all depends on what your friend has to say. I trust he still has a mind for profit over jailbars, hm? I can certaily tip the scales towards one or the other."
            Talib flashed a grin, at once disarming and yet somehow filled with canines. It was no small secret that the former Captain despised Vark to his very core for the things he had tried to pull, but ultimately he wasn't looking to severely harm the man. If they could get any more information out of him that would be helpful, though, he might have considered the trade worth it for his freedom.
            Unlike Talib, Jabari had gone the other way with his clothes. Rather than the simple but expertly tailored clothing he'd worn yesterday, today the young man was dressed every inch like someone who belonged in the Noble District. He chuckled at Talib's comment. "Personally, I prefer to work with expediters who don't get thrown in jail. But extenuating circumstances and all." He looked curiously at Vark, clearly content to let Loupin do the talking.
            "You... you want to do business?" Vark stared at them, the idea dawning on him slowly through his fury. "After you thrown me in here? Who are you, really?"
            Syd lagged back, melting into the shadows of the dimly lit prison. He leaned against the wall, and mostly listened to their interrogation of the once-pirate. "You'll want to cooperate, Vark," his voice came from the shadows, "Scratch our back, maybe we'll scratch yours."
            "Er - that's right, thank you, Sergeant," said Loupin, trying not to grimace. To Vark she indicated Jabari with a respectful gesture. "So yeah, uh, this man here is a House Damarthe representative. Perhaps you already recognized him. He and Lord Islaran are, shall we say, friendly. Probably you haven't heard this, but his Lordship here has lately been named elect assumptive to the Dawn Council by his father, and is now in a position to influence the Azure Watch, and so help certain important business-minded families down at the harbor. There's trade to be done down there - as you know - so long as critical harbor employees remain, or become, reliable. The fact that you were willing to come so quietly, and remain quiet now, suggests that you know a good thing when you see it, Mister Vark. You handle your duties for the harbor credibly enough, but tests of reliability are necessary whenever power begins to change hands."
            She nodded in respect to her great friend and patron, Talib.
            "Rare species are obviously better marketed at a premium," Loupin said unnecessarily. "So it's in the interest of House Damarthe to influence the legality of certain kinds of trade, and to contain competition. Your operation has not been overlooked by them - but that doesn't mean it can't be, provided you choose the right business partners. Because the ones you've had up 'til now are not the right ones. The right ones would be standing here, like us, and in a position to get you out of this sad predicament, the way that we are. But the success of an Islaran-Damarthe partnership depends on knowing who is doing business without their participation. If you're interested in being a free, employed smuggler, you'll need to reveal who your current partners are. We can make them a similar offer, and we can do it without mentioning your name. If they're as wise as you, they'll cut a deal of their own and continue to work with you under our aegis. If they aren't as wise as you, you won't have to worry about them again - we can guarantee you that. You'll do business with us directly, in that case."
            Jabari was more than happy to remain 'a representative of House Damarthe.' There would be Hell to pay if word got back to his parents- or worse, his older sister- that he was trying to do business in the House's name without approval or backing. He nodded at Loupin. "Honestly, the only thing that's impressed me so far about your operation is how you've kept from naming names to the authorities. I can use somebody who knows the business and who, more importantly, knows how to keep their mouth shut."
            "Luckily, we aren't the authorities. Someone's going outside our usual channels. We're either going to buy them out or..." Jabari shrugged and flicked a metal bar with his fingertip. "Well, you've seen what happens to unauthorized competition. They don't stay competition for too long. We'd prefer to do business to keep a semblance of options in the marketplace."
            "I get it," Vark said, leaning against the bars he had been trying to break to reach Talib and Loupin before. Now he offered them a greasy smile, full of bad teeth. "You want to know who my buyers was. Get a little cut of that action. Only, there's nothin' to stop you from gettin' my cut if I just hand 'em over. So's how about this. You let me outta here, let me get back to Shadowshore, and once I'm clear of the guards, I'll tell you who it was. Bygones is bygones. I'll trust you to keep your end of the deal after that."
            "Wot 'bout us?" the prisoners in the next cell whined. Some of the party recognized Rors and Finney.
            "We din't do nothing wrong," Finney pleaded. "We just got paid to do what he said. I got my boy to think of. He's nothing but a little kid, yet, practically a baby." She reached out as though touching them would carve a path to their hearts.
            "You said," Rors whined, strange coming from such a big fellow.
            "Shut up," Vark snapped. "I's cuttin' a deal, here."
            "We don't need anybody's 'action,' Vark," Loupin replied, trading a looks with Talib and Jabari. "The action is all Faerun. So unfortunately your buyers weren't actually a matter of concern to us. In that case, maybe you shouldn't have drawn our attention to them." She spoke more slowly, for the benefit of anybody who was studying his reactions. "We know who to examine closely when it comes to buying. Pikes... Kellanis... Meravanchis... maybe what's-his-name, back in Shadowshore? Or maybe it's someone a little closer to Lavinia Vanderboren, yeah? Somebody with a more legitimate interest in the Blue Nixie? I wonder how many places we'd have to mention your name before your chances of surviving out of jail disappear entirely. Probably not too many. It's nice to know you were selling to them, though. We'll be sure to mention that you revealed it -- if necessary."
            " I think it's fair to point out again," Talib cleared his throat, joining in on Loupin's con, " That right now, we ... ahem, I am your single best chance of getting out of this cell with your livelihood intact. You think your contacts and friends have the sort of pull with the local judges that I do? I've run around enough pirates and smugglers to know that if I get this door opened before we come to an accord, you and your crew would be on the first ship windward and we'd have a better chance of seeing Mask before we ever saw you again."
            He shrugged helplessly, as if Vark's circumstances could simply not be helped and that it was not definitely the word of one Talib Islaran that had landed him and his crew in their current predicament. While Talib may have asked for their lives to be spared, he still was more than happy to let them rot in the damn cell. There was a small measure to him that was irritated over the idea that he may wind up actually owing Vark at the end of their exchange, but he supposed that was a fair price if it brought them closer to solving the mystery of Lavinia's brother. What was one more smuggler loose on the Shining Sea?
            Just another prey to the Crimson Fleet, really. Sad truth was, Soller and his associates were probably safer behind bars ashore. But Talib knew the call of the ocean, and he knew he would do or say just about anything to get out of imprisonment to feel the waves beneath his boots again.
            He had already done so before, after all.
            " Far as my friend and I here are concerned, we hold all the cards, Vark. One way or another we will get what we need - you already know that. Whether or not you get an ante into this pot is on you , gwadenya."
            Vark sneered, though he was sweating profusely, more than the relatively cool confines of his cell made necessary. Only Talib didn't notice it, focused as he was on Vark's reaction. "I know what your promise is worth, nobleman," he spat. "But I'll play along. I'll tell you what you wanna know. I just want out first, so's you don't 'accidentally' forget I'm in here, like." He wiped at the sweat dripping from his scruffy lips, then leaned against the bars. "If you're on the up-an'-up, there's no problem with that, is there? We all make a fortune."
            After a moment, he added, "And we'll need crew. Even that lot will do," he spat in Rors and Finney's direction. They looked up, hopeful.

            Lillia stifled a yawn as they entered the garrison. She had been up most of the night crafting a new sarong, and with sleep a bit lower on the current priority list, she was feeling the effects of limiting that particular resource. But oh the fabrics she had gotten! She had been energized in the flickering candlelight, working until the wax clumps threatened to extinguish themselves.
            The others could handle Vark’s interrogation. Too many faces could serve equally as deterrent, and in truth, she had little interest in what the man had to say. Even less in the man himself. Plus, she doubted her presence would afford much benefit. She and Soller Vark had not been on the best of terms.
            "Just let me know if you need a heavy hand," she had said to the others.
            So Lillia contented herself with lurking in the outer guard chambers, milling and chatting with the local enlisted. As the group had filed toward the door, she caught the Baba’s eye and had made a waggling gesture with her hand that was easy enough to interpret. ‘He was welcome to linger out here with her, rather than stuff in there with the rest of them,’ it said.
            Lillia didn’t normally taunt those that were uncomfortable with her, but something about Baba Gbele tickled the back of her mind. It wasn’t until long after there was spilled blood between them that she fully understood what that mystery had been. And that realization rocked her to the core.
            The Baba cocked his head to the side for a moment, unsure if the witchy woman meant what he thought she meant. He decided that she did, in no small part because he had no desire to question the smuggler. He had determined that Vark was simply human, and had subsequently lost interest. Suspecting that the interrogation might take a while, Gbele squatted down to his haunches, comfortably resting his forearms on his knees. He watched Lillia as she worked the room, confirming to himself that she had a formidable gift. Was it possible, he wondered, that he could be aware of her duplicitous nature, and yet be drawn to her despite of it? Because of it? Of course it was.

            "Those guys have more ways to get out of here than you do," Loupin said coldly. "If they're here it's because they're too idiotic to realize that. And we don't need idiots on our payroll. Sorry."
            She glanced at her comrades, in case they wanted to say something, or signal that she ought to try a spell. From her indifferent tone it sounded like maybe Loupin sure whether Vark even had something they could use. Probably he was just scared of his partners, but it was always possible that he had been approached anonymously, too. In that case even a successful spell might turn up nothing, and who knew how many more charm spells the group would need that day?
            "Look, I don't blame you for being cautious, pal," she said to Vark finally. "But we can find them on our own with a little more work -- heck, they'll probably come looking for us! -- and we'd be fools to free a frightened man before we've pacified the people he's frightened of. You'd just sell us out to win their favour, yeah? So no, we're not gonna bargain with you, Vark. Get forthright, or we're gonna walk out of here, and either you'll rot in prison forever for all of your crimes, or your friends will win and then have you killed for selling them out -- and we will sell you out if we lose, Vark, because maybe you could have made it possible to win, and chose not to. Do you want us to lose? This is your last and only chance to make things easier for everybody. So roll the dice, buddy, and remember that your friends weren't strong enough to keep you out of here."
            "Hold on, there. I ain't afraid of no one," Vark blustered, but pressed on quickly when he saw Loupin's expression. "I ain't sayin' we can't deal, luv. If you wanna make a deal, I'm saying I'll work with youse. I just want to be sure you ain't gonna forget to let me out. Not a great deal for me, would it be? Look, if you ain't after the buyers, what was it you wanted, again? I'll give you a nibble if it'll sweeten the pot, like."
            "Did I stutter? We want everything," said Loupin with a shrug. "Tell us everything about everybody, and if it turns out that you're honest, and if we don't die, we'll give you a decent future. Make any other decision, you have no future. That's the whole pot. We're walking out." She looked to Jabari and Talib, in case they wanted to direct her or anything else.
            Circling around Vark's self-interest and dishonesty didn't hold much entertainment value for Loupin. Finally she brought up Lord Vanderboren by name, just to see if it shook anything loose that they could use, but by Vark's total lack of guilty reaction, both Loupin and Parant thought it seemed unlikely that he knew much about the man - at least, anything useful.
            Gathering Lillia and Gbele on the way out, they grouped to determine where to search next.
            "Was that even remotely useful?" said Loupin, looking around at those who had been watching Vark's reactions. "The only thing I could see was that he's more scared of them than he is of us, which would be weird, unless he thinks he's only going to be in there temporarily..."
            There was one name Loupin could think of that they hadn't brought up with Vark: Keltar Islaran. The man who controlled everything coming in and out of the harbor, who had shrugged off Lavinia's pleas, offered cynical quid pro quos to Talib, failed to offer them a farthing for stopping Vark, failed to help them track down Vark's partners now. The man who was in a position now to make a blundering employee disappear from prison.
            Loupin wondered whether anybody else was thinking of it, or whether she was settling on a pattern where none existed. For all she knew Keltar was the target of a conspiracy, and Vark figured somebody else was going to be in charge of the harbor soon. Certainly on the boat he'd acted dismissive enough of his boss. Anyway, with Talib standing there ready to explain whatever he'd come up with the night before, calling attention to Keltar seemed pointless at the moment, if not actually counterproductive.
            "I don't think a charm spell would have helped, necessarily," Loupin added instead. "Just because he'd like me doesn't mean he'd risk himself by talking -- and he didn't say anything on the Blue Nixie, and I asked him then, too."
            Parant shrugged. "From what I could tell, Vark has some level of low cunning that's probably warning him off, like a rat wary of the cheese. But he really wants to believe us - you." Parant squinted up into the sky, replaying the questions and Vark's responses - non-verbal rather than the words - in his mind.
            "He did not look look as though he had made up his mind, but he probably knows a bit of leverage when he's handed it. And I think he sees our curiosity as that leverage. He seemed a bit shifty when he mentioned his buyers. I don't believe he seems very trustworthy, either."
            Parant shrugged again. "The thugs," he said, as if in passing, "Rors and Finney, they seem like simple enough people. They just want out."
            Lillia had trailed along behind, the last to emerge from the guard house. She had spent the time working the room and laying groundwork for friendships and future promises in case she ever needed to return to this particular holding area on other business.
            Talib Islaran stretched his arms behind his back, enjoying the feel of the warm sun upon his skin again. Indoors just did not suit his tastes very well - he needed the feel of the wind, the clear breeze through his thick hair, the taste of the fresh sky - and his relief at leaving the jail was more than apparent to onlookers.
            " I think it best we put Vark to the background for now," Talib voiced, it still apparent from his tone that he simply did not like the man. Even now, feeling much more calm and assured than the encounter upon the Nixie, there was still that lingering anger, that doubt that Soller Vark could ever be trusted or redeemed.
            But if that were the case, what did that mean for Talib Islaran? What did it mean for his brothers and sisters?
            “Background, underground,” Lillia muttered, see-sawing one hand to indicate the words were interchangeable in her opinion. Her contempt for the filthy smuggler had been evident since events had blewn up on the Nixie.
            " You did good in there, Loupin," the sailor praised his companion, knowing he himself would have blown the discussions swiftly if he had tried to take the floor, " But sometimes a locked chest holds naught in it. Maybe someone will reveal where the gold is really secured now that you've tried to pick it once, eh?"
            Poking and prodding at secrets was almost always the best way to get them revealed, in Talib's experience. People tended to get antsy when they thought their securities were not so secure - if Vark truly was invested in anything involving the Vanderborens, it would come out sooner or later.
            " Last night," he moved on, " I had a bit of a chat with the Jamals and Jahairas in the Azure Guard - took some silver, but apparently a few were familiar with Lord Vanderboren's woman there, Brissa - Familiar enough that they know where she lives. And now so do I."
            He was still sure this "Brissa" was the heart of the matter when it came to Vanthus Vanderboren. Talib wasn't quite set to place a bet on what her role in the story was, but he knew she was at least one of the winning hands. It was just a matter of seeing whether she was the high or low card.
            " I think paying her place a visit may be telling - when she's not around, that is. Give us some time to look through her things."
            Talib gave a nod to The Baba (which required quite an incline of his head upwards to start) and a wink to Lillia - they had been separated for the evening, and he was honestly glad to see both of them still in good health. Without quite meaning to, Talib was beginning to rely on them, on all of them, to help chart the unknown waters they had found themselves drifting in.
            " Thank you for indulging us with that cretin," Talib offered gratefully, knowing that he wouldn't have wanted to speak to Soller Vark first thing in the morning, even though he was the one that had agreed to it!
            " Did you two find anything out last night that we may have missed? Anything about a certain Groggy Bar?" he asked wryly, suddenly wishing he had been blessed with the fortune to spend the night with pleasurable palm wine and pleasurable partners. It was a flicker of longing for a previous life, but Talib shook his head (if only to himself) at the notion: there were more important things at work than the flitting fancies he had indulged in before. Like it or not, Talib realized suddenly that his desires were moving towards a sense of responsibility of all things.
            He wasn't quite sure how to take that.
            " If, if not," the Captain carried on swiftly, as if to banish his own thoughts by speaking, " Then I suggest we scope out Brissa's place, gauge when she may be out (or arrange circumstances so she will be), search the joint, and then report this all back to Lavinia. Whatever we find with Brissa will bring us one, large leap forward towards Vanthus. All in favor?"
            “Sounds like a solid bet to me,” Lillia said. “Especially considering that we didn’t find any place called Grog’s in the Azure. We entertained the notion of expanding our search into other districts, but I think the Baba had had enough entertainment for one outing.”
            "Yeah," Loupin agreed vaguely, as she searched Gbele's face for any indication that he had shared anything about the Seekers with either Lillia or Reginald. He was hard to read, though, and Loupin wasn't much good at reading people.
            The holy man's face is the same as always - stoic. He hadn't spoken much during the entire time he was cooling his heels with Lillia, and the safe bet is that he has no plans to change his verbal output much in the foreseeable future. That's not to say there's nothing going on behind his heavy lidded eyes. It doesn't take an astute reader of human expression to realize that Baba Gbele is struggling with a heavy internal conflict.
            For a brief moment, it looked like Gbele might speak, but then Loupin and Syd carried on with the conversation and he just clenched his jaw muscles instead.
            "What about you, Syd? Anything to add?" Loupin said.
            Syd shrugged, "Not really. I agree that looking into Brissa is our next step." He had exhausted his own ideas for the time being, so now he was going along with the others. This investigation was proving more involved than he had initially expected. But he'd still see it to the end.
            After a long pause Gbele interjected, "I agree that we must find this woman, but I will not search her home without her permission. We do not know that she is a...bad person." Gbele frowned as he completed his statement. It did not convey the exact message he intended, and he internally cursed his clumsy language.
            “That’s a legitimate concern,” Lillia said. She met several of the gazes that turned her way with a nonchalant shrug. If there was one thing Lillia knew, she knew people, and if Gbele were anymore puckered about this circumstance, he could become a problem. Plus, sometimes you had to give a little.
            “We’ve crossed paths with the local law recently, fortunately on good terms,” she said. “It would be imprudent to damage their impression of us.” Then she turned on Gbele.
            “But, Baba, you must admit there could be circumstances which would warrant entry into her home,” she said. “If we could see someone injured inside, for example, or an evil spirit at work, or perhaps heard screaming, something that could justify our investigation.”
            “Laws are what keep us safe in a society after all,” she added. “But sometimes there is a difference between the written law and moral law. So we will take it slow and see what comes to pass. I hope that is agreeable enough?”
            "Yes, of course." Gbele said.

            Soon enough, the party stood outside the building in the Azure where Brissa supposedly lived; her room was on the second floor. Syd climbed up to peer through a crack in the shutters; there were paints and canvasses in varying stages of completion there, but no sign that anyone had been there recently.
            Syd hopped down from the side of the building, shaking his head. "She's not home, and doesn't look like she has been for some time. Then again, I didn't get much of a look through the shutters. She does seem to fancy herself a painter." He leaned against the wall, fiddling with the pouch on his belt what held his tools, "If you guys want in, I can get us in."
            Talib glanced from the building to Syd and back again, stroking fingers softly against his chin in thought. While the easiest route was certainly to just have the nimble and capable elf jimmy the lock upon and have a quick snoop inside, The Baba's hesitations and Lillia's reassurances from earlier made the sailor stay his impatient mind. Gbele was correct, after all - all they truly had was supposition, and nothing to outright declare that Brissa was some master thief taking advantage of disgruntled and wealthy siblings. Despite Talib's gut-instinct that Brissa was definitely the thread they needed to pull, he still couldn't connect her to the blouse. Not yet, anyhow.
            " Mmmaybe not just yet," the Captain thought aloud, " She's got t- a painter? Huh. Didn't quite expect that. Anyway, if she's not at home, maybe we can find out where she's gone, or when she's expected back, yes? Perhaps whomever owns this complex, or her neighbors, have an idea. We check with them first, get a feel for the girl. Maybe one of them has seen her with Vanthus."
            He looked between the rest, eyes lingering on Baba Gbele. Whilst Talib was a little more ... flexible when it came to rules (even when he was the one giving them), it would set a bad precedent if one of his very first acts as the declared Islaran heir concerning the Azure was Breaking And Entering.
            Not to mention, the sailor simply respected the Chultan, and did not want to offend him - Keltar's blood aside, Talib tried to be hospitable and attentive to others where possible.
            " If one of the locals can confirm Vanthus has been here, I'd say that's reason enough to poke around her studio - we'd at least know we're definitely on the right trail."
            "I could see if I smell him," Parant said. He shrugged when the others looked at him. "Caracals - desert lynx - are small enough to get into houses. I really only need to get into the entryway of the house to see if I can smell him. It would be better if I can get further in - to the door of her rooms, for example - so there is less to have to sift through, but if I can smell him at all, we would know that he's been here, at least."
            "That might be a good idea," Loupin agreed, looking pointlessly around at the neighbourhood. "It's possible she's friendly with some of the people around here, like friendly enough to be protected or tipped off by them. They may know already that people are asking around town, and we look like -- potential trouble. A caracal wandering in for a minute could seem like a random event, though. And Syd may leave some evidence of his entry; there could be dust on the floor."
            Personally Loupin did not much want to break in either, and not just because it was risky. Whatever her past, how did they know that Brissa wasn't just an artist? Nobles hung around with artists all the time; Vanthus could certainly afford to patronize one now. Of course it didn't help that Loupin's own living situation was very similar to this one. The idea of somebody like Syd climbing into her little room and snooping around in it made her feel deeply uneasy.
            “I’m fine with Parant having a sniff about first, if it will save us some leg work,” Lillia said. Then she asked genuinely of the hulking Chultan, “How does that sit with you, Baba? Or if Loupin had Conway fly inside, would that be within your bounds of propriety?”
            The holy man looked at Lillia strangely, as if she had said something that made him feel slightly embarrassed on her behalf. He glanced in Parant's direction, then back at Lillia, then finally replied, "Who am I to question the actions of a were-cat?"
            Lillia waited for the holy man to finish before she continued. “Barring that, I’m fine going up and knocking on the door and asking after her,” she said. “I spoke with Brissa several days ago about having her paint some floral motifs on fabrics that I was going to tailor into dresses for the upcoming season. She had some wonderful notions of color contrast, and we connected on an intuitive level, even sharing similar ideas on adding a few untamed elements of the jungle. I should have followed-up with her before now, but business has been a little frantic of late.”
            Several heartbeats passed in uncertain silence after Lillia finished. She looked around at the others with a straight face, for a time, then the slightest curve formed on one corner of her mouth, indicating that her words about association with Brissa were simply fabrication. The intonations of her voice though, the seamless transition into make believe that wound through the setting with the comforting ease of a babbling brook was a little disconcerting. Lillia possessed one of those voices that displaced and demanded belief, and she knew it.
            “Or something to that effect,” she added wryly with a shrug.

            Lillia knocked on the door, and while she spun a tale of distraction for the woman who answered, Parant slipped inside as a caracal, heading up the stairs to sniff at the doors. The woman didn't know when Brissa Santos might return, but she promised to pass on Lillia's concerns when she saw the artist again. "Maybe she's at one of the taverns that buy her work," the woman speculated, not seeing Parant as he slipped back outside. "Or out with that handsome paramour."
            Parant had picked up only faint smells from inside, but from what he could sense, he was reasonably certain that Vanthus had been there within the last two weeks.
            After making it safely out to the street again, Parant took a few moments to sniff around the immediate area, to see if he could tell which direction Brissa (or Vanthus) might have traveled in. Once he was sure he knew all he was going to be able to know, the cat form ducked into an alley. Shortly after that, Parant walked out of the alley and joined his companions, where he briefly shared what he had learned.
            He picked up their scent traveling together, despite the stink of the city, but it merely headed to the closest thoroughfare (Spice Street, which led to the East Market), where it was quickly subsumed by greater numbers of people. A few people noticed him, remarking on the wild animal in the city - but he wasn't a large wild animal and they had places to be, and drifted on after a few moments.
            Talib Islaran had stayed back whilst his more duplicitous and guileful companions handled the investigation delicately. In truth, Talib did not have a tongue for lies, not like Lillia, it seemed.
            How did she fib so ... easily? It seemed as natural as breathing to the girl, unless perhaps there was some layer of truth to each carefree falsehood? It was near impossible to say and Talib was not exactly sure he was either impressed or terrified with the idea that still.
            Still.
            Had he actually met the Lillia? Or was everything, from the Vanderboren Estate to The Nixie, from the Vaults to khave with new friends, was it all just another mask ..?
            As Parant came back and shared his feline discoveries, Talib found his thoughts drifting to the ... frankly absurd idea of a man as large as Talib becoming a tuft-eared cat. How did Parant do that? Some type of magic spell? But ... no, it didn't seem like the type of powers Loupin commanded. At least, he didn't think so? Magic was not Talib's forte, but regardless - he was impressed.
            " So, Vanthus has been to Brissa's abode, eh?" Talib voiced aloud after Parant's explanation, " That helps us narrow things down a bit. And we know she's an artist too, so we've an idea of some of the circles she runs in."
            He rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully, looking up towards the sunny sky.
            " A thieving artist who is involved with a minor Noble who has been mixed up with some very unsavory characters. I believe my sisters used to read novels similar to this ..."
            His oaken eyes drifted back down to the group, shoulders shrugging.
            " If we had an idea of who she was involved with in the artist community, we may have better luck of tracking her down. Waiting here doesn't seem to be an option - we'd draw too much suspicion."
            Lillia, Syd and Talib knew of a number of taverns where they could inquire about Brissa Santos' work, and by extension, her. There weren't that many in the Azure, so she must sell to other districts' taverns as well to survive, even if she had other customers.
            A day of asking around resulted in lighter coin purses (or, at least, Jabari's - but he didn't seem to mind), the discovery that Brissa Santos was a quite good painter, and that people had indeed seen her around with a man matching Vanthus' description in the Azure and Merchant's Districts - but like Vanthus, no one had seen her lately, not even the other artists they managed to find.
            Discouraged, the party broke up for supper and to rest for the night, meeting again the next day at highsun at Fifteen Horses and a Mule. While they discussed their next steps, Conway stopped pacing around Loupin's shoulders to squawk quietly at her. When she turned her head to see what he wanted, he looked away, and following his gaze, she noticed a man hovering nearby, watching the party. He was a half-elf, and looked pretty down on his luck, with messy black hair, a ragged suit of leather armor, and dirty hands. Despite the early hour, he was fortifying his nerves with a drink, though she didn't think he looked like he was about to jump anyone.
            Glancing at the others, she realized Parant and Lillia must have seen him, too.
            "I'd draft Conway to stick around, but he's still a kid, I worry about him getting beaten up by other birds," Loupin said, studying the eaves above their heads for signs of blood hawks, harpies or rocs. She looked at Jabari. "What about your little monkey buddy? Is he smart, or does he just, like, open wine bottles or something."
            High above, she spotted the silhouettes of birds wheeling - seagulls, pelicans, flocks of parrots... and maybe a hawk.
            Jabari laughed, handing a bit of dried fruit up for the Bosun to gnaw. "Oh, he's smart enough... but he's just a regular monkey, not my familiar or anything. I could get him to fetch something, or attack someone as a diversion, but anything more difficult to understand than that is probably out of the question."

            Lillia, Syd and Talib knew of a number of taverns where they could inquire about Brissa Santos' work, and by extension, her. There weren't that many in the Azure, so she must sell to other districts' taverns as well to survive, even if she had other customers.
            A day of asking around resulted in lighter coin purses (or, at least, Jabari's - but he didn't seem to mind), the discovery that Brissa Santos was a quite good painter, and that people had indeed seen her around with a man matching Vanthus' description in the Azure and Merchant's Districts - but like Vanthus, no one had seen her lately, not even the other artists they managed to find.
            Discouraged, the party broke up for supper and to rest for the night, meeting again the next day at highsun at Fifteen Horses and a Mule. While they discussed their next steps, Conway stopped pacing around Loupin's shoulders to squawk quietly at her. When she turned her head to see what he wanted, he looked away, and following his gaze, she noticed a man hovering nearby, watching the party. He was a half-elf, and looked pretty down on his luck, with messy black hair, a ragged suit of leather armor, and dirty hands. Despite the early hour, he was fortifying his nerves with a drink, though she didn't think he looked like he was about to jump anyone.
            Glancing at the others, she realized Parant and Lillia must have seen him, too.
            "Say guys," Loupin observed quietly, casually settling her hand on her component pouch, "if I told everybody except Parant and Lillia that some down-on-his luck half-elf with messy black hair and a ragged suit of leather armor was hovering nearby watching us, would you, uh, suggest doing anything about that immediately, or would you recommend a more wait-and-see approach?"
            “I think we’re becoming popular,” Lillia said to no one in particular, feigning regular conversation. Then she asked of Parant, “If I draw his eye for a space, think you could sidle up on cat’s feet? Figuratively speaking, of course.” She offered the stoic judge a half-smirk. “Wouldn’t want him bolting on us if he has interesting business in mind.”
            Parant raised an eyebrow, but nodded to Lillia.
            She turned to Talib and eyed his cup. “Finish that,” she said. She grabbed her own empty vessel and then intercepted Talib’s from his hand before it hit the table again. She shifted her sarong subtly as she stood, and a healthier line of cleavage was apparent as she went through the motions of inquiring if anyone else wanted another beverage.
            Then she timed and chose a path that would take her close enough to the half-elf to appear normal. She pantomimed suffering against the heat of the day, and one set of fingers trailed down the front of her, a lingering play along suggestive lines of flesh and cloth. When the man looked at her, she was pulling the front of her sarong in an out in a little fanning motion. She caught his gaze and stopped fanning, but she offered him that smile as she closed the distance. A smile that flickered with amusement but then danced with life, with potential. A smile that said, ‘Just maybe.’
            “Hello,” she said as she passed him, close enough to smell but not quite close enough to touch. It had come out a little breathier than expected, but one couldn’t truly play a part unless one believed. Right? Her gaze held his, and her head turned coyly to maintain that eye contact, and now half-smile, as she strode further on. She didn’t let go of him until she sensed Parant was in position.
            Parant had waited for Lillia to start away from the table, then he merely stood and circled in the other direction, being careful where he put his feet. He didn't try to get too close to the half-elf, but he did try to make sure he was behind the figure, with a clear line of sight, and a path that would allow him to interpose himself, should the half-elf do anything untoward.
            The holy man lets his gaze settle on the stranger observing them for a moment. He attempts to look casual, though the effort is clearly not his strong suit. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the palm of his hand, silently speculating as to whether dirty hands and a general raggedness were indicators of possession by fiendish spirits. He thought not, and his attention began to wander.
            "A plan guaranteed to work provided he isn't waiting for any of us to try something," Loupin murmured to the others as they scuttled off. "I'm sure this is unrelated to how we've been wandering around town questioning random people for several days. Just so the rest of you guys know, I can knock somebody out again today, or try charming them, or burn their face off. In case that helps the planning committee." She gave Conway a few dried blueberries out of her pockets, and removed a few rose petals while she was at it. "I don't suppose you recognize him, do you, Syd?"
            Syd leaned back in his chair, casting his eyes across the bar in general, but using the opportunity to look for details in the man's features. He took a swig of his drink - a light elvish fortified wine - and returned to a forward position to set his glass upon the table. "No, I don't," he said to Loupin in a low voice, "He doesn't look like my crowd anyway. We have standards you know." The last said with a jovial smirk.
            "Who's your crowd," Loupin remarked idly. "Never mind, I probably don't want to know. How'd Lavinia hear about you guys, anyway? Did you break into somebody's house once? Heroically?"
            The elf laughed, "Actually, pretty much." He shook his head, "I can't speak for the Baba, but I... extracted a merchant's daughter from a less than savory circumstance... through a fifth floor window."
            Loupin had to laugh at that too, maybe for the first time all week. "I take it there were witnesses..."
            "Well, I tried to keep it on the down low, but since Lavinia knew about it, I clearly failed that part." He grinned and spun his glass on the table, "I imagine it was an interesting sight; pulling her from the room and making our escape across moonlit rooftops. I am sure assumptions were made, though my only thoughts were on getting the hell out of there before her captors found out."
            The Baba flashes a vaguely approving smile, though it isn't clear whether he understands anything his newfound associates are talking about.
            Meanwhile, the half-elf had set down his cup and risen when he saw Gbele looking his way, and taken a step in the table's direction... only to pivot to follow Lillia's progress, his attention firmly captured. He didn't appear to notice Parant coming up behind him, so captivated was he by Lillia's performance.
            Moving after Lillia, he sidled along the bar to an open spot with a grin less nervous than before, stopping beside her (apparently uncognizant of Parant following him). "Hello! Hot today, huh? Buy you a drink?" he asked hopefully, leaning against the bar to regard her. Then he blinked as though a thought had occurred to him. Lowering his voice, he added, "Maybe we could talk?"
            “Sure,” Lillia smiled. “Why not?”
            Sensing nothing untoward from the half-elf, Lillia made an indication to the bartender for refills and another for the half-elf. As the stranger followed her actions toward the barkeep, she waved off Parant subtly with her other hand.
            Once the drinks were ready, she had the stranger carry his and hers. She grabbed Talib’s and waved him along with her other hand. “C’mon,” she said. “We can talk over here.”
            Parant didn't acknowledge Lillia in any way, but instead moved to the bar, where he dropped a few coins and gestured for a drink. He then turned his attention to the rest of the patrons in the establishment, belatedly realizing that he should have been checking to see if the half-elf had any companions watching his back.
            As far as Parant could tell, none of the other patrons seemed terribly interested in the half-elf, or the party.
            “I’m Lillia by the way,” Lillia said over her shoulder as they approached the party’s table. “And you are…?” She set Talib’s drink down in front of him and took her own drink from the newcomer, motioning him to a chair being pulled up.
            Lillia's cocksuredness could set Loupin's teeth on edge, but the wizard said nothing, just keeping ahold of her flower petals. Conway agitated atop her shoulder as he characteristically considered putting distance between himself and the unfamiliar.
            The half-elf looked a bit disappointed that she headed back to the table with the others (once he recovered his gaze from watching her sway), but not terribly surprised. He followed along gamely, though his nervousness seemed to have returned. His eyes were restless, darting to every sharp movement or loud bark of laughter in the tavern.
            "Shefton," he replied, raising his clay mug in greeting to the group as he grabbed a chair and sat. Parant noticed that his position placed him nearest the open doors. Taking a drink, Shefton regarded them all, his eyes lingering a moment longer on Loupin (and Conway) and Syd. Glancing over his shoulder, he searched the tavern until he spotted Parant at the bar, and shifted in his seat to be able to keep him in his peripheral vision as he spoke with the party.
            "Look, you don't know me, but, uh, I know a lot of people," Shefton said, turning his mug in tiny arcs in his fingers. "Word on the street is that you're lookin' for someone. Maybe I can help? If you make it worth my while," he added, glancing out into the bright street. "People are talkin' about you, you know. They say you've hit a meal ticket with Lady Vanderboren. Noble payday. Nice," he grinned.
            The Baba finally feels that he understands an interpersonal interaction. "So you are offering information in exchange for money? You look disreputable; how can we know that your information is good?"
            "No offense," added Loupin, struggling not to laugh at Gbele's savoir faire. It wasn't much better than her own, after all.
            Syd was a little less successful, now that he was using a napkin to poorly clean up the remains from a spit-take from the table. He debated commenting "I have no idea who these people are," but instead offered, "Er, yes. Don't mind our blunt friend. We aren't the Jade Ravens. Our employment isn't as lucrative as one might think. Else we might consider more... upscale environs, no?" He smiled and shook his head, letting that line of debate die. "What are your terms, ser Shefton?"
            "Easy enough," Shefton said, shrugging off the Baba's distrust - maybe he got that a lot. "My memory ain't so good, but the healers say the cool chime of lions fallin' into my hands can cure it." He shifted in his seat, glancing out at the street again. "I's just a regular guy, but when I remember things, it can help find people. Like, people what don't want to be found." He spread his hands. "If you've got a better line in the water'n that, what can I say? But if you ain't, a bit of charity to cure my affliction won't hurt you none."
            Lillia studied the informant with a casual air as words both blunt and broad were lobbed across the table. The Baba was a priceless gem. In a city of half-truths and exotic dealings, he was as stark as the headsman’s block. Universal, efficient, and singular in nature. Gods she loved it!
            The street dealer’s voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She knew the type though. Savvy enough to feed off of the information swill that rolled along the gutters. Brave enough to make a cold approach. Dumb enough not to realize when he was in over his head. Dumb enough or desperate enough. Oh, she’d been there herself, so she knew. Had taken some gambles that she willfully sought to forget. But dreams were a funny thing, how they dipped into vintages long since tucked away into the remotest corners of the mind cellar.
            She blinked twice to clear the cobwebs and continued to watch old Shefton with disinterest. She thought she’d let him build up a little more momentum before undercutting his pinnings.
            "But think, Shefton, how many more alms might rain from the sky, if you simply offered to join our party," Loupin pointed out, making no effort to mask her irony. "We're on a monthly retainer, see? And there are so many doors to knock on here in Tashluta. We could really use your help and guidance during our thorough and extremely prolonged search of the city. Why not volunteer? Don't you like us?"
            "I'm a regular guy, not an adventurer. No offense," Shefton shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "But if you're offering a steady gig here in Tashluta, who am I to say no?" He smirked at her, his eyes steady on hers. It was apparent that he didn't really think they were going to offer him a real job.
            The elf barely resisted rolling his eyes at Shefton's response. It was a line he had heard too many times before. Hell, he had used it once or twice himself in his previous life. "You have to bait the hook, ser Shefton," he said, "Something other than a blanket request for lions. It does not motivate your prospective clients in providing said currency."
            Syd leaned back and lifted his glass to drink, but used the action to more accurately size-up Shefton. He initially didn't recognize the hybrid through distance and the busy tavern, but closer examination revealed a bit more. He realized he had seen Shefton around. He didn't know him by name, of course, but those who made a living on the street tended to be more aware of each others's presence.
            "Look," he added as he leaned back forward, setting his drink back down and locking eyes with the hybrid, "We all know how tough it can be eking out an existence on the edges of Shadowshore. One doesn't want to accidentally stray into the territory of Scarback Pete or Nandi One-Eye, mm?" He paused to let the words settle a bit. There were too many similarities to his previous life for Syd's comfort, really. He knew all too well the precarious position Shefton balanced upon. "You sought us, so you have an idea what we're after. Give us something and you'll get paid. Hell, if it works out, your name will likely be passed around certain Nobles for future work."
            Shefton squinted at Syd. "Maybe you didn't notice, but this isn't Shadowshore. I belong in this district as much as you. And where's the trust? I'm risking a lot, coming to you with this."
            Talib Islaran had been rather silent throughout the affair of Shefton. At first it had been out of a morose malaise at the ease with which one Lillia Imsato had so easily separated him from herself and his drink. A dark day indeed, the memory of palm wine as fleeting as the seamstress. He had perked up again once Lillia had returned, with a full cup no less, glad for both but now faced with another trying instance: a man implying he knew more than he possibly did and quite convinced he could make a small purse out of it to boot. Talib had sipped silently on his wine, thankful that his mouth was empty at The Baba's sudden declaration of the situation. Gbele's direct assessment had left the sailor beaming from ear to ear, finding every interaction with and from the Chultan to be more enjoyable than the last.
            " There's a lot of people with Siren's songs in the Azure," Talib noted, clearing his throat and sitting himself up to his full height at the table.
            Shefton ... had he heard that name before? All the faces and taverns tended to bleed into one another after awhile, but he knew he had visited all of them within the city. Or at least, Talib thought he had. He stroked idly at his soft beard while continuing, making sure to adjust enough that his belt pouch jingled, signifying the coin was more than within Shefton's reach if he could earn it.
            " Who's to say we throw you some bait and we pull up naught but an empty hook? Convince us you might have something worthwhile and then we'll talk about curing this terrible disease you have , ?wo?"
            Shefton sighed, their combined arguments making him nod grudgingly. Glancing out at the street again, he lowered his voice and said, "Word is, you've been looking for a noble's brother and his tart. I don't know about the tart, but maybe I know something else. If only my memory wasn't so bad," he sighed dramatically.
            Parant, seeing the shift in the stranger's body language, and that he'd begun to talk a bit, allowed himself to move away from the bar. Instead, he took up a position leaning against a post beside the door that would be the most likely course of exit for anyone fleeing the table.
            Loupin idly studied the drink Shefton had carried over. Odd that Lillia had let him carry a drink; if it were meant to keep his hands occupied, it also put him in a position to slip something like a love philtre into it. Then again, Lillia usually seemed to know what to expect, what to look out for, even what to ignore -- and that was starting to seem remarkable, too, since Lillia was just a plain old back-alley seamstress, and so young.
            "I think good old Shefton should join our group," she said again, this time to the others. She sounded serious. "Think of all the memories that might come flooding back, if only he had a steady income. He'd probably even remember who told him about us -- and wait while we checked against his answer."
            Shefton grinned. "Money has been shown to cure a wide range of illnesses," he agreed in a drawl, leaning back in his chair.
            Lillia sat quietly, enjoying the play Loupin was putting forth. Building a network of informants was admirable, though perhaps a little more challenging than the magician realized. Trust was always a huge issue, and the wealth to maintain such a network wasn’t insignificant over time. Lillia was pretty sure that Loupin was just stringing Shefton along though, seeing how far he’d bite. Deep down, everyone loved big promises and bigger payouts. When others looked to Lillia for her suggestion, she just shrugged.
            "It’s a pretty simple tradeoff," she said. "Time versus coin. If we’re in a rush, pay him. If not, we’ll do the legwork."
            "Is it simple?" said Loupin, fiddling in her pocket with the rose petals. "If our new pal had overheard us chatting with somebody some place and stepped in, that would be one thing, but we haven't been advertising our hang-out spot, or that we're working for anybody, so how'd he put it together? Why even come to us in the first place? A noble's brother and his tart wouldn't pay less to maintain their privacy than we can to disturb it, so unless he's realized that already, they're not going anywhere on our account. I'm not saying we can't dump good old Shefton straight into the midden heap at soon as half-elvenly possible, you understand, I'm only suggesting we should do it once we know he's just your garden-variety unaffiliated amoral sell-out who's apparently making a hobby of tailing us. We've made so many wonderful new friends from Shadowshore lately. What's one more? And what's another wasted afternoon? I reckon we're making money just sitting here."
            Loupin had no particular interest in informants, or even in finding Vanthus. They knew where Vanthus would direct them to go in any case. She was worried about Prettyboy a little, though, and Vark's commitment to discretion. She didn't have Lillia's experience in busting conspiracies, nor Talib's in fighting freebooters. Shefton knew what they looked like, what they were after. For all they knew, he had heard about their little Blue Nixie adventure. Maybe he even knew where she lived. It was too much saleable information; it made her a little nervous. They should never have robbed Prettyboy, she thought. Syd's logic in doing so had been sound enough, but logic didn't always check desperation. Shefton looked plenty desperate to her.
            "A noble wouldn't like getting blackmailed, and would have the resources to make his displeasure painfully clear," Shefton pointed out dryly. "As for you lot, you're hardly unknown. The rumor mill's been buzzing about all of you, even before you set fire to some ship in the harbor. But if you plan on dumping me in a midden heap once I'd helped you, I guess you aren't the ones everyone's been talking about after all." Shefton pushed his chair back to clear room, his face dark. "I may not be from Shadowshore-" he gave Loupin a pointed look - "-but you'll find I'm not so easy to kill."
            Parant hadn't reacted noticeably when Shefton pushed his chair back. Parant's drink, however, was now in his off hand, and his weight shifted to the balls of his feet as he readied himself to react to violence.
            "Aw, Shefton, who said anything about blackmailing the poor guy?" Loupin laughed, her eyebrows rising a bit. "He might appreciate knowing that we're looking for him, that's all. We're not out to make trouble. He hasn't done anything to warrant that. His sister's in something of a situation, see? It involves his late parents and an organization they were associated with. He's been out of the picture for a while and doesn't know about it. Maybe you could arrange a meeting for us? Some place like this. Neutral. Lots of exits. A public plaza, maybe, or a temple vestibule. That way, we can all feel better about each other. We'd be happy to pay you for that -- provided he showed up. Tell him whatever you have to. You're a charming guy. In any case, he'll discover that you're not so easy to kill, right?" She smiled broadly. "I don't blame you for dancing so clumsily around my concerns, pal. I expected you to do that. It's interesting that you'd feel anxious about the young Lord Vanderboren's resources and displeasure, though. So far as we knew, he was just a reasonably private gentleman who's demonstrated a little lingering concern about his estranged sister's welfare. That's how she interprets it, anyway. Enough that she asked us to contact him."
            Talib Islaran had remained quiet for some time, taking in the conversation. Taking in the back and forth between Shefton and Loupin. Truth be told, he was quite happy to let Loupin navigate the man's concerns and mild-paranoia, it seemed: she was proving quite apt at it, and often it was best to not have too many boatswains on the ship. Shefton was proving a bit of a sandbar, however: causing waves where originally there should have been smooth sailing. It was quite the brow raiser to hear the man say that the little crew was becoming known around Tashluta: apparently Vark had been spreading tales about who had actually set fire to the Nixie and Talib was not too pleased to hear that it was they who were taking the blame for that.
            The only ships he torched were those with Crimson sails, and let no mariner forget that, Talib told himself.
            " If one noble's displeasure is such a risk for setting up what my friend asks for," Talib finally spoke, clearing his throat with palm wine, " Then consider the value of a larger noble family's gratitude for your aid, Shefton. We only wish to meet with Vanthus - if you'd rather not get involved, that is understandable. But if you help us, I can assure we'll get that illness of yours cured as if I were a Cleric of Waukeen himself."
            Lillia couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath. She covered her mouth belatedly and smiled an apology at Talib and Shefton both.
            “I’m sorry,” she said, waving a hand encouragingly. “Please, carry on.” When she saw Talib’s look though, that stern reprimand laced with confusion and expectation of an explanation, she smiled again with her disarming cheer.
            “Talib, the likes of Master Rosk here,” she tapped her palm twice on the table in front of Shefton for emphasis. “They don’t operate on credit.” She chuckled sweetly again. “Or oaths , or promises , or good faith . No. They’re strictly a coin-in-hand operation.” She caught Loupin’s gaze for a moment before turning her attention to Shefton. “Isn’t that right?” Without waiting for him to respond though, she addressed Talib again.
            “So either pay the man,” Lillia said. “Or send him on his way. Either way...I know where to find him if we ever need to follow-up.”
            "Great, but let me throw out some crazy predictions first," said Loupin, resting back against her chair casually. "Just for a laugh. Shefton will make his asking price just low enough to be irresistible, and his information will lead us not to some fancy inn, or to Vanthus's best friend's house, or some obvious place a normal person would hole up in. No, it'll be unusual, maybe a little bit far from help -- but not too far, not so much that we'll worry about going there, or enough to bother warning any city authorities about what we're doing, even if warning them might be warranted and wind up saving us from whatever trouble we're meant to walk blindly into. I know, I know, I'm probably wrong about all of this. Sorry, Shefton. I trust you. You go ahead and tell us how much money you require to sell out a complete stranger you have no particular reason to be anxious of. To a collection of cold mercenaries who think nothing of lighting ships on fire."
            "You got a strange way of saying 'thanks for the help,' sister." Shefton shrugged. "You're awful paranoid for a cold mercenary. But your friends seem to have steadier nerves. What's it gonna be?" He looked between Lillia and Talib, who seemed most receptive. "You want a tip, or don't you?" The jumpy half-elf glanced around again, scratching his chin.
            Talib began the haggling with what he considered a low offer - a mere handful of golden lions. To his surprise, while Shefton tried to push him higher, he didn't try all that hard. "Very well, as a favor for your Lordship," he acquiesced, and Lillia wasn't surprised at all. Five lions was a decent sum for a street rat.
            "Parrot Island's the place you want," he told them once the coins were safely tucked into his clothes. "He's been there a few days, down in the old smuggler's tunnels. There's a hidden trapdoor he uses."
            Syd leaned back in his chair and watched the negotiations take place. He had to smile a little into his drink; Shefton would be making a tidy sum off of them.
            "Parrot Island, eh?" he commented when it was all said and done. He didn't elaborate further except to click his teeth. He had lived all of his life within the walls of Tashulta. While he had the confidence to survive "out there," he'd surely be out of his element.
            "For another five, I'll take you right to the spot myself," Rosk offered with badly-veiled hope.
            Talib agreed.
            "And how do you know he's out there, Shefton?" Loupin asked in a bored voice. "You said you know where he is, not where he might be. You monitor his place day and night? Or did you just steal his rowboat."
            "He came to me a few weeks ago. Said he wanted to set up... uh..." Rosk glanced at Talib uneasily. "A business deal."
            Lillia and Parant were fairly certain "a business deal" really meant "a smuggling operation."
            "I know he spends a lot of time there," Rosk continued. "If he ain't there now, he will be soon."

            Parrot Island was a rocky outcropping, thickly vegetated, surrounded by 30-foot cliffs save for its eastern end, where a narrow beach afforded an easier approach. Hundreds of big, noisy, brightly-colored parrots raised a ruckus from the trees above as the party beached their borrowed rowboats on the aptly-named island.
            Lillia had insisted on darting off and rendezvousing with the group at the rowboats prior to departing for Parrot Island. She was not gone long and had made the connection on time, but her outfit had changed almost entirely. Shapely contours of leather rode over mustard padding at critical impact points, while narrow straps and lengths of golden cloth accented the exposed elements of her dark skin. Even her hair looked a shade lighter now that she had gathered it back.
            She made no mention of any of the changes during the crossing, but she also bore an additional hilt or two and a sleek pack was cleverly shaped and shadowed between her shoulder blades. The bundles and exposed elements were tied down and remained cleanly out of harm’s way.
            Jabari and the Baba were quick to notice a partially overgrown trail nearby, and that was the path Shefton took them up, ending in a small clearing at the center of the island. Shefton led them to the southern end of the clearing, where hidden under a pile of foliage he pointed out a stone trapdoor.
            "That's the place," Shefton said proud grin, as though he'd dug the tunnels himself. "Told you this was it. ...Look, just keep my name out of it, right?"
            "Oh, unfortunately we have a rare disease that prevents us from keeping names and physical descriptions out of it," said Loupin with a sad shrug. "The healers tell us that gold is the only cure." She looked back the way they had come. "And speaking of life-threatening problems, how were you planning to get back to shore by yourself? Or were you thinking of staying behind to make sure the breeze doesn't blow this flimsy stone trapdoor closed on us."
            "Wait just a minute-" Rosk said angrily, not liking having his own words turned against him. "I gave you a good tip, here. What are the chances you'd have found it without me? And I said I'd take you here - I didn't say nothin' about goin' in with you. You wanna talk to him, knock yerself out. I ain't trotting up in front of him and tellin' him I brung you here. And you shouldn't, neither. Maybe you'll need another tip someday, and wish you hadn't burned yer bridges."
            "Maybe you're right," said Loupin, studying him. "Then again, Vanthus isn't our enemy, remember? So I don't see how we can hide the truth from him. Don't worry about me, though. I myself won't tell him anything, since I'm not going down there."
            Rosk nodded, satisfied. "Fine. You can stay here with me, and keep yer trap shut." He chuckled as though this was a significant oratory victory.
            "That is wise," Parant said to the two of them. "Keeping eyes out up here to prevent an ambush, or some other trap is good. Especially as there are at least a dozen lookout perches that have a clear view of this clearing, and it is likely that whoever is in them has a complete description of every one of us, to pass along to their employers. It's even likely that some of them don't work for our quarry, so who knows what kind of mischief could be on the way."
            He patted each of them on a shoulder, then moved to join the others at the trap door. With his hood up, and his face in shadow, it was difficult to tell - even with half-elven vision - whether or not the tick at the corner of his mouth was a smile.?
            Talib Islaran tilted his head at the curious door, pondering why someone would want to setup on such a colorful island with equally garish inhabitants. He shifted slightly, noting appreciatively that the new mail that sat beneath his billowy tunic did not rattle near as much as his old one. The purchase was one well made, and if the tunnels below Parrot Island proved dangerous, any amount of gold was worth coming home alive again.
            He had learned that some time ago.
            " Smuggler's tunnels," Talib repeated the words Shefton had used back in the city. The sailor shook his head, a stormy expression crossing his brows before passing swiftly with the zephyr.
            " Had my father known of such things, hah. I doubt he'd even consider the Kellani Family a threat until this was dealt with."
            For the most part, Talib wasn't entirely against smugglers and their ilk. People wanted things, and sometimes things were hard to acquire. Where decent folk made decent coin for braving Umberlee's wrath to deliver banned books or exotic foodstuffs, there was no harm in that. But smugglers had a habit of bringing in harmful and dangerous things too. Drugs that left the people inept and desolate. Weapons to kill guards and murder innocents for vile purposes. Snake artifacts to spread Yuan-Ti filth beneath his beloved city.
            He hoped Parrot Island was only used for the former, or he would surely have to bring the Azure Guard in to sweep the place once they had Vanthus in hand. It did not do well to allow dangerous criminal elements to ply the harbor trade, and Keltar ...
            Keltar had other concerns. Let another Islaran try to tend to their treasured district.
            Kneeling down, Talib carefully pushed some of the foliage away from the trapdoor, observing the portal for anything that could be dangerous.
            " Do any of you know of this place?" he shot a glance to his comrades, knowing they were of a varied talent and knowledge that had been infinitesimally vital to overcoming recent challenges.
            " I feel we should descend cautiously. Who knows what waits below, and we do not want to tip our hand and give Vanthus time to escape somehow - from what I know of smugglers, they never left themselves just one exit. Hopefully the man will be up for discourse rather than discord, though."
            Syd crossed his arms and considered the portal. "All I've heard is that the tunnels are ancient, and have long been abandoned. That's why smugglers like to hide out down there. Who - or what - might have carved them is unknown to me." He cracked a half smile, "I may run with a similar crowd, but I've never visited the isle before today."
            " Well let's hope they aren't too abandoned," Talib jested with the shorter elf, flashing Syd a grin, " Or we'll have come all this way for naught."
            It did not escape the Sailor's notice how Syd had addressed the former inhabitants of Parrot Island, however. 'May have run with a similar crowd'. Was the Elf a smuggler himself? His talents so far had not been too dissimilar from Talib's, but still.
            The Islaran trusted him, and could set that aside. Syd did not seem the type to deal in dark trades. As far as Talib knew. But they had fought together and delved into mystery together, and that was enough to be considered crew.
            " If you've some experience with this," the sailing swordsman pondered, " Any idea what to expect down here? Any sort of tricks or traps these folks might employ?"
            "Oh, it is almost certainly trapped," Syd commented almost jovially. "There will be all manner of deadly traps, as well as blind corners and bottlenecks to dissuade rivals from invading. Someone versed in such defenses should lead the group." The last added with another half smile.
            His own words caused him to blink and he looked at the door with renewed eyes. He bent over and examined it as closely as possible.
            While Syd and Talib examined the trapdoor, Parant kept his eyes open above ground, looking for likely places from which the door could be observed - lookout positions, for just such eventualities as this one. As he had mentioned to Loupin and Rosk, he was sure they were out there.
            "My impression," he interjected, "was that the tunnels were not dug by or for smugglers, but that they simply make use of an artifact of ancient times. Which may mean it's not *quite* the death trap you both seem to expect." The tone of his voice didn't alter the slightest, as he added, "of course, just because one is paranoid, does not mean someone isn't out to get one."
            Try as he might, Syd could find no traps on the stone door, nor was there a lock - merely a rusted iron ring to open it with.
            Parant looked about for likely lookout spots - but there were just so many. All around the clearing, vine-laden trees rose above thick foliage, with parrots watching the interlopers with noisy interest.
            "What's the problem with the Kellani Family, Talib?" Loupin asked while the others poked around. "And why bring it up now? Something bad going on?"
            " What isn't a problem with the Kellanis," Talib half-spat, half-chortled, leaving the perceptive work to Syd to address the question.
            " They've been trying to worm their way into the Azure District since long before I was born, that much I know. And now with my father's ... condition, I can't help but feel they'd be a bit emboldened by hearing about what the state of The House Islaran is."
            The sailor sighed, dusting off his loose trousers and letting the sand tucked into their folds be blown to the wind.
            " They're vultures. Never content with what they have and always trying to scavenge from the other Houses what they can take. I've had ... dealings with them in the past."
            A lopsided grin slipped across his features before being snuffed by furrowed eyebrows.
            " Rowyn Kellani. As beautiful as she is ambitious. I was younger, far more rebellious, and I knew it drove my father up the walls and that was half the point, aye. But it became apparent with time that she was vying for The Lighthouse and little more. And last I heard Najib had gotten himself ..! Bah!" he swore, switching to Calishite to drive his frustration home , " Alalihat Allaeina! The Kellanis and their like should take a long walk into The Shining Sea and leave Tashluta out of their schemes."
            Shaking his head, Talib knelt down to the trapdoor, giving Syd a firm pat on the shoulder in appreciation of the elf's efforts in making sure their entryway was safe.
            " Don't deal with Kellanis," Talib summarized, " They'd sell their mothers if it meant getting a throne, and they'd throw their fathers in too if it turned the throne to silver. My father may be a strict man, a harsh man, but he's always been a fair man. I can't say the same of them. Underhanded to the last breath. Hah! Umberlee Drown Me if the Kellanis weren't involved in at least half the troubles we've already found around The Azure!"
            Laughing at his own bitter joke, Talib gave everyone a look to make sure they were ready for what lay ahead and then pulled the trapdoor open. Making sure the entryway itself seemed clear enough, the former captain gave his blade one last check to ensure it was securely tucked into his sash and then began the descent down into the Smuggler's Caves of Parrot Island.
            The heavy door thumped open, and Talib found a rope hanging from a hook in the wall. With little effort but due care, he descended into the darkness, with only the light from the hot sun pouring down the hole to see by. Once the blazing light of the world above was swallowed by the darkness of the shaft, and his eyes had adjusted, he could see that the bottom of the five-foot-wide shaft was thirty feet below. The brick walls were slippery and slimy with moisture, but with the rope there to climb, he had no trouble making it down in one piece.
            Climbing down as quietly as he could, he found himself in the corner of a small, empty room, with a brick-lined tunnel with a curved roof leading off in the opposite corner. What lay down that way was swallowed by darkness.
            Parant didn't even give the others time to consider who would be next down the rope, as he followed Talib into the darkness. On the way down, Parant reached within, and shifted, letting his connection to the aspect of the powerful hunting cat come to the fore. When he reached the ground, his face and body hidden beneath his black and orange hooded clothes, Parant's added musculature was not directly visible, but even in the darkness, Talib could tell that Parant stood differently, and his eyes gleamed in the darkness, yellow, rimmed with blue, as he sought for threats.
            Nothing popped out of the darkness to attack them; Parant could see that the tunnel dog-legged another bend not very far off.
            Syd stood triumphantly as he was certain the door was safe. Immediately, Talib threw the portal wide and dropped within, followed instantly by Parant. Syd blinked a bit, still wearing his confident grin, now feeling a bit silly as he was now staring down the others. "Right, nothing for it." He said as he dropped into the void, using the rope to control the descent.
            His landing was decidedly lighter than the others, his light feet making nary a sound as he alit next to the others. "I have a hooded lantern," he commented, "if anyone cannot see in the dark."
            The young nobleman had been quiet on the boat, just looking out over the water and up at the clouds, maybe in some sort of communion with the elements. Or maybe he was just suffering through a hangover. It was hard to tell. It was the same once they'd made it to the island. He had perked up a little bit at the mention of the Kellanis but just smirked while Talib complained about his father's rivals. Sometimes even brash young noblemen knew when to hold their tongues.
            Now, though, he smiled at Syd and piped up. "I'll stand next to you, then." Looking down into the hole he sighed. "I really don't like cramped, dark spaces. Especially underground."
            Once the downward portal was open, Lillia eyed those remaining topside as she moved toward the rope to descend. Her gaze fastened on each of them for a moment. Then she glanced down at the slimy climb ahead. “Men so love the mud,” she muttered with a shake of her head, and slowly began to make her descent.
            Upon reaching the bottom, she said to Talib, “Darkness. Darkness is what we’ll find down here.” She nodded thanks at Syd and his forethought to bring a lantern, but she unfastened a bundle and unrolled a handful of torches. “Let’s keep it simple for now,” she said to the wiry elf, setting to light one of the brands with her flint and steel. This first torch she handed to Talib, and she set to lighting a second which she kept for herself. Of the four remaining unlit brands, she handed another to Talib to stick in his belt.
            “In case we get separated,” she said.
            Syd nodded back to Lillia's suggestion and left his lantern stowed for now. "If we need it, simply say the word."
            " Let's hope it doesn't come to splitting up," Talib said, casting the light of the torch towards the darkened tunnel ahead, " Though I imagine these tunnels might be quite winding. We'll do what we can."
            The sailor carefully slid his blade from his sash, replacing it with the extra torch Lillia had provided. The metal glinted with warm reds and oranges as the flickering torches were reflected in it. He kept the sword low, out of the light, but felt much more comfortable with it at hand than not.
            " Remember - we're here to talk to Vanthus. And his partner if she's present as well. If it comes to conflict, let's do our best to keep this from getting too ... corpse-y. If we're to fight, be swift and hard, like the Nixie."
            He nodded to Lillia, Syd, and The Baba once he had made the descent, still impressed with the speed they had taken the ship. He thrust his chin to Parant, eyes narrowing to discern if the man had used his ... talents, again, which even in the dark appeared to be so.
            " I'm not sure I will ever get accustomed to that , rafiki, but Gods is it useful. Does ... Does it hurt?" he asked, genuinely curious.
            Parant's voice, coming from the depths of his hood, was clearly his, but... deeper, somehow. As if it were riding on the crest of a more powerful wave, just beneath the surface. His words were also more carefully enunciated, as would be the case if a man had recently had his mouth reshaped by the loss of some teeth, or a cracked jaw that was healing tenderly.
            "Does it hurt you when you go from "Talib, the sailor, to Talib the Captain?" he asked. There was no malice in his tone that Talib could detect. "Or from Talib the tavern patron, to Talib Islaran?"
            Parant flipped back his hood, revealing his face. His hair was jet black, as were his eyebrows. His face was covered with a very light, very fine fuzz that was visible only as it caught and reflected the orange of the torch Talib held. His eyes were golden, rimmed with a very thin circle of blue, and his pupils were those of a great cat. Parant's jaw looked... larger, somehow, changing the shape of his face in a way that was both obvious and subtle. When he smiled at Talib, Parant's canines seemed to stand out, though a good look at them, had he allowed such, would have revealed that they were not much - if at all - larger than many other humans'.
            "We are ourselves," Parant said, "in some situations, that may appear different than in others, but we are always ourselves, at the core of things."
            With a small wave of his torch, Talib asserted command of the little group - a position he fell into due to his experiences at sea, though his tone was clearly one of respect towards the assembled, not a lording of privilege.
            " Syd and Parant have the best advantage of us all in this dark, and fire gives us away. You two should lead - we'll follow your eyes and nose. Everyone else behind them, with some distance between: this won't go well if we're all to fall victim to the same trap or ambush. Shaundakul willing, this will be a breeze."
            He afforded himself a small chuckle at his joke, giving the Elf and the Shifter a firm pat on the shoulder each.
            " We're counting on you both," he stated - more an acknowledgement of their skills and powers than a warning, " Come on , inih?di."
            Syd gave Talib a small bow with a quick flourish. "If I cry out in pain, don't go that way," he offered jovially. The elf then slipped into the shadows, leading the group. "Step carefully, and keep your ears open for special instructions."
            Loupin turned to Shefton. "I'll give you a ride back to shore," she offered, smiling as cheerily as she could. "This could go down the wrong way, and you're right, you don't want to be standing here if Vanthus figures out what's going on. I don't mind getting you out of here. But yeah, we better leave now, huh? It shouldn't take them very long to deliver Lavinia's message."
            Shefton gave her a look of surprise. "Yeah? ...Thanks. Thought I'd have to wait 'til you all came back."
            Jabari looked at Loupin for a second, confused, then at Loupin's companions. Jabari probably would've looked at Parant, too, if the man hadn't already jumped down the hole. "We're not all going in? I thought that's what we were here for."
            Loupin looked at him appraisingly. He seemed like an authentically nice person, which was reassuring, but she wasn't sure what she could really say, what with Shefton standing right there. So she decided to stick with saying things that were actually true.
            "Our friend here needs to skedaddle," she said. "He's afraid for his life. And Conway won't go either, but he isn't safe up here with all these wild parrots. They look territorial. I won't be any use to you guys anyway. I can't cast a spell on Vanthus; it'll just piss him off, make him less likely to come back into the fold. If there's anybody else down there, well -- you asked for it. I didn't prep for traps, certainly. If you're all in trouble, maybe I can go fetch the cavalry or something. Or Lavinia. Somebody. I'll be back soon, though, I promise. It might only take you a few minutes. He'll probably just throw you out."
            "Oh, alright. Be safe out on the water. See you soon." Jabari nodded to her and then looked around and up into the air to call to his friends, mimicking a hawk's cry and a monkey's call almost perfectly. Crow's Nest spiraled down out of the empty sky and the Bosun hopped over from a tree with a nut stuffed in his cheeks, and Jabari gave both of them orders to stay near the entrance to the underground tunnels but not follow him in. Once he was sure his friends would be nearby when they came back out, the young man sighed and climbed down the rope into the dark, confining tunnel.
            The young nobleman chuckled at Syd. "I guess I won't stand next to you, after all. Watch your step."
            Parant raised his hand and shook his head, looking up at the open trapdoor above them. "Wait," he said.
            Then he took a few steps to one side, out of the line of direct observation from above, and... shifted.
            There was a sense of... flowing... One moment, Parant stood before them, on two legs, like a man. The next, there was before them a much smaller being, on four legs. The only sign that the two beings were the same was that the cloud leopard's eyes were ringed with that same, thin blue circle.
            The cat immediately placed its nose to the floor, and began sniffing around the room.
            Vanthus had been here - that was immediately apparent to Parant's fine nose. He hadn't been alone, either, though Parant didn't pick up the smell of Brissa Santos anywhere. There was a mishmash of other people's scents that he didn't recognize.
            They proceeded carefully down the winding brick-domed tunnel, not touching the damp, fungus-slimed walls. The tunnel ended in a door, warped from moisture but forced open at some point in the recent past. Somehow, Syd managed to avoid it groaning when he pushed it - perhaps a bit of oil in his little kit of tools. Beyond lay a large hall, stretching to either side of the door in the dim light Talib's lit torch cast from within the tunnel. Double-doors hung ajar at either end.
            Parant, still a leopard, slid silently up to the door, sniffing the floor again as Syd got the door open. Alertly, as quietly as a cat could move, Parant followed his nose into the room.
            At first he had been inclined to go right, but the fresher tracks Vanthus had made were to his left. The double doors hung ajar, as did those at the far end of the hall, but Parant waited until Syd had checked for any traps before he approached.
            The smell of seawater was strong in the room beyond - as was the smell of death. Four great wooden pillars rose up to support the ceiling, which sagged dangerously in places, and was thick with hanging strands of fungus. To the south, the ceiling had collapsed, leaving that part of the room choked in debris. From that wall of stone and rubble, a rippling pool of water reached halfway into the room. It looked as though a wooden pier had once extended into the pool, but all that remained now were several rotting wooden pilings protruding from the water. A man's body floated face down among them - but he wasn't the only source of the ominous smell.
            Three figures were shambling along the right edge of the room. It was immediately apparent to Parant that they weren't alive - most of their flesh, and even their clothes, had rotted away. Man or woman; it mattered little now. They turned toward Parant, and low, inhuman growls crawled up their throats and dripped from ruined lips.
            Meanwhile, those still in the passage heard a low, grinding rumble. It echoed down the tunnel from where they had come.

            Shefton was silent on the way back to the Merchant District (he'd flatly refused to row to Shadowshore when Loupin suggested it, even in the daytime - "I'm never ending up there, understand?"), something on his mind. When they reached the docks, he gave her a considering look.
            "Thanks again," he told her, tying off the rowboat.
            Loupin had debated dropping off Shefton at the gondola waystation in Shadowshore, since that was where she now really wanted to go, and since she still half-suspected he was headed in that direction anyway; but in the end taking him to the closest dock in the Market District felt like a safer bet. All along the journey back she thought about what she wanted to say to him, if anything. There were more holes in his story than in his attitude, and the willingness of the rest of the party to follow his lead played enough on Loupin's self-doubts that she considered letting him walk away in silence. Lillia's confidence in her ability to find him again may have been nothing more than a bluff, though, and wouldn't mean anything if Lillia never emerged from that smuggling hole.
            Smuggling. It tied Vanthus together with Vark in a very helpful way, but Loupin's search for a common thread, some common trait in everyone they'd dealt with so far – Vanthus, Vark, Brissa, Prettyboy, even Shefton, in an oblique way – led her down a path not towards smuggling but theft. It occurred to her that when it came to his exotic cargo Vark had been unwilling to name either his buyer or his seller. At the time, she'd assumed he was just too afraid of his business partners to talk, but maybe that was wrong; maybe he wouldn't name them because he didn't actually have any, because he'd actually stolen the animals from someone, not taken them aboard as part of a smuggling operation. It made more sense, in a way. Vark didn't always seem clever enough to run a business, and people with sailing experience didn't usually tie up a vessel from the back, especially one without oar banks.
            There was also the question of how Vanthus was traveling to and from Parrot Island, and how Vark and his crew had gotten to and from Blue Nixie at their own convenience. There hadn't been any rowboats tied up to the side of the ship, the ship's own boats had been secured to the decks, and gondoliers didn't normally have to row that far out on into the harbor in search of a fare. If they'd had deals with some gondolier to pick them up at intervals, there was nothing to indicate how they'd signaled to anyone. Unfortunately the others had shown no inclination to search the shoreline for Vanthus's boat, assuming he had stowed one somewhere. If he was working with Vark, though, it was just as likely that whoever was shuttling the smugglers from Blue Nixie and back was also in a position to take Vark to Parrot Island.
            That was what Loupin wanted to figure out.
            The only question was how. Obviously she could try charming him, but charms weren't permanent, especially when it came to elves, and she certainly didn't want more enemies wandering around her in own neighborhood than strictly necessary. Unfortunately Loupin was proving all too untalented at convincing anybody to do anything by common argument, and even to her own ears, her bluffs usually rang pretty hollow. The only thing she had going for her now was that Shefton had probably noticed how little weight she carried within her own group, and if so, had also probably picked up on her frustration about it.
            Loupin stayed hesitantly in the boat, watching Conway struggle to maintain his balance on the prow, while Shefton clambered out and up onto the pier.
            “I wasn't especially serious when I said we'd give you up,” she offered, trying to sound cool and collected. “I just wanted to see what you'd do. I'm not exactly surprised you didn't offer it back, either. These baboons-for-hire I work with are obviously foolhardy to a terminal degree, and I've just as obviously had enough of trying to keep them out of trouble. They're nothing to worry about, or to bother with, probably. So if you're a free agent now – or even if you're not – I don't mind saying that pretty much I am too. Lavinia didn't actually pay us to look for Vanthus yet. I'm not in the Witchwardens; I'm not a guild member. And I can spot the angles. So maybe we could help each other. You're not actually afraid of the Vanderborens themselves, and possibly for good reason, but you should be wary of their parents' friends. I'm not part of the crowd, though. I don't exactly trust or thrill to the tender feelings of schemers like Lavinia Vanderboren, people who inherited their obligation to direct the destinies of people like me. Do you?"
            Shefton had put on a knowing smirk at her spiel, tilting his head at her in exaggerated understanding, but when she mentioned the Vanderborens' parents' friends, his smug expression turned into a slight frown. "Hey, if I trusted all the nobles, I'd be crazier'n a shithouse rat. You want something from them, you gotta give something too. Like you're doin' for Lady Vanderboren. You gotta be smart to get the better end of that deal. But what do you mean, friends of the Vanderborens? You talkin' about the Jade Ravens? Why should I worry 'bout them?" He seemed uncomfortable, moreso than he'd been on the trip back to the docks. Come to think of it, he'd been much less jumpy on the island than he had been at the tavern.
            "I'm not talking about the Jade Ravens," said Loupin, fighting down her own jumpiness. It occurred to her then that they might be being watched, and she tried to broadcast this anxiety to Conway, although she wasn't too sure he'd understand.
            "And I'm not doing anything for Lady Vanderboren, not any more," she added. "The only reason I went along with this today is because I assume I'm getting in the way of something, and if I can't be told what that something is, I at least need to know how to stay out of its way -- but nobody is telling me how. If you and your friends don't need a mage, fair enough, I can go back to my old life and forget I ever heard of you. Is that enough? Go home, call it a day, forget all of this goofy Vanderboren crap? Because I'm not like that Islaran kid, pal, 'righting wrongs' isn't a priority for me. I did that stupid ship job out of greed and ignorance, period, but somehow I think the money's about to dry up, and I'd appreciate it if you could at least tell me how to get myself off somebody's hit list, assuming I'm on it."
            Shefton relaxed a hair, his eyes sliding between Conway and Loupin. "What, we friends now?" he scoffed, but then relented. "If you're doin' something someone don't want you to, stop doin' that, and you won't be on no one's hitlist. Logic, right? Like, I bet Vanderboren has it in for you 'cause of the ship. Don't torch no more ships, easy peasy." He chuckled at his own joke.
            "If you really want protection, you need to get organized. Know what I'm sayin'?" He paused, frowning. "Uh... anyway, thanks for the boat ride back. I thought I was gonna have to stay on the island while you went and talked to the guy."
            Then he turned and headed into the city, joining the flow of the crowds.
            Loupin watched him go, just to make sure he didn't suddenly veer off in an odd direction, or join anybody else. She wanted to believe that Shefton was alone and finished with this job, because she wasn't the strongest rower, and it would be easier just to tie up somewhere and hire somebody to get her to Shadowshore; but she couldn't quite believe it.
            Shefton headed up the waterfront to her left, seeming more at ease now that he had joined the rest of the nobodies on the street. If he was going to Shadowshore, he was certainly taking a roundabout route.
            "I'm not sure what to do, man," she murmured grimly to Conway, as she slowly unhitched the boat. "I think they might be in trouble, but with who, and what can we do about it? What should we do about it? You know they won't learn anything, just from getting the stuffing kicked out of them. If we stick with them, we're just as suicidal as they are."
            Conway didn't say anything, just gnawed at the wood between his toes, unblinking.
            Loupin sat agonizing for nearly a minute, knowing she was wasting time, knowing that a minute might actually make a difference.
            "Let's ask the guy at the boat shop for advice, that's not too far away," she said at last, sounding miserable, and reached for the oars.

            Parant crouched low, a warning growl rumbling in his throat, as if in answer to the undead things' own growls. It was the best he could do - not yet having mastered the ability to speak while in his leopard form - to warn Syd of the danger.
            The part of Parant that was a man, that had been a judge, tasked with and trusted to make wise decisions, knew that he should retreat. Fall back through the double doors, and let the undead - zombies - come to them. Where the party - the pack - could take them down.
            But the part of Parant that was a hunter, recognizing in these things an enemy that must be destroyed, crouched lower, bunched powerful muscles, flexed claws that were purpose-grown for rending and tearing, curled lips back in a snarl, revealing strong, sharp teeth that rested in powerful jaws, ready to pierce flesh and crush bone.
            It was clear to any who saw him that the cloud leopard was about to pounce.
            A moment later, he blurred into motion, streaking along the wall to flank the enemy, leaping from the floor to launch himself off of the wall and onto his prey, claws and teeth flashing.
            The cat slammed into the stinking creature, and there was a brief scuffle as it tried to grab hold of Parant while he shredded its rotting flesh and rags. Then the cat leapt free, fangs bared as the zombie staggered around to face him.
            " Trouble ahead ..!" Talib Islaran hissed, the sounds reverberating down the corridors to where he led the rest of the party behind Syd and Parant. With haste, he broke ahead and tore around the corner, not stopping even at the sight of the Risen Dead.
            " Serpent's Skulls!" he swore, " Of all the things ..!"
            If Shefton had led them into a tomb instead of to Vanthus, the son of the Azure was going to be less than pleased, to put it mildly. Regardless, he continued his swift steps, dropping his torch as he want to better wield the blade in his hand: he always felt off-balance without his other hand free.
            Nearly running into two of the Creatures, Talib twirled his scimitar at the zombies in graceful, flourishing patterns, knowing that they did not understand the meaning of a challenge. However, a taunt was not what the Swashbuckler sought: with fresh meat before them, Talib hoped to draw their attention, where his swiftly moving blade would easily turn aside their hungry claws and jaws and allow him to hack them apart in kind.
            The zombies fell on the two, man and cat, with unexpected strength and savage hunger. Parant, in particular, was surprised that the seemingly slow monster was able to catch his tail - and drag him up to be bitten despite him fighting to free himself. Bitten by the ravenous undeads' reeking maws, it was clear that this would be no easy fight. The zombies seemed determined to eat them alive, not bothering to kill them before swallowing bites of flesh.
            Syd swore as soon as he recognized the walking dead. "Zombies," he said, more to inform the others in the hallway. Momentarily frozen to the spot, he stared ahead and simply drew Vark's rapier from his belt.
            Syd shook his head, focusing on the task at hand. His revulsion at the sight (and smell) of the upright corpses would have to be set aside. He broke into a trot, his long legs crossing the distance with ease. He maneuvered around the cluster of melee, flanking the group.
            Huge crabs in the seawater rushed forward threateningly as Syd skirted the pool, but he moved away from it quickly enough that they weren't able to catch and pinch him in their claws.
            Lillia’s heart bounced heavily. One beat they were skulking, the next, clamor and chaos. She swung the torch around at the grinding sound behind them, but then just as quickly faced forward again and slipped by the Baba.
            “Baba, come on!” she urged as she went by. She knifed through the corridors and the shadow play of the party silhouettes.
            Throwing herself against the far wall, she drew her narrow short blade and scanned the passage for additional threats. Her heart thudded. It had been some time since she was in the throws of actual combat, burning ships notwithstanding. And the smell !
            Despite fighting for his life, his blood running on the undead's rotten fangs, Talib tried to swipe his blade toward's Parant's assailant.
            " You want a real meal, don't you!" he roared, unable to break free himself and desperate to protect his comrades.
            " Hack them apart!" he cried to the group, " Spears and clubs are useless! You've got to cut them limb from limb!"
            Jabari drew the scimitar from his belt and hefted the shield a little higher as he moved just inside the room. "Something behind us, too."
            Jabari noticed movement at the corner of his eye. Glancing to his left, he realized that the pool of water was home to some enormous brown crabs, easily the size of a dog. They were waving their pincers at each other and at the movement on the "shore," no doubt disturbed by the sudden light and action.
            "Watch those crabs! They're hungry!" It was almost a non-sequitur, but Jabari knew the huge crabs could be dangerous if they surprised someone. He decided to try to do something about it while the others took care of the undead.
            The Baba knew the dangers of the living dead; he had studied them well. And Talib was right - they must be hacked to bits. Unfortunately, his pick would be nearly useless in this fight, so he slid his trusty dagger from a pocket hidden in the folds of his tunic. Appropriately armed, he followed Lillia calmly but swiftly through the tunnel to the doorway.
            The cloud leopard that was Parant yowled in pain and indignation. The yowl rose in pitch as the zombie bit into his flesh and a deeper pain colored his tone. That pain drove the last vestiges of civilized control from his mind, and the wild animal brain simply reacted, lashing out in pain and anger. Claws and fangs struck out at the exposed torso and throat of the zombie that had so foolishly sought to make prey of this predator.
            What had been a startled big cat transformed into a whirlwind of destruction, sending gobbets of ancient flesh spraying in a meaty rain. Any rational being would have released someone so determined to flay its muscle from bone, but the mindless undead held on, suffering the onslaught without seeming to notice it, even when Parant tore half its face off. It responded only by sinking its own blunt teeth into his hide, and worrying loose a chunk of meat.
            " Handsy, aren't they!" Talib Islaran yelped, once again finding himself bleeding. A glance over at Parant showed that the shapeshifting warrior was not doing better.
            " Hang on , sadiq!" Grabbed by the ravenous undead, Talib tried to twist and turn his way out without rending more of his skin than he had to. Thankfully, years of deck-fighting had taught him a few tricks to try and escape a hold.
            Years of incidents in taverns too, for that matter.
            One slip to the side and hard wrench from the steely grasp of the zombie clutching him, and Talib was free! But now yet another zombie had converged on him, and both it and the one from earlier reached out with deadly patience to catch him again. Three quick slashes lopped off half its fingers and left him out of reach of the first, while a series of deep cuts through what flesh remained on its bony form drove back the other for a moment.
            Syd cringed at the cluster of dead grappling with his friends, and out of the corner of his eye, crabs snapping their claws at him. He briefly wondered just what in the nine hells was going on here, but he had to focus at the task at hand. His rapier felt a bit silly, though, stabbing flesh that was already dead, but he did so anyway.
            The zombie didn't even seem to notice as Syd's very fine rapier pierced its hunched body and, presumably, what was left of its blackened heart... until he knocked its collarbone loose with the end of his blade. It turned its head, eyes like curdled milk rolling to see where the threat had come from.
            Lillia did not care for the spirit of Parrot Island thus far. Undead to the fore and strange noises to the rear. She envisioned them becoming trapped in this decrepit warren. Moving carefully, she stepped to the doorway and stuck her torch into the chamber for more light, but she remained at the portal, guarding their rear as the others surged forward to deal with the restless dead.
            She couldn't help but notice how the shouts and barks of pain echoed with the zombies' groans in the arched passage... and, presumably, past the doors that also hung ajar in the other direction. If they had hoped for stealth, that hope was surely in vain now.
            The undead may have been savage, but Talib was swift, his blade dancing like sharp water through the appendages of the zombies. There was a flair to every cut, a brimming sense of elegance as the scimitar weaved through air and muscle with equal fluidity. It was more than apparent that despite the direness of the situation, Talib Islaran was in his element, and he was going to sail it right to port.
            " Parant, are you with us still?" he called out over the clash of battle, not wanting the man to succumb to his wounds despite how he fought on like a caged tiger. What zeal! By the Gods was it inspirational!
            "Parant!?" Jabari was puzzled about the crabs that weren't crabs and wanted to figure out what was going on there, but turned when Talib called for his friend. Seeing the leopard wounded and in a frenzy, he lashed out in the only way he could. The young nobleman whipped his hand at the passageway and a gale blasted down the tunnel in response to his call. Jabari took a few quick steps, shifting his shoulders and arms in a fluid circle, directing the air first around his body and then redirecting it straight at the zombies.
            As soon as he stepped onto the stony shore, the crabs surrounded him in the water, claws waving. One tried to pinch his leg, but scuttled back into the water when he kicked at it.
            The sudden, fierce wind that howled in a twisting cyclone from around Jabari's hands and straight into the undead was so strong it spun them around, shoving them up against each other by the far wall.
            The holy man moved toward the fight, trying to take the best tactical action he could manage. "Come to me if you require healing!"
            With that inspiration in mind, Talib's curved blade swept outwards again, seeking to finish off the unlife that Parant was well under way to burying.
            Filled with bravado and elan, Talib let his sword express his intent. Four hard cuts with his heavy scimitar, and the stinking thing was hanging onto Parant with threads of sinew and dried muscle.
            Badly hurt, Parant twisted in a final bid to free himself - and though it cost him a few tots of fur, he scrambled free of the tooth-gnashing zombie, and dragged himself a few feet away.
            The zombie, finding a bleeding warm body nearer than the cat, tried to grab Talib, but lost a few fingers when it tried his defense. Likewise, the zombie whose heart (and collarbone) Syd had pierced turned against the agile elf, and was unable to capture him - but in his care to avoid one, Syd unfortunately came a hair too close to the other. A heavy hand knocked his head, and he spun out of its reach, leaving the zombie with a few of his hairs in its clutches and himself with a bit of whiplash from wrenching himself free.
            Syd's ears rung with the zombie's surprisingly strong punch. He kept his eye on both enemies as he backed up to the wall, continuing to stab at the living corpse he attacked before. He plunged his rapier into the moldy flesh of the dead man again, but again the narrow blade didn't have as much effect as he had hoped.
            Matters were not going well. Lillia glanced once more down the hallway behind her and then glided past the Baba and into the raucous chamber. She sidled up next to Talib and interposed the column between herself and the offending zombie creature.
            “Must you hack them completely to pieces?!” she hissed, her own short sword flashing out to deflect an arm. “They are slower than the tides!” The blade darted out again, looking to force an overstep at the creature’s knee. “And dumber than sand! Give them to the crabs or fall back to regroup.”
            " Call it a swordsman's Pride , jamila!" Talib shot back endearingly, taking a breath to survey the unfolding scene.
            The "seamstress" was right, as was her wont. Standing and fighting was doing little and Parant had suffered badly in the exchange - it was only a matter of time before one of them suffered just as bad, considering how long it took to put the creatures down.
            " We'll delay them," he agreed, his sword flowing over and around Lillia's thrusts to work in tandem with the openings she forced, the pair swirling into the dervish step together.
            " And then fall back. Let them come to us one at a time."
            Lillia popped out from behind the pillar time and again, fouling the slow strikes of the dead man against Talib. Behind them, the crabs by the waterline snapped their claws at Jabari, forcing him to keep on his toes or suffer a nasty pinch.
            Jabari stepped away from the water and the angry crabs, toward the door. "Then move out of the way and I'll punch them back again." The wind swirled around Jabari's body like a tiny cyclone, pulling at his clothes kicking up dust, just waiting for the young man to give it another target.
            The Baba stepped forward and put a callused hand on the bleeding cat before him. Parant's pain lessened a bit, and he caught a second wind.
            " They just don't quit," Talib scowled, his sword a zephyr cyclone that whirled around him in precision deflections and slashes to keep the undead at bay. It was a fighting style he had picked up in the melees aboard pitching vessels on the Shining Sea, a means to be constantly assaulting and protecting with the same cut.
            Yet it didn't seem to be doing much. The zombies were frighteningly resilient, his blade shearing off mounds of necrotic flesh but still they stayed upright. Keeping his eyes on the creatures before him, the sailor was glad to see Parant finally freed of their grasp, daring a glance over his shoulder.
            " Baba!" he called to the priest, " See to Parant! He's been badly wounded!"
            With that, Talib launched himself again at the same zombie, seeking to finish the creature off so it could not threaten his allies any further. He carved a swatch of tough, dried flesh off the creature, but it just wouldn't die. Rasping groans crawled from its dried lips, and it swung moldy arms to try to latch onto him.
            The wash of healing energy bought the man-brain inside of Parant enough leverage to be able to take control again. Knowing he was wounded, and having heard Jabari's call, the cat that was Parant nodded, and staggered towards the doors they'd come in through. Towards and through them, coming to rest several feet inside the hallway. His feline hearing was painfully aware of the 'tap, tap, tap' of blood dropping from his body to the floor beneath him.
            Pain was nothing new to him; he clung to consciousness despite pushing himself, despite the world swimming in his view. No matter the blood dripping on the floor, no matter the burning spots where fur and flesh were missing. He just needed a moment to collect himself.
            Then his ears twitched. The groans he could hear weren't only coming from the room he had left.
            There were also noises emerging from the doors at the other end of the hall. Groans, and slow, shuffling, scraping steps. Not at the doors, not yet, but certainly approaching, like the slow tide of doom.
            "Break off and head for the doors! I have them!" Jabari grunted as he swept his hands around his body again and threw a column of air at the zombies. This time, though, he gritted his teeth and pushed , trying to keep up the torrent of wind and pin the zombies in place.
            One of the zombies was spun aside by the violent blast of air, avoiding the worst of its force - but the other was plastered to the door behind it, its hideous mouth working helplessly in an attempt to eat Syd as Jabari's powerful stream of air pinned it in place at his command. While it thrashed, the one that had escaped Jabari's horizontal whirlwind tried to grab Syd, but it was so off-balance from Jabari's attack, and Syd so agile, that its rotted digits clawed only air. Meanwhile, the last zombie was tearing itself apart in its efforts to eat Talib - the canny sailor kept it at bay, letting its rotted muscles tear with each swipe of its arms.
            Syd shook his head at the zombies. The rapier just wasn't working. so, he decided on another tack. He sung the weapon briefly to deflect any incoming jabs, then ducked and weaved his way out of the melee. He backed up some, switching out his rapier for his bow. "Right, time to see if these arrows are worth anything," he said as he retrieved an arrow with orange fletching.
            Jabari continued to have to dance about, retaining his concentration on his focused wind even as the crabs tried to pinch him. He was beginning to tire of the fancy footwork required. The crabs crawled over each other and shuffled back and forth in the shallows, angrily waving and snapping their claws in warning.
            The Baba, seeing the wisdom in withdrawing, takes a moment to cast his measuring gaze upon their undead opponents, analyzing them for weaknesses. He then sidesteps along the wall and out the door.
            The fight was quickly unraveling, but Talib took every advantage he could. A fighting withdrawal was best: with that in mind, he took one last cut at the creature he had hacked into little but sinew and dangling limbs and then swiftly stepped towards the door, waving his blade above his head to catch Syd's attention.
            " Don't get separated!" he warned, knowing how badly the creatures had hurt Parant, "This isn't over yet!"
            Finally, finally the creature fell, the abomination of unlife leaving its stilling form after Talib and its own exertions had severed it limb from limb.
            Yet, still the others stood.
            Every movement was agony, and Parant could barely think straight. More of them! That thought rang like an alarm bell through his pain-fogged brain. He knew he couldn't go back into the other room, but the rest of them - Jabari - needed to be warned. This was going to hurt. Even more than he was already hurting.
            The cloud leopard closed his eyes in concentration, and, with a massive effort of will, shifted. There was a feeling of bones popping, edges grating against one another, of gashed flesh being stretched, torn muscles tearing further. There was a feline howl of pain, that ended in the bellow of a man - or a man-thing, at least.
            The tiger-man form of Parant knelt on the floor, his yell cut off by a wet coughing jag. He spit to clear his mouth, ignoring the bloody taste in his mouth - and the blood on the ground at his feet. There was no time for that, now.
            "More of them!" He called back into the room where his companions were fighting. "More coming!"
            A quick survey of his body revealed that his skin was no longer torn open and bleeding. That was an improvement, at least. But another wet cough made it clear that the bleeding hadn't stopped completely. It was just inside.
            Lillia heard the warning call from behind, and her lips pursed and her jaw clenched. She took a few more idle swipes at the walking dead and then made her move.
            “We can’t get trapped between them,” she warned. Then she followed with a self deprecating, “Dumb, dumb!”
            Disengaging from the melee, she knifed back through the hallways. She had a sinking, unfounded, suspicion that the hallway to daylight was also going to be blocked. So she zipped off to check, torchlight shining before her.
            She passed what appeared to be one of the great catfolk of the plains in Parant's clothes, ducking through the door Syd had forced open. Her stomach sank lower as she rounded the corner of the long and twisting tunnel - she couldn't hear the squawks and cries of parrots.
            Jabari followed her, though more slowly due to all that he was carrying. Having driven off the intruder, the crabs spent a few moments clicking their claws and scuttling along the shoreline.
            Left to themselves, the zombies followed the rich perfume of blood. They staggered after Talib, grasping rot-fingers seeking to find purchase, but finding only the swift blade of his scimitar.
            At the dim end of the hallway visible in the flickering light of Talib's dropped torch, a lurching figure pushed clumsily at the double doors, which groaned open on outraged hinges. There was movement in the darkness beyond, as well.

            Some hard rowing and a few blisters later, she arrived at the docks of Shadowshore. Once the rowboat was tied off and she'd managed to climb onto the pier, she wasn't far from It Still Floats! Sailors heading for shore leave leered at her, and catcalled, but it wasn't anything she hadn't heard before, and she didn't get close enough for them to get grabby. Heading straight into the little office, she found that the men she'd seen last weren't there. Instead, an oily-bearded dwarf who introduced himself as Panchi, the owner, greeted her.
            "You come to buy a boat? We got the best boats at reasonable prices, and while they aren't all as pretty as in the Noble's District, like the sign says, they still float!" he recited, without the enthusiasm to go with it. He leaned on his desk, a mug with what smelled like some kind of alcohol sloshing in it as he took a drink, despite the time of day.
            "Even better than that, Panchi," said Loupin, liking him immediately. She too preferred to lean around at work, although she wasn't allowed to drink. "I'm here to give you free money."
            She produced a few gold coins from her pouch and showed them to him for proof.
            "I need some information, see," Loupin explained, and began to describe, as best she could remember, the employee who had helped their group during the first visit. "He was very decent to me when I came by here with a couple friends of mine, several evenings ago -- if he's here, he'd probably remember me. We were following a fella named Prettyboy, who had borrowed our rowboat without telling us he was planning to bring it here and sell it to you -- you know how that goes. Your people were kind enough to sell it back to us at cost, which we appreciated mightily.
            Now I'm here to find out a few things about him and his friends," setting down the coins in a row on the desk, "and I'll give you one of these for every question you, or your employees, are willing to answer. If you don't want to answer these questions because it's a little too risky, I'll understand. I'm not here to make trouble for you, or for myself. But let me ask my questions first -- that's all I need from you guys today."
            Panchi raised bushy eyebrows. "A lion for every question... and I see you are the curious type." He put his mug down and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Lucky for us both, I'm the type of dwarf who likes cats. Ask your questions."
            Loupin described, as best she could, Prettyboy and as many of the smugglers from the Nixie as she could, which didn't take very long, since she'd hardly gotten a glimpse of any of them. Unfortunately she hadn't been armed with many of their names, either. "I have the impression they're all devoted to each other. And they worked for a harbor official named Soller Vark -- bald, not a genius, somewhat unpleasant -- who is currently employed as a prison trustee by the Azure Watch. So, first question: I'd like to know whether this Vark guy, Prettyboy, or anybody either hang around with, might have bought, and then maybe re-sold, boats from you at any point during the past month or two. If you want to go get your employees and ask them, I can wait."
            "Vark? I wouldn't call him a 'harbor official.' I seen some of the rest of them, hanging around the docks here. Rumor is, Vark hired them to do some smuggling, but it went sour." Panchi shrugged philosophically. "That's why it's better to have a business, even in Shadowshore. Like this one."
            He leaned forward and put a thick finger on one of Loupin's coins, scraping it across his desk and into his palm. "I don't keep track of all the riffraff, this bein' such a classy establishment, but I'm pretty sure none of Vark's crew bought anything here. I heard he was in charge of some noble's ship, though. Big sucker, too. Caught fire, right in the harbor." Panchi tsked, shaking his head. "When big deals go sour, big problems catch you, I guess."
            "Okay," said Loupin, nodding. "The second question is not dissimilar. The people I've already named have a relationship with another guy, a guy named Vanthus. Now, this guy is not exactly like those other guys." She described Vanthus as she had seen him in the portrait at Lavinia's house. "He isn't from the school of hard knocks, this one, although he may have been pretending to be. He would have come off as maybe a little spoiled, a little impatient, and maybe a little secretive -- although I don't know him all that well, so I can't say for sure he was secretive. He may have come in here with some other people -- servants, or with his girlfriend, a girl named Brissa Santos. I'd like to know whether he or his people visited this place in the past month or two in order to buy boats from you."
            Scraaaaaaape. Another coin landed in Panchi's hand and disappeared. "Yeah, I seen that hothead and his friend, Penkus. No girl, though." The dwarf scowled, his brows beetling. "That rat came in a few weeks ago, ready to pick a fight, like I don't know my own business. Still, I ended up sellin' them a boat. Business is business." Panchi harrumphed, shaking his head. "It'll probably come down on my head. It always does," he grumbled, then pointed a finger at Loupin.
            "But if you're after him, I don't mind tellin' you about them. They were real excited; loaded a bunch of lanterns, lamp oil, and rope into the boat I sold 'em. Headed off west. I dunno where they went, but they can rot there. Haven't seen 'em since. Good riddance."
            At last, a little honesty from someone. Loupin nodded, her thoughts buzzing to match her pulse. The fact that Vanthus had bought a boat, but Vark's gang hadn't, would suggest very little -- if not for Prettyboy's visit. What was going on in Shadowshore, then?
            "I won't argue," she agreed. "Thank you, sir, I'm really glad I came here. I'll remember you the next time we need a new boat. Just two more questions." She dug one more lion out of her pocket, guessing that the others might find it worthwhile. "First one. What can you tell me about Penkus? He's never come up before."
            Panchi snorted, accepting the coin without further theatrics. "I guessed you weren't from around here. You look too nice to be hangin' round these parts, girl. But if you want to know about Penkus, know that he's pretty well-known 'round here. Mostly for his drunken binges, and his violent temper. He's a smuggler, everyone knows that. Hadn't seen him here for nigh on a year, though, 'til he came by with that unsalted seadog. Thought he'd moved on." Panchi put up his hands in a shrug. "I don't get mixed up in any business of those who buy from me. If he and some lordling want to go smugglin', that's their business."
            "Okay," said Loupin again, laying the final coin on the desk. "All right. Thanks. Last question and I'm on my way. Here's the thing, man. I work in another part of town, so I don't know the neighborhood as well as I should. I know they all have their Vanthuses and Penkuses, though, and it's interesting to me that so much stuff would be going on around here. Can you tell me who the worst apples are in Shadowshore? I'm particularly interested in smugglers or thieves, especially notably ambitious ones I should probably be trying to avoid. And I know this is asking a lot; I don't need any addresses. If you can't answer that, I wouldn't mind knowing the name of some knowledgeable but indiscreet local who would talk to me about it."
            Panchi eyed her from under those bushy salt-and-pepper brows. Then he picked up the last coin. "Why not. If it isn't the garrison, it'll be the thugs, anyway. As usual, if you want to find the scum, you got to skim the top. Vico Bevenin. He's one of the richest men in Tashluta, is the rumor. But he lives here. Owns the Chult Trading Concern. Smugglin' concern is more like it. Big fella. Says he has ogre blood. And then there's Emil Dracktus. He's on the Dawn Council. Got where he is by killin' off the previous owners of his estate, not long after the Rundeen were chased outta town. I'd call that the kind of enterprisin' you mentioned, though I won't admit it to no one else, understand? I gotta live here."
            "The Black Shield and the Notched Axe'll do what needs doing, no questions asked. Everyone else is small-time. Moneylenders, shrine to Mask, that sorta thing." Panchi picked up his mug again, swirling the contents. "Keep me in mind when you need a boat next, we have great quality at low prices, an' all that." He rested his cheek on his fist and took a drink, clearly not expecting her to buy anything.
            "Will do," Loupin said, closing her purse. "Thanks again."
            She headed back to her little boat. Hopefully it would still be there -- or hopefully not, since she wasn't looking forward to more rowing.
            Vico Bevenin, Emil Dracktus, Black Shields, Notched Axes. None of it meant anything to her, a shop clerk from the other side of the channel. It didn't sound like anything to do with two goofballs hauling rope and lamps out to Parrot Island. Maybe Vanthus had chosen It Still Floats! for no other reason than it was the nearest boat shop to the island he intended to visit; maybe Shefton had been, against all odds, exactly as innocuous as he'd claimed to be.
            Then again, Shefton hadn't mentioned Penkus, and Penkus had been away from Shadowshore for a while, and somebody had taken Vark and his guys out to the Blue Nixie.
            If Vanthus had been trying to set up a smuggling business with Vark based on Parrot Island, it was hard to guess why Vanthus would stay there following Vark's arrest; there was no way to know for sure whether Vark would sell him out, after all.
            Maybe somebody like Bevenin didn't want to see Vanthus opening his own smuggling shop so close to Shadowshore, and had already taken Vanthus out. With creeps like Shefton around, it was just possible, but in that case, Lavinia's investigation into Vanthus's whereabouts might seem threatening to whoever had disposed of him.
            Yet Lavinia had not been targeted yet. Argh.
            The only thing any of that guesswork suggested was that Vanthus was probably not the only person they had to worry about.
            Once on the pier, Loupin looked back the way she'd come, out towards little green Parrot Island and the Merchant District. She knew she should go back and get the others, but she was afraid to go alone, mostly because she wasn't at all sure what to think about Shefton. He hadn't seemed dishonest, exactly, but he'd sidestepped every issue she'd brought up, and avoided explaining how he knew Vanthus was occupying the place full time, which was too weird not to notice.
            "Somebody had to tell him," she said to Conway. "He couldn't be running a round-the-clock watch by himself; he had to have help."
            Something occurred to Loupin then: she could get help, too. Not from Lavinia, though. It was too far away, and her arms were feeling a little rubbery as it was.
            Getting back into the boat, she set out for the Merchant District, keeping an eye on Parrot Island for any sign of anything.

            Well, this didn't look good. Parant realized very quickly that the group was about to be cut off from one another if they didn't act quickly. Unfortunately, he wasn't in any shape to be acting - quickly or otherwise.
            "Door!" Parant called to the others, pointing at the double doors that had been pushed open, and the figure beyond them. "Close them, or we'll be cut off!"
            Talib was stuck fending off two more of the creatures, his gleaming blade coated in thick, foul-smelling, dark blood, his ears picking up Parant's call even as he was stuck facing away from the man.
            More? More were coming. His sword could barely cut down one and now they were in danger of being enveloped. Gritting his teeth, he whirled his scimitar before him, sending up a gale of steel to force the zombies back while slipping back out of their reach, his feet as sure upon the stone as they had been upon the deck of pitching ships.
            " Syd!" he cried to the elf again, genuinely frightened for his well being, " Syd, we need to fall back , get around these bastards!"
            Talib ducked back into the hallway, his boots carrying him past the Baba and the injured Parant to the door that had been the cause of alarm: there they were indeed. More.
            " By all the Hells ..!" Talib swore under his breath, using his momentum to charge right into the door itself. Lowering his shoulder, he slammed into the barrier to smash it shut, hoping he caught a limb or two of the undead scourge that lay beyond it.
            " I'm not going to hold them long!" he confessed to the others, knowing he had always been more nimble than strong, " See that Syd makes it in safe!"
            Talib looked around with wild eyes, still keeping the entirety of his weight against the door, digging his boots into the stone to make sure it stayed shut. Someone was missing.
            " Lillia! Where's Lillia?"
            The woman had shown a knack for solving tricky situations so far. Talib desperately hoped she had something up her sleeves for this.
            " If we live through this, I'm swearing off drink for at least a week," he growled, still straining to hold the door and buy his companions a little more time to formulate a plan.
            "Yeah, yeah," Syd grumbled just as he was getting an arrow from his quiver. He saw the wisdom, though. Everyone else was getting out, and he'd be stuck in here with... the things. He let go of the arrow, letting it drop back into the quiver and took off at a long lope. His long legs quickly got him just inside the doorway. "I didn't want to fight them on my own anyway." His half smile pulled what barb there might have been from the line. He did present an arrow with orange fletching before him, "Incendiary, courtesy of Vanderboren money," he commented, "Got a few others, too, so I have options."
            The Baba watches Syd dart through the doorway with a raised eyebrow of impressed surprise. He wastes no time slamming the doors, then pushes his shoulder up against them. "Yes, that is a very nice arrow." He angles his head toward the doorway in the middle of the south wall. "You are most welcome to go down that hallway. Talib and I will follow. This is the plan."
            Parant limped past Jabari after Lillia, each painful step costing him a bit of the strength Baba Gbele's healing had restored to him.
            Lillia rounded the last turn in the fungus-slimed tunnel, only to find her fears confirmed. No sunlight shone down through the trapdoor to light the little entryway - and on the floor, beneath it, she found the rope that they had climbed down into this nightmare with. It had been severed, the cut clean as any blade could make.
            Looking up, she could see that the trapdoor was shut.
            Jabari cursed to make a sailor proud, then muttered under his breath.
            From the other side of both sets of doors, the hungry groans of the dead echoed in the tunnels. There was a scraping noise from the doors the Baba was holding shut, as though nails or fingerbones were scratching the far side.

            Loupin marshaled the last of her thew just to tie up at a Merchant District piling southeast of Parrot Island. It would probably cost her something; the piers here served Harbour Market and what seemed like half the city's guilds. Better than splashing around all over the place like an idiot, though. She was pretty sweaty and gross and wasn't sure how she was going to cast awesome spells now, what with all the blems and blains.
            Being a world-class hawkshaw wasn't easy. Or cheap. Or glorious. Loupin doubted anybody would offer to pay her back. Gbele and Syd had said they would pay her for those healing potions. So much for that. They were probably dead by now anyhow; that hole they'd all gone down looked like the kind you'd store a few wind spiders in, or worse.
            The island continued to sit right there, a hundred yards off, green and uncultivated. A puzzle in plain sight. It was right in the middle of the city, but nobody ever did anything with it, hadn't for a million years just by the looks of it. There was nothing else in Tashluta like Parrot Island, no empty park or wild place within the city walls. Somebody had to own it, though. Somebody owned everything.
            Probably the same somebody who was behind the whole thing.
            The market would be a good place to rouse a Watch patrol. Local goon squads operated to a higher standard than some, and Loupin wanted goons now, preferably ones who could follow a track. If Vanthus had his own boat, and it were somewhere on the island, it was worth finding, whether or not the others had been pulverized. At the least Loupin could keep him and his weirdo partner on the island until authorities sorted them all out, maybe including Shefton. Forget Lavinia's sob stories. If Vanthus were caught up in something, which from an enchanter's point of view sounded easy enough to arrange, Talib's name wasn't going to be enough to stop him. It wasn't in anybody's interest to have another smuggler running around, she thought, especially some goofy amateur who stole from his own family. Even smugglers would agree with that, surely.
            After rubbing off some of the sweat -- she was pretty sure she didn't look so good, but the little mirror was buried some place deeper in her backpack than she could summon the muscle power to excavate -- Loupin doled out some spare change to whoever for docking fees and drifted into the market, her weird amber gaze skipping around after Shefton or anybody else who might be planning on bushwhacking her, while also keeping an eye out for a patrol. It wasn't going to cost much additional effort, since surprise, life was getting pretty balmy by this time in the day, and nobody was milling around outdoors who didn't have to be.
            Loupin wondered if she should charm somebody magically to be safe, or if that was just the blisters talking. She didn't really want to row out to the island if some loyal new friend would volunteer for the job. On the other hand, she was half-expecting to be stabbed to death at some point in the next six hours, so maybe the last-ditch spellcasting could wait.
            "Good morning there, or whatever time it is now," Loupin said to the first people she found who looked like they had official permission to beat the crap out of wannabe smugglers. "How's it going, my friends. I live down on Frogwallow Street. I could really use some help from strong people, or at least people who are a little cleverer and more resourceful than I am."
            "Hello, ma'am!" The leader of the patrol of six guards smiled at her in a friendly enough fashion, the other guards coming up around her curiously, while at the same time trying to step closer under the awning of the stall they had stopped by, to get out of the sun. They looked a bit relieved at the chance to, really. All that armor must have been hot.
            "What is it that you need help with? Is there some kind of trouble?" The patrol leader flexed a tiny bit, showing off. Loupin got that a lot.
            "I guess you could say that, yeah," said Loupin, trying to sound both more collected and less happy than she actually felt. Six guards was more than she'd hoped for; surely under the circumstances they could spare a few. She tried rubbing some of the sweat off of her neck and face, thinking she probably seemed like somebody on drugs, but her hands were pretty sweaty, too. Also shaky.
            "I'm a member of a company," she explained, "led by Talib Islaran, the Harbormaster's heir, maybe you've heard of him -- his father's on the Dawn Council, I'm sure Lady Anwyn does business with them -- and we've been investigating an animal smuggling ring here in town. The Damarthes are working with us on it. We broke up part of the ring in the Azure District last week, but yesterday we got a tip that there was more going on right out there -- operations out on Parrot Island -- so we went out to investigate that today. Do you follow all of this so far? I'm pretty wiped out, I may not be making much sense."
            The guards exchanged looks. "I think we can follow," their leader said. "But Parrot Island isn't-"
            "We went out to Parrot Island to look around, and found an entrance to what might be a smuggling tunnel," Loupin went on. "Lord Islaran took most of our company in to take a closer look. I went to investigate another lead, out in Shadowshore. We planned to meet later -- in fact I should've gone back by now, just to make sure they're all right. But while I was in Shadowshore I found out some other stuff -- some stuff that makes me think this thing is bigger than we thought." She had reflected on the trip over that she might need to leave Vanthus's name out of it. "I think the smuggling gang is led by a guy named Penkus, and I think the whole thing could be a set-up. I think maybe Penkus knows we're looking for his gang, and they dangled Parrot Island in front of us as part of a trap. I'm not completely sure, but I'm worried, and I have to go back there to find my friends, but I'm afraid to go alone, because I don't know how many smugglers are there. It might be a few. I... I need help. I need somebody to go with me, just so I don't get jumped. I'd go to Islaran's father, or even to Lady Arabani, but I'm not sure there's time -- it took me forever just to get here from Shadowshore, all I have is a little boat. I might be wrong about all of this, but I think there's something bad going on here. I wouldn't bother you guys under ordinary circumstances. But I can pay you, if that's what it takes. I just need a few guys to come with me, maybe. If one of you can follow tracks, that would help. I'm pretty sure Penkus is out there, and... one or two others, probably. I'm not sure how dangerous they are. I doubt they'll mess with city guards. But even if there's nobody and everything is all right, I'll pay anyway. I'm just nervous. I'm not tough -- not like you guys."
            "Ma'am, please calm down. We can report this smuggling to the Council, if you haven't done that already, but if your company needs help right now, what you need to do is contact the Shadowshore garrison. Parrot Island is in their jurisdiction. ...That means it's their job to deal with anything on Parrot Island," he added kindly.
            "Tell the Watch sergeant there what you told me. Watchman Boros can go with you," he sighed, and the man he gestured to perked up immediately. "To make sure they understand that it's urgent. I suggest you go through Cudgel district rather than rowing. It shouldn't take too much longer, and you won't be in the way in the harbor."
            "If you're concerned about me being in the way, I heartily agree, and I have an alternative suggestion," said Loupin, because all of that sounded like a gigantic time-consuming pain in the butt. She tried to sound polite, because he wasn't a bad guy, but she was pretty tired. "You six armed men make every legal effort to get the members of this company back safely, because you're City Watch officers, because the head of this company is a future Dawn Council member who's father is a current Dawn Council member, because none of those crooks up there in Shadowshore is going to listen to me and you know it -- and because if you don't, then I'll have to go bust up a harbor smuggling ring all by myself and then explain to the Dawn Council myself why everybody here except good old Boros basically stood around with their hands in their pockets even after hearing about a serious crime in progress which they could have done a little more to prevent. I'm not sure I'll be able to explain all that very easily. Or alternatively, Boros and maybe one or two of you guys can just go on a little two-hundred-yard boat jaunt with me and stand around on the beach, doing as little as you're doing right now, while I just check on these damn people, and then all of you can get lots of credit for helping the city, the harbor, and House Vanderboren, who hired us in the first place. I assume you're familiar with that name, and the giant Vanderboren estate over on Blue Skink Lane; Lady Anwyn is, certainly."
            The guard nodded, raising a placating hand. "I understand you're upset, ma'am, but we can't abandon our patrol to go off on what might be a wild goose chase. Especially one that belongs in another district. I can send Boros with you to the Shadowshore Garrison, or you can go yourself. Otherwise, I'll be sure to inform the Watch Captain of your story, and the problem will be dealt with through proper channels." Her name-dropping didn't appear to have moved him as much as Loupin would have liked. She got the sense that he was used to dealing with citizens who had "urgent matters" that needed to be dealt with right away, like runaway pets (or children), or pickpockets taking their coinpurses, or someone taking their stall space in the market.
            "Proper channels," Loupin echoed in a dull, defeated voice. She knew she ought to try and conjure up some kind of outrage, just as a last ditch sort of thing; but it was hard, given how much speculation and exaggeration she'd been indulging in, given how dumb the other six had been not to register a plan with the authorities before going to Parrot Island in the first place, like this guy would probably have suggested, and given how dumb anybody would have to be to care about any of them. Guys like Talib practically begged to be killed, and Loupin felt like she might be lining up behind them. In the present circumstances, a calm rebuff probably didn't represent some kind of cosmic injustice.
            That didn't mean she shouldn't make them feel a little like crap, though.
            "Proper channels in Shadowshore. Holy shit." She shook her head. "Tell you what, you go ahead and send Boros up to Shadowshore himself, okay, since you really think that'll do some good. Personally I don't have time for a wild goose chass like that. There's a foot track now that leads right from the beach where we landed up to the tunnel. It's got a big stone cover, in a little clearing in the woods -- it couldn't be more obvious, so maybe your fraternal counterparts will look into it by this time next year. That's if they aren't already keeping it open themselves for Vico Beverin or somebody. Anyway, thanks for not taking any unnecessary chances with the safety of a five-foot unarmored local girl, guys. Try to stay hydrated."
            Low-down no-good stinkin' cowards.
            Loupin shoved off then. It occurred to her that maybe she was a no-good stinkin' coward too, and that maybe this was all just like some kind of a test or something. Everybody knew the gods were nuts about testing people -- well, maybe not fake weirdo gods, like the one Baba was so hot about, but the good ones were, the real ones, Savras and Mystra. Savras especially, since he told people what they needed to know. Loupin carried cards all the time, and had already studied them that morning. Even on ordinary days she found them difficult to interpret, though, and maybe they didn't work as well when you were being tested.
            She had a decision to make now.
            She could suck it up and go back to Parrot Island by herself, on the theory that either her fellow morons were there wondering where the hell she was and that nothing had actually gone wrong, or on the other theory, that things were wrong but that she would somehow muddle through as she had on the ship -- she had mostly the same junk prepared -- probably not a great theory, that, since nobody was likely to jump overboard for one half-elf. So if she did go she wouldn't be a low-down stinking coward, she'd probably just get murdered or something.
            Or she could take one last crack at chickening out. The Seeker Lodge was a few blocks away, and according to Baba, it sounded like some kind of nutty mercenary outfit. Of course Baba was a heathen goofball, but if he'd gotten it straight, it might be possible to hire a few goons from them for an hour or two. It was the only thing of its kind that she could think of nearby, and if she didn't give out too much information, it would even give Loupin a chance to assess the Seekers themselves -- and what kind of connection they could have to the Vanderboren family. There was no way the Seekers didn't have something to do with something, she felt surer of it than she did of most things lately, but they wouldn't necessarily recognize her personally, and unless Parant and Jabari were connected with them, it seemed unlikely that a few sellswords would consider Parrot Island anything more than an afternoon's work. The biggest problems she could see were the possibility that she'd be wasting even more time, and that the Seekers were exactly the wrong bunch of people to bring into the situation.
            A couple of bells tolled then, from the temple across the market square.
            Too much time was passing.
            Loupin had told Jabari that she'd return to the island as soon as she'd dropped off Shefton, and that was some time ago: quite long enough for Shefton to have gone back on his own and closed the stone hatch on them -- the thing she'd been most afraid of -- and long enough for the party to have dealt with Vanthus and returned to the beach, where only one boat would be waiting for them. If they were forced to take two boat trips to get everybody back to shore, they'd probably be pissed off at Loupin for not showing up to help, if not actually worried about what had happened to her.
            Those possibilities, and the fact that there were no bona fide mercenary companies she knew of in the Merchant District, seemed to settle the matter. The Notched Axe might be right there in Shadowshore, but Loupin was risking a lot wandering around looking for it on her own, what with Prettyboy and most of his idiot gang still on the loose. Of course they might all be waiting on Parrot Island, but maybe not. Shefton wasn't so scary -- her enchantments wouldn't work too well on a fellow half-elf, but she had a crossbow, and acid spells, too -- and she was quite willing to kick his ass just for wasting so much of their day.
            Loupin wondered then if she should have asked Panchi for a physical description of Penkus. Perhaps he and Shefton were actually just the same person -- although they sounded like they had very different personalities. If it were merely Vanthus and Shefton on the island, Loupin thought she might be able to handle them. She'd done pretty well on the ship, killed the big spider monster and put those guys to sleep and everything.
            It was better than just standing around staring at nothing.
            As much as she didn't want to row another inch, Loupin decided to head back to Parrot Island on her own. If she didn't actually bump into the others on the way, the presence or absence of their boat on the beach would tell her something, maybe. At least whether she should be wary or not. That was something. Maybe.
            God, rowing really sucked, though.

            The Baba calls over his shoulder toward Talib, suggesting, "Maybe we release these doors at the same time, then run to the tunnel with the others? This way, zombies come to us single file."
            " Good Plan, my Baba!" Talib called back, finding the idea their best chance of survival. If they were to fight, they would do so with their best foot forwards, not surrounded and cut down easily.
            " Go!" the sailor ordered the others, " Fall back! The Baba and I shall be right with you!" He kept his back to the door, keeping his full weight upon the stone to purchase as much time as possible.
            " If need be we'll leave the damn tunnel and torch these monsters from above," he reasoned, unawares that such a plan was impossible.
            “No, no, no, no no nononono,” Lillia chanted under her breath as she careened around the last corner and into the entry chamber. “NO!” she cried out as the inky cul de sac yawned at her.
            The torch swept to and fro in searching, hissing arcs. Trapped. Such a simple thing. A simple trap that none of them had seen. And now. The low moans of the pirate dead reached her even here. She whirled back and flew into the hallway once more.
            “Trap door’s closed!” she shouted as she raced against the retreat. “Rope’s cut! We either make our stand here or push past them one way or the other!”
            She didn’t know the lay of the melee, but she conveyed the details of what was behind them with stark clarity.
            Talib was relieved to hear Lillia's voice, but the message she bore nearly sent him into a panic.
            Trapped. Trapped down below with the hungry dead. And his blade had taken so long just to cut through one, let alone Parant's injuries.
            Syd shrugged, "There is a way to open the door, or another way out. Vanthus wouldn't have come here otherwise." He eyed the situation and agreed with the Baba, "Yes, good plan. Let me in back so I may utilize my bow."
            " Only way out seems forwards , sadiqaa," Talib grunted, still keeping his weight upon the heavy door, " Just a matter of getting there is the problem. My sword did ... little ..."
            His voice fell away in thoughts. If hacking them apart took too long, and they were falling back anyway ...
            Jabari regrouped with the others, looking down the tunnel toward the trap door. He really, really wanted to be outside, where he could feel the air moving and see the sky. The tunnel was starting to weigh on him, and not just because of the undead monsters who wanted to eat them.
            "Unless someone locked it from the outside, I can blow open the trap door. Getting up is another question, though." He looked toward the doors holding back the monsters. "I can distract them, too, for a little while." Until they finish eating the horse, at least, he didn't say out loud.
            " Think that arrow can light a full fire, Syd?" Talib asked suddenly, throwing his back into the door as it suddenly pushed inwards from the pressure of the walking dead behind it.
            Syd nodded, "That they can, Talib. I also have a few flasks of oil, in case we need them."
            " And we need oil, something to burn. Pitch."
            Talib whistled sharply down the tunnel, letting his voice reach Lillia beyond.
            " Any means of making something to burn bright , jamila?" he called out, the plan coming to him in bursts of adrenaline.
            “Fire?!” Lillia screeched a little bit to no one in particular. “Down here? How long can you hold your breath?”
            The implicit notion that the fire wasn’t really concerning her came across clearly. It was the smoke that had her riled up. Already the air was sticky on the tongue from the burning torches.
            “I say up and out!” she added, pointing her preference with her short blade.
            " Our weapons do little," he reasoned, talking quickly " Hard to hack them apart. But they're not bright. Syd danced around them as easily as pillars. But we fall back, aye? They follow. If we've a way to set fire to where they walk, they'll cook themselves in the flames. Not much of an instinct to survive, it seems. Should thin their ranks, make them easier to strike down."
            Talib wasn't the sort for romantic last stands against overwhelming odds: He very much wanted to live, and dying to zombie corsairs would put a rather large hole in that plan. He wasn't so proud as to stubbornly cling to his ineffective bladework if it meant everyone walked out alive by trying something else.
            " We've anything like that? Anything to slow and injure them as they come for us?"
            With care, he kept one hand on the door while gingerly reaching down to his dropped back and scooping it up. He struggled with the weight a bit - he was unaccustomed to carrying so much whilst at sea - but he was loathe to have the undead rifling through his possessions.
            " I've some burlap in here," Talib informed his companions, " Should serve as ample kindling. Just need a fuel source. Gods' Blood what I wouldn't give for some whale oil ..."
            "Not a lot of room down there," Parant said, pointing down the hallway to the very small room they' come in through. "It'd be one of us against one of them at a time in that hallway, if we can't get out." He coughed, bright blood flecking his lips.
            "I have one flask each of lamp oil, acid, and blessed water." he said, "if that helps." He coughed again, wincing. "Looks like our wizardess friend was right. This was a very effective - if not very clever - trap that we've fallen for."
            He took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm the coughing. "Unless you think Loupin betrayed us," he raised his voice to reach Lillia, "there are likely to be enemies waiting for just such an attempt, to make sure that we don't come out alive that way. The only way out is to go where they won't expect."
            He coughed again, then looked over at Talib. "She may be right about fire down here. But there may be another way. I also have some rope, but no grapnel. We could tie those doors closed, and then try to burn the others in the room with the crabs. Gives us room to get by them."
            Parant shoved himself away from the wall and towards Talib. He collapsed against the doors, coughing wetly, and gesturing at his backpack - and the coil of silken rope lashed to the side of it.
            "If you can get a rope up there, throw it." Jabari looked at Talib and Parant and shook his head. "I can push them around pretty easily. Line them up and I'll knock them down." The young man nodded at Lillia. "She's right about how bad a fire will be in an enclosed space like this."
            " Fire at least burns them," Talib countered, " But I'm all ears on other plans here."
            Dropping his own pack, he grabbed at the rope Parant had noted and began tying it off around the door handles behind him, using every knotting trick he could think of to make sure it would be a pain for anyone, man or undead, to get it open easily. He winced with every sound from the wounded man, recalling decks slick with blood and shivers embedded in soft flesh.
            " Hang on for me," he demanded of Parant, " We're not ending our story here yet."
            While tying, he glanced over his shoulder at Jabari.
            " Hey, your ... your wind punch. Thing," he fumbled over the term, not truly understanding the powers that his fellow Noble commanded, " Can that get the trap door open? We're gonna need an exit plan fast if this goes Northwards. I'd rather we all escape with our skins in place than anything else."
            He continued to tuck silk rope into more elaborate and tight coils without looking at his hands, making sure only a battering ram was getting through the bulwark.
            " There's a 'labe in my pack," he advised with a gesture, " A Starfinder. Heavy, metal. Not a grappling hook but it should snag on something if we toss the rope up and out. Give it to Lillia, aye?"
            The door slammed inwards again, Talib shoving back against it to finish affixing his knot.
            " Winds Willing, all we'll lose today is some pride." He spared another glance to Parant, noting the dark crimson that flowed from his wounds.
            " Winds Willing."
            Lillia shook her head to clear it. The chaos was rich and ripe, and she hadn’t dipped herself in such a pool for some time. She allowed herself a moment to center before speaking rapidly into a brief moment of silence.
            “Wait. These are the perfect guards,” she said. “Slow, stupid, and they last forever. Think about it, for Vanthus and the others who know and use these tunnels. They simply go by them quickly, and they simply lose interest.”
            “Why do we have to end them?” she said.
            "We do not have a priest or necromancer that can control them, or hide us from their sight," Parant said, "which is most likely how Vanthus manages. If he merely ran from door to door, he would have no way to know when the zombies were waiting on the other side of one. And so would either risk opening a door at the wrong time and being eaten, or being at the mercy of their timing and interest whenever he wished to move from room to room."
            He coughed, fresh blood flecking his lips.
            "We have neither the ability to magically bypass them, nor the knowledge needed to run to the correct doors to escape, without running into another group of them and being trapped between them." Parant indicated the doors behind him, and the second group of zombies beyond them to illustrate his point. "If we had that knowledge, what you're implying could be a very viable choice."
            "Still, if we can get the crabs to end them, we wouldn't have to. Is that what you mean?"
            "I can't bypass them, per se, but I could give them something bigger than a human to eat. For a little while, until they finished killing it." Jabari shook his head. "I hate to do it, but better a horse than a person, right?"

            With Parant's silk rope knotted securely about the handles of the eastern doors, everyone prepared to open the western doors and let the zombies loose.
            Lillia had fallen quiet. This was not her chosen arena, and she let those more suited to the needs take the fore. She was not one to shy from responsibility though, and she took her place in the corridor of engagement with a steady air.
            That was, as steady as she could with her back pressed against a narrow door separating her from several undead monstrosities. She held the torch aloft with one hand, her legs braced on the floor. She had sheathed her short sword in favor of a length of dagger in her other hand. Her gaze was split evenly between watching the preparations at the other end of the hall and checking on the integrity of the rope holding this doorway closed.
            Syd lit two arrows from Lillia's torch; then it was time. Talib stepped away from the doors, and Gbele opened the one he stood by, revealing the open-mouthed zombie beyond. Before it could latch onto him, he stepped into the cover of the other door, holding it closed - and Jabari summoned the wind that should never have touched the underground realm. With its steady force, it howled in the confined space, shoving back the zombie in the door.
            But it recovered from the sudden push, and slowly dragged itself into the hallway by the unarmed Gbele. Syd planted a flaming arrow in its skull, but it kept coming. The other followed behind, and tried to bite the Chultan holy man, yellowed teeth still tinted red from its previous assaults, but he was able to hold it off with his shield and the door between them.
            The undead were terrifyingly strong, shoving their way into the small enclosure despite the party's best efforts. Talib Islaran, however, was not about to let the creatures mar any more of his crew. While they focused on trying to devour the massive Chultan, he lashed out with his blade to try and slow them down, not so much as to strike as just to ward off.
            " Blow them back, Jabari!" he ordered, knowing everything hinged on knocking the monsters back into the room they came from.
            He prepared himself for when all the mancala seeds would fall, knowing he would have to rush and slam the open door shut once the oil and fire mingled together and Jabari threw the zombies back.
            Cursing to make a merchant sailor blush, Jabari spun a full circle, twisting his hands in a strange, sinuous simultaneous push and pull as he shaped the column of air, pushing it to be stronger, more focused, more of what he needed. He planted his front foot and blasted the undead monster with his wind from nowhere.
            A mighty gale rose from nothing, terrible as a storm at sea, and blasted the two zombies nearly all the way into the water that had flooded the other room. The crabs grew agitated once again, but the party had no time to see what they would get up to, for Lillia was prepared.
            Maybe it was the light, or the sound…or the meat, likely a combination of all three, that kept Lillia pressed firmly against the eastern doors as they strained against the knotted rope. The insistence of the undead was horrifying in its own right. She kept her torch as far away as possible from the oil flask she had in her other hand.
            The hallway was shadowy, torchlight chaos. The zombies were too close. Lillia’s head bobbed and weaved as she tried to capture all that was going on. She gauged the timing as best she was able and darted forward from her position to hurl the oil flask into the room beyond.
            “Oil coming through!” she barked.
            With precision that would have made any marksman envious, she smashed the flask right in front of the lead zombie.
            Parant, favoring one side, and doing his best not to cough up blood onto Jabari, held the two flasks in his hands. As Jabari's second wind punch took effect, the cat-man assessed the result, nodded grimly, and let fly with one of the flasks. Unfortunately, his wounds were painful enough to throw off his aim, and the flask fell a bit short and to one side. The pool of oil from it merged with Lillia's oil, glinting in the torchlight.
            Syd grinned as his arrow hit home. His grin faltered, however, when the zombie didn't even flinch, still pressing into the room. "Oil, we need some oil here!" he shouted as he took aim at the creature, letting fly with his second lit arrow. His second arrow lodged in the monster's chest, the fire charring what was left of its flesh.
            Talib stepped forward, torch held high. Going through the open door, he tossed his torch into the oil, the flare of heat and light never changing his expression of grim determination.
            The zombies groaned, their heavy limbs rising as if to reach him through the flames.
            Talib slammed the door shut again.

            It all happened so fast. One moment, the zombies were on him, vile jaws snapping. The next, they were gone, and the door was closed. The holy man almost laughed aloud with relief, but that was not his way. The past was gone, and the future was upon him. His mind raced with possibilities, but all options settled to one. Let the fire do its work. Perhaps the best course of action was to take no action. The Baba planted his feet and leaned back against the door, allowing the faintest hint of a smile to touch his lips.
            "Ubtao willing, may these undead things burn down to the lowest layer of the Abyss." He then waited for the scratching and thumping to begin anew.
            Talib Islaran shot the Baba a wide grin in the torchlight, affording himself a small chuckle at how their plan had gone off quite elegantly. His back lay against the door, all of his weight placed upon the portal to bar it from undead hands.
            " A sad fate for sailors but I'm inclined to agree, my Baba," the former pirate noted.
            " Good job, everyone," Talib praised the little troupe of intrepid adventurers, " Well done indeed."
            They had set to a plan and pulled it off with only the minimalist of difficulty. The Islaran heir was sure in that moment that he could have turned them into one of the most reputable crews in all the Shining Sea.
            Lillia did not linger, knowing she was just another obstacle now in the path of those with ranged weaponry. She slipped back to her position at the eastern doors and pressed herself against them once more.
            She eyed the ropes and the seams of the bound doors carefully, watching for trouble or breach. She retrieved a dagger from a leg sheathe with slow precision, and held her torch forward to maximize its thrown light.
            Two of his incendiary arrows spent, Syd considered his options. His normal arrows likely wouldn't do much to the zombies, and most of his special ones were of limited use. He shrugged and pulled a standard arrow from the quiver, nocking it. "I have a holy water arrow... but it's my only one, so I'd like to save it for when we really need it."
            " I'd keep the blessed stuff in reserve , nem; no need to use more than what we need."
            Talib nodded to himself at his own wisdom, blade coming to hand.
            " Parant ! Mahlaan! You still with us? You still alive?" he asked, knowing the man had been badly wounded. They would need to see to that once the immediate danger had passed. For now it was enough to know that he was not bleeding out.
            He placed his ear to the stone door, listening. Waiting. He wanted to make sure the fire did as much work for them as it could before they once more moved into the fray.
            Parant had nodded and waved, though the motion was kept short, with his arm in tightly against his ribs. The throw had aggravated the injuries there.
            "I'm alive," he said, though he said it softly, as Talib was clearly listening for zombies.
            "We should prepare," he said to the others, "finish them off if we have to."
            He still held the flask of holy water in one paw-like hand.
            Leaning against the wall, and eyeing Lillia's torch, Parant suddenly looked chagrined. "There's a light in my bandoleer," he said to Lillia, motioning at one pocket on the belt across his chest. "Floats around your head. Don't need the torch."
            Those listening at the doors could hear the faint crackle of fire through the wood, spitting and sparking, and an unpleasant smell began to leak through the cracks around it - a godawful stink, in fact, of burning rotted flesh and mold.
            Then the doors thumped unevenly as the creatures resumed their slow scratching.
            The doors behind Lillia also sounded with long scrapes and heavy thumps, but the rope held easily, though the handles creaked. Still, it didn't appear that the monsters behind the doors would be getting into the hall anytime soon.
            The Baba presses the palm of his hand to his chest and addresses the group in the hall. "The undead yet persist. We must face them once again."
            Swearing inwardly, Talib nodded to Gbele, steeling himself for the fight to come. " I am prepared," he told the Baba, gripping his curved blade tight. Slowly, his hand curled around the handle to the door.
            He gave the Chultan a small sound of confirmation: they would do this together.
            With that, Gbele waits a few beats, then pulls his door open.
            Talib threw open his door at the same time, giving a corsair's boarding cry to psyche himself up for the next clash. Before the zombie before him could react, his blade was darting outwards to slice off limbs.
            He stayed there, the Chultan behind him, holding the front passageway. If the undead wanted to get to the others, they would gave to get past the Captain in front.
            The Islaran Heir was not about to let any member of his crew suffer more, not while he breathed.
            " Come on, you rotting rakes! Umberlee demands her due!"
            The now-charred zombie before him took a clumsy swipe, but Talib had neither mercy nor patience for it. He hacked at the thing with his scimitar, carving swathes of rotting black flesh and moldy rags away from its body, cutting deeply enough now to do real damage, even to its nerveless strength. As it tried to pull back for another blow, he slashed until he felt soggy bone give way. Now, with every motion the zombie made, its own weight began to pull it further apart. Still, Talib had to work even harder to fend off the other, uncharred one, and he began to feel the weariness overtake him again.
            Syd watched the melee carefully down the shaft of his arrow. He waited for the ideal opening before firing his arrow into the first zombie he sees. His arrow lodged in the attacking zombie's chest, but it didn't seem to notice, beyond raising a slow hand to drag it out again.
            Parant had winced, but managed not to curse when Talib and the Baba opened both of the doors without a coordinated plan first. "If either of them goes down," he said to Jabari, "or if you see an opening, try to blow a zombie into the crabs. See if the sea-life will help us out."
            He raised his voice a bit. "If Jabari can push one back, we can team up on the other - make room!"
            Jabari stood ready to blast another zombie, nodding silently at Parant as he concentrated on calling the wind.
            His sudden blast of air hurled the undead thing back - into the agitated and dog-sized crabs. They immediately began to pinch and claw at it, dragging at its flesh and clothing.
            Lillia stayed where she was. The mayhem at the other end of the hall was ample enough. She kept one hip pressed against the doors she guarded and drew her short sword into her free hand again, readying it to lop off anything that might try to poke through.
            She kept her other hand aloft and forward, shedding as might light on events as she could. She was grateful for the wind gusts as well, as it kept the worst of the stink well away from her position. The doors she leaned against thumped and bumped, but the rope and door handles looked like they would hold.
            "Yes!" Parant's voice rumbled in his chest, followed by wet, painful-sounding coughing. He hadn't even shouted - simply exulted in a plan well executed. "Take this one down," he said to the others with a wheeze, "then we can deal with the last one - if the crabs don't finish it off for us."
            The Baba draws his dagger, takes a step up to stand alongside Talib, and slashes at the undead thing.
            He cut at the thing's face, a tactic that would have worked against a living foe - but the undead thing paid no heed to the cut across its nose and cheek, still gnashing its teeth at Talib. Frustrated, Gbele stuck the dagger through its temple - that, it appeared to feel. It groaned and turned its heald toward him.
            Heeding Parant's words, Talib threw himself at the creature in front of him, continuing his relentless assault to hew the undead to pieces. He was more than eager to be done with their predators.
            His furious flurry of cuts, jabs, and slashes did the trick. Finally, finally, the monster collapsed to the floor with one last, wheezing moan.
            Then the other pulled free of the crabs, lurching up to the door. As it wrenched itself from their claws, it left behind a good chunk of one leg, making its gait lopsided as it dragged itself toward its unwilling meal.
            Syd cringed at how much of a beating these damned things took. But at least one was down. He pulled another standard arrow from his quiver and nocked it, taking careful aim down the shaft. Stepping around Jabari, he let it fly into the remaining zombie.
            With the people in front of him fighting in the way, it was a tricky shot. The arrow whipped past the zombie's ear, flying into the dark beyond it.
            Jabari finally stopped his sweeping arm movements and let the air swirling around him die. Taking Syd's lead, he took out his sling and let fly at the last monster.
            Dropping his scimitar, he drew out his sling and dropped a bullet into its leather strap, whirling it over his head. Faster and faster it spun, until Jabari let it fly - and it followed Syd's arrow into the room, clacking harmlessly off a crab's shell.
            Parant had seemingly put all of his energy into urging his companions onward. He bent forward in a fit of hacking coughs, droplets of blood spraying the floor at his feet. He did manage to keep his feet, however.
            Feeling a touch rejuvenated from having downed a second one of the ferocious undead, Talib Islaran pressed the attack. No damnable zombie was going to hurt a single one of his comrades again: he would make sure of that.
            Sliding around the slow-yet-powerful unfortunate soul, Talib kept his blade up and ready to ward off any reprisal. When he and The Baba caught the monster between the two of them, he unleashed his tense sword arm once more, seeking to cut the creature down in the same, swiftly brutal manner he had the other two.
            Hopefully the crabs wouldn't mind his near-intrusion.
            He managed to duck the zombie's clumsy grab at him, though his riposte only cut a shallow groove through the thing's skin - but once he was flanking with Gbele, he made an expert cut in the thing's shoulder, leaving the arm dangling for a moment before a disgusting slurp of shifting sinews brought it up again. Clumsier than ever, the zombie didn't bother to turn to follow Talib - not when Gbele was still right in front of it. It tried to crawl past his shield, pawing with mindless hunger at Gbele from around it - but the holy man held it off easily with his heavy shield.
            Syd pulled a face when he let fly. He just knew the arrow would miss his target, hopefully he erred high and it flew over his friends's heads. He watched with held breath as the missile indeed arced over the entire melee, clattering to the floor on the other side of the open doorway. He let his breath go then, shaking his head at the near miss. He'd have to take better aim at his next shot.
            Syd reached into his quiver and found another standard arrow. He was starting to run low already and wished he had brought another quiver without all the special ones. He had figured the tight quarters of the tunnels would be better served with his rapier and hadn't planned for a long-term ranged support role. Next time he might plan differently... assuming he got out of this one alive. Noting a hole in the melee, he jogged back into the room, sidling along the side wall to get a bit of range on the creature without having Gbele in his way.
            Syd easily spun and jumped past the zombie's clumsy attempt to grab him, and edged into the darker corner of the room. His arrow sank up to the fletching in the zombie's soggy head. It didn't seem to inconvenience it overly, though it did stagger a few steps to the side when the arrow hit.
            Jabari shook his head at his own terrible slinging and went to put the thing away. "I need to get something I can actually aim," he said to nobody in particular. Since it looked like they had the matter mostly in hand, the young man started looking at their other options for exiting the room.
            The banging, moaning and scratching noises coming from behind Lillia suggested that there were definitely zombies behind those doors. The only other door in the room than the ones Talib and Gbele were fighting in was the one that led back the way they had come.
            The crab nearest to Talib reached out to pinch him in its claws, but with a bit of fancy footwork, Talib was able to stay out of reach. The other claws shuffled back and forth in the water, their claws raised over their heads and clacking.
            Satisfied the doors were going to hold for now, Lillia left them, hoping the dead on the other side would eventually lose interest. She followed in Syd’s wake and drew up beside the Baba. Feinting in and out with blade and torch, shadows danced a sinister play in the doorway as the torch cussed through the air. She harried the undead pirate in the hopes of creating a final opening for the Baba.
            The dead man split its questionable attention between her and its other harrassers, groaning and chattering its teeth in hunger. It swiped at them with rotting but powerful hands, the occult forces that held it together giving it preternatural strength.
            Parant nodded as the others closed in on the last of the undead. Only as they surrounded it and began to hack it to bits did he let his legs finally fold under him, sliding down the wall and to the floor, his oddly dry-feeling tongue poking at his bloody lips as his eyes struggled to stay open against the giant weight pulling against them.
            The holy man allowed himself a grim, humorless smile as the desperate melee finally seemed to be turning in their favor. Careful to keep their undead opponent directly between himself and Talib, Baba Gbele keep his shield up and aimed another slash at his best guess for what might be a vulnerable area on the thing.
            With the help Talib and Lillia were providing, the Baba couldn't miss. His dagger whicked through the air, slicing through tough sinew with his great strength. The zombie tried to reach him, but lost a few blackened fingers for its trouble - and with every motion, now, it seemed to be pulling its own flesh apart.
            "It's barely holding on!" Talib cried in triumph, glad that the fight was soon over, "Cut it down!"
            Working in tandem with The Baba, his scimitar sang once more, seeking to finally overwhelm and kill the mindless undead.
            The horrid thing had turned its gaze on Lillia, but before the thing could wrench itself apart in its attempts to chew on the morsel before it, Talib jabbed his scimitar through the thing's spine at its neck. With one last expulsion of stinking air, it slid off his sword to the charred ground, and moved no more.
            After a minute of no one approaching the water, the crabs scuttled back into their tide pool, two of them plucking at the body of the man floating face-down in it. There were no more noises from the throats of the undead they had felled - though the other double doors still shook with the slow pounding and scratching of the hungry things behind it.

            Loupin's arms were shaking from the strain as she finally dragged the heavy rowboat back up onto the shore of Parrot Island. The squawk and cry of colorful parrots filled the air as she struggled to drag it up onto the sand. Conway perched on the edge of the boat, looking around the beach.
            The first thing Loupin noticed was that the other rowboat was gone. There were tracks in the sand, which she wasn't equipped to read as easily as she read a book, but it was obvious that someone had been on the beach - and taken the rowboat. It wasn't immediately apparent to her whether the rest of the party had done it, or someone else.
            It sure would be strange for them to have abandoned the island already, though.
            Loupin leaned against the edge of the boat long enough to recover the fortitude required for a long drink of water. She felt like lying down and going to sleep until all the sweating was over. It was a nice day, and the trees and the beach and the parrots would have made for a pleasant diversion from the pilings and bugs and floating junk that usually accompanied a trip along the city shoreline. There were big rotted shards of planking and other flotsam washed up on the beach, but nobody seemed interested in building. It was the last bit of wilderness within the city walls that she was aware of.
            "Shefton could have come back," she said to Conway. He didn't answer.
            Loupin's whole body felt wrung out, and she finished about half of her bota bag in one go. Then she dug out a few soft brown dates for him to nibble on, breaking them apart so he could access the liquid in them. The local parrots would give him a hard time if he tried to nick fresh fruit juice out of their trees. She wondered if he had any cousins or anything on the island. Conway was descended from a long line of wizard familiars, but you never knew.
            Loupin didn't load her crossbow just yet. If there were a bunch of thugs waiting for her beyond the treeline, she might actually stand a better chance trying to put them to sleep. She wasn't sure her mangled hands wouldn't shake too much for casting, but for the moment her noodle arms weren't too interested in lugging around a weapon, either. Unfortunately there was no time to rest.
            For a moment she paused, listening quietly with Conway as the birds vocalized, trying to detect anything in their chatter that heralded trouble. He was on the alert; the anxiety coming off of him probably had as much to do with the volume and activity in the trees as anything else, but she watched his little feathered face for signs that she should be paying attention to something specific. Usually he was good about warning her on his own, but in this situation his peanut-sized brain might be too overloaded with the spectacle.
            Conway was no help, as she had predicted. The bird fluttered his wings and cocked his head at the trees. Maybe his dream was to live wild and free, and do things like fly around fighting and starving. Or maybe he was preparing to bail. She could imagine his croaky voice: "One wizard is pretty much like any other." At least no one was popping out of the bushes to shoot her.
            She transferred her gaze from the treeline to the beach again. She wasn't a hundred percent sure, but... if it had been the others ditching the island, shouldn't there be more tracks? It was hard to tell - tracks in the sand all looked pretty much alike, and the party had tromped all over the area when they arrived. Still, closer to the waterline where the boat-dragging marks were obliterated by the waves, she could swear there had been only two or three people dragging it.
            "Two or three people could be good," Loupin reckoned aloud as she unfastened her component pouch. The one spell she'd studied that day which needed a component was her sleeping spell, so she could keep a clutch of rose petals readied right at the top. "Vanthus and Penkus, or Vanthus and Penkus and Brianne. Even if they left Prettyboy or somebody else around, that's fewer people to deal with. And we already know where they might try to sell the boat, if Lavinia wants to buy it back."
            Conway pinned his eyes, as he always did in the presence of a new food source; he was probably wondering what kind of interesting fruit might be waiting up in the branches.
            "Unless half the group got murdered already and the rest ran for it," Loupin added blackly. It was harder to imagine that, since the smuggler goons had already proven pretty cowardly, but maybe Penkus was a better leader than Vark. He could hardly be worse. She had already decided that Vanthus couldn't be running the show himself; the kid may have learned about Parrot Island's smuggling tunnels while he'd been locked up and shared the information with Penkus later, he may even be financing the enterprise, but he didn't have any smuggling experience of his own.
            Unless Lavinia's parents had been smugglers too, and had taught their kids how to do it.
            That was an interesting idea.
            "I'm gonna go up there and check it out," Loupin said, and arranged the oars in the rowboat to create a little sheltered place for Conway to hide beneath. He didn't usually appreciate being manhandled, but she could make him understand that she was leaving him there, which might appeal to his cowardice. "You stay here and guard the boat. Don't come out -- those parrots will fight you if they see you're alone. If anybody comes or you get scared and have to run for it, let me know. I won't be too far away, I promise. Just stick around. It might take a little while. Keep your ears peeled -- or whatever."
            Hopefully there was enough emotional content in the information that he could get the drift. Man the fort. Don't get out of the boat unless a threat came.
            Now to action!
            Nobody had made any effort to hide their tracks on the way to the tunnel entrance, as far as Loupin could remember. If she could follow it back, great, and if it disappeared, that would suggest to her that something bad had happened. Armed with her magic and some luck, she might be able to take down a few thugs and run for it, or charm one of them once they were subdued. She groped around for a handful of petals before setting out.
            Conway eyed her, sideways the way parrots did, though she had the impression he did it when he was questioning her judgement; in the end, though, he waddled under the oars, croaking to himself.
            Having been shown the trail through the underbrush once before, she had no trouble finding it again. Though she was moving slowly, all senses at high alert, prepared to shower anyone who showed up suddenly in rose petals and magic, she arrived at the little clearing without being accosted any worse than by the screaming parrots overhead.
            The very first thing she noticed was the boulder.
            It was big, it was mossy, it was still coated with earth on one side. It was also sitting on top of where the rest of the party had vanished through the trapdoor.
            She could see the path it had been rolled along, from the edge of the glade. It hadn't been lifted; it would have been too heavy for that. Far too heavy for, say, Loupin to move.
            She sailed a reassuring feeling back the way she had come. She wasn't sure Conway was close enough to get it, but he was probably wondering whether she'd be able to fend off so many enemy parrots by herself. The petals stayed in her hand, though, since anybody could have heard her approach. She wasn't very good at sneaking around.
            Loupin studied the surrounding foliage, something she hadn't really done during her first visit, since it seemed like there were others in the group who ought to be (or at least pretended to be) better at spotting bushwhackers. She also studied the ground displaced by the boulder, looking for signs of heavy traffic. If one person had pushed it, she might be able to push it too; she was a little stronger than she looked. A lifetime of drudgery had helped in that department.
            The question was whether moving it might let a bunch of wind spiders out. It was easy to imagine some bloodied survivor pushing the rock atop the trapdoor to avoid winding up being eaten like the others. Almost as easy as imagining that nobody had come out at all.
            The foliage looked innocent enough - she didn't spot anything but parrots watching her.
            Around the boulder, she found what looked like four sets of tracks, digging into the soil to, presumably, move the big stone. It hadn't rolled easily, no doubt due to its not-really-round shape, and from the tracks it looked like it had been an effort to get into place on top of the trapdoor.
            Putting her shoulder to the rock and heaving experimentally, she only accomplished sliding backwards. That was one heavy boulder.
            Overhead, the parrots screeched and whistled. She could imagine them laughing. They probably didn't get entertainment out here on the island very often.

            Lillia fell back from the dead thing, even though it appeared to be, well, truly dead this time. Those eyes. Those soulless pits that resisted her talents had fallen on her, intending to swallow everything that she was. She had not expected the undead, and she had learned a visceral lesson from them.
            She shivered and thought she heard another shuffling, teeth-clacking thing approaching from behind. She spun and thrust the torch forward, saw nothing. She whipped to her left, brandishing the torch into the room proper, but saw nothing moving there as well.
            “That was…” -- messy, harrowing, horrid, bloody, her mind supplied unbidden -- “…unexpected,” she finished aloud.
            "Not the word I would choose," Talib Islaran admitted shakily, the adrenaline pouring out of him now that the worst of the danger had passed. With care, he flicked his blade, coated with sticky ichor, towards a nearby wall away from the rest of the group. He frowned dismally at seeing how the remains of the undead clung to the steel, the sailor remiss to do so but taking a strip of cloth from his sash, cutting it off, and using that to wipe off the sword before tossing the rag to the crabs.
            "But ... Appropriate."
            The former captain took a moment to give himself a once-over: bruised and scratched, for sure, but nothing serious. Nothing deadly. Seeing Lillia's sharpened movements, Talib gave himself a deep breath to steady his heart rate, making a small click of his tongue to alert her to his presence before gently laying a hand on the woman's shoulder.
            "Mahlaan, jamila - we're alright, yeah? You're alright."
            Fights in cramped spaces were harrowing at best, abysmally deadly at worst. Having locked blades on the decks of rolling ships and stuffed below struggling against the worst of pirates upon The Shining Sea, Talib knew all too well the fear that could be imposed by a loss of mobility and a foe that didn't seem remotely relatable.
            He left it at that - just a small reassurance before stowing his blade back into his sash and turning towards the most injured of their group - Parant.
            Parant was too busy fighting back the darkness to answer Lillia - or anyone, really. Sitting on the floor behind the group, leaning against the wall, Parant's eyes were open, pupils wide and very, very human-looking. At some point, he had shifted from his catfolk appearance to the human. His lips were parted, and coated in dark red blood. The blood flecked his chin as well. His breathing was very shallow, and very fast. It seemed likely that Parant hadn't noticed the change in his form. It seemed likely that Parant wasn't noticing much of anything. His eyes seemed to register nothing, including the waving of Lillia's torch.
            Be here, the thought was like a light in the darkness of his mind. You cannot leave yet. Your task is unfinished. Breathe. Focus. Do not go into the darkness. Be. Here.
            Talib did not need to be a doctor to know that Parant was not doing well.
            "Whipping Winds," he swore softly, hustling over to his backpack and wrenching from it a full waterskin. Kneeling in front of Parant, he tried to catch the man's unfocused eyes, turning back towards the party when it seemed like that was not going to work well.
            "I'm not much for the medicinal arts - I think he'll live but I'd rather be sure than just think. Anyone have something we can use here?"
            Shaking his head, Talib raised the water to Parant's lips, gently tipping the vessel upwards so as not to suddenly drown the man.
            "Just a taste to wash away the blood," he told him, his movements delicate and caring, "You fought like a true lion my friend - Help is on the way."
            Parant's eyes came back into focus as the water hit his lips. He nodded briefly, then swished the water around in his mouth. When he spit the water onto the ground, it was stained red.
            "I fought like an idiot," he said to Talib, wiping his lips and chin with a cloth pulled from his bandoleer. "Should have waited for the rest of you - or backed off." Parant's voice was harsh, and his words started another coughing fit. The coughs were wet, hard, and sounded painful. More blood was spit to the ground.
            The Baba displays a look of surprise when he hears Parant's words. He puts the palm of his right hand on his chest and bows his head in the man's direction. "I was not aware that you were a scion of the Great Cat Lords. It is not seemly to doubt your noble actions. It would be my honor to heal you, if it is the will of the group. It is the last gift of healing provided to me this day by Ubtao."
            The holy man knelt by Parant, putting his strong hand over the Calishite's heart. The words he spoke were singsong, almost a melody, a ritual as ancient as his people, and the presence of his god made itself known to Parant in a sense of powerful attention, a weight of regard his mortal mind could barely comprehend, as his wounds knitted, the flesh washing back over his exposed bones.
            It did not heal him completely, but when the weight of that massive knowing lifted, he was able to sit up on his own once more, blood no longer trickling from his mouth.
            Jabari had knelt alongside Talib when the other man brought Parant some water, and watched closely as the Baba healed his friend. He smiled as Parant sat up and nodded at the holy man. "Thank you, Baba." He turned back to Parant, his smile turning into a grin. "That was worse than the grindylows."
            He shook his head, his tone lightening. "Don't scare me like that again. Let's try to go back to me being the one who does something stupid." The younger man tapped the judge's chest, right on the bandoleer. "You need to take better care of yourself. I need you up and around, not passed out on the floor. Okay?"
            Parant nodded. His lungs felt much clearer. He took in a deep, experimental breath.
            "Thank you, Babal," he said gravely to the holy man. "Even the wisest have to make mistakes to learn their wisdom, yes?"
            Parant then looked up at Jabari. "If we could both be a little smarter, that would be lovely."
            Syd lowered his bow as soon as the zombie dropped for the last time. He took a deep breath and rubbed his free hand across his face.
            "This doesn't bide well for Vanthus. He's been through here, but how, and why?" he voiced with concern as he joined the others. He glanced to the other doors, knowing what he heard behind them. "Either Vanthus himself or an ally can control these damn things."
            "Or even just influence the things not to see them," Parant said. "In any case, it makes it unlikely that this is going to be a simple, 'come home, son' kind of discussion.
            “I think Vanthus is fine,” Lillia said. “Well, as fine as anyone can be when dealing with smugglers this cunning.” She sighed, looking about. “Know your way around down here and you can trot right by these guards without issue.”
            “For anyone else,” she continued. “They either make enough noise, buying enough time for others to escape, or deal with intruders more…completely.” She grimaced in distaste. “No, I warrant anyone of worth is already long gone from down here.”
            “I would be,” she concluded, casting frank eyes at them.
            "There's also the whale in the ocean we're avoiding for the moment."
            Talib Islaran poked his head back down the small cavern towards where the group had descended, clicking his tongue with a touch of distaste.
            "We were left down here with a closed door and dropped rope. That does not bode well for Loupin."
            He rubbed thoughtfully at his beard, scratching through the soft hairs as he looked from the room where they had fought for their lives back towards where they had entered. Scooping up his pack, Talib threw it back over his shoulders and clicked his tongue again - clearly he was perturbed by the entire series of events, though it was difficult to say particularly why aside from the obvious bloodshed and frustration of combat and No Vanthus.
            "You think there's a secondary way out of here?" he asked of Lillia, agreeing slightly with her summation that the noble was probably either long gone or had some sort of trick up his sleeve. However, he did not see that as reason to abandon the tunnels so readily.
            "If so, it may benefit us to find it. Going back up the way we entered may walk us straight into an ambush and we'd be no closer to Vanthus than we are now - we'd have gained nothing and lost blood. My brother Nanib may fold his hand when troubled waters are on the horizon but I didn't become who I am by turning tail at every red morning. There may yet be some scrap of evidence down here that shows where he or his lady friend might flee to in case of trouble, if not here."
            He gave a nod towards the crab room, ignoring the banging door behind him for the moment.
            "I suggest we take a look around. I'd be remiss to find out later we were standing over the X and didn't notice it for the trees."
            "I agree, we should look around. If we left, where would we go next? This is where our trail leads, and this is where we must search. Find the next clue. Even if Vanthus is long gone from here, it would be remiss of us to return to Lady Vanderboren empty handed." Syd looked thoughtfully towards the small pond and the chattering crabs within. "So, there are a lot of doors to choose from. Where do we go next? For what it's worth, I heard sloshing behind that door down there," he pointed to the far western door beyond the crabs, "and the northwest door is crumbling, only barely hanging on by a single hinge."
            "Sloshing might indicate an inlet out to sea," Talib reasoned, "Which might be where these smugglers bring their goods in. That sounds as good a place as any to start."
            Careful to stay clear of the territorial crabs, the sailor made to the Western Door, checking it to see if there were any other safeguards aside from Zombie Pirates to keep out pesky adventurers and do-gooders such as himself.
            “Indeed,” Lillia agreed. “I didn’t say I wanted to leave. On the contrary, I would map every inch of these warrens for future reference. I just imagine we won’t find any inhabitants around.” She glanced down. “Any living inhabitants.”
            Lillia glided after Talib and said, “Traps aplenty though, given the nature of these tunnels.” She took some time to scrutinize the area near the door and the door itself, speaking aloud as she did so.
            “There have to be other ways out,” she said. “Folks that deal in places like this do not corner themselves. And don’t worry about Loupin. She’s crafty enough not to walk into obvious danger.”
            Gbele's expression remained neutral, and it isn't clear whether he agrees with the course of action taken by Talib. Nevertheless, when the holy man realized that Talib was moving to the door across the room, he moved a bit closer, chanting softly in his native tongue as he used his left finger to trace the image of a round, complex maze tattooed on the back of his right hand.
            The torches in Talib and Lillia's hands, they left those who remained behind in the dark, with the hair-raising low groans and scratches coming from the bound far doors. The crabs clacked their claws at those who moved past their pool, but they didn't emerge from the water. Eventually, they went back to poking at the body floating there.
            The door the three adventurers were examining seemed innocuous enough, so Talib opened it. Behind it, the sloshing sound revealed itself to be coming from the churning waters of a sea cave. Fueled by what must be powerful submerged currents, the water lapped and splashed against the walls of the twisting natural cavern. A sandy slope descended from the door down to the edge of the subterranean tide. Dozens of purple and red sea urchins glistened in shallow divots along the ground and lower walls, their spines glittering with water.

            At least it wasn't silent, thought Loupin. Her approach could have been masked by the noise, and hopefully they were animated because they weren't feeling too disturbed by the number of people hiding in the bushes.
            As usual the clues left behind produced little but ambivalence. Panchi hadn't mentioned Vanthus and Penkus rowing west with anybody, but Santos and Shefton were still unaccounted for, and there were always the Nixie wimps to round up, she supposed. On the other hand, if two members of her own group had been set upon by something, the other four could have climbed out of the hole and pushed the rock there to prevent further trouble.
            Crouching and brushing away the sand with her free hand, she studied the hinges on the trapdoor, then studied the tracks again, weighing the options. If there were any threats left on the ground, she should at least consider getting back to the boat, seeing as how it was the only one left to steal. Depending on the arrival of a Shadowshore Watch patrol would probably make for a long, long wait.
            On the other hand, if any lingering bad guys weren't expecting company, and the parrots covered her own noise, Loupin thought she might be able to get the jump on them, or at least determine once and for all who was messing with Lavinia and who wasn't.
            The hinges to the trapdoor were now completely hidden under the boulder, but Loupin seemed to recall that its underside had been iron-plated, so it wasn't a reach to think that the hinges were iron, too. Even if she were able to reach them, it would take some strong, sustained heat to melt them - she wasn't sure how much, or for how long.
            The tracks were another story. With careful attention and slow deliberation, she thought that there were at least six sets of tracks, and all of them led back to the beach. Following them back to the clearing, she was able to locate the spot where one or two must have been hiding when the party arrived, and a more trampled area a bit farther away, out of sight of the clearing.
            That meant the watcher(s) must have seen her leave with Shefton.
            Why hadn't they jumped her then? Mysterious.
            She went back to the boat.
            "I think they all left," Loupin informed Conway as she helped him out of his hidey-place. There wasn't a lot of point in discussing much with him, but sometimes saying stupid stuff aloud helped her organize a plan. She needed one now. "The bad guys. I still don't know who's who, though. Panchi didn't say whether Vanthus and Penkus had friends with them, so it's just possible that those two were tricked into the hole too. That's dumb, though! Vanthus could have been ransomed, not killed. Especially if Penkus lured him there by himself. Argg, unless they pushed that boulder into place and cleared out because they didn't think the kidnapping plan was working out... who knows..."
            She made a strangled sound and looked around the vacant beach without really seeing anything.
            Conway waited patiently.
            "One thing's certain," Loupin said with a grimace. "Or I guess two things. Shefton was sent to trick us, and now everybody is stuck in there. We can't assume they're dead yet, even though the bad guys cleared out, so what should we do? I don't think I can move that dumb rock. We could look around for another way out -- but what's the point of locking them in, if there are easier ways to escape? None, unless they don't know this place any better than we do. OK, so two, we could just wait here for the Shadowshore Watch to show up... which is probably pointless. Three, we could go to Shadowshore and ask for help -- which would sound fairly productive, if I didn't think they might have been the ones who set the trap. Six men here, six men in Watch patrols, right? Right. So if they did it, and I go looking for them, they'll just follow me here and throw me into the hole too. OK, so four, we go back to get Lavinia, or better yet, Islaran -- but they're a million miles from here, and if the others could find a way out, they wouldn't find a rowboat waiting for them, which is a problem if anybody is bleeding to death..."
            It was all crappy options. Conway sensed her dithering and squatted down on the rim of the boat, waiting. He wanted to go home; the parrots weirded him out, something was wrong with his familiar, and there wasn't a ton of shade on this beach.
            "We can't just sit on our asses," said Loupin finally, although she sounded less than certain. "I've got a charm left... maybe I could cast it on a Watch leader, or barring that, hire somebody from the Knotched Axe or whatever. It's better than nothing, I guess. But that means going into Shadowshore by myself... which might be worse than the hole." It was hard not to imagine all the people down in the dark trying to get out, though. "If I stay out of the creepy areas I might be all right, maybe. But I should leave a note first."
            Exchanging her petals for a sheet of parchment and using her spellbook to write on, Loupin scratched out her message in a blistered hand:
            Dear You Guys. It happened when I was gone. I think Shefton knew. Six Creeps took Your Boat and I can't get the Rock off the Door so I went to get some Help. Stay Here until I get back. I would have left some Potions for You but Syd and Baba used Mine and never replaced Them even though They promised They would, so yell at Them not Me. Loupin.
            She secured it, unfolded, beneath a small stone, at a spot just above the tideline, right where the several enemy tracks crossed down onto the beach. Somebody following those tracks would find it there, she thought. For no particular reason she thought Syd probably had good eyesight.
            But should she actually go? She paused for the tenth time in ten seconds, the note beneath her fingers, while the grotty tidewater blustered behind her. The tide was high now, Loupin thought; maybe they were drowning in there.
            A few grains of sand skittered loosely across the parchment.
            The trapdoor was up on rockier ground, she recognized, but Loupin had not really studied the construction of its frame, if there were one. The heavy-duty hinges suggested there might be. In that case, she might not be able to get the boulders off, but there could potentially be a way to dig a crack open around the side of the frame; at least then she could yell down into the hole, or listen for clues. Even if nobody answered back, if it sounded like there was already a bunch of seawater in the tunnel, she would at least know whether they had all been wiped out.
            It wasn't likely to get her anywhere, but it wouldn't take long to check, either.
            She left her note in place on the end of the path, though, just to test whether the breeze could steal it away in her absence.

            With nothing else to do, Jabari had followed the explorers. Now he looked through the door at the sea cave, taking in what clues there were to tell him about the nature of the place.
            Syd came up behind the others, peering through the gloom at the flooded cavern. "Huh," he commented, "I wonder if they use this to move stuff undetected."
            Beyond that the water seemed deep and shallow randomly, Syd didn't notice anything more than Jabari - it was high tide now, so obviously the room they were in wouldn't flood, but there seemed to be a current strong enough to suggest an opening to the sea somewhere. They heard none of the sloshing or groans of the undead from the tunnel.
            "Strong current." Jabari shook his head. "But how would you get in or out? Water breathing magic, maybe."
            The sailor amongst them breathed deep of the cavern's air, nodding in agreement with Syd.
            "The water doesn't seem brackish or still - There must be an outlet back to the ocean."
            Mulling over Jabari's addition, Talib shook his head, putting his knowledge of how Mother Sea worked to use.
            "Considering the water level, it may only be accessible during low tide: convenient. Keeps it hidden for a large part of the day. We may not be able to see the rest until the tide ebbs out which, frankly, I'd rather not be here that long."
            Parant had taken a moment or two to make sure that he was fully functional again, before joining the others. The dark didn't bother him - not with his cat's eyes - but the memories of being eaten alive, of feeling those teeth biting into his flesh and simply tearing parts of him away, those bothered him, and he closed his eyes and shuddered, unobserved in the darkness. He was used to animals eating prey. That was just part of the cycle of life in nature. To a wild dog or a lion, another creature was just a meal still walking, and meat was best when warm. It wasn't personal - just survival. Parant had no problem with that.
            But what he had experienced at the hands of the zombies? No, that was different. That hadn't been part of the cycle of life. That was an unnatural hunger, from unnatural things. And Parant's foolishness had almost led to his death at their hands and teeth. That, he vowed silently to himself, would not happen again. With another deep breath, Parant set his shoulders and climbed to his feet. He gave the doors behind him one last look to ensure that the rope was still holding, and then, beneath his black and orange hood, Parant shifted once more. In the darkness, there gleamed the golden eyes of a hunting cat. One who had gained some wisdom in his brief time as someone else's prey, and who once again had become the hunter.
            As he made his way towards the others, his gaze came to rest on the body floating in the water. He did not approach close enough to stir up the crabs, but stopped to determine what he could tell from shore.
            "Who were you?" His voice rumbled quietly in the darkness.
            The body was waterlogged and crab-eaten, but obviously much, much newer than those of the undead they had defeated. Parant thought he could see a tattoo winding along the man's bare skin, but it was mostly obscured by his torn shirt. He bobbed gently amid the rotting pilings that had once been a pier that reached into the water, with the enormous crabs occasionally snipping off bits of putrid flesh to eat.
            The crabs clacked their claws warningly as Parant approached the shore, and he stopped short of it, his cat-eyes piercing the gloom.
            “I don’t like the look of those urchins,” Lillia said. “Could be poisonous. Those who know they’re here might carry a proper antidote. Those who don’t…” She shrugged with the unspoken result.
            She was content enough to stand here and hold a torch for light, but her body language indicated she had no intention of going into the tidal chamber. Her eyes were already roving northward toward the next door, though they did slip backwards now and again to monitor any advances from the local crustaceans.
            "Could also be a light snack," Talib mentioned offhandedly with a chuckle and a shrug.
            "Urchin is good eats. But allowing them to collect nearby here does suggest their purpose may be to ward off those who find this little cavern accidentally. I, for one, wouldn't want one of those suckers shoved into my foot."
            The holy man had little experience with the sea, or smuggling, and had no wisdom to provide in that area. He walked over to stand by Parant, also curious as to what might be learned from the remains of the unfortunate. He chanted a brief prayer to Ubtao, seeking divination.
            Once his spell was complete, Gbele pulled his rope from his pack. "Would you aid me in fetching this deceased?"
            Parant nodded at the Baba's request. "Of course," he said, "though I am not sure how helpful I can be."
            Gbele asked Ubtao for the knowledge of whether or not there was magic on the waterlogged body - and His reply was YES.
            In short order, they were ready to perform their body retrieval. Parant hurled one of the zombie bodies into the tide pool, and the crabs immediately swarmed over it, protecting their territory. With the crabs out of the way, it was easy for Gbele to catch the floating body and pull it up onto the shore and out of reach of the crabs before they could return and protest. While helping to haul, Parant spotted something small and metallic glinting at the bottom of the pool.
            Inspecting the bloated body was disgusting, but fruitful. The body itself was crab-pecked, but marked with a curling tattoo of flowers along its arms and back where the crabs hadn't ripped loose bits. They found three light green potions clinking in a soggy pouch about its midriff.
            Lillia spun back at the commotion, raising the torch toward them to afford a bit more light. She watched in earnest as they worked.
            “Well done,” she said. “Anyone we know?”
            She walked over, bringing a little more light to bear to assess the corpse before returning her attentions back toward the northern doorways.
            Syd eyed the snapping crabs for a moment before deciding they'd be busy with the zombie a while. "Poor bastard," Syd commented as he looked over the corpse the others retrieved. His attention was mostly on the tattoos the man sported.
            The man's face was far too water-bloated, rotted and crab-pecked to be recognizable, but it seemed obvious that he had died of wounds given him by the ravenous dead. With Lillia's aid, Syd realized that the curving, swollen tattoos were of lotus blossoms, and seemed to hold serpents, as well - or were they serpents? They found what looked like the remains of a bladed tail, wrapped around one wrist; reaching down to one hip. a clawed foot.
            They knew there was a new guild that bore the lotus in its name. The Lotus Dragons - one thieves' guild among many. Syd and Lillia thought this one was a lot more organized than the other fly-by-night guilds that had been popping up over the past few years. Syd had heard that they had more than just people working for them - they had ties to animal smugglers, and kept the worst of their prizes as guardians in their guildhall.
            "Hmm." The holy man inspected the corpse dispassionately for a few moments, then decided, "These potions are useful, maybe." He rose to his feet with a grunt. "Can any divine their function?"
            He didn't even think about it, really. Despite just nearly having been killed. One moment, Parant was standing at the water's edge. The next, he said over his shoulder "there's something." Then he just - flowed into the water with barely a ripple, his orange-black clothing seeming to billow out around him, and then coalescing into the midnight black "wings" of a nearly man sized ray. The creature flowed along the bottom of the pool swiftly, powerfully moving towards the metal glint he'd seen.
            Jabari took a few steps toward the water but didn't go in himself. "What are you doing!?" He shook his head in frustration and watched like a hawk while his friend sailed through the water to do whatever it was he was doing. "At least watch out if you see any more of those sea urchins! They're venomous!"
            The water was dark, but Parant's memory served, and his manta-mouth quickly scooped up the metal thing. The crabs swarmed toward him, but he was out of the water and into the air before they could catch him. Flying around the pillars a bit awkwardly, the now-pelican landed away from the water, and spat out a silver dagger in a gush of seawater.
            Syd eyed the silver dagger on the ground and waited a few moments. With nobody making a move for it, he scooped it up and slipped it in his belt next to Pretty Boy's knife. He was apparently starting a collection.
            Syd's eyes caught Lilia's. "What do you think," he asked, "Ties to Vark and the Nixie business?" He turned back to the body, pulling a face in response to it's wretched state. "The Lotus Dragons could be another lead."
            “Could be,” Lillia replied, a little dumbstruck. She watched Parant go through his metamorphoses and had delicious visions of infiltration and subterfuge at the possibilities the man presented. Then her attention snapped back to Syd.
            “If he even was Lotus,” she said. “Maybe they were Vark’s contacts. Maybe they were the competition.” She shrugged and dismissed the corpse. “We’ll keep an eye out, but I’d need to see a lot more before drawing any conclusions.”
            “Loupin could definitely lend a hand with those potions,” Lillia said toward anyone eyeing the liquids with interest.
            The holy man listened to the conversation about the dead man's identity and frowned slightly, but kept his thoughts to himself. He then handed the potions to Lillia, put his hand to his heart and bowed his head slightly. "You are welcome to these items. May you find fortune with them."
            "Assuming we can find a way out of here that doesn't require us all to turn into rays and swim out the sea cave." Jabari shook his head and looked around the room. "Where to next?"
            The pelican that was Parant cocked its head at Jabari, then gave something that looked like an approximation of a nod. Then it closed its eyes, and shifted once more. In the space of an indrawn breath, the pelican had been replaced by the now-familiar cloud leopard form. The cat batted at the silver dagger on the ground before it, sending the blade spinning along the ground towards Syd. Then, he put his nose to the ground and began sniffing.
            In silent agreement with Jabari, Gbele watched the newly transformed snow leopard sample the ground. The frown had not left his face, but somehow managed to display both general disgruntlement and anticipation for what the great cat might find. He was clearly conflicted about something. Not surprisingly, the source of this conflict went unvoiced.
            Parant searched about, whiskers and nose twitching, but everywhere he sniffed, the stink of the walking dead overpowered any other smell. They had been here a long, long time. The fetid stench of the waterlogged body didn't help, either.
            As he searched, the banging and scraping at the bound doors slowed, then stopped.
            Jabari looked curiously at the now-quiet doors. "I don't know whether to think that's good or bad." The young man shook his head. "With everything else so far, probably bad."
            The leopard that was Parant sneezed. When the others looked at him, he pawed at his nose, then looked up, made eye contact with Jabari, and shook his head. A glare at a dead zombie indicated that there was little else Parant could do to further track their quarry - at least, in this room.
            Jabari had seen that gesture before, and he translated for the others. "He can't tell anything by smell. I think he was trying to track Vanthus? Anyway, he didn't find anything." The young man sighed. "So, a door at random? They all sound about the same now."
            "If they're all about the same," Talib reasoned, his own attention having remained focused on the odd properties of the current and tide in the cave, "Then it might be best to see about our way back out for the moment. We were already surprised once by what we found down here: having an exit strategy is in our best interests."
            His hands came to his hips, giving a small nod to Lillia.
            "Plus, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some concern for Loupin. Lass can take care of herself, for sure, but better we're all together before going forwards."
            The sailor waved a hand back in the direction of the cavern, seemingly upset with his findings and theories.
            "I don't actually think this place is as useful as I did before - an entrance that changed with the tides would be a boon to anyone trying to conduct illicit activity in the Azure. This place wouldn't be so abandoned and packed with ravenous undead otherwise. And urchins like we saw, those take time to grow, especially in a current so strong - watch your step in there, by the way, the water is likely to take your legs out and give you a spiny surprise. The cavern may indeed lead out to the sea, but the entrance is probably too small for even a rowboat or skiff. All of this together tells me this place was probably abandoned entirely long ago."
            Talib clicked his tongue in frustration.
            "I'm not entirely sure Vanthus uses this place at all. We may have actually been set up."
            The sailor let out a heavy sigh and a sardonic chuckle.
            "Which means Loupin was right to be so suspicious, and hopefully she's not in danger. But we shouldn't go much further without her. Do we have any means to get back up the hole we came down from?"
            Lillia popped-up near Talib and put a light, restraining touch on one shoulder.
            “Easy captain,” she offered with a smile. “Let those of lighter feet go have a quick look and listen first.” She glanced at Parant and Syd. “The undead in the other room have just quieted down. No sense riling them up again if unnecessary.”
            Lillia made no move to join the quiet vanguard, but she readily offered Syd her torch if he wished it.
            Syd smiled and shook his head. He pointed at his eye and said "Elf," with a half grin. "Keep the light in here and I'll be able to see just fine. He looked at the cat-ray-pelican that was Parant and shrugged, "in cat form he's probably the same... right?"
            The leopard gave Syd a look that spoke volumes. At least one sentence of which was an affirmation of his guess regarding Parant's ability to see in the dark.
            Syd then sidled up to a door to crack it open as quietly as possible.
            Parant-the-leopard padded softly along with him.
            The soggy wood of the door Syd chose was swollen shut, but with a bit of effort, he managed to open it. He and Parant examined the chamber beyond; filled with rotted furniture and abandoned stores, it was a safe guess that it had been a storeroom at one point in the distant past. While it didn't look like there was much of value there, they did find a barrel of brackish but drinkable water, and a coil of worn but serviceable rope.
            They tried the nearby door as well, but once Syd had forced it open, they found that it only led to yet another swollen door.
            Jabari looked at the ruined storeroom and sighed. "That rope could be useful if we circle back to that hatch we came in. I can carry it if the rest of you don't want to be encumbered with it."
            Syd collected the worn rope and handed it to Jabari, "Good idea, could be useful." He then went to the next door and put an ear to it to see what might lie beyond.
            Lillia circled the crabs as quietly as she could, following the stealthy point leaders. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the passage back to the entrance, and the newly found corridor. She turned and motioned to Talib and the others, her gesture questioning whether they were headed back to check on Loupin or not.
            Talib returned Lillia's pantomime with his own, indicating that his desire was certainly to regroup with Loupin first before pressing onwards. In his mind, the tunnels had already been abandoned long ago - whatever still remained of value would still be there whether they completed their search immediately or waited a bit.
            He gave the seamstress a small grin, letting her know that she had at least put his worries at ease for the moment, before giving a small wave of his hand towards the entrance, keeping quiet as well to perhaps throw off anything that still lived below.
            Syd heard nothing alarming, so he forced the door open. Beyond lay more moldering furniture, wrecked and ancient, with a door on the far side of the room. Listening hard, he thought he heard low noises coming from beyond, similar to the groans the zombies had been making.
            The holy man was visibly uninterested in proceeding. "We should go no further without looking for Loupin first. I fear for her safety."
            Syd closed the door and turned to Gbele, "Believe it or not, I agree with you. Just wanted to see what might lie beyond these doors first. Let's go get Loupin." He paused a beat before adding, "Sounds like more zombies beyond that next room though."
            The young nobleman holds up his moldy rope. "We at least have some rope now. I can probably get it to ground level if we can get the trap door open from down here."

            The party retired to the small room they had entered from, where the rope was indeed cut, lying in a puddle on the floor. The trapdoor in the shaft above was shut.
            Jabari suggested using his power over the wind to open the trapdoor, but it proved to be just out of range. Then Syd ran at the wall, bouncing off it to the other corner and back, trying to reach the shaft, where he'd be able to press his back against the moist wall and edge his way up. The walls were slippery-slimy from the damp, but he persevered.
            Unfortunately, when he reached the top, the iron-plated trapdoor didn't open at his push.
            Syd frowned at the door. "It's locked from the outside. I don't suppose anyone has a crowbar?"
            A thought came to him, so he rapped on the underside of the hatch as strongly as he could. His other hand wrapped itself around the silver dagger on his belt... just in case someone who wasn't Loupin opened it.
            Loupin knew that nobody, including her, was going to open it, but she was poking around the perimeter of the trapdoor with her own dagger, trying to find a place to work out some of the rock. It wasn't going very well, and she was about ready to start hollering at it, even if knocking hadn't commenced; as it was, she was taken by surprise, and paused a moment to see if anything else would happen. Since nothing did, she banged the bottom of her dagger several times against the lid and began yelling nothing in particular, until it probably sounded like somebody was banging her against the lid. She doubted whether anybody could even hear her, since nothing ever went right.
            The holy man looked up at Syd, wedged up in the shaft like a monkey, and suspected that they would have no success making an exit through the trapdoor. There was the tunnel into the water, but it was...inconvenient. He supposed there was no reason to be optimistic, but a more reliable exit would have made this place much more valuable to its previous users. Gbele did not leave his home in order to fight zombies, and did not relish the thought of doing so again, but he began to mentally prepare himself to do so.
            He watched for a few moments more, his face impassive, then said simply, "We must continue to explore this place, I think."
            Syd's brow furrowed and he frowned at the baging and yelling he could hear. It was indistinct, and he couldn't really tell what was going on on the other side. Still, he hazarded, "Loupin? Is that you? What in Selûne's silver panties happened up there?"
            "Don't blaspheme, Syd!" Loupin yelled back, at just about the top of her lungs. This set off some of the stupid parrots, but she didn't have the benefit of being trapped down in an echo chamber. If there was anybody else still on the island, it was all over. "There's a big goddamned rock on the lid! I can't get it off! Are you drowning?"
            She wasn't getting anywhere with the door, so she fumbled her knife back into its little holder thing.
            Lillia’s brow knit for a moment as Syd’s knock was returned. That was very probably a good sign. Presuming it was Loupin and that the trapdoor was still closed boded less well. That meant she was likely incapable of opening it, by mundane means anyway.
            Lillia looked around thoughtfully. Her presence also meant that it was unlikely that someone closed the trap door. More that it closed itself. She remembered the grinding sound they had heard and turned back to the narrow tunnel.
            “I’m going to look for any kind of a mechanism,” she said.
            Moving lightly, she retraced her steps until she was at the location where she had heard the noise originally. Then she positioned herself where the lead members of the party had been and began searching for the plate or trip or whatever it was that might have triggered the door closed. Perhaps it could be reversed. Slowly she worked her way backward, pressing the torchlight close to the stone work as she went.
            The leopard that was Parant watched Lillia work for a moment, then sighed. He closed his eyes and then shifted. His form blurred, and then Parant the man was standing there, dressed in his black-and-orange.
            "Can you do the wind thing standing on my shoulders?" His voice rumbled as he asked Jabari the question. "Would that get you close enough?"
            Syd continued to frown at the door. "It's a trap," he commented dryly. "Loupn," he said more loudly so the mage could hear, "You'll have to move that rock if we're to get out that way. Maybe employ a large strongman, or an ox or something. I'm returning to the others. Maybe there's another way." With that, the lithe elf dropped back to the floor.
            "I think Gbele has it right. We're not going out that way unless Loupin somehow moves that rock off the door. There's got to be another way out, otherwise our noble friend wouldn't have come through."
            "I should transport an ox over to the island," confirmed Loupin, her voice settling back to its normal volume. "Or employ a strongman. Not just a few ordinary laborers, or any of your friends or wealthy, influential family members. Okay, Syd, solid strategies. Thank you."
            She stepped back from the stone, muttering to herself. An ox. Maybe she should just go home and leave them to it. Assuming home wasn't being ransacked and demolished while she stood around staring at some old rock.
            The young man nodded, though honestly he bared seemed to be listening. Jabari had been standing still, looking up at the closed trap door like he could see right through it to the sky. "That could work. Depending on how big the rock is," he said absently.
            Standing on Parant's shoulders, Jabari should have been a comical sight, but somehow there was an air of gravity to his competence that faded any would-be smiles. Gesturing smoothly, he waved his arms - and there was a sudden rush in the room that nearly extinguished the torches as a blast of air rocketed up towards the trapdoor.
            Loupin was standing nearby when the trapdoor was suddenly blown off its hinges - and the boulder shot into the air, reached its zenith in two pieces, then plummeted down the shaft.
            Jabari leapt away, Parant a moment after him, plowing into the others in the crowded little room as the boulder chunks that had held the trapdoor shut smashed into the rock floor, throwing up chips. It had been quite massive; they could see why Loupin had been unable to move it.
            With Syd's aid, they were able to tie the old rope they had found to the ring where the old rope had been cut, and everyone was able to climb out with only minor difficulties. Jabari's monkey sprang from out of the jungle and clung to his leg, screeching. The surrounding parrots called incessantly, a huge ruckus on the island.
            "Thanks for the warning," said the somewhat appalled wizard. If she'd still been squatting beside the door, she'd pretty much be dead. Then she noticed they looked a little beaten up, which surprised her, since she'd seen no evidence of a fight. She looked at the hole more anxiously. "They attacked after I left? Or is it rhagodessas?"
            Looking more worse for wear than any of the rest, Parant shook his head. He didn't look at Loupin, instead scanning the trees for potential attackers.
            "Zombies," he said, "very strong, hungry zombies."
            "Oh." Loupin registered some professional curiosity about strong zombies, but she had never seen one before, and was pretty sure she didn't want to. "Well, there's nobody up here, you'll be glad to know. There were six of them waiting in the woods when we arrived, but they split while I was dropping off good old Shefton. They stole your boat, though, so I guess we'll have to make multiple voyages home. Your little monkey buddy was of no use whatsoever." She paused, reflecting on the hole. "Why didn't you just bust open the door immediately? Is Vanthus a zombie now too?"
            Syd shrugged, still staring at the hole they just crawled out of. "Maybe, maybe not." He clicked his teeth noncommittally. "He's been here, says Parant-the-cat. But all we've seen so far is the walking dead. Either Lord Vanderboren is deep into some occult mess, or yeah, there's that other option."
            The elf turned his gaze from the door and frowned at the estuary within which they were now stranded. "Not much for it now I suppose. I imagine there's a 'back way' as it were, we just have to get through the dead first."
            Talib Islaran had been rather dumbstruck by Jabari's display of power, and ultimately rather useless in helping undo the "lock" on the door so that Loupin could rejoin the party. He afforded the half-elf a smile as she did though, glad to see her safe and unharmed - her story about the party being rather stranded did less to improve his mood, however.
            He clasped his fellow nobleman on the shoulder good-naturedly, laughing lightly.
            "Had I sailed with you prior to this, nothing in the entire Shining Sea would have ever caught us," he told Jabari, and he quite meant it too, "Remind me to hire you if ever I put another crew together, yes?"
            Talib rotated his arm a touch - it was rather sore from how the group had collapsed down after the daring rescue - but he breathed deep of the salty air and looked almost entirely refreshed for it. The sea breeze gave him new life, new vigor that had faded while down in the damp and dark.
            "Getting through the dead, eh," Talib mused at Syd's question, folding his arms across his chest and looking up towards the brilliant, sunny sky.
            "If Vanthus indeed had used that little hideout, there may very well be something down there we can use, one way or the other."
            His brows furrowed in concern towards Parant.
            "But we may not be in the best shape to go further at the moment. The undead proved an unpleasant surprise - we may need to regroup and rethink. Rearm, as well - some items and weapons from town may give us an edge against these zombified minions. Not like they're going anywhere, and I don't believe our quarry will be returning here anytime soon."
            Scratching at the back of his head and shaking his hair a touch loose, Talib made eyes at Lillia with a small smirk.
            "I think we've at least time for a drink and to recover a touch."
            His glance slid over to Loupin, curiosity showing in his furrowed brows.
            "You said six were here and they stole our boat - did you happen to get a good look at them? Anything we can use to try and follow that lead? They're either working for Vanthus or they know something about this den if they were trying to lock us down there until the undead had finished us off."
            "I'd guess the former is slightly likelier," said Loupin, mulling it over. "Six guys plus Shefton could probably have taken out Vanthus without zombie assistance, and I doubt they would have kidnapped him and stored Vanthus down there for safekeeping if they knew there were strong zombies around. They didn't show themselves to me, though.
            "Two were hiding just over there," she said, pointing to an overgrown spot beyond the treeline, "and four more were in a clearing not far away; I just found the tracks. They left together while I was gone, but I didn't notice Shefton trying to signal to them when we left. He definitely seemed more nervous to be back in the Merchant District than on the island, though -- like he was expecting to be met by somebody, and not in my company. He didn't try to bribe me or recruit me, in spite of my admittedly clumsy attempts to convince him to, but he did warn me that I would be wiser to keep my nose out of whatever is going on. I'd say there's about a ninety percent chance that all these guys figured they could take me out at their leisure, if necessary, and that they either know where I live or think they can find out where pretty easily. They have confidence. I don't think we should go back to our own places individually, you guys. I don't think it's safe anymore. This thing is bigger than we thought. They tried to kill you. They'll try again. I vote for taking this to the Witch Wardens, personally."
            "That does sound pretty bad," Talib agreed with Loupin's assessment of the danger the small band now found itself in, frowning at the recounting of events.
            "More we poke into this, the worse it seems to get. Lady Vanderboren probably didn't know the hornet's nest her brother was tucked within, but we sure as Every Hell kicked it and we're going to have to be a damn sight more cautious lest we get stung once too many."
            The sailor looked over sympathetically at Parant: the man had taken the brunt of the damage below against the undead, and he had Jabari had only barely gotten involved in the sordid mess. Shaking his head, he regarded Loupin again, resting his chin upon a curled fist.
            "Were you gone for long, then? Felt like forever down in the dark, there."
            "After I dropped off Shefton I was pretty suspicious," said Loupin. "I wanted to find out who these guys were. I went back to the boat shop in Shadowshore, since they were obviously going to need boats, it was the closest shop to the island, and one of Vark's goons sold our boat there. I bribed the owner to talk. He didn't report seeing Vark lately, but he did say that Vanthus came in recently and bought a rowboat with some other guy, somebody named Penkus. A a Shadowshore local, apparently calls a lot of attention to himself, which means we might have a good lead there. But this owner guy, he said he hadn't seen Penkus around the district for about a year or so before he and Vanthus showed up. They bought the boat, put some gear into it, and headed off west by themselves -- like Parrot Island west. He hasn't seen them since.
            "So I came back to the Merchant District," she sighed, "and asked a Watch patrol if they would come with me to rescue you guys, because I was pretty sure by then that you were in trouble, and that somebody might try to jump me if I came alone. But they said Shadowshore controls Parrot Island, and I should go there for help. They told me they could alert the Dawn Council, and maybe they will, but in the mean time I figured the odds were too good that Shadowshore Watch knows all about this thing, so it might be more dangerous to ask them for help than just to come back by myself. So I did. By then the bad guys were gone and I couldn't get the boulder off the door. I was about to go to Shadowshore and hire some laborers or mercenaries or something to help. I thought of going to Lavinia or Talib's dad instead, but they're both so far away.. and my hands are torn up from all this rowing back and forth... and with the tide up I thought you might be drowning or something."
            "Mighty brave of you to come alone to help us out, considering what you'd seen and learned," Talib admitted after Loupin finished her story, giving her a solemn nod of appreciation, "We'll give your hands a rest for sure."
            Even he would have hesitated at the idea of walking right into a Shadowshore ambush, and yet there the half-elf was, clear as the sunny day. Talib Islaran admitted that he may have grossly misjudged the mage.
            "Thank you," he told her sincerely, "For coming back. And no, we're not drowned or dead." He chuckled bitterly. "Not yet, at least."
            The story Loupin told was not a good one for the party's goals. A lot of information, to be sure, but to know what not even the Watch or the Azure Guard would think of coming out to Parrot Island ... Had they been bought off, or was the group truly in grave danger, isolated as they were? Neither prospect sounded appealing.
            "Not sure what my father could do, and honestly the man would probably not be keen on hearing his damn fool of a son had thrown himself into a smuggler's den."
            Wouldn't be the first time, Talib omitted, but the smile on his face was that of a charming secret.
            "Penkus though ... that's an odd one. Man is gone for a year, suddenly shows up as boat-buying friends with the brother of Her Ladyship, and they sally forth on some excursion? That doesn't bode well. Sounds like dear old Vanthus was looking for something specific, had something he wanted. The boat shop Owner, he didn't happen to know about Vanthus's woman there, Brissa? She wasn't with him?"
            "No, just the two of them," Loupin said. "Panchi -- the guy who owns the shop -- made Penkus sound kinda narcissistic, like somebody who wanted everybody to know he was The Man. I bet there are people in Shadowshore who can tell us more about him. But they had some exploratory-type gear with them, Panchi mentioned that also, and it was a few weeks ago -- after the Vanderborens died but before our own mess really started -- so I figured they probably really were going to check out these tunnels for themselves. Maybe they were looking for a place to set up business, found some zombies instead, and later realized they could use it as a trap for us. I don't think these bushwhackers hiding out here were regular residents, since they didn't leave much of a campsite. I can show it to you. I think they were here specifically because they knew we were coming. They just couldn't attack me while the trapdoor was still open, maybe, since you all could have heard me yelling for help."
            He was trying to connect the dots, but Talib was frankly a rather poor artist. "Penkus, Penkus," the former Captain muttered, wracking his memory to see if something jumped out, "That name sound familiar to anyone at all?"
            Syd shook his head, "I've never met a man by that name, and by the sound of it, if I met him at all, he'd be sure I knew his name."
            Parant made a sound of disgust. "I don't know anyone here, really. So the name means nothing more to me than any other. But if this was a trap - and it looks like it was," he gave Loupin a nod of acknowledgement, "we did not just walk into it, we jumped, head-first."
            He paused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "That may actually be the one thing that kept us alive. I suspect that our enemies saw us go in, and had no expectation of our coming out again." Parant snorted. "The boulder tells us something else," he said, "they didn't think there was another way out of there. It's possible that they've gone to tell their masters that we're dead - as we probably should be."
            "Or they counted on the dead to do the deed," the lithe elf commented. "That wasn't an easy fight, and a group of lesser skill would have surely perished in just that first room. Any smuggler's den worth its salt always has a secondary escape route. Just in case the authorities come knocking."
            The young nobleman had been standing with his face turned up to the sky, eyes closed as he soaked in the sun with his arms outstretched as his pet monkey climbed him like a tree, looking here and there for treats. In spite of his relative calm in the tunnels, he had really not liked being locked away from the open air. The massive wind blast to open the door had been fueled by more than just his desire to help, it had a desperate urgency to it. So he just stood there, absorbing it all as he reacquainted himself with the wind.
            Finally he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He looked at Syd. "So they stole our boat because they couldn't get to their own because we were in the way? Or did they take our boat and whatever boat brought them out here?"
            "Maybe they didn't leave at all," Parant said. "If, as Syd says, there must be a different exit from the tunnels, then they either had to block that other exit as well, or have set someone to watch it, just in case we somehow made it past the zombies. Either that, or the other exit isn't open while the tide is high. In which case, they may be planning to come back in a few hours to see how we've fared, and finish off any - presumably weakened - survivors."
            The predator in Parant had begun following this particular mental pathway, and his eyes were narrow as he walked his mind through possibilities.
            "Or at least to see if their boulder was in place," agreed Loupin, "but unless they have a familiar or a shape-changer, it might be too risky to come, since they know I'm still alive, and they may have seen me approach the Merchant Watch. Also they don't know if we didn't tell Lavinia or somebody that we were headed to Parrot Island. If I were them, I wouldn't risk coming. But they may be watching our houses, or at least Lavinia's. Shefton knew where to find us. They don't necessarily have to come back here. They may even have put a silent alarm spell on the door, just in case you got it open."
            Loupin looked around at the jungle. Any of these noisy parrots could be tipping off an unfriendly wizard just then.
            "I'm not exactly a great tracker," she said, "but I didn't see anything that made me think anybody was still here. All the same, you should definitely sniff around, Parant; if Vanthus is with them, we'll know a few things for sure; and maybe you'll smell somebody that we can identify later. We could find out if they have other ways in or out, if nothing else. Conway is guarding the boat. I can show you the hiding spots."
            Parant nodded. "I was going to suggest that. At the very least, knowing if Vanthus was with them, and knowing who else was here gives us an advantage. I doubt they know enough about me yet to protect against identification by smell."
            Jabari suddenly put his hands to his mouth and made a call that was startlingly close to a hawk's. He turned a full circle, looking for his other pet in the sky. As an aside, he said "I'll see if Nest can spot anyone, too."
            Lillia squatted on the edge of the opening, staring down into the flickering darkness. She had left the torch on the tunnel floor, seeing no point in carrying it up, and now it guttered with the low dance of suffocation. The licking flashes of yellow reminded her of their current circumstance, a lot of moving pieces all tied to a central core, light and dark playing off each other.
            She stood and turned from the hole, shaking her head to indicate she knew nothing of this man Penkus, when the conversation veered in that direction. She knew a Pantos, a blind man who crafted exquisite buttons from local shells, but that seemed a bit of a stretch for her to muddy the waters by mentioning.
            She glanced around the island, expecting they were still being watched from somewhere. If they had been lured here, whoever was ahead of them wouldn’t leave the results of this endeavor to fate. He or she would want a concrete answer to the outcome.
            And now it wasn’t even safe to return home, perhaps? This was even bigger than she had originally thought.
            ‘Outstanding!’ her mind cheered while her features remained cool and placid.
            "A barrel of pickles we've found ourselves in," Talib muttered as Parant's view of the future settled over the silence.
            "We may - may - be able to fend off an ambush if we knew it was coming, but that's the thing with ambushes, isn't it? They're not liable to send us an invitation to one prior. If we're caught now, on Parrot Island, we may not make it off, and searching for a secondary entrance to the caves below may have us walking right into another trap."
            He cast his eyes back east, narrowing them as they drifted over the waves.
            "We should leave here. Head back to Tashluta. We can always come back, and if our absence from this island helps lure out those who want us off Vanthus's trail, all the better."
            Talib turned back to the small group, giving them all a small smile. Much had changed in a very short amount of time and now they were bound even tighter together by common foes. He hadn't assumed this would be the run of it prior to heading towards the Vanderboren Estate, but Talib was frankly rather glad to have their company: it had proven invaluable and then some.
            That's why he didn't feel right just leaving them to whatever wolves were waiting for them back in the city.
            "We should head to my father's Estate," Talib offered, "It'll be a secure place where we can rest, regroup, and plan our next move - close to the Harbor and the Azure as well. If Vanthus is traveling by water it'll pay to keep our ears close to the waves. If anything, having Keltar's help with The Dawn Council, if needed, would be a major piece in our favor."
            Talib's forearms crossed over his chest as he looked once more towards the waters. Letting out a sharp, wry laugh, the humor of all the madness finally struck him.
            "All of this for a missing brother. You'd think mine own missing siblings would cause such chaos, but I suppose they're too polite for that."
            The younger nobleman looked down from the clouds at that. "I'm not sure Lavinia would want us going to the Council with this. I know I'd be reluctant to reach out with a family issue, even if it wasn't as... potentially scandalous as this." Jabari cleared his throat. "It doesn't escape me that we're both known to be... apolitical, Talib. She's already in a weak position with everything that's happened. We don't want to weaken it any further. Having influence with the Watch and docks is one thing. Airing dirty laundry in public is another."
            "A secure base with extra security would be a good idea," Parant agreed, "aside from having to deal with any of your father's enemies watching the place. Let us go investigate the hide sites Loupin has found, maybe see if there are any scent trails from there to that second exit. If we get the opportunity to ambush the ambushers, that might be worth taking. But if not, we can go."
            "As long as we can keep the reason for needing shelter to ourselves. Or make up something that doesn't involve Lavinia. The stories about the Vanderborens are already piling up. I don't want to add any credence to them by adding our names to this search." Jabari sighed and shook his head. "You know I don't play politics, but Lavinia is a friend and I want to keep her name out of the muck as much as we can."
            Parant was able to separate the scents in the hiding spots Loupin showed him, confirming that Vanthus had been present in the closest one, and that the lurkers had all been men. As Loupin had claimed, there had been six men present, apart from Vanthus.
            He followed their scent, despite the strong smell of parrot droppings, to some bushes near the beach. There, they found the remains of one of the boats they had brought. It seemed the men had hidden the trail from the beach as well as they could, using fronds to sweep away the boat's track, though they hadn't bothered with their own tracks on returning to the beach.
            Meanwhile, Crow's Nest circled the island - much to the alarmed dismay of the parrots who lived there - then came down to perch on the remaining rowboat. By screech, he informed Jabari that there were no others on the island now. Parrots watched from the trees, chattering together at the upset the hawk had caused.
            And not just the ones in the trees: Conway was still hiding under an oar in the rowboat; Loupin had to hustle to rescue him before her own head exploded from all the panic her little parrot friend was firing her way.
            Loupin fought down some resentment of Jabari then, and not only dragging his mundane hawk around and scaring the wits out of half the birds in Tashluta. That was the sort of thing an entitled kid would do, assuming whatever worked for him probably worked for everybody. It didn't help that he still wanted to cover for his 'friend' Lavinia, though; only a fellow noble would feel more concerned for her reputation than for their own lives. Stuff like that always rankled her, and she assumed that some of her fellow working stiffs in the part would feel similarly.
            It might turn into an argument -- but one they could have later.
            Parant returned to his human form and let the others know what he'd detected. Vanthus had been with those who'd been observing them enter the tunnels.
            "Do you guys still want to come back here, in that case?" asked Loupin of the others. "This is Shadowshore property, after all. If they find out we're messing around in their tunnels without permission... I mean, Emil Dracktus might be _cultivating_ zombies for something, in which case we might cause even more trouble for ourselves by coming back. We don't know a thing about any of this. Maybe Vanthus is trying to play us off of somebody." Conway put as much of her head as possible between himself and the big hawk perching on their gunwale. "I guess that sounds pretty paranoid, but Panchi told me that Dracktus and the Amedio Trading Concern are people to be careful of, like maybe involved in smuggling themselves. If anybody tells them we were messing around out here, it may not be safe to come back."

            Ferrying the party to the Merchant District took a bit of time, since they had to split into groups to be carried in the little rowboat, but when they reached the docks, they found sailors looking oddly at Talib as he climbed onto the pier.
            A small group of them, led by a woman he knew as Jemmy from the Manatee Rising, approached him. Jemmy spoke, her face sympathetic. "We heard what happened. I'm real sorry, Lord Islaran. We all are." At first he thought she meant his condition, bloodied and torn, but the group murmured their agreement, and she went on, "He was a real good Harbormaster. It's a terrible thing, what happened to him."