Soren could hear Tamina and Rylan whispering behind him, but he didn’t pay too much attention, shocked as he was at the woman looking down at them from atop the wreckage.

  Apparently, Yuel was listening to what they were saying, as the man suddenly whirled around, his hands raised in innocence. “Actually, she’s the captain of the Black Sheep mercenary crew,” he stated loudly, his face tense. “We’re reformed pirates. Pardoned and everything, I swear!”

  Fog! Soren swore internally.

  When he spun around, Tamina’s was already drawing her sword, her metal left arm reaching back for her shield. Immediately, Soren sprang towards her, placed his palm on the pommel of her blade, and shoved it back down into its sheath.

  Her eyes snapped up to his, shocked and angry. He met her gaze sternly, trying to express his disappointment at her fogheadedness with his eyes, the way his grandmother could.

  “Is there a problem here?” Captain Hammermore drawled from above and behind him, the subtle threat in her voice sending shivers up his spine.

  “There is not!” Soren replied, shooting a quick smile back up over his shoulder, idly noting that Yuel and Nazyr had created some distance between them. “Everyone who’s anyone knows you received a generous offer from the King when you became a Sapphire, my lady.”

  Rylan gasped, and subtly returned his knife to its proper slot.

  Tamina, ever stubborn, reacted a bit slower. Only when her arm finally went slack did Soren let go of her hand and turn himself fully towards the former pirate captain, craning his neck to look up at her. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Baroness Hammermore.”

  Just to be on the safe side, he performed the Quinthar salute, touching the outstretched fingers of his left hand to the outer corner of his eye.

  It was in part a check to see if she was truly a Sapphire-Grade Quinthar, and in part a show of force, to make it clear to her that the three of them—and all three of them—were not to be messed with.

  After a moment, Tamina stiffly joined in. She even nudged Rylan, making him hesitantly lift his own hand as well.

  Captain Hammermore curiously took them in, her brows rising when Rylan joined in the salute. Finally, she returned it. Her salute was a little sloppy, almost mocking, but still enough for Ethereon to activate, and light her spirit up inside her chest.

  As expected, it shone a bright blue, in contrast to their green.

  Rylan gasped, his eyes darting between the lot of them.

  Right, I don’t think we ever explained this to him...

  Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time. Soren wasn’t too worried about Rylan, however. His friend had a good head on his shoulders—usually. At the very least, he’d been trained at being polite to important people.

  “Well, well,” the enigmatic older woman drawled, baring her teeth as she lowered her hand again, her posture relaxing ever so slightly. “You’re well informed, Thar Thistlethorn.”

  Soren blinked.

  Yuel placed a hand flat on his chest and gasped at his captain.

  “Oh, spare me the dramatics, Yuel,” the Baroness continued, sending her subordinate a half-hearted glare. “I do pay some attention to my peers now. With that hair colour and the Thorn emblem all over his tunic, he can only be that old bat’s youngest grandchild. Though I forgot your name, kid, sorry.”

  Yuel cringed at the descriptor of ‘old bat.’ Frankly, Soren was more amused than insulted at someone daring to call his renowned grandmother such a thing. She’s acting tough now, but I bet she wouldn’t dare call her that to her face!

  “It’s Soren, my lady,” he stated. “And these are my companions Thar Rylan and Thar Tamina.”

  “Just three little greens, strolling the depths of the cloudsea, huh?” Captain Hammermore said, eyeing them curiously. “You must have quite the tale.”

  Tamina’s face managed to become even tighter at being called a ‘little green,’ but Rylan seemed to take it in stride, staring at the captain with undisguised admiration.

  The Baroness studied them all a moment longer, then nodded, seemingly to herself. “All right then. Yuel, since you’re always nagging me about manners and hospitality so much, you can be in charge of accommodating our guests.”

  “As it pleases you, milady!” Yuel replied chipperly, executing a flawless bow towards her, while Nazyr snickered.

  “Naz, since you seem to have so much idle time on your hands,” she continued, “why don’t you make yourself a little less useless, and go fetch our esteemed guests some refreshments, hmm?”

  Nazyr’s face fell, but he slunk off, muttering something about scrounging something up. Soren was a little worried about what the man might come back with.

  “This way, friends,” Yuel said, gesturing them deeper into the camp with a smile. “Please have a seat, take a load off; you’re safe now. Well... safer. Probably.”

  Soren glanced back at his friends, and suppressed a sigh. Tamina still looked ready to throw down, while Rylan’s eyes gleamed with excitement in a way Soren hadn’t seen since the day they’d covered Grumpy Gordo’s desk in frogs.

  He really wasn’t sure which he should be more worried about.

  Soren tried not to grimace as he ate another spoonful of the slop Nazyr had served as a ‘refreshment.’ The grey mush—apparently leftover from last night’s dinner—seemed to consist primarily of rice and mushrooms, and was the opposite of refreshing.

  While Rylan’s cooking wasn’t quite at Chef Zelim’s level yet, it was still clouds better than this.

  It seemed Captain Hammermore was the only Quinthar on the crew, as she had personally heated their lunch using the firemetal-topped stove they were all gathered around, seated on wicker chairs and cots. The warmth it still radiated was quite pleasant, and for the first time in weeks, Soren’s clothes were actually beginning to approach a state he might call dry.

  They could do with a wash, of course.

  But that could wait. He had to stay focused. They were still stuck deep in the cloudsea, after all, and these people could spell the end of their trip in more ways than one.

  It’s not like anyone would find out if these ‘reformed’ pirates decided to get rid of them, and he didn’t like their chances against Lady Hammermore.

  It didn’t help his nerves in that regard when a new face joined their gathering. Especially as it was a face covered in blue tattoos, on top of a giant of a man who grabbed a bowl of slop and joined them in utter silence.

  He’d either been informed of their presence beforehand, or did an awful good job at taking it in stride, as Soren couldn’t detect the slightest perturbation in the man’s expression as he chewed his slop with slow, methodical motions, thoughtfully staring at Soren and his friends.

  Soren lasted several seconds before he turned to Yuel, who was seated cross-legged on the grass close to his wicker chair, and whispered, “Who’s he?”

  “Oh him?” Yuel stage-whispered back at a volume that made Soren cringe. “That’s just our First Mate, Skullcrusher.”

  “Yuel,” the imposing man in question spoke calmly, his dark, tattooed features placid. “Please do not refer to me by the name you are fully aware I’ve chosen to abandon. You may call me Halloth, young ones.”

  “Soren Thistlethorn,” Soren replied, politely inclining his head.

  Next to him, Rylan and Tamina made similar introductory utterances, but Soren’s attention was drawn away as Yuel leaned in closer and continued in an actual whisper. “Our big friend here had a bit of a... crisis of conscience a while back. Started reading all these dusty old books about philosophy and spiritualism. If you ask me, he’s always been a big softie; he’s just gotten more pretentious about it.”

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  Well, that was certainly an interesting take, but one Soren was glad to hear. Quinthar or not, Soren was not keen to tangle with someone a foot taller and double his weight.

  Either way, Yuel and Nazyr, together with Holly and her ailing husband Ezra, and now the captain and her First Mate Halloth, brought the total up to six former pirates.

  Only the seventh member of the Black Sheep mercenary crew—who Yuel called ‘the professor’—wasn’t there, as he apparently had a habit of getting really focused on his projects and skipping meals. Supposedly, Nazyr would bring him some later.

  Soren glanced down at his food again, and wished he’d had the forethought to get into a habit of skipping meals himself. He did his best to keep the distaste off his face, but really couldn’t bring himself to lift the next spoonful to his mouth.

  Yuel caught his eyes, and smiled. “Forgive my interruption of your meal, milord,” he said out loud with a wink. “But I must confess, I’m dying to hear how the three of you wound up here.”

  “That’s all right,” Soren replied, casually placing his half-full bowl down on the ground next to his chair. “I find myself lacking an appetite anyway.”

  Holly glanced up from where she was feeding her groaning husband with a frown. “Are you all right, dear? Any nausea, stomach ache?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing that some herbs couldn’t fix,” Yuel said airily. “Maybe a little salt.”

  “Oy!” Nazyr exclaimed, growing flush as his captain started to snicker. “It ain’t that bad! And I don’t exactly got a lot ta work with!”

  Soren pursed his lips, trying to hide his smile. “I don’t know... what do you think, Rylan? Did he do a good job?”

  Rylan blinked, fidgeting a little as all eyes turned towards him. “Ehm... Well, there’s only so much you can do without fresh ingredients,” he started diplomatically. “But... you did overcook the rice a little. And the mushrooms. Sorry.”

  Nazyr bristled. “Well if ye think ye can do a better—” He cut off abruptly, as his captain held up a hand, a sudden tension in the air.

  Glancing around, Soren realised that both Halloth and Yuel had stopped eating, and were staring at Rylan with fervent eyes. Even Holly was looking at him over her shoulder, her spoon suspended over her husband’s mouth.

  “Kid,” the captain spoke, her voice deep and serious. “Do you... know how to cook?”

  Rylan gaped at her, clearly not sure what to do with the intense scrutiny he was suddenly under.

  “He sure does!” Soren said, leaning over to the cot Rylan was sitting on next to Tamina to slap him on the back. “You should’ve seen the dishes he served us on the way here: crab stew, fish filet, frog legs, calamari... you name it, we ate it!”

  Halloth closed his eyes with a blissful smile, folding his hands together beneath his chin, his lips moving in what appeared to be a silent prayer.

  Yuel dramatically dropped off his chair onto his knees, and started babbling. “Kind sir, honoured Thar, please, you simply must take over the kitchen... I beg of you! ”

  Captain Hammermore simply smiled at him, her eyes predatory.

  “All right!” Rylan finally shouted over Yuel’s babbling, red to the tips of his ears. “I’ll cook, all right? I’ll cook!”

  Cheers went up all around, and even Tamina cracked a small smile, though her spine remained stiff as a board.

  Only Nazyr glanced down with his good eye, grumbling something as he kicked at a small rock near his foot. He missed.

  Soren cleared his throat. “Actually, Rylan, I think you mean you’ll chef, right?”

  Nazyr looked up at him, surprised.

  “Right you are, milord!” Yuel exclaimed, catching on right away. The man would make an excellent butler, Soren idly mused. “I mean, a Thar can’t be relegated to doing all that menial labour by himself, and a chef is nothing without a good sous chef.”

  “I could definitely use some help,” Rylan hastily agreed, although probably for more selfish reasons.

  Soren leaned back, satisfied at achieving his goal of getting to eat Rylan’s cooking again, rather than the horrible slop next to his chair he was trying hard to forget existed.

  Honestly, Rylan didn’t seem too unhappy about all the attention he was getting either, subtly preening a little, and even glancing at Tamina as if to see what she thought of his newfound status as chef.

  Of course, Soren had long caught on to his friend’s interest in the stoic older girl. Personally, he didn’t quite see the appeal, but he wasn’t about to get in the way, either. After all, that’s not what friends were for.

  “You know what?” Soren said thoughtfully after a moment. “Maybe you should tell the story, Ryles. After all, you’re the reason we’re here.”

  Rylan seemed surprised at the suggestion, but seeing everyone’s gazes turning back to him, quickly perked up. “Well, I guess it all started when I, ehm, unexpectedly became a Quinthar. You see, I was shucking some scallops in the kitchen, next to this incredibly annoying, lazy new kitchen hand, Seth, when a big fat fly came buzzing in through the window...”

  Rylan was a pretty good storyteller, though he thankfully skipped some of the more personal details, like the anklet, and the way Soren’s family had treated him, claiming he’d escaped only because he wanted to repay the debt he owed them on his own terms.

  His audience gasped when they ended up in the whale, and Holly started fussing over Tamina the moment she learned the poor girl had gotten wedged inside, barely able to breathe, for several long minutes.

  Rylan hesitated at the part where he had his dream, and glanced at Tamina. She subtly shook her head.

  That was perhaps a good call. Sailors could be rather superstitious about spirits, and from the looks of it, Halloth—or Skullcrusher—was a rather spiritual man.

  “So you were just walking in random directions, for weeks, and you wound up here?” Yuel asked after Rylan ran out of steam, seeming unsure how to finish the tale without giving too much away.

  “Well, we had a bit of help with the last leg,” Rylan admitted. “You see, when we climbed out of the other end of that ravine, we came across this huge Malequint shark, and it started to chase us, trying to suck us up. But as we fled, we ran into that herd of kelpies from before, and climbed onto their backs, and they brought us to this strange bubble—I guess they knew they would be safe from the beast here.”

  “Oh, we’ve seen that herd!” Nazyr exclaimed. “Yuel doesn’t want to hunt them, says they’re ‘noble creatures’ and all that.”

  “And I had a point, didn’t I?” Yuel retorted, gesturing at Rylan.

  Nazyr grumbled something that made Soren want to cover Rylan’s ears to protect his precious innocence.

  The captain chuckled, but kept her eyes on Rylan, her gaze appraising. “So you had Dreadmaw on your tail, huh? Well done for getting away.”

  “You know it?” Soren asked.

  Captain Hammermore nodded. “I first came across the beast a few days ago. Had to give it a good smack, and even then, I barely managed to get away from the big sucker. It’s been hanging around here ever since. I’m guessing it’s either being territorial, or a sore loser.”

  “Maybe it just thinks you looked awfully tasty, captain,” Yuel teased.

  The captain snorted. “Or perhaps it indeed just has good taste. Either way, I’m not exactly happy about its presence, but I’m not suicidal enough to try and do something about it, either.”

  Interesting, Soren thought to himself. So it didn’t follow us here; it got here before we did. I wonder what attracted it to this place... Maybe the captain? Or... perhaps whatever’s calling out to Rylan?

  “Dreadmaw’s a pretty chilling name,” Rylan piped up, bringing him out of his reverie. “Soren here was calling it Sucko.”

  Nazyr started to guffaw at that.

  “What can I say?” Soren said with a sigh, plucking some lint off his sleeve. “I’m a poet at heart.”

  “Yeah, you really missed your calling,” Tamina chipped in with a deadpan voice, finally seeming to thaw a little.

  “I like to think of myself more as a scholar, really,” Soren replied. “But I must admit, this place really boggles my mind. Have you found any clue about what’s causing this anomaly in the fog?”

  A silence fell over the gathering, and Soren couldn’t help but notice people glancing at the captain.

  She shrugged, her expression not budging an inch. “The professor’s got some theories. You can ask him about it later; that stuff all goes over my head.”

  If Soren had been alone in a room with her, he didn’t think he’d have noticed anything amiss. The reactions of the rest were telling, however. They know more than they’re letting on, and they’re taking her cue about what to tell us. But why hide it?

  “Anyway, that was quite the tale,” Lady Hammermore continued, leaning back in her chair. “And I take it you’re in need of a lift back home... or elsewhere. Well, rest assured that there’ll be spots for you on my ship when we manage to depart.”

  “Your generosity is much appreciated,” Soren replied. Rylan similarly expressed his thanks, and even Tamina inclined her head, albeit silently.

  “It’s the least I could do. ‘Noble is a verb,’ as my peers say,” she said, baring her teeth in a confident grin. “Of course, we’re still in a bit of a bind for now, so I’ll be expecting each of you to pull your weight while I ‘noble’ all over you.”

  “Naturally,” Soren said, inclining his head, in part out of courtesy, and in part to hide the quirking of his lips at her irreverence. “We’re more than willing to help out.”

  The Baroness nodded. “Excellent. Nazyr, please help Thar Rylan become acquainted with our kitchen and pantry. Yuel, perhaps you could discuss cloudsea hunting strategies with Thar Tamina; it seems our new friends have been significantly more successful at it than we have. As for you, Thar Thistlethorn... mayhap we could have a word in private?”

  Soren shared a glance with Tamina, and nodded reassuringly at her. “Of course, my lady. Lead the way.”

  Lady Hammermore led him to a larger tent, holding open the flap for him as he ducked inside.

  To his surprise, it was quite homey inside, with woven mats and cushions covering the floor and some decorative trinkets hanging from the ceiling. A pile of blankets lay on one side, and a wicker chair stood in front of a small wooden desk on the other.

  “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing at a cushion, before putting her hammer down and indecorously plopping down on another.

  Soren sat down cross-legged, and looked at her expectantly.

  Lady Hammermore met his gaze intently, studying him for a long while, but he kept his silence.

  There were times to speak, and there were times to listen, his grandmother always said.

  “I’ll be honest,” the Baroness finally said. “While I could definitely use your help, your arrival here has also presented me with a bit of a problem.”

  “How so?” Soren asked politely, trying not to show any nerves. Did I make a mistake, coming here on my own?

  “The girl...” Lady Hammermore drawled, drawing out her words. “She’s with the Talons, yes? And I assume under Contract?”

  “She is,” Soren confirmed, as there was really no way to hide it. A short conversation would be all it took to make sure. “Is that going to be an issue?”

  The Baroness pursed her lips. “Perhaps. Depends on how curious she is. All right, in order for you to help me, there are some things you need to know. However, none of what I’m about to tell you can make it back to your friends. Can I have your word on that?”

  Soren frowned. “May I ask why?”

  “You’ll understand once I’m done talking,” she replied cryptically.

  Soren bit his lip. ‘Never take an initial offer,’ his grandmother’s voice nagged in the back of his head. ‘And always dictate the terms if you can.’

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