The sun blazed down, heat beating against the deck and crew that stood upon it. The harsh light danced off the ocean and glared back at the sky. A trickle of sweat slid down Isla's neck as she crossed the ship. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up, exposing tanned forearms.

Around her most of the men had opted for removing their shirts. Even as most of them circled their fiftieth year, they had the bodies of men who had never stopped working, their torsos and arms hard coils of muscle.

The scratch of a brush's rough bristles against wood mingled with the low murmur of voices. A bucket of soapy water was tossed over the deck, scurrying towards Isla's boots. The white bubbles hit the soft leather and clung to it as she headed below. In the corridor, the air was cool, the wood stealing the heat. Brockton stood guard at the cell door, his face unreadable.

"Has he said anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. With a nod, Isla handed him the key. The door clanged open and she strode inside. The stench of urine was overpowered by the smell of sweat that clawed at the walls. At her appearance, Raif looked up. The movement was slow with fatigue and he had to rest his head against the wall.

In the twelve days he had been aboard his appearance had altered. The healthy tone of his skin had gone, scruff covered his jaw and there was a shrunken look to him. His clothes clung to him, his body drenched in sweat. Even with the small porthole, the room was stifling.

Raif's chest rose and fell in labored breathes, each inhale taking twice as much effort. His arms hung limply in the shackles as if weights dragged them down. Despite the exhaustion that was rolling off him, there was still an ember of defiance in his eyes. Isla stared at him with a cool, unforgiving expression.

"Have you decided to give me what I ask for?" she asked.

Raif gave a heavy breath that could have been a chuckle if he'd had more strength.

"You still...believe...that I know...where the Serpent's Eye is?" The words left him as if costing him weeks off his life.

Isla clasped her hands behind her, her posture speaking of authority and certainty.

"I know for a fact you hold the knowledge of the Emerald's location," she said. "I have spent the last four months searching for it. In that time I discovered that you were the last one to hold it." She took a step forward and lowered her voice. "Where is it?"

Raif's gray eyes held hers. Passed the fight that still lived in them, she saw his barriers weakening.

"To hand over...that information...would mean destroying...the reputation...I have built."

Isla narrowed her eyes. "Your reputation is none of my concern. What is my concern is the crew that is depending on me to get us out of this situation."

A touch of confusion darted through Raif's expression.

"Are you going to give me what I want?" she asked.

Before he even spoke, Isla could see his refusal.

"No."

Showing no sign that this bothered her in the least, she took a step back.

"Very well."

As she spun away, Raif spoke, his voice raspy. When she turned back, he was leaning forward, and sweat was rolling down his temples.

"You can not...hold me...forever...my father..."

His energy seeped out of him, making him unable to finish. Exhausted, he fell back, finding support in the aged wood behind him. Isla gave him a long look as if waiting for him to finish and mocking him in not being able to do so.

"As you said yourself," she said, evenly, "holding you here would aggravate your father and play into your plans. I have no problem helping you with those plans by keeping you here for an indefinite amount of time until you help me with my plans."

A flash of irritation played across Raif's face, but didn't last long, his strength spent. Despite herself, Isla felt a tinge of satisfaction at it. A shout came from above, snatching her thoughts away. The familiar ring of the excited tone tugged at her chest. The patter of feet rose as men hurried through the hallways and up onto the deck. The wood hummed with the rhythm of it.

Isla headed for the door, ready to join the mass that was darting up the stairs. As she reached for the handle, Raif muttered something. Even though she hadn't heard the words clearly, she heard the tone loud and clear, resigned. Pausing, she twisted back.

"What did you say?" she asked.

Raif had his eyes closed as if the weakness he had shown pulled them down. Gathering his weaning energy, he met her gaze.

"Lord Ellis...of the West Isles," he said, his voice barely audible. "That is who...I got the emerald for."

Something stirred inside Isla but she didn't let the feeling grow, she wasn't fool enough for that. She gave Raif a nod.

"Alright," she said, calmly. "We'll see if you tell the truth. For your sake, you better be."

There was a look of defeat in Raif, his whole body slumped as Isla shut and locked the door. Another call echoed over the ship and Isla raced up to the deck and over to the railing. Swinging herself into the rigging, she climbed.

It was only when she was close to the top that she let herself look. The view stunned her. For a moment, she was a little girl again and could feel her father's strong hand on her shoulder, anchoring her to the rigging.

"The ocean is our home, Isla," Zev said. "And we travel to see the places so few get to see. This is who we are, why we do what we do."

Stretching out before her was Helix, the city of a thousand rivers. From high above she could see the canals that cut through the terrain, dividing it into large sections. Each piece of land was crowded with stone buildings that were painted varying rainbow hues. The colors had once been vibrant but the insistent sun had faded them to something more calming.

Isla leaned outward, the rope imprinting on her hand as she hung on. The balmy air curled around her and she breathed it in. It smelled foreign and salty with a spark of sweetness. Beneath and around her the crew had scattered to the railing and up rigging, absorbing the sight.

"Nothing like it," Roland said down to Isla.

The boyish faced man leaned against the rim of the crow's nest, taking it in. For a heartbeat, Isla felt like smiling but the look never made it to her face. The ship dipped and rolled its way toward one of the ports that stood on the outer line of sections.

Dislodging herself from the scene, Isla scampered back to the deck. Orin stood at the helm, Hawk beside him. Standing there the two men looked like day and night. Following her lead, the crew pulled away from the railing and went to work, not needing her command to know what to do, the instructions buried in their bones.

"Hawk," Isla said, surveying the flow of movement around her. "Have Bin take water and food to Duke Sayers." He went to give the order but paused as Isla spoke again. "And have Brockton throw a bucket of water on him, I don't want him making the whole ship smell."

Beside her, Orin gave the barest hint of a smile, which on the passive man's face was equal to a loud laugh.

Without a word, the ship prepared to dock. Eager to have done with her collection task, Isla descended to the deck as men furled sails and readied the anchor. A tangle of languages punctured the air as the noise of the port reached them. Isla stopped before a lean, Helix man with tan skin and a full, gray speckled beard.

"Loch," she said.

The man focused on her, as his nimble hands continued to gather up lengths of rope.

"Captain," he said, with a bow of his head.

"I need an informant," she said. "Someone you trust."

Tossing the cord aside, Loch crossed his arms, thoughtful.

"You looking for information on Earl Kesler?" he asked, his rough voice holding the rolling tone of the Helix language.

Isla gave a single nod.

"You'll want Vance. Captain Zev used him once before. He knows his stuff and will keep his mouth shut."

"Where can I find him?"

Loch ran a hand through his thick black hair, searching for the information. Lines creased the man's face and fanned out from the sides of his soft gray eyes.

"If my memory serves correct, he'll still be in house number thirty-six, the Ramo Quarter."

Isla repeated the name, mimicking the way the R tumbled off his tongue. He gave a nod of approval.

"Thank you."

As she peered around for Hawk, he emerged from below.

"It's done," he said. "He give you what you want?"

"We'll see. First, we must deal with this."

Isla called out for Sparrow. After a brief instruction, he darted away and returned shortly with her weapons. The men were still in the throes of docking as Isla moved to the railing. Impatience raced through her, the knowledge of a solid lead on the emerald nipping at her heels.

The ship had barely slipped in beside the dock when Isla stepped onto the railing, holding onto a cord of rope. With one final command to the crew, she leapt over the side. She hit the dock hard, the flash of her blonde hair snagging neighboring men's attention. Hawk landed next to her as a few more crewmen jumped over the side to secure the ship.

The pair cut through the mayhem of the port. Men lugging crates of fish jostled them, the pungent smell already soaked into the workers' skin. Through the air swirled the purring Helix language, infusing the docks with a sense of camaraderie. Even the shouts of captains and overseers were softened under the dialect.

Beyond the line of ships was a collection of boats bobbing gently in the water. They were wide and shallow, made from a light wood that glided over the surface. Some were cushioned with pillows while others were utilitarian having nothing but a wooden seat for passengers.

Waiting beside the edge of the dock were the boats' owners. They were tanned, clean-shaven men with muscular arms and limber bodies. Formed into a rough semi-circle, they talked to each other, smoke curling up from their pipes. When Isla and Hawk approached, their talk died down, expectant gazes looking over the newcomers.

"We need to get to Ramo Quarter," she said in Helixian.

One man knocked his pipe against the wall and nodded to them.

"That is on my route," he said. "It'll cost you, eight coppers."

Isla handed him four. The man led them to one of the simpler boats. As she stepped into the teetering raft, a spark of a memory lit up.

"Find your balance," Zev said, one hand steadying her shoulder. "Plant your feet and feel the motion of the boat. It's the same as the ship."

Isla widened her stance, adjusting to the gentle wobble of the craft. As the boatman pushed off, she looked to the side of the closest building. The light reflected off the water and made waves on the side of the stone. As they floated forward, Isla felt the ghost of her father shadowing her. Despite the urgency she had felt on the ship a sense of calm settled on her, feeling the peace of the city she remembered.

Leaving the bustle of the ports behind, they found themselves in a city of contradictions. Buildings climbing three or four stories high rested on the edge of canals, wide enough for two ships to move side by side with ease.

Through the gaps between houses, Isla caught the glimpses of trees. Trees that had grown between the bricks in the city streets, demanding to be part of the world. They passed beneath blue tiled bridges. Structures that arched over the divides looking as if they were floating in the air. Streets cut off abruptly as if the ocean itself had taken a knife and sliced them off.

As they pushed further into the city the canals grew crowded. A weathered faced old man drove a boat with crates stacked high holding colorful fruits, the scent sweetening the air. A richly dressed couple lounged across plush cushions as they whispered with each other. Two angry faced boatmen, arms waving wildly, were stopped at the center of a canal arguing, while the rest of the boats diverged around them. A curly-haired child knelt beside his mother and dipped his fingers into the water, making ripples on the surface.

Towards the heart of the Helix, they broke away from the traffic of the canal, traveling down a shaded lane. At a break between the buildings, the boatman navigated the boat to the edge and swung the front around, bringing it parallel with the street. After they paid the second half, the man leaned against the post and filled his pipe, moving as if he had all day to do that one task.

As they walked, Isla quickly adjusted to the rough stone, the hard surface a vast contrast to the floating sensation of the boat. Though the port had been hot, the shadows cast by the faded buildings and the breeze that swirled through the streets kept the heat at bay. Around them flower boxes hung from windows, blossoms leaning over the sides to peer down at the people below. Vines climbed walls and trees dotted avenues, their vibrant flowers perfuming the air.

The house they were looking for was positioned around a courtyard that held a large fountain at the center. Barefooted children splashed the water at each other, their shrieks and laughter blooming in the air like bright flowers.

Isla stepped up to the door to number thirty-six and gave a quick knock. Hawk surveyed the area as if expecting an unwanted companion. At Isla's second knock, the door opened a crack. A set of brown eyes took in Isla. Before the scrutinizing woman could question them, Isla spoke.

"Captain Zev here to see Vance," she said.

The woman made no move to allow them entrance. Instead, she pointed to the narrow alley on the right.

"Wait at the cafe on the corner, he will come to you," she said.

The door closed and Isla led them away. The alley deposited them into a busy city square. Dress shops sat opposite restaurants and bookstores sat nestled beside galleries. Women and men wove in and out of stores, flowing past each other as if they were boats on the canal. Boisterous tones greeted each other while some called down from windows or from doorways.

As Isla and Hawk entered the specified cafe, they were greeted by the smell of coffee and melted chocolate. They spotted a secluded table towards the rear and settled in. Leaning back in her chair, Isla studied the crowd beyond the windows. The boatmen were easy to spot in the crowd, for they were mostly barefoot wearing linen pants cuffed to the ankle. Among the women the style of clothing had little variation, loose shirts tucked into flowing skirts that revealed bare legs when they walked.

A waiter approached, breaking Isla from her observations. When he had received their order, he left. In his absence, Isla returned her focus to the scene outside but her mind did not follow. Around them, their fellow patrons conquered the cafe with conversations that collided with each other. To Isla is was all a dull buzzing to the turning of her thoughts.

"I believe the caution you conveyed to me two weeks ago might not be unwarranted," Isla said, keeping her eyes trained out the window.

Hawk gave her a penetrating stare but held his peace sensing there was more to come.

"I encountered Jakks in Talvin." Finally she looked at him, her face calm despite what she feared this meant.

"Do you think-"

"I don't know, but...we must be wary."

Hawk gave a nod of understanding, betraying none of his emotions over the subject. The waiter returned, placing before them two cups with steam twisting up from them. Isla handed him over a few coins.

"There is another matter we need to discuss, but this one has a solution," she said.

"Money," Hawk replied, already knowing where her mind went.

"We need a quick job," she said, raising her cup to her lips. "I don't wish to waste time with this possible lead from Duke Sayers but we will need something to keep us going."

She sipped her coffee, the combination of bitter and creamy filling her mouth.

"I know a man at the docks," Hawk said.

"When can you arrange something?"

"As soon as needed."

Isla set the cup down. "I can handle our informant, see to this matter."

When Hawk didn't stand, Isla fixed him with a steady look.

"You have walked me through enough, this is my own to manage."

At that he departed, leaving Isla to wait. The contents of her cup had long since been emptied by the time the informant arrived. He was a man in his early forties with thick black hair. Though he fit the mold of a common Helix man, lean and tanned, the fine cut of his clothes spoke of his higher way of living and the success of his work.

The minute he entered the cafe, his eyes landed on Isla. In the honey color was a calculating intelligence, a gift that had kept him alive. He walked over and took a seat before her, offering his hand in greeting. Even as he smiled at her, there was a shrewdness in the look making it feel dangerous rather than inviting. Isla accepted the hand.

"I was surprised to hear that Captain Zev had come to call on me," he said, speaking in accented Lorian. "But it appears that I am to deal with his progeny." Isla studied his face, looking for signs that this was a problem. She found none. "What is it that you wish to know?"

"I seek information on Earl Kesler," she said. "Specifically his whereabouts, the strength of his Holding and the number of his guards."

Vance's expression fell into a blank look that had an edge to it.

"I have not lasted in this life by idiocy. I don't make dealings with thieves," he said, all the geniality gone from his voice. "Especially ones that plan to rob men who have come to me."

Isla narrowed her eyes at him. "I made no mention of asking for the location of his vaults. I've been sent to collect money from him. Noblemen aren't inclined to part with their possessions. I need to know what sort of fight he would be likely to give if the occasion arose."

Vance was silent, weighing the honesty in what she said against the conclusions he had already made.

"Very well," he said. "It will not come cheap."

"I would not expect it to. Now tell me."

Vance shook his head. "You pay first."

At the statement, Isla knew what kind of game he was playing. It didn't matter that he'd had dealings with her father before, to him she was a new client. A client that was to be tested, see if they knew what they were doing. In response, Isla rested back against her chair, crossing one leg over the other.

"I know what I ask for is pricey but I'm not going to be charged double for what I know is worth half of that."

Frowning, Vance shook his head at her, his eyes still sizing her up.

"Then we have no business," he said.

He made to leave but in the blink of an eye, Isla reached out and grabbed his arm. With a speed and strength that surprised him, she jerked his arm down, causing him to bang his forehead into the table. The cups rattled on the wood. When he raised his head, dazed, there was a knife at his throat and Isla was leaning in the table, her face calm.

"You mistake me for an incompetent fool," she said. "You knew my father, he was not a man to neglect my education on the matter of informants. I have the money you want and you have the information I need, I don't see why we can't make something work."

Their gazes battled each other, neither willing to back down. Seeing Vance's defiance, she pressed the knife to his throat a touch more, making him flinch. After a drawn-out moment, he gave a conceded nod. The knife disappeared into Isla's boot and she lounged back in her chair as if nothing had happened. Gingerly touching his forehead, Vance met her unyielding expression.

"If there was any doubt in my mind about whether you are Zev's daughter it is gone. You share the same tactic." Vance crossed his arms, regarding Isla with a new sense of respect. "So you want to know about Earl Kesler?"

"Yes."

"Very well," Vance said. "He is a minor nobleman with a substantial Holding but not one that warrants an army. At present, he is away but will return in two days' time from a hunting party. He retains thirty guards, most patrol his manor. Five escort him on daily activities while within his manor he is accompanied by only three.

"If he were to fight the most you would face would be ten, but I don't believe it would come to that. He is a weak nobleman that would rather hire a mercenary than have blood stain his floors." He paused as if mulling over what he was going to say next. "Who has sent you?"

Isla debated revealing that information but knew it was not something that was truly secret.

"Lord Sutherland," she said.

"Then you should face no problem. Kesler is unlikely to fight a man of such power if he truly does owe him money."

Isla nodded thoughtfully. After trading questions and answers back and forth for a few minutes more she was satisfied.

"Your price," she said.

Vance gave it and Isla paid without an argument. Tucking away the money, he stood and bowed his head to her.

"A pleasure," he said, the comment turned mocking as he fingered his bruised forehead.

"Likewise."

As Isla watched him leave, she chewed over the information, trying not to dwell on the wait of two days and the supposed location of the emerald sitting heavy in her mind.

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

We have our heading!

(I've decided that my greeting are going to be quotes from The Pirate's of the Caribbean. Which works since I've pretty much memorized that movie)

X marks the spot and the spot I marked are the thoughts in your head, so what treasures do you have more me! 🗯💬💭

Honestly, I thought Raif would have held out longer. Psshh weakling. Or does he have something else up his sleeve??? I wonder...🤔🧐

Now for something completely different.

So I know I'm a billion years late with this but I feel it's something I have to address. That's right. I'm talking about the song When You're Ready Come and Yet, sung by Selena Gomez and it's message.

I mean come on Selena, you're beautiful! Have a little more faith in yourself! Don't sell yourself short.

Instead of singing When You're Ready Come and Get It, you should be singing When You Are Emotionally Mature and Wish To Start A Long Last Relationship Based on Mutual Respect and Trust I'm Willing to Listen.

That isn't as catchy though...

Yeah, I guess it makes sense why they went with the original. Never mind.

Vraag van die hoofstuk (Afrikaans) Now! What is your go-to dance song? The one that no matter what mood you're in it will make you stand up and bust a move!

(Does any one say 'bust a move' anymore? I feel like I'm a little outdated with that one. Which is a pity because it's such a great saying.)

Mine is...well I'm not sure at the moment. But Come Alive from The Greatest Showman is certainly one that gets me on my feet.

Vote for proof of life, comment on the state of the weather, follow the sparrow because it can never lead you wrong unless it does and in that case maybe you shouldn't have followed it in the first place.

Okay! Which one do we see as Sparrow?

Him ☝️ or him 👇

I would follow either Sparrow gladly!