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“Well, if you’re wanting to do anything other than a short visit, you’re going to have to wait until Spring. I’d advise that, since you still have classes.” Gamilla said.

I shook my head. “If I have to go alone, then I go alone. I think the Daurians still have that captain they accused of smuggling three years back.”

“Dauria executes pirates and smugglers, and a lot of other criminals besides.”

“Yes, but then why do they have an entire prison island?”

She shrugged. “They’re Daurian. Why do they need a reason to do anything?”

“Merchants may be the lowest caste, but every family has their own merchant, right?”

“And?”

“Does it make sense to send your exiles halfway around the world, with a small navy to guard them? Because THAT sounds rather costly.”

.....

She squinted. “What EXACTLY are you saying?”

“I’m saying I think these people are exiles, people who just cannot, for one reason or other, be permitted to return to their empire. Yet, they are also people they can’t just execute for some cultural reason or other.”

“Very precise.” She said.

“True. I cannot be precise because we just don’t know that much about Daurian culture. At least not yet. Which is why I’ll need to go and see exactly who is in charge, what their personality is, and so on. Because if I’m wrong about my guess, I could end up on that island for a very long time.”

“Just swim off it.”

“Shark’s Rift is here.” I said, pointing it out on the map. “And these waters are claimed by the kraken-spawn and her children.”

“There’s more evidence those are just octopoids in her service.”

“Whose coloration matches hers.”

“Part of octopoid communication is changing the colors of their skin.”

“Oh. I see where you’re going with that.”

She raised a hand. “Not saying they’re not part of her forces, just saying they may not be related by blood.”

Well, that shot a hole in my theories about what the Kraken-spawn’s true motivations were. Or was it? Like a real blade, Occam’s Razor didn’t always strike the target truly and precisely.

“In any case,” I said, “they chose the island both to be large and to be difficult to escape, in addition to being difficult to get to, and thus equally hard to get back from.”

“In theory. It really is debateable.”

“What is the latest report on the docks? Do we have a map that shows them?”

“There is no such map. You know that. As for progress? The last report we got was from spring. Miletus got rid of the sea leeches, just in time for a storm to tear the docks apart. They’re considering a place further east, closer to the Twelve Daggers.”

I sighed. “Is the theocracy still at war with us? That sounds like a genuinely terrible idea.”

“Perhaps you should recommend that to Rakkal, then. There’s painfully little we can do from out here to help the homeland.”

“When Rakkal agrees with you, then we’ll know by being headed home. Until then, tend to the company. I’ll try to get passage to the Girdle, see if I can at least meet this Daurian merchant ship.”

“Best of luck with... HEY!” This exclamation was because I had circled her desk to pull out a small chest, and was removing coins from it.

“I need funds for travel and upkeep.” I said.

“Not that much, you don’t. I’ll arrange for travel, and the inns... wait, you’re actually being reasonable.” She sucked air through her teeth. “Fine, but if you get yourself killed out there by being alone, I’m keeping the company.”

“Gamilla, what is the name of the captain the Daurians have arrested?”

“What makes you think that I know?”

“You have information contacts in all of the five ports we’ve been to. You either know, or you can find out.”

“Two weeks there, two weeks back. Better that you just go to Boadicea’s Girdle and find out there, while you wait – if the trading vessel hasn’t gotten there, yet.”

“I think they’ll wait until after Harvest Week.”

“They’re four days away. By the time you get there, they could have done their trading and be back.”

“They could, but I think I can still meet them if I hurry.”

“Then it happens you’re in luck. High tide is just a few hours away. With your... light travel bags, I think I can get you transport today.”

#

I stopped by Old Tomas’ and said my good-byes, scrawled out a quick note to Kismet and Madonna, who were enjoying their time up at the spa, and boarded the Huntswoman of the Sea with a half full duffel.

The Huntswoman was a Manoran cutter, no mainsail, but two linked to divide the deck into mostly even thirds. In addition to the ropes, the sails were linked by a series of massive cogs below decks, to help ensure they rotated in sequence. This in turn took up much of the passenger space, so I spent most of my time on deck.

Her captaine at the time was Juliette Sorrows, whose actual name I didn’t bother asking about. She was a stern, no-nonsense woman with all the diplomacy of an active volcano, the vocabulary of three gutter rats, and the respect of her crew. Once one removed the profanity, she thought I was an adventure seeking eccentric whose future was in the realm of spirits, or wherever souls went to when the body dies. We both agreed it was better that I not interfere with or even ask about our route or schedule.

“I notice we are taking the Broad Road.” I said to Reece, the Huntswoman’s male sea-witch.

“Notice all you want. So long as you keep to the northerly side, it’s safe enough. Besides, not too many vessels as can match the Huntswoman for speed.”

We took a short break from the conversation to part a series of wavelets. It was something that second tier magics enabled, cooperative magic that had the potential for greater effects, although in practice it was usually less.

Using it properly required that all parties had their invocations in time, and that they harmonized their intents. Again, not something that usually applied to the battlefield, but was useful once one got to the larger applications. I wondered why Jenne...

Oh, obviously Jenne wouldn’t want to cycle her mana, mixing it with that of another. That made sense, then.

“So you genuinely store nothing except Ocean mana?” I asked.

“Been converting the other types for so long that I don’t know that I could stop.”

“Well, that DOES give you more power to break waves and alter currents,” I said, “but I’m not certain I’d give up my other magics for just the one element.”

“Best that you not become a Sea-Witch, then. I’ve met Aeromancers who manipulate the wind reaching the sails, and they are impressive. But when it comes to hearing the songs of the deep, understanding and accepting the ocean for the Ocean with a capital o, I don’t know that I’ve met my equal in ... six years or so.”

“So, you can help find the fish as they pass near the ship?”

“Time was, when I guided those fish into the nets. Ask me what I learned.”

“Fish every single night is boring?” I guessed.

“Go wash your mouth out with brine. Although some of the crew agree with you. I’ve learned that a steady, stable voyage with as few surprises as possible is far far better than any amount of fish. Not that the captaine will ever agree with me.”

“How do the two of you get along?”

“Might as well ask how the mountain and the sea get along; we usually keep the crew between us, keeps the entire ship happy. And her husband helps work out a lot of what would otherwise become problems.”

“Her husband?”

“Bosun Sorrows? Didn’t mistake it for a common name like Smith, did you?”

“When I boarded, she was giving him a tongue lashing of the kind that sparks mutinies. I figured he was her useless brother or something.”

“The words useless and bosun don’t rightly belong in the same sentence. No, those two have been together since they were both rig monkeys.”

A rig monkey is someone who lives in the mesh above the deck, adjusting lines, tying and untying knots, all the while requiring a balance uncanny even among sailors.

“She must have put on a lot of weight since then.”

“Oh, aye, that’s what happens when you give birth five times. But always, she’s back on deck, even if she’s feeding her child in full view of the crew. Her useless brother stays in the Girdle, and takes care of the kids. Makes her a good little housewife, if you ask my opinion.”

“Thank you for your insight.” I said. “I have a clearer vision of who the captaine is now.”

“No, you’re too much a lubber to understand that.”

“You, the captaine, the bosun... you’ve dedicated your lives to the sea, and this ship is your altar and your temple.”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “How old did you say you were, again?”