From behind the bar came a tinkling noise. Innkeeper Brunwin Breakwater heaved and sighed as he teetered up the cellar stairs, carrying a wooden crate laden with bottles of mead and ale. The old man of Rashari descent felt his age in his bones. From his scaly, green hued skin dripped little beads of sweat. The scene called to mind a toad, lumbering up to shore from a soggy swamp. He brushed a webbed a hand across his perspired forehead.

That morning the Dawnstar, a Virenyan freighter had moored at the docks, hosting two hundred hands and a hull full of wares. For Brunwin, two hundred hands meant two hundred mouths, thirsting for ale and hungry for his famous cod stew. The glass bottles clinked in their crate as the portly innkeeper let it plump down onto the slate stone floor behind the bar. That was the last of ’em, Brunwin thought. Getting up, he straightened his back and wiped his scaly scalp. A firm tug pulled his apron tight over his bulging belly like a saddle cloth over a swine.

The Red Herring would open for business soon and with just him and his daughter Briana to run the little old tavern, all days seemed too short. Aran’Kara was a port town and the only settlement on the island of Vian’Fala. It was a marshy island, but as it was the only strip of land between the sandy shores of Kurandar to the north and the treacherous floes of Arca to the south, it was every seaman’s respite.

Cleaning and stocking up had taken the better part of the day, but Brunwin now allowed himself a satisfactory swig from his rum collection. Sipping contentedly, he glanced around the cosy tavern room.

From a smoky, patched ceiling hung two great chandeliers, a warm copper underneath years of caked candle wax, casting a yellow glow across the homely inn. In the back where the hearth fire crackled merrily, Briana stood sweeping the dirt walked in by yesterday’s boots. The plump, bright-eyed girl had rubbed each of the dozen wooden tables to a shine. Furry wolf pelts lay draped over every chair. The Red Herring’s never been in better trim, Brunwin observed, but when the door creaked open to let in the first patrons of the day, the innkeeper’s smile melted from his lips. That’ll be the Dawnstar’s crew.

A score of burly Rashari seamen came barging in with raised voices and muddy boots as if Aran’Kara’s dirty streets simply continued behind the door they came through. The chandeliers swayed lightly as the band paraded for the nearest tables, from where the barrel-chested captain with a gaudy, weatherworn tricorne immediately raised a webbed hand at Briana and bellowed for ale. Some of his men dug up flutes and horns from pockets and bags and soon the smoky tavern was ringing with song and laughter.

The mugs were downed faster than the old innkeeper could fill them that night. Brunwin balanced three mugs of ale in one hand as he turned the tap of the last barrel with the other.

“Another ‘une, barkeep, I’m parched!” a cheeky patron at the bar grinned, thwacking the empty tankard down with a loud thud. The tough leathery skin of his arms was covered with jewellery of exotic materials in a myriad colours. His garments, though not as fanciful as they used to be after years at sea, showed no sign of wear and must have been made of marluon, Brunwin suspected. The fire resistant fabric was a pricey textile indeed.

“Comin’ right up, sir,” the innkeeper returned, eyeing the numerous money pouches hanging from colourful cords around the sailor’s neck. He did not have as great a wealth as adorned the neck of the strapping captain at the table, but the sailor had earned enough under his command to be welcome to all the ale in the Red Herring he might require.

“Another one o’ the Herring’s finest, there ya go, sir.”

The sailor tossed up a turquoise chip by flicking his thumb from underneath his forefinger. Brunwin expertly snatched the scuta in mid-air and let it slide into his apron’s increasingly heavy pocket. His patron had grown more generous and less discrete as the evening wore on.

“There’s no riches t’be made with honest trading nowadays, keep,” the man burbled. “Days of fair shippin’ are over. Got to unfurl the sails fer any man te make ends meet now, and they’s certainly not all respectable. ‘t Is madness, I tell ya.” The Rashari threw his hands to the air, spilling the contents of his tankard in a foaming spray. “There’s yer ship’s name smudged with the stains of dirty business, but ’tis that or no business at all.” Brunwin’s brow furrowed.

“Yer ship? I was under the impression, I was, that ye sail for captain Roughsea o’er there.” The sailor shot a glance toward the table near the door. The captain sat bawling along with some of his men’s torch songs, several octaves off.

“Him? A petty merchant. Talks big, trades small. No, I wouldn’t sign on the Dawnstar if he paid me fer it.” Laughing, he added, "I should pay him fer ‘is troubles takin’ me here.

Y’see, keep," the tipsy patron continued, “he saved me life of sorts. Took me aboard when he found me. Offered me a good job fer the way back.” The Rashari brushed a meaningful hand past the tinkling pouches around his neck. Then he sat back and took a deep draft from his seventh tankard.

“Ye mean te say ye got all them riches on yer previous fare?” Brunwin asked. The patron laughed heartily. “Not even a fourth of it is me wage I earned since the Dawnstar left the King’s Gorge. No, sonny, this was brought straight back from the land of the dead.”

Now Brunwin sat the glass he was drying off onto the counter and stared at the sailor as if estimating his credibility. “Land o’ the dead, ye say?” The Rashari evidently loved the innkeeper’s puzzlement and he leaned over, gesturing Brunwin to come closer.

“Aye, the land o’ the dead. Y’see, me ship, the Whitecap, sank when the fury o’ the giants o’ the Gorge struck it. Snapped it clean in half, they did. Left none alive. Including me person, cap’tan Fareye. Fill me up, would ya?” The empty tankard crashed down onto the wood, but the sound was drowned by the boisterous band of sailors in the back. Brunwin refilled it with the dregs of the last barrel, but the Rashari downed the mug in one swig nonetheless. He smacked his lips loudly before he continued. “Aye, I died, that I did. Headin’ back from business in Taran-Ceroth, poor business at that. Thought it safe enough te pass through the Gorge, with so little value aboard. Hic. But didn’t stop ‘em from tippin’ me ship like a washtub, it didn’t. Last I recall’s earsplittin’ noise of wood shatterin’ and water ragin’ as it pulled me right down into the locker.” Captain Fareye paused a moment as if swallowing the memory along with his ale. Then he waved it away and bore on: “Woke up te find meself bare as a babe, stripped of every of me last possessions. But around me were riches the likes I’d never seen. It was like a poor man’s heaven, it was. Riches ‘n treasure as far as the eye could see. I got te me feet an’ grabbed as much as I could hold. Iwwas rich! ’t Wassall mine! Hic. I reckon I was there, amid the gold ’n riches, for an age. But you see, Backwater-”

“Breakwater.”

“Exactly. You see, ye got no joy in them riches if ye got nuthin te spend ’em on.” The captain let out a loud belch. “So I was beside meself when I woke up aboard the Dawnstar, with captain Roughsea an’ his crew, to find meself clothed an’ me neck still draped in otherworldly wealth an’ riches.”

“And the rest o’ the crew?”

“Nuthin’ you can complain about, is it?” The man pointed at Brunwin’s heavy pocket and burst into a loud laughter. “Got meself enough to buy me a new ship in Vira’Erana an’ a fine crew to boot. The Afterlife’s what I’mma call her!” The sailor laughed but Brunwin puffed his cheeks derisively. With his scaly skin tinged green, the act emphasised his overall amphibian appearance.

“But te save ye from the land o’ the dead, doesn’t Roughsea and his men have te be dead, too?” The Rashari fell silent. He absently rubbed his scaly scalp. “Well, I s’pose…” he murmured.

“They damn well aren’t,” Brunwin croaked, frowning at the captain pulling Briana’s skirt, making her spill the ale on the tray. “That means ye weren’t dead, either.”

“But the treasure-” the seaman simpered. “It can’t ‘ve been anywhere out here… I’d know, right. I’d see the ship an’ all.”

“So ye recall seein’ the ship, then?”

“Nay, I was in-”

“Recall gettin’ aboard the Dawnstar?”

“Nay, just the time I woke in a bunk below deck…” captain Fareye prattled. Brunwin sighed and peered at his patron through squinting eyes. “So what d’ya recall before then? One minute ye was in pirate paradise, an’ the next in the forecastle’s bunk? Ye spinnin’ yarn here, son.” The contempt in his voice went unnoticed by Fareye, who seemed to have great difficulty digging up the memory from his inebriated mind.

“There was them riches, just me an’ the booty. Dim lit, it was, that place. No daylight an’ no starlight. Just some, from nowhere. Time passed, must’ve been weeks, or days… or hours,” he added as an afterthought. “I was standin’ o’er this chest, dressin’ meself in the ringlets, necklaces, bracelets, spun gold an’ silver chains till me back bend over… when I heard a noise frum o’er at the other end. I looked but saw nuthin’. So I just got back te emptyin’ the chest, when sumthin’ hit me head. It put me lights out right away.” The innkeeper sneered and rolled his eyes.

“And ye woke in a bunk aboard the Dawnstar. Why should I believe any such heaven exists, hm? Sounds a little too cooked up te me, te have been knocked out cold so ye wouldn’t find it back again. Sailing under captain Roughsea’s got ye a more than two chips te rub together, but ye’re only steerin’ yer own ship in yer drunken dreams, son. The hop juice’s gotten ye rattlin’ rubbish.” The innkeeper placed a mug onto the shelf and eased the towel over his shoulder. Across the room, three sailors staggered out the door, supporting a loudly yowling captain Roughsea as he teetered left and right. “Dazz’all, men!” he slurred. “Ale’s gone, we’s clearin’ out! Hic!” Briana only just managed to catch a chair he simply waltzed over.

“There ye have it, captain,” Brunwin sneered, nodding after the bawdy crew. “Off ye go. We’re closin’ up.”