Two dozen bodies crammed the railing of Flying Sunset as they drifted towards the harbour of Old Numa. They’d made it across Trader’s Bay without incident. Some of the passengers, including a pair of tanners who’s shop in Maykren had been lost to fire, were departing here. Aralim knew a little bit about just about everyone board—if he saw an unfamiliar face, he made it his goal to speak with them a little.
Dullah seemed impatient, but stuck to Aralim’s side unless he was speaking to the guards about their attempts to torture the assassin. Gathim hadn’t offered any information since his brief break in confidence during their Bay crossing. Dullah hadn’t spoken of anything new either.
Devran, on the other hand, was full of excitement. He was writing a new song, it seemed, a ballad in truth. It wasn’t the full story of their adventure, which he assured Aralim would be recorded in a proper chronicle. Rather, his ballad covered a fictional story. He had told Aralim and Dullah over the mess a few days earlier that the mix of personas aboard the passenger ship had inspired him. His new tale began as just that—a group of passengers aboard a vessel, sharing stories of their wayward objectives.
In Old Numa, the captain of the Sunset restocked supplies. He shook his head in exasperation as Aralim and his guards moved Gathim to the side to allow the crewmen to bring as many supplies as possible into the cargo hold. They also picked up a few new passengers.
Aralim spoke with one as he helped the man move a heavy pack down the ladder between decks.
“I’m an apothecary,” the man said, in reply to Aralim’s question. “And those are my tools.”
“I see,” Aralim said. “Didn’t know apothecaries travelled much.”
The man dropped the last few rungs of the ladder and landed spryly on his sandaled feet. “I’m conducting field research,” he articulated. “I’ll be travelling into some remote regions of the Elder Coast in search of a few rare herbs I’ve read about.”
Aralim smiled. “That’s marvelous,” he said, with a smile, and helped the apothecary to his quarters, only a few paces down from his own room.
Before long, Flying Sunset drifted out to sea again. This time, they’d be pressing against the coast the whole way to Hawsi, a city that the captain assured Aralim was a truly miserable place. On Aralim’s voyage to Numa’nakres, the coupled barge had travelled directly across the ocean, without any need to stop in harbours for restocking. He’d passed half a dozen ports, apparently, but was now bound to encounter a few of them.
Hawsi was where Gathim expected to uphold his bargain and leave their group, but that was hardly Aralim’s plans. And besides, Gathim wouldn’t last that long anyway.