The midday sun beat down viciously on the deck of the ship. Isla felt as sweat crawled down her spine as she stood at the helm, guiding the ship into the harbor. The deck was a flurry of motion as men scuttled up the rigging and reeled in the sails.

The heat was insistant and all the men had removed their shirts as the sun had reached its peak in the sky. With no wind to break the sun's glare, the urge to find shade grew with each moment.

With the ship docked, Isla left her station at the wheel and descended to the main deck, crossing to the gangway. Below, the port of Oxley was bustling with a fervor that contradicted the scalding weather. Deeply tanned men moved about with little concern for the rays that pounded them. Women swayed by like breezes, baskets balanced on their hips, hair falling loosely over their shoulders.

The crew finished their tasks and faced Isla, their brows damp, and chests beaded with sweat. Hawk took a place at her side, the only one to have refrained from removing his shirt.

"We won't remain here long," she said. "I need to meet with a man and I hope to be back at sea by tonight."

She gazed around at the crew, seeing how this was taken. They absorbed this with little reaction. They were aware of the chain bond around them.

"We will need to earn a little coin while we're here. It will be the usual trios." She pointed to three men. "Bin, Dox and Loch, you won't be fighters. Your wounds are still healing."

Sparrow stepped forward, his stance not as sure as it was had been but growing stronger each day.

"I can be a fighter," he announced.

"No," the entire crew said.

The echo of refusal made him shrink back.

"For now," Isla said, softening her tone. "You still need to heal. Once you are back to normal then we can discuss you take a position as Fighter."

This bolstered the boy and he nodded, straightening, eager to put his wound behind him.

"As for the first watch, Brockton, Orin and Trager will stay on the ship."

The announcement received nods of acceptance. For a breath, Isla surveyed the men. Though outwardly they showed no sign of emotion, she could tell they were weary. It was a feeling that was heavy in her chest.

"I'm sorry our stay won't be longer," she said. She was sorry for more than that. Sorry for all that they had to bear because of her. Because of this debt.

Brockton moved forward, drawing her eye.

"We understand," he said. The depth of his response was an answer to the apology she had not spoken allowed. He dipped his head, reassuring her that they were all still with her. A knot formed in her chest, undeserving of these men that stood beside her.

"Very well," she said, keeping her voice controlled. "You know what to do."

When she shifted away from them, they dispersed to retrieve shirts and necessary items for their short leave. Isla found Raif among the crowd, leaning against the mainmast, arms and ankles crossed. The bronze tone of his skin had deepened over the previous days.

"As for you," she said. "You will-

"-remain on the ship, causing no trouble and not attempting to escape."

"-come with me," she finished.

At this, Raif raised his eyebrows in surprise. Over the course of the journey to Oxley, the pair had found a strange semblance of peace, the nights finding both of them on deck, taking in the quiet. Though they rarely talked in those times, when they did the last vestiges of unease were put away.

"I will not have your presence on the ship threatening the safety of the crew," she said. "You will come with Hawk and me to access this Appraiser."

Raif lifted himself off the mast. "You will not have any argument from me."

When he slipped away to dress, Hawk eyed Isla.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I can not risk an attack like before. If others are looking for him then word of his departing the ship will be noted and spread. I would rather face attackers myself than leaving them to harm the ship again."

"A wise decision if not a reckless one."

"The men, the ship, that is what matters."

Hawk placed a hand on her shoulder, gripping it. "As does your life matter."

Isla had no response. Though time had been bought for them, they were still entrenched in a task that felt impossible. Added with it were the results of her kidnapping Raif, men set out to snatch him back without any regard for what was destroyed along the way.

Raif reappeared. Isla couldn't help noticing how he looked like the crew, scruff along his jaw, windblown hair, and a shirt that hung open at the neck. She wondered how he could ever appear at court when he seemed more at home among a lot of roughened men.

Without a word, she turned away and headed down the gangway, the wood thumping under her feet. As they cut through the chaos of the docks, Isla rolled her sleeves up more, wishing for a stir in the air. As she looked up, she glanced at Raif and found him eyeing her slender forearms and the scar that lay across her wrist.

When he met her gaze there was a storm of questions in them but she remained silent. It was not the time or place for a story. Even with their uncertain peace, she didn't know if it was one she would share. Seeing this, Raif turned his attention back on the port and the city beyond.

Oxley was a contradiction. Made up of brick buildings and cobblestone streets it bore the look of history and scholarly men, but behind doors was born the greatest art in the kingdom. From open windows poured the voices of angels, their twirly notes entwined with the music of violins, pianos, lutes, flutes, and harps across the way.

The smell of paint bloomed out of doorways, swirls of color splashing across canvases. The scent of a forest came from warehouses packed with men shaving away at beams of wood, bringing out faces in the timber. The city breathed life in a way that no other did, with its soul on display.

The trio found themselves in the East quarter, inquiries at the docks for the Appraiser leading them there. Before them was a city center teeming with activity. In the heart of the square was a fountain crafted from marble, depicting a scene of maids all gathering jugs of water, their smiles and laughter forever frozen. Children kicked around in the water, sending storms of droplets in the air. Ringing the fountain were cafes, shops, and galleries.

It was to one shop in particular that Isla led them. The building was wider than most speaking of the brisk business the owner dealt. As she moved towards it, something coiled in her stomach. The windows were dark and the door was closed. Inked on the glass of the door in curling letters was Pascal, the Appraiser. Below hung a sign: Will return in two days.

Isla curled her fingers, trapping her frustration and desperation inside. Before she could formulate their next plan of action, Raif broke away. As she went to follow him, he stopped at the one shop over near a woman who was rearranging flowers on a stand.

"Pardon me," Raif said, the inflection in his voice soft and hesitant.

The woman lifted her head, meeting Raif's eyes. He smiled warmly and the effect was immediate. Despite his less than tidy appearance, the woman warmed to his attention, a smile quickly returning to the sender.

"Yes?" she asked in accented Lorian.

"Do you by any means know when the Appraiser will be back in his shop? The sign said two days, but I wonder when that was left." 

The woman faced him, forgetting about the flowers she had been arranging.

"He left two days ago, in the afternoon. I am not certain about the time he will be back in his shop."

"Thank you."

Raif eyed the assortment of vibrant flowers and reached out, picking a single rose. Isla watched him, trying to understand what his intention with the flower was. He paid the woman, and for a moment he looked as if he would turn to Isla.

Instead, he held out the flower to the woman. She blinked in surprise.

"For me?" she asked in disbelief.

Isla glanced at Hawk, but the man had nothing to offer as to Raif's reasoning behind the gift.

"Yes," Raif said. "You are surrounded by flowers that are bought. But I've often wondered how many flower ladies are ever bought a flower."

Blushing, the woman accepted the gift, sniffing the bloom as if she had never smelled the sweetness of it before. Raif spun around, but before he took a step he twisted back to the woman.

"One final inquiry," he said. "Would you happen to know where Pascal resides?"

As the woman gazed at Raif, Isla could see that if he had asked for her darkest secrets she would have divulged them all.

"He lodges above the shop," she said.

Raif gave her another quick smile. "Thank you." He bowed his head to her. "Have a pleasant day, lady."

She bobbed once in reply. As Raif joined Isla and Hawk, Isla couldn't help admiring the seamless way he had extracted what information they needed. He slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Was there anything else you needed to know?" he asked. The question wasn't smug like he was proving she had needed his help, instead it was genuine, curious if there was something he had missed. Isla shook her head.

"No. I need to think."

With one final glance at the shop and the windows that sat above it, she headed away. Across the square was a cafe and they trio slipped into the shade of the building, breathing in the relief it offered from the heat of the sun.

They found a table and ordered an iced drink that was a blend of sweet and minty. Not touching her glass, Isla stared at the Appriser's shop, the darkened windows peering back at her. Neither men spoke, giving her the space to turn over what thoughts she needed to.

"This could work in our favor," Isla said, breaking the silence.

Hawk regarded her with interest. "In what way?"

"Whether Pascal has returned to his lodging by tonight or not, we break in and either find out what we need to know from him or the ledgers in his shop." She leaned back in her seat. "When we leave, we will assess what the back of the building offers in the form of entry. Even if it is nothing, there is a window at the side that we can use." Finally, she met Hawk's eyes. "We have to move tonight."

They both knew their time was limited and even if it proved a risk to move without knowing more information, they had to do it. After a beat, Hawk nodded in agreement. They had been in worse situations. Isla couldn't imagine what struggle they might fine even if Pascal was home, conjuring up the image of a wizened old man.

"We won't make a move until late tonight. Till then we'll head back to the ship and pick up Brockton to be our Talker. I can-"

"No." Hawk's refusal startled Isla. She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. "You have taken enough hits and your side still needs to fully heal, you will not be the Fighter."

Though Isla was aware that he was doing this out of concern for her, she still felt a flame of indignation rise in her chest. Before she could speak another voice filled the space.

"I'll be your Fighter," Raif said.

The statement stole what protests Isla was going to say. She stared at Raif as if only remembering then that he was sitting there. He was lounging back in his chair, one ankle balanced on his knee. He held Isla's gaze, not wavering.

"We are referring to the con your father created, correct?" he asked. "Three man job, Fighter, Talker, Moneyman?"

"How are you aware of it?"

Raif grinned and Isla saw the foolishness in her question, Sparrow was his shadow, of course, he knew the con.

"Sparrow has talked about being a Fighter many times. If Isla will not be your Fighter then I will."

"Why would you offer to fight?"

Raif tilted his chair back on two legs, placing his laced fingers on the back of his head.

"I've been trapped on a ship for far too long and am in need of entertainment."

The answer aligned with one a sailor would say, making Isla pause.

"You understand to be a Fighter you'll need to win?" she asked.

Raid cocked his head. "You don't believe I can?"

"Do you believe you can?"

He smiled, a glint of challenge in the look.

**********************************************************************

The French, inventors of mayonnaise.

*Grabs pop corn 🍿 and ice cream 🍦🍦🍦🍦 and plops into a seat* Oh this is about to get good! Hurry up! You don't want to miss what comes next! What do you think is going to happen? Predictions? 💭🗯💬🍿

*Nudges Raif with shoulder* You nervous. 😁

*He rolls his eyes* Not in the slightest.

How can you not be, if you fail here then Isla will see you as inferior because you can't win a fight and so you know your chances with her after this are going to be nonexistent!

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

I'm a realist as well as a romantic Raif, so I'm giving it to you as I see it.

*He smirks* Don't worry. There is very little I lose. *winks* I'm not planning to Isla one of them.

That's the spirit! 👏

Su'aasha cutubka (Somali): What is your Theme Song song?

Mine is: Bundles of Joy by Michael Giacchino from the movie Inside Out. It's perfect for me! It even has my name in it! 😄

Vote for blue skies, comment on flying birds, follow the windy whirls!

P. S. I have a surprise for you Sunday!