Note: I know it doesn’t look like it(for those of you have read this story before), but this really is an update. I combined chapters 2 and 3, and added a bit more between them to make the transition a bit more clear. Comments/thoughts appreciated and returned.

---

Tal was wakened rudely by intense Caliethorian sun penetrating his eyelids. He shook a good-natured fist at the sky and swung his legs over the edge of his hammock. He and the sun had an understanding. They had fought many times over the years, but as each realized his need for the other, their fights had dissipated into playful quarrels. This morning, no matter how many different sleeping positions Tal had tried, the sun had triumphed, again. Tal stretched and rose to his feet.

It was still early in the day, but every member of his crew who had not been on the last watch was already tending to their chores. He was the only one left asleep. He felt a little guilty that his crew had not woken him up sooner, but that was also one reason Tal was so attached to his ship and crew. They, unlike the rest of the condemned pirates, knew sympathy and mercy. Tal captained with enough discipline to prevent absolute chaos, but he was not so harsh that his crew despised him. Captains that had once commended his integrity now sneered at his soft-heartedness. Tal didn’t care. He dared them to try to find a match for the loyalty and strength of his crew.

Despite the beautiful morning, Tal frowned as his thoughts drifted to captains he had once been intimate friends with, but now spoke of him only in mockery.

In the sixteen years that had followed the creation of commodores, most of the Caliethorian sailors had undergone a drastic change. What had once been wounded pride and a need for self-defense had escalated into needless thievery and murder. It had started with an outbreak of violence against the commodores, but had in time turned against innocent ships and sailors who’s only unfortunate crime was being a free sailor in Caliethorian waters. They had become their own worst enemy. They were pirates.

Rather than discouraging sailors, as Jadazel no doubt thought it would, restless sailors from all over the Wholde had discovered that they could come to Caliethor and behave as much like a pirate as they wanted. The waters around Caliethor were full of pirates, both local and foreign, and more came on a regular basis. There were very few left like Tal, who had remained simply because of his love for the sea.

He had tried many times to get out of sailing; to retire on some distant island, far away from Jadazel’s tyranny, or simply sail to another hemisphere—anything to avoid her decree—but one reason or another always kept him in Caliethor. His crew was one of the few who retained honest ways of making a living. They were people who loved the sea so much that they would risk Jadazel’s wrath to be out on it, but who didn’t want the desire for blood and revenge to rule their lives. Tal was one of the few who believed that, someday, someone would overthrow or kill Jadazel and lift the curse that she had put on them. He did not believe that Jadazel herself would do it.

Tal’s face unconsciously contorted into a grimace. Whatever else she might do, that witch would never recall her declaration. She took too much pleasure in watching sailors struggle to survive.

When Emalia had failed to return, Jadazel was named the uncontested Soloriava. New laws had been instated, and Caliethor had become an oppressed, but self-satisfied and oblivious, country crumbling under the weight of corruption.

Tal sighed, and as the majority of his thoughts turned to the present, he discovered that he had already made a complete inspection of deck and crew. He leaned on the nearest railing. Far in the distance, a thin line separated the blue of the sky from that of the ocean.

His only confidence in the situation came from knowing that Jadazel wouldn’t live forever, and he, Tal, was one of the few who knew Caliethor’s secret.

---

Sahana Laiora Lynne No’Len was, at the moment, perched high above the deck, in the crow’s nest. She was not on lookout duty today, but she had volunteered to take over from Samuell, who did not like heights. She didn’t mind the height, and she liked the view and solitude that the suspended platform afforded. Besides, her watch was almost over.

She had been there since before dawn. She had watched the sun banish the stars. She had witnessed the transfer of watch-duty. She had grinned when the morning light had interrupted the sleeping sailors below, and she had laughed when they tiptoed around Tal to avoid waking him up.

The sailors below were undisturbed by the sea breeze that caused Laiora to wrap her cloak tighter around herself.

But, Laiora smiled, they also can’t see what I see.

It was a glorious morning, and Laiora would have stayed there all day if she had been allowed, but the smell of breakfast reminded her exactly how long she had been up there, and how hungry she was. She stayed a few minutes more, but all at once turned and descended the rope ladder.

Laiora was last in line for breakfast, and while the cook gave all the appearances of tending to his duties, he flicked a contemptuous, beady eye at Laiora every now and again. When it was her turn, he glowered up at her, and folded his arms across his chest.

“Fill it, Dirb,” she commanded.

“Mit sen der tik,” Dirb replied, shaking his head emphatically.

Dirb, among other things, did not speak the main language. Everyone assumed that he spoke the language of his home country, but no one knew for sure because Dirb could not and would not tell them. He was pudgy man clearly past the prime of his youth, but it was sometimes hard to remember because he was only three feet tall. Above all else, he was a spiteful creature whose favorite pastime consisted of stabbing the people he didn’t like—which meant everyone—in the back of the knee with his tiny dagger. The ingredients that Dirb put into his food were often questionable, but it more often than not tasted good. Most of the sailors assumed that this is why he was allowed to stay despite his obstinate nature, but in reality, Tal kept him because he enjoyed laughing at his sailors’ reactions to the miscreant. Dirb did not dare bother Tal.

His only major weakness, which constantly had to be used against him because of his tendency to disobey orders, was that he was exceedingly afraid of water. He did not go near the sides of the ship, he did not stray from his kitchen during a storm, and under no circumstances would he ever bathe—a quirk of his that only added to his repellent persona.

Prepared for the inevitable, Laiora had filled her mug not with savii, the potent sailors’ drink that she would have preferred, but with water. With a flick of her wrist, she succeeded in splashing a decent portion of the drink on Dirb, who hissed and recoiled. He muttered a few unintelligible words, and ladled some of the morning gruel onto her plate. She threw the rest of the water overboard and re-filled her mug from the barrel of savii beside Dirb.

Tal, Thurston, and the older men sat around the short barrel, talking, swapping stories, and laughing over their food. Several of them waved their hands in greeting as she passed, and she raised her mug in reply, but did not stop for conversation.

Darnen was waiting for her at their usual spot. He spared her a brief acknowledgement as she sat down beside him, but then returned his attention to his food.

Darnen’s father, Cael, had always been more of a pirate than most, even before Jadazel had taken over command of Caliethor. He would raid heavily laden merchant vessels and treasure ships, and was a notorious smuggler. His actions had eventually condemned him as a fugitive in more than one country, and it became dangerous for him to continue sailing. Instead, Cael took his crew to a small island positioned between several large and productive countries and continued his thievery there. It was a fruitful trade, albeit not a very honest one. Ships that harbored there to re-supply were forced to pay a significant fee before being allowed to leave, but shipwreck victims found themselves at his complete mercy. Cael had no mercy.

Tal’s ship had happened across that island many years ago. Cael would not have dared attack Tal even if they hadn’t been old acquaintances. Instead, Cael swallowed his pride and reputation, sheathed his sword, and asked Tal to look after his boy, who wasn’t doing well on the island. That had been eleven years ago. Now, Darnen was a young man of twenty-one, and Laiora’s closest companion.

Apart from Tal, from whom nothing could escape, she was the only one who knew Darnen’s true side. He did not mind having fun and laughing, but he was overall a very somber and quiet person. Others misinterpreted this as pride, but shyness is all it really was. He didn’t like to fight, and would have never picked up another weapon in his life if his profession didn’t demand it.

A sudden, loud burst of laughter from the center of the deck caused Darnen and Laiora to turn to face the commotion. Alerue and Baerue had woken up.

Alerue and Baerue were twin brothers of twenty-one years old who, with their olive skin and bright green eyes, would have been indistinguishable from one another were it not for their hair. While both had thick black hair, Alerue, the older, liked to keep his reasonably short, whereas Baerue was exceptionally proud of his ponytail.

Among other things, the brothers had a flair for amusing others. Every sailor was allowed a single trunk in which to store their personal belongings, and it was common knowledge that Alerue’s and Baerue’s were full of nothing but outlandish clothes collected from all the places they had visited, and their daggers, the throwing of which they had perfected to an art. Turbans of brilliant colors were a favorite accessory for their everyday wardrobe.

In response to the few notes of music coaxed from sailors’ instruments, the brothers set aside their breakfast and leapt up to dance. It was uncoordinated, it was rough, and it was enough to make the rest of the sailors choke on their plates of food, which they were holding in their hands, out of the way of the brothers’ flailing feet.

The few notes became a harmonized song, and their steps altered accordingly. Alerue flashed a wink at Laiora when he saw her watching, but the moment of inattention was costly, and he succeeded in tripping Baerue, and as a result, himself as well.

“Venda,” Baerue swore good-naturedly. “We had it going good.”

“I’m sorry, Soen,” Alerue said, picking himself up off the floor. “But Laiora was watching.”

The brothers gathered their food, bowed to their applauding audience, and sat themselves beside Darnen and Laiora to eat the rest of their breakfast in peace, away from the temptation of music.

---

“Is it a commodore?” Thurston asked.

The sun had been high overhead when Jensen had reported a ship in the distance. It had caused no little disturbance, but Tal had ordered everyone back to their duties. If they were to make Jeheron a Frieben by night, they had work to do.

Tal studied the ship for a second before shaking his head.

“If it was a commodore, it would be heading in our direction. As it is, it looks like it’s trying to avoid us. She’s probably got a pretty cargo.”

“Shall I have the men skirt around her? No need to frighten the poor thing.”

Tal shook his head again. “I’d like to talk to the Captain. Have Samuel swing about. We’ll intercept her.” Tal held out a hand to stop Thurston as he began to leave. “And raise the flag.”

Even before Jadazel’s decree, Tal had always been recognized as a sensible man who could get along with just about anyone. He had known most of the sailors, both permanent Caliethorian sailors and drifting merchants. In the months immediately following their demotion, Tal had had fewer opportunities to talk easily with free sailors. They were scared, and avoided any pirate. This did not sit well with Tal. Against his normal character, he had forced himself on them, and made any who would listen realize that he would not harm them. Word had passed between the innocent sailors, and anymore his flag was usually good enough to make a ship more willing to stop and talk with him.

The corners of Thurston’s mouth twitched in opposite directions, but he nodded and strode away.

Tal stood at the bow, eyes closed against the strengthening sun, arms folded behind his back, letting the substantial current of air wash over him, frowning as his mind drifted back to a day that he had tried to push from his head.

He shook his head, willing himself to shake the memory, but her whisper sounded out through the air, drowning the sound of the waves crashing against the ship, of the men shouting to each other. He doubled over the railing, gripping it tightly, willing the memory to go away, hoping it never would.

---

“We bear you no ill will, Captain Tal!” the other Captain shouted as Tal’s ship drew nearer. “Only let us pass without harm!”

“If you know who I am, you must know that I wouldn’t hurt you,” Tal replied, stung.

“One cannot be too safe anymore.”

The distance between the two ships was decreasing, and the captains were able to lower their voice to a little over the regular level for speaking. Soon, they were close enough that Tal was able to swing over to the other ship to continue the conversation away from prying ears.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but I haven’t harbored in a decent port for a long while, and I’m wondering if you have any news.”

“Aye, but none of it good, I’m afraid.”

“I might’ve guessed as much. What’s her majesty up to now?”

“I’m a trading man. My route takes me from Eselah to Lanador to Aksavan. I’m on my way from Aksavan now, and I’m lucky to have made it out of those Caliethorian waters alive. There was a commodore on every horizon.”

“Has she added more, then?”

“Aye, but I think it’s only temporary. A strengthened defense. There’s been a new onslaught of violence against Caliethor, as I understand it.”

“By who?”

“Crutays, of course. It’ll die down soon enough, but until then, you should change your scenery. It isn’t safe in this area for a while.”

“They wouldn’t be this far west?”

The other Captain shrugged. “She’s doubled patrols everywhere. I wouldn’t put it past her to extend her reach even beyond her own waters.”

Tal frowned.

“Treat your crew to some fresh northern air for a bit,” the Captain said.

“That’s where you’re going?”

“Aye. Eselah’s my next port. But first I have to make a side trip.”

“To where?”

“I picked up a passenger in the south. I’m taking him to the Jin’Reed islands.”

“Let me take him. My crew will want a reason for me expecting them to freeze their hands off in the north, and more commodores just isn’t good enough.”

The Captain bit his lip.

“You know that I would never harm a passenger,” Tal reminded him gently.

The Captain nodded, reassured. “There’s no pay involved.”

“Don’t want pay, just an adventure.”

“I’ll talk to him, and see if he agrees. I’ll explain that you’re a decent enough man, and there shouldn’t be any reason that he’d disagree. I know it would save me a week’s worth of rations and supplies,” he added in an undertone. “Wait here, I won’t be a minute.”

When he reemerged, he was followed by a tall man with aging dark brown hair and friendly blue eyes. In one hand, he was holding a quarterstaff, and the other was gripping a leather knapsack.

“This is Glen,” the Captain announced. “And he has no problem with letting you take him.”

Tal inclined his head, and Glen imitated the movement. “I thank you for the use of your ship. Myron has been very kind to me, but I don’t want to be a burden to him.”

“You were no burden, Glen,” Myron protested.

“My hearing is not as inadequate as you would like to believe, old friend.”

Myron blushed, and clasped Glen’s proffered hand.

“I wish you luck in your trading ventures,” Glen said. Myron nodded but said nothing, still embarrassed. Tal was holding the rope in his hand. After throwing his staff and sack over to Tal’s ship, Glen accepted the rope and swung himself over with ease.

“With any luck, Jadazel will be dead and her commodores removed in time for your next trip,” he called back.

Myron smiled wistfully and waved goodbye to Glen as Tal got back to his own ship. Both captains said goodbye and returned to their crew.

With any luck…

Both Tal and Myron knew that it would take a great deal of luck and time to displace something such as Jadazel.

Little change in direction needed to be made. They were not too far south as it was, so it was only a matter of giving Caliethor a wide berth. They would have to make one more stop after Jeheron a Frieben for provisioning, but they did not have to worry about it yet, and after that would be clear sailing to Jin'Reed in the north.

---

Glen’s easy temper and wit had immediately made him at ease with Tal’s crew. When off duty, the sailors would sit in a large group around Glen, and he would tell them stories or jokes. The only person who did not instantly feel comfortable with Glen was, predictably, Dirb.

During one story session, the sailors snickered at the sudden appearance of Dirb behind Glen. He staggered sideways toward them, giving the impression of a crab, and his beady eyes were fixed on the tall stranger. With one hand, he held aloft his favorite cooking knife, and with the other, he clutched his filthy apron.

“Und dore sil vek,” he muttered quietly. The sailors heard him, but Glen did not.

Laiora grinned, and, catching Glen’s eye, motioned to the direction from which Dirb was stalking. Glen turned, but too late. Dirb had already reached them and was circling Glen, threatening to stab his knee.

“Und dore sil vek,” he repeated.

“Vek sun ton div,” Glen replied kindly.

Dirb staggered back, blinking madly with surprise. All at once, he dropped his knife and ran forward, seizing Glen’s leg in an embrace.

“You actually understand him?” Samuell asked doubtfully.

“I speak many languages.” Glen smiled. “It may not seem like it most of the time, but the meaningless mutterings are in fact a real language. Dirb comes from an island on the other side of the Wholde. On his island of Knuhh, they only speak in single syllables.”

“Are they all like Dirb?”

“They all look relatively similar, yes, but in personalities, they’re as different as anyone else.”

Glen looked down again. “In fact, I think Dirb is one of a kind,” he said in an amused tone. “I have yet to meet another Knuhhian so immensely terrified of water and the miraculous cleansing powers it offers.”

Laiora followed his gaze and looked at Dirb, who was nuzzling Glen’s pant leg fondly with his cheek. Glen’s pants, meanwhile, were becoming increasingly filthier.

“Dirb.”

Laiora’s firm tone caused Dirb to look up. “Go cook.” She pointed towards the kitchen. He snarled at her, and then looked lovingly up at Glen.

“Sol vet ser in tel yon.”

Glen looked apologetically at Laiora. “He said to throw yourself overboard.”

As the message was relayed, Dirb gave Laiora a nasty look.

“Tell Dirb,” she said, grinning at him, “That if he doesn’t let go of your leg and start dinner, I’ll throw him in the water barrel with some soap.”

“Tel vet dis con lu mil ot sid.”

Dirb’s expression became horrified, and he quickly toddled off to the kitchen.

The news that Glen could communicate with Dirb spread quickly. After he had finished cooking the afternoon meal, Dirb could be seen following Glen everywhere he went, pulling his knife and baring his teeth at anyone who so much as bumped into Glen. Throughout the course of the evening, various sailors constantly approached the pair to ask questions of Dirb. The most common of which was: “What have you been feeding us?” at which Dirb would grin wickedly and refuse to answer.

Now, with the help of his newfound voice, Dirb was finally able to communicate the opinions he had wanted to say for so long, and no one was left out.

“He says you laugh too much,” Glen informed a passing Alerue after a confused and embarrassed Eyan had wandered off. “And your voice and smile irritate him.”

Dirb, who was having the most fun he’d had in a long time, peeped out from behind Glen, cackling maliciously. Alerue began to grin, and Dirb’s expression quickly changed.

Without warning, Alerue scooped him up and began spinning him in circles.

“Sak! Sak!” he squealed.

“No sak for you,” Alerue laughed. “Not until I show you just how much I can laugh.”

“Tos fil mu sor,” Dirb gasped.

“He says if you put him down, he’ll give you extra dinner.”

Alerue stopped spinning. “Not bad,” he muttered. “I’m listening. What’re we having?”

“Rat-tail stew,” Glen obtained.

Alerue quickly dropped Dirb onto the deck as though he were covered in the offensive stew, and hastily wiped his hands on his carpenter’s apron.

“Keep your dinner.” Alerue walked away. “But if I find you insulting one more person, I’ll spin you till you’re sick.”

Dirb scrambled up and hobbled to the kitchen.

“He’s going to miss you when you’re gone,” Laiora said to Glen.

“He’s not coming with me, if that’s what you mean.”

“I wouldn’t wish him on anyone,” Laiora sighed.

“I could teach you some of the Knuhhian language. There’s not enough time to teach you the whole thing, mind you, but just a few words you could use to keep him in line.”

Laiora smiled. “That’s all I need.”