It was the coming stormwinds themselves that gave the final push needed to make port before the rain began in strength. Yet another stroke of good fortune for Henriot and his crew, each one a pleasant surprise after the dubious sendoff that morning. The familiar sight of Tauly harbor, even overcast and dreary as it was now served to heighten his spirits even more. They were but a few hours journey from his home of Blistimere now. If the storm wasn’t threatening to break overhead right then, he might have pushed for the extra time, but as it was, the crew was tired and obviously excited to spend the night indoors instead of sprawled out on the deck under the meager protection of blankets during what was looking to be a serious storm.

He was convinced that it would indeed be best to stay when a loud thunderclap sounded just behind him, over the water, accompanied by a bright flash that seared his eyes even with his back turned. Yes, staying under a roof that night would most certainly be welcome.

Henriot left the work of docking the ship to Estien and disembarked himself while the crewmembers were still stowing anything that might be damaged by the rain.

Henriot hopped the gap to the old wooden dock with relative ease. He might be getting older, but he was spry enough yet and he hardly even stumbled on the landing.

The rain began to fall as he made his way towards the town itself in search of the clerk he would have to pay for docking. The rest of the harbor was sparsely populated, certainly compared to Maerin’s massive harbor district, but even sparse for a less important shipping hub. Aside from his own, there were only three other ships docked, far fewer than the harbor could accommodate, and each one was entirely devoid of crew. There was not another soul to be seen on the docks, not even a clerk.

Henriot shivered, but not from the coming cold of the storm. The deserted dock reminded him of the ill omens he had seen that morning. Grave omens. Their journey may have gone smoothly so far, but he forcefully reminded himself that it was not over yet and omens did not lie.

At the end of the docks was a small shack, no more than a room with a door and a window, really. That would be the clerk’s office. From outside, it looked empty too, no light from within, even with the premature darkness brought by the storm. Still, it was Henriot’s best bet, and he certainly did not want to be held up with imperial troops searching his ship if he failed to pay the fee. Now more than ever.

The office was empty, as he had predicted. Repeated knocks on the door and window both brought no response and eventually he had to admit defeat. Someone would just have to stay with the ship until morning to pay the fee. Henriot did not relish telling the crew that. It would only bring more grumbles and scowls.

He had already turned to go when he heard steps behind him and then a very small voice.

“Excuse me, captain?”

He turned to find a young woman, so thin and frail that she seemed even smaller than she was. Her worn and wary face was framed by pale hair that marked her as new blood immediately, and her pale skin looked almost bruised from lack of sleep. Her voice matched her body well, thin and tired as if she had just arrived after a long journey.

“What is it.” He snapped back, a little harsher than he meant to. Being docked in Maerin had given him a distaste for beggars. They always looked so pitiful and undeserving of their fate at first, but he had found more than enough hiding on his ship and taking from his supplies to know that it was a front.

She cringed away ever so slightly, her hands pressed against her thighs. She looked afraid, as if he might strike her.

“If I may ask, what port are you bound for?” She asked in a voice even more meek than before.

“To Derranhall,” Henriot replied without thinking. She didn’t look like someone he ought to worry about, but he should be more careful. Estien would have been, and he had a weakness for young strays.

Her face lit up upon hearing Henriot’s destination, those sunken eyes started to water. Could it be that she was more than just a beggar? Her clothes looked somewhat nicer, if not exactly clean, but those darting eyes and twiglike limbs did not speak to a life of plenty, or even adequate nourishment.

“Oh you have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” She said breathlessly, her words tripping over each other in her haste to get them out. “Every other captain seems to be heading south, but me and my friends need to get to Derranhall. Please, could you take us with you?”

Her pleading eyes looked like they wanted to shy away from his, but she held his gaze. There was real desperation there, the kind that was nearly impossible to fabricate. But he had seen it done before. He felt callous for doing it and was glad that Estien was not there to see him act so uncaringly, but his mission was clear. He could not take any risks with strangers, especially not a group of them. He set his jaw and cleared his throat to be sure no unwanted emotion would taint his words.

“I’m afraid not. I only have enough room aboard for my crew and my cargo. You’ll have to find another way.”

He turned to go, hoping that that would be the end of it, but she was tenacious and scurried up behind him with steps that hardly made any sound on the wood of the dock.

“Please, captain. My friends are injured, and they have family in Derranhall. Please, if you would just come to the inn and meet with them…”

Henriot increased his pace back towards his ship and did not turn back to look at her. He could not risk letting her see the sympathy in his eyes.

“We can pay!” She called down the dock after him, but the footsteps stopped. She had given up at last. Henriot let out a sigh and shook his head. Had she kept on, he might have given in, after all, what were the chances that her friends were anyone who could cause harm. But he could not take the risk. Maybe if she was still there when he came back this way, assuming he wasn’t carrying another all important letter.

***

Tauly, Lana decided as she walked back to the cheap, rundown inn she and the others were staying at in the light rain, was not a very pleasant place. She didn’t know what she had expected, Maerin wasn’t particularly pleasant either, but the way Gisela had been so excited to see it had made her a little more hopeful than what was perhaps reasonable.

She had spent the day on the docks trying to find a ship willing to take them to Derranhall while Gisela tended to the wounded back at the inn, but only a single ship had been headed that direction and the captain of it had been cold and dismissive in the extreme. She had met his kind before, back in Maerin. People who saw her as a beggar and a nuisance, nothing more. She was lucky that she hadn’t become well acquainted with the toe of his boot. Grumbling to herself, she stalked the rest of the way back to the inn in short order, not pausing once on the way.

The meager coin they had been able to make by selling the fancy clothes Lana had inadvertently brought with her had only been enough to afford the lowliest of inns for the whole group. As it was, they only had a single room stuffed full with three beds. There was no other option, not if they wanted to eat as well, and Jormand certainly needed to rest, as did the others.

While at the docks, Lana had seen a good few fat purses that she had been tempted to nab but without a crowd to disappear into, she did not like her chances. That left her with empty pockets when she arrived back at the inn.

It was a dingy building, only a single story and not very large, sandwiched between a warehouse and a supply store for merchants. It didn’t even have a sign or a name that Lana could discern. Built entirely of age-dark wood, it looked like it might topple over in a strong breeze. They would soon find out, what with the storm about to break.

The inside wasn’t much better than the outside. The walls and floor were all of the same wood, only somewhat stained as well to add to the air of neglect. There were no tables, no common room, just a desk with a slack jawed old woman behind it who appeared to be asleep at the moment with her mouth open and drool dripping down her chin. It was not a good deal better than some holes Lana had slept in before, but they were out of the rain and there were beds for the injured. More importantly, there were no questions about why they had arrived with such grievous injuries.

Down the single hallway on the left was the room they had rented. It had smelled faintly of tar when they arrived, but now the metallic scent of blood overpowered it. It came mostly from the two men lying in beds. Both Jormand and Ketrim were badly injured, although Jormand looked the worse for wear on the surface. Ketrim was nearly untouched except that on the left side of his head there was a patch of dark, wet hair that, though it had been cleaned before, still bled. He had not awoken since arriving, but his breath came steady. Whatever was the nature of his wound, it was sapping his strength greatly. Gisela had tried to bandage it, as she had done for Jormand, but with all the hair in the way, it was difficult. All they could do was hope they could return to Derranhall soon, and then hope some more for his recovery.

It was a dismal sight, to be sure. Aside from the two beds occupied by the brothers, there was one more. Narrow and hardly cushioned, it matched the other two perfectly in quality, if not in design. Crammed onto it were the remaining members of their party. Gisela and Lyra were talking in hushed tones while pointedly not looking at Allur, the caravanner boy who Gisela had been able to rescue. His parents had not been so lucky, though it wasn’t clear to Lana what all he had seen.

Whatever part of the attack he had seen, it left him with a vacant stare that did not change no matter what was waved under his nose. It was unnerving to say the least. What was worse, he had started to develop a cough that had only gotten worse throughout the day. Gisela said it was bad to keep the sick in the same room as the injured, but it didn’t seem as if they had any other option, even as Allur’s cough worsened.

“Did you find one?” Gisela asked as Lana closed the tiny room’s door and lowered herself to take a seat on the wooden floor. She shook her head. Their escape would not be by way of ship, of that she was certain.

Gisela grimaced sharply, her teeth flashing. She had been sure that there would have been a ship headed to Derranhall willing to take them along. From the way she spoke, it seemed like they would have had their pick of vessels. For whatever reason, the docks were unusually empty, even for the fall, and it left them with very few options.

“We could wait a few more days.” Lyra offered. She still hoped that more survivors would stumble in the right direction and meet up with them there, but Gisela doubted that any who had escaped would be headed their way. They had almost been caught themselves, anyone slower would not have stood a chance. Lana happened to agree. It had been a blessing for them to escape. They likely would not have without Elyas to help them fight off their pursuers.

Lana’s eyes started to moisten thinking about him, and she pushed it out of her mind. Now was not the time for weeping. There were more important things to do. Grieving could come later, when they were all safely in Derranhall.

“Are there any other ports nearby?” Lana asked. She was reasonably sure that she had heard Gisela say something about another nearby, but she was not certain.

Gisela nodded, but she did not look very confident. “Blistimere is only a day’s walk from here, a freeport under house Teloway. It isn’t as trafficked, but…” She trailed off, frowning to herself and shaking her head ruefully. “If there aren’t any here, there won’t be there. Like I said, it’s not nearly as important.”

“Better to be moving than sit here and wait to freeze, come winter.” Lyra chimed in in an equally dark tone. Gisela nodded, but it was half hearted at best.

House Teloway sounded familiar, but Lana could not place it. Probably some friend of Galier’s from Maerin. Maybe they would be sympathetic to Jormand and his brother? Lana did not exactly know the ins and outs of politics, but it had to be worth a try. They could use any help they could get, even if it incurred debt to some other house. Ketrim might not survive without.

“Then we go there.” Lana said with enough finality that both other women looked up at her, somewhat shocked. “We don’t have any other option, and Lyra is right. If we wait here, it will only make our trip harder. If we start now, at least we’ll be making headway. And who knows, maybe they’ll want to help.”

Gisela snorted in lieu of sharing her opinion, but at least she didn’t argue. Lyra was a little more pliable. She didn’t say anything and nodded once. It would have to do.

With that decided, there was nothing left to do but to check Jormand’s dressings—his wounds were already scabbing nicely and none looked so bad now after being washed—and then find a comfortable patch of floor for the three women to sleep on. Allur, being sick, had the third bed for his own. No one wanted to jostle Ketrim, lest they injure him further, and Jormand took up nearly the entire bed himself. It was just like him to take up more space than was necessary, without regard for the others. Lana knew it was unfair to think that way, but she couldn’t help herself as she curled up in a ball on the hard and more than slightly splintered floor and waited for sunrise. It was a long time in coming.

***

Henriot and his crew were all awake and making ready to set out at sailor’s dawn, a good hour or more before the sun rose. For once, Estien had been awake and waiting at the ship before the crew got there, and in good spirits too. That part wasn’t so much of a surprise.

They made good time, all things considered. The rain had let up over night, but it was still overcast and gloomy. Dark enough that it still seemed the dead of night when Henriot boarded his ship. One crewman had stayed with the ship, but he had seen hide nor hair of the dock clerk. Henriot decided it would be best to leave before the clerk arrived in that case. Better to save the fee.

They were ready to depart in short order with minimal complaints from the crew. They all knew that the voyage would be over soon and stopping in port with their pay and a few days to spend it was always welcome, even if that port was a dismal backwater like Derranhall. It was said that more pirates docked there than traders, though no proof could really be found for that. Stolen merchandise looked much the same as well-guarded merchandise. It was good sense to be wary. Henriot and his crew had made the trip before, however, and he wasn’t too worried. Pirates tended to target those tall, strangely rigged old blood ships before their fellow square-rigged vessels and even if the docks were unseasonably empty, the shipping routes were not. They had passed a fair number of other vessels heading in either direction along their way. More going north than south oddly enough.

The sun had just barely begun to lighten the eastern edge of the sky when they finally cast off. Estien stood at the tiller and the crew worked the oars with the vigor of sailors who knew they would not have to for much longer. Henriot stood at the bow, as he often did, trusting Estien and the crew to manage on their own.

The water was calm that morning. Calm, but dark from the night’s storm and Henriot could smell the hint of more storm yet to come, even if the winds were gentle now. The omens he had witnessed upon leaving Maerin came back to him once again, vivid in his mind’s eye. They had narrowly escaped the storm last night, it would be quite the stroke of luck to do so again. Nevertheless, they had to continue on. Henriot had no intention of disappointing his liege lord, not on such an important mission.

Hugging the coastline and drifting eastward, Henriot did not give the order to store the oars. The wind was weak that day and they needed speed. The black storm clouds hardly lightened at all since morning, only a spot of grey showed where the sun moved. If the storm broke before they crossed the bight of Blistimere, they would be in for a harrowing trip.

As if to taunt him, a roll of thunder sounded from behind, to the west. The lightning flash was pale and far off, but the winds blew eastward. The storm followed.

The first drops of rain began to fall as the ship rounded the tiny Chauvre peninsula just to the west of blistimere, the traditional point to start the cross where the distance over open water would be shortest. There Henriot called for a pause. The rowers stowed their oars obediently and Estien, sensing that something was amiss, deftly trotted the length of the ship to Henriot’s side.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” He asked, coming to a stop beside henriot and just a step behind, for formality’s sake. He knew as much of seafaring as Henriot did but like a good first mate, always deferred to his captain’s judgement.

Henriot shook his head, peering ahead at the dark water. Tiny waves had begun to form as the wind picked up. The storm behind them was building speed. He could hear the dim sound of rain on the sea, even above the waves. They might make it yet. The crossing was not a long one and as the wind picked up, they would move faster but… The bones in Maerin’s harbor flashed hot and white in Henriot’s mind. Now was not the time to take risks. He drummed his fingers on the ship’s hull, the captain in him wanting to press on for the sake of his contract, but he would not risk the safety of his crew. He could not.

He turned to look at Estien and shook his head. “No.” He said simply and Estien immediately nodded and trotted back across the deck to the tiller.

“Out oars!” Henriot called and was answered with the clattering of wood against wood. The rhythmic rocking followed soon after, but it was not enough. Looking behind, Henriot could see the storm’s leading edge gaining on them. “Double time, viterus!” He yelled, over the winds that suddenly seemed a good deal stronger. The rowers obeyed, invigorated by the crash of lightning that followed, not far behind them. The storm was moving fast. With luck, they would move faster.

***

It was another gloomy morning that greeted Lana as she exited the nameless inn on the side of the Tauly harbor. The ship bound for Derranhall that she’d failed to book passage on the night before was already gone, as were others from the harbor. Sailors started the day early, she knew. Once she had done so as well. Living like a lady for only a few days had changed that in disturbingly short order.

The others stumbled out onto the street behind her. Jormand was standing on his own two feet remarkably and only looked a little worse than usual, although his usual was not ideal. His bandages were fresh and the bleeding had stopped almost entirely. Ketrim was another story, and a much worse one. He stumbled along, but had to be half carried by Gisela at all times. His eyes were open but he was not awake, not truly. He wouldn’t respond to anyone, not even his brother, and he hardly blinked. Lana did not have high hopes for him, she just wanted to be in Derranhall before he died. It would not be easy to carry a body with them, and Jormand would undoubtedly insist on it.

Allur’s cough had only worsened overnight, keeping all but Ketrim awake for hours, so as the muted sunlight hit her grainy eyes, Lana was acutely aware of her exhaustion. The others didn’t look much better, but they set off eastward towards the gate at a reasonable pace, set by Jormand of all people. His eyes were remarkably clear after the night he’d had and something that looked suspiciously like a smile played at the corners of his mouth. It had to be Lana’s eyes playing tricks on her. Looking behind at Ketrim stumbling along at Gisela’s side, any hint of a smile was certainly beyond Lana.

The harborside of Tauly was both familiar and alien to Lana. It was a strange mixture of things she knew to be fixtures of a harbor and odd sights she had never seen before. It went the other way too, things she had thought to be inseparable were missing here.

There were warehouses and inns and stores, though nearly all were made of wood except for the very tallest. Those too had wooden upper levels as often as not. It was like an artificial forest, all wood buildings and packed dirt roads. It didn’t feel much like a city at all. It reminded Lana more of Torrol Market with its strange buildings and dirt roads.

The walk to the city gates was also a good deal shorter than it would have been in Maerin. For that matter, everything seemed to be smaller. From the roads to the city walls, to the gates themselves. They were only about half the size of those in Maerin. At least they were set into an actual wall. The one in Torrol Market had hardly deserved the title, but this one was made of good stone. Odd stone, to be sure, dark and smooth, but stone nonetheless. The gates were wooden, unsurprisingly, but pale and jarringly so when compared to the stone walls.

The gates were tended by a pair of bored looking guards who kept eyeing the clouds overhead. Both wore helmets, but the sort that Lana associated with sailors, not with normal soldiers. They were meant to be lighter, so she’d heard, and had a brim to shade the eyes as much as to protect the face. These ones bore no plumes or ornamentation aside from plain grey and blue paint. It was chipping slightly on both.

Each guard was leaning on a spear. Shorter than those Lana was familiar with from Maerin, more like those she and the others had used while travelling with the caravan. Thinking of that brought back images and memories that Lana would have just as soon let lie. Of Tomas, the caravan guard, and others. She cringed, remembering the motionless forms on the road…

The guards let them pass without a word, without moving their heads even. They could not have cared less if they were a flock of seabirds, the kind that whirled about above the harbor now that it was morning. Those were familiar to Lana and something that she detested. A bird could be just as much competition for a meal as another person near the docks. They were viscous things, and resolute once they had their eyes on a scrap something tasty. Lana let her dislike of the birds take her mind away. It was better than the alternative, though it left a frown on her lips.

Perhaps an hour after leaving the gates of Tauly, the first droplets of rain began to fall. It began light, almost pleasant as it provided a bit of variety to break up the monotony of rocky seaside landscape. The plants might be different, but they were similar enough to what she knew and though the rocks were duller, they were much the same as those in Maerin. But then the rain began to come down harder.

They passed occasional travelers. Once there was a group of comparable size on foot, all huddled together on the side of the road under a stubby tree. Mostly there were small wagons, the kind that only had enough room for a small load and a single driver. But there were larger ones too, incredibly large ones. One that passed by Lana, splashing her with mud, had wheels that were taller than her! The massive beasts that pulled it were the largest horses she had ever seen, shaggy and thing-limbed. Not one of the wagons stopped when they hailed the driver.

Not one, that was, until, after spending another three miserable hours walking in the ever-increasing downpour, one did. It was of moderate size and driven by an aging man who wore a permanent scowl. But he stopped, proving him better natured than many of the others sharing the roadway.

“Headed to Blistimere?” He asked in a heavily accented voice. Lana could hardly understand him at first. Gisela nodded and the man showed his few remaining teeth in what could have been a grin.

“Climb aboard,” He said, pointing a thumb to the back of his wagon. It had no roof, but a tarp had been strung up by four posts to keep whatever he was hauling dry. It turned out what he was hauling was more people. Three of them to be precise, looking miserable and wet themselves. They barely acknowledged Lana and her group, which was good. She did not want to have to explain Ketrim’s injury to them.

The kind stranger had the wagon moving again shortly and though it jostled them with every minute bump in the road, Lana was glad for the speed and relative comfort. The journey to Blistimere was not a long one, a good day’s walk Gisela had said, but they might make it before the storm got too bad at this rate. Maybe.

The rest of the journey was much as Lana expected. Dismal. Dismal and wet. The wind picked up not long after they climbed aboard the wagon, propelling sheets of rain into the wagon. There were no walls to speak of and the canvas tarp could only do so much good. Soon, every passenger was soaked to the bone. Still, it was better than walking.

The old man never slowed his pace. In fact, as they continued on, he seemed to be increasing it. No doubt he was as anxious to be inside and dry as his passengers.

And so it was that, thoroughly soaked, cold, and decidedly disgruntled, they arrived at the gates of Blistimere.

Blistimere, Lana decided, was a proper city. The walls stood taller than those of Tauly, and behind them she could see towering stone buildings. It did not seem to be a very large city, smaller than Tauly she would wager, but the rain clouded her sight considerably. It had been raining that way for hours now.

It was impossible to locate the sun behind the clouds. Judging by the gradual darkening, it was evening. That or the storm was worsening. Either way, it was time to be indoors. But Lana had work to do yet.

After hopping out of the wagon and thanking the old man profusely, Lana scampered off towards the docks, following the signs she knew well. The faint smell of fish, the increasing number of warehouses and the slow slope downwards towards the water.

The docks were much like those in Tauly, all wood and small. These were even smaller than those in Tauly. And there was something else familiar. Among the few ships docked, one she could not mistake. It was the same ship she had failed to book passage on the night before. She was sure of it. The same slender hull she associated with northern ships and that flag flapping from the mast that depicted a ship much the same as the one it flew on. Interestingly the same flag hung from a small building at the port side of the dock, limp from the rain and plastered against the wood of the building from the wind.

There were a few people still on the docks, even in the heavy rain. Shirtless sailors who ran on quick feet from ships that were probably only just docked. The one Lana was looking at was entirely empty. It had made the journey that took Lana and her group an entire day in only a few hours. If she’d been on board, she would have beaten the worst of the storm. If that captain had been anything short of heartless.

For a moment Lana considered sneaking aboard. If the captain had been telling the truth back in Tauly, he was heading to Derranhall and Gisela said that it was a short trip by boat. He probably only stopped here to wait out the storm.

Creeping down the dock while trying to appear inconspicuous, Lana drew nearer to the ship. It was small by the standards of Maerin at least. There was only room for one level of rowers, in fact it looked like there was only a single deck! Very strange. Many of the ships she had seen, most under old blood contracts, had two or even three decks! Sometimes as many as four! This one seemed tiny by comparison. But while it was not tall, it was quite long. Easily as long as the larger ships Lana had seen. And thin besides. Something about its shape spoke of speed, reminiscent of the strange, large fish that were found from time to time on the shore near Maerin. It had the same sharp curves and sleek appearance in the hull. But for all of its length, there was nowhere to hide. From what Lana could see, there was nowhere to store cargo even. The deck was empty for the most part, except for a grouping of barrels lashed to the base of the mast.

Lana herself might have been able to squeeze herself into a barrel that size, but there was not a chance that her entire party would be able to hide on such a small vessel. With a sigh, Lana turned to go back towards the land. The wind and rain were picking up again and she desperately wanted to be somewhere dry. Preferably with some food and a warm blanket. She would return in the morning to find a ship and a captain that could be convinced to take them to Derranhall.

Most of the sailors had abandoned the docks by now. Except for a pair of them, indistinct in the rain, that were heading straight for her along the dock. She couldn’t make them out very well. One was slightly shorter than the other, but both walked with the swaying gait of sailors. Lana ducked her head and sped up her pace, hoping that they would not notice her pass.

She was not so lucky. Even with the rain to screen her, the pair of strangers stopped just before she could pass, blocking the narrow dock. At first Lana paused, keeping her head down and hoping that they would continue, but when they did not, she looked up hesitantly.

One of the figures was the captain. Just her luck to run into the one person who would recognize her. The other was almost entirely obscured in a rain cloak that kept the face hidden. The captain looked at her with a look of suspicion so intense that for a moment, Lana felt like she was a stowaway.

“...stowed away on my ship, m’lady…” He was growling. His hand was inching worryingly close to a knife on his hip.

“Are you sure?” Came the voice from under the heavy cloak’s hood and once more Lana froze. It was a voice that she recognized, thought she could not quite place it. Then the stranger lifted the hood, setting it further back on her head and casting out the shadow that hid her face.

It was a face that Lana recognized as well. Pale features with an aggressive tilt framed by fiery hair that stood out even in the dampness from the storm. Her thin mouth was set in a slightly distasteful frown and every imperious feature of her face radiated command. Lana was tempted to shy away again for a moment, whether or not the face was familiar.

It was Rianne, the duelist she’d met at her first noble banquet, and a formidable duelist too. She was difficult to mistake, even outside of her armor. She peered at Lana for a moment until a spark of recognition caused her frown to be replaced by a small, surprised smile.

“Peace, captain Henriot,” She said in a calming tone, “She’s a friend. I think it unlikely she would be a stowaway.”

Lana jumped on the opportunity Rianne presented. “I most certainly am not!” She proclaimed in the most haughty tone she could produce. Rianne only knew her in the context of noble Maerinen society. She could not afford to have to explain herself now. Especially if Rianne might help her. The captain was certainly thrown off by it, just a small bonus. “We arrived by carriage.” A strong term to apply to the wagon they had arrived in. “Because this man,” She pointed an accusing finger at the captain who still looked dumbstruck at her no longer sounding like the beggar she looked to be. “Refused us passage.”

Rianne rounded on the captain then with her own accusing glare. “Is this true? Did you refuse to grant her passage?”

“Yes my lady, but… My lord Teloway said I was to take no passengers or additional cargo. Said the message was too important, my lady, that I couldn’t risk it.” He stammered, his hand was now satisfactorily far from his belt knife. Instead he wrung his hands fretfully. Lana almost felt bad about causing this, except that he had been quite rude the night before. “A-and she wanted me to take a whole group! I don’t have that kind of space on my ship…”

“I see.” Rianne said in a tone that implied that she most certainly did not. “Well, now that I have read the message, I have half a mind to accompany you to Derranhall personally.” The captain went wide-eyed and opened his mouth to say something, but Rianne cut him off with a raised hand. “I’ll be taking my own ship, not to worry, and you may deliver your message personally. I will not interfere.” Then she turned to Lana with a friendly smile that bore just the slightest hint of annoyance for the captain who was presently letting out a muffled sigh of relief. “You are more than welcome to accompany me, assuming you still want to go to Derranhall. I will warn you however that it is a dismal and dreary town. Hardly a fitting place for a lady…” She trailed off with a suspicious eye directed at Lana this time.

“My friends have family there. They’re injured…” She knew she sounded desperate. This might be her only chance if her previous luck was anything to go by. Hopefully her desperation would be attributed to her need to get to Derranhall rather than her fear that she would be able to find a way. “So um, yes, if you could take us with you…” Her noble act was slipping, it was obvious, but Galier’s small amount of training was not enough to keep up the charade for long. Luckily it seemed that Rianne either did not notice or did not care.

“Wonderful,” She said in an incongruously chipper tone, “Then I think you ought to introduce me to your friends. I prefer not to travel with strangers, especially in times like these.” She ended with a dark downturn of her lips that shocked Lana into an unfortunate realization. She might have had something of a budding friendship with the woman, but Jormand most certainly did not. Rianne had been more than contemptuous of the man before, as Lana had, but her views had no reason to have softened over the intervening weeks.

“I… yes of course…” Lana said. She had to find some way to soften the blow of realization when Rianne saw who she was travelling with. It would do no good if she refused to take them once she saw who it was she would be transporting.

The walk to the ramshackle inn where they were staying was long, luckily, but still Lana found it difficult to find any way to broach the subject. Instead, she decided to tell Rianne the story of how they came to be in Blistimere, searching desperately for a way to Derranhall. She left out the names that might be touchy for Rianne, but tried to emphasize the more heroic actions of Jormand so that perhaps she would be more amenable once she revealed who it was.

The more Lana talked, the slower they walked as Rianne’s mouth widened more and more in shock and disbelief. By the time they arrived at the inn, her jaw was hanging slack and her eyes were frozen wide. Lana did not give her time to ask questions, she didn’t think she would be able to maintain her noble facade under question, so instead she hurried Rianne to the inn’s small porch under a pitiful, leaking awning.

She was in for another shock when she turned to see the door of the inn where they were staying. She shook her head at the rough wood and poor stone and clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Well this won’t do…” She muttered to herself even as she pushed the door open. Inside she was even less impressed, taking in the splintered wooden furniture with a forcibly blank stare which she maintained as she followed Lana to her room.

Inside was yet another surprise for Rianne. Gisela had already set Ketrim on his bed to rest and Jormand had been bullied onto his as well. He didn’t think he needed to rest, but with as many wounds as he had, no matter how serious they were, he did.

Rianne’s jaw dropped upon seeing Jormand and he responded with a surprised look of his own, but neither spoke. Gisela made an uncharacteristic squeak and dropped the knife she had been sharpening in her haste to make a clumsy bow. Rianne didn’t even notice it though, her eyes were glued on Jormand.

Surprise had transitioned into confusion and then into fury as her brows came together and her face darkened. There was no love lost there, though Lana did not know exactly why. She had feared this might be Rianne’s reaction.

Thinking quickly for once in his life, Jormand stood and offered a jerky bow. That might have been because he was unused to the subservient motion or due to his injuries. Lana had an inkling it might be the first. Regardless, it made Rianne’s angry scowl lessen slightly.

“Lady Teloway, it's an honor.” He managed, sounding like a nobleman even though his ratty clothes spoke to another, perhaps more accurate, temperament.

“Likewise.” Rianne replied flatly as she swung her gaze around the rest of the room. She nodded politely to Gisela and Lyra who both bowed, Gisela for the second time. Allur stared at her like he did at everyone now and didn’t say a word. Rianne didn’t seem to notice, she’d just seen Ketrim, sprawled out on his bed and looking blankly at the ceiling. The wound on his head had stopped bleeding the night before, finally, but it could still be seen as a sickly, if slight, dent visible through his hair. Lana had to muscle her stomach down to keep from being sick every time she looked at it. It seemed Rianne was having a similar reaction.

She quickly looked away, back to Jormand and then to Lana with a less angry expression now. She even looked a little sympathetic. She must have been piecing together the story Lana had told her with the room full of people. She must have realized what had happened.

Turning to go, she beckoned for Lana to follow.

Once outside with the door safely closed, she turned to Lana and in a low voice pitched not to carry to the room’s occupants she said, “You could have told me it was Jormand Derran you were travelling with.” The edge of annoyance in her voice was blunted by sympathy, but it was still there.

Lana looked to the floor, unwilling to meet Rianne’s gaze. It was true. She should have said, but she wasn’t sure Rianne would have come if she had. There was bad blood between the two nobles, it was hard to miss.

“I’m sorry.” She said, still intently staring at the floorboards. “I thought you might not have come if I told you.” Rianne shrugged, looking somewhat uncomfortable. It was enough to show that she very well might not have. “And we desperately need your help. We have to get to Derranhall. You saw the shape they’re in…”

Rianne nodded slowly. It looked as if she were thinking through something intricately complex. More than a simple favor. Whatever was going on, Rianne thought that it was more than just ferrying them across the sea in a short trip. But she didn’t say no.

“I need to go to Derranhall myself. The letter that captain Henriot carries is worrying and regardless of you and your… friends,” She paused and grimaced briefly but it was gone in a flash, “I will be setting out tomorrow morning. I expect you’ll be on board. All of you.”

She started down the hall towards the common room and the door but stopped a few paces down, turning back to Lana. “I would offer for you to stay with me tonight, in the keep but… My family is not exactly friendly with Jormand’s, you understand. Meet me on the docks tomorrow morning, we will be setting out early.” She gave what might have been an attempt at a reassuring smile and then left. Lana was left with a sickly twisting stomach. She had found their passage to Derranhall but it felt like she’d found a host of new problems to accompany it.

Back in the small room, she told everyone the plan. Gisela and Jormand seemed hesitant to rely on the generosity of a house that they told Lana was something of a rival to house Derran. But they did not put up much of a resistance. Jormand said that Ketrim would not be happy but he was not anywhere near conscious enough to make his opinion known and Jormand seemed too exhausted to complain anymore. He rolled over on his bed after that and was silent for the rest of the night. Gisela followed his lead.

Lana felt guilty for forcing them into the situation but she didn’t see any other solution. Ketrim would surely not survive the week or more of walking to Derranhall, especially not as the weather worsened, and it would only be a short boat ride. They had to be overreacting. No matter what petty rivalry there was between the two houses, Rianne wouldn’t do anything drastic. That just wasn’t how nobles operated with each other, was it?

Lana tried to put it all out of her head as she curled up once again on the floor of a less than adequate inn. Sleep came slowly and her mind was still awhirl with the uneasy possibilities that kept coming to her unbidden. She simply did not know what to expect from these people. Nobles were a different breed, scheming and inscrutable. Far from the brainless puffs she had expected and far more dangerous.