Trader’s Bay never really ended, it narrowed and widened into a long murky channel dotted by The Sweating Isles. As they sailed them, Vaenuth learned why. She could not remember her journey here on her way into Numa’nakres, some five years ago—she could only recall the darkness of the water and the captain she had been hammering for passage. Now she paid for passage, and in irony, remembered that other captain’s words to her about this dark channel of water. “The shadows before the dawn,” he had told her. That whole time in her life had been just that. She had fought for the light and earned her place in it.
Tagg insisted they continue their training, despite the humidity to the air. After her days accustomed to mountain and desert climes, Vaenuth found her skin wrinkled with the amount of moisture in the air.
Sometimes he trained the others too, but he was clear that his goal was to keep Vaenuth alive, nothing else.
The Flying Mutt, despite its name, was the most professional ship Vaenuth had ever boarded. Even when she danced the blades with Tagg, or lounged on the deck in heatstroke with her torso bare, she did not receive one leering word or ogling eye from any member of the crew. They joined the crew in the mess each evening for dinner, and the jokes were sailor’s jokes, but seemed more tame and more respectable than Vaenuth remembered.
Each day, Vaenuth looked south, across the water at the dark clouds and bumpy horizon of The Sweating Isles. She had claimed her place in the light, a business owner, an independent woman—but she would delve into the shadows once more. This time, to punish whatever lived there.
“You good?” Tagg asked, starting Vaenuth.
Vaenuth had been training with him, she realized. She looked out at the burdened horizon one last time, and then back at her friend. “I hope Banno is alright without us,” she said.
“Oh, the big man, he’ll be fine,” Tagg said. He continued bouncing on his feet, with his sword ready. “He’s worked the trades since before you and I. Back when I was just a mercenary.”
“You are still just a mercenary,” Vaenuth said, glancing at her sword with a smirk.
Tagg blinked, and his sword lowered just a fraction. “I’m your friend, though, Vae. I’m not leaving your side.”
Vaenuth nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I have a lot to think about. Now, let’s get back to it.”
Her friend nodded, and stepped forward. Vae started with a slash, which he countered and riposted. She stepped to the side, knowing her smaller size, and jabbed his hip as his slash cut the air above her head. Their sparring swords clashed as the fight continued. The crew of The Flying Mutt watched or ignored them, and the duellers paid them no mind.