Alinyaln rested with his back against the bedframe, Syrin in his arm. He kissed the top of her head. “I missed you.”

  Syrin turned to look up at him, body hidden beneath the sheet. “I missed you, too, Lyn.” She said with a kiss. “Why did you take so long to come back to me?”

  Considering his answer, he rubbed a spot on her shoulder blade, one that she had always liked. The skin there was smooth. Despite the blue coloring, it still felt like flesh, no difference outside of the color. “I wanted to come back with everything fixed.” He finally said to her. “I wanted to—I don’t know—not be good but be better, without my pain.”

  The scar on his cheek began to prickle, as it always did when he thought about Tyrnarm.

  “You should have come to me.” Syrin said wistfully, staring at Alinyaln. Her eyes were a deep black with unimaginable depth behind them. In this light, illuminated by only a small lamp in the corner of the room and the minimal light shining down from the sunroof, he could swear that her eyes weren’t actually so dark as to be almost black, that the color of her irises had changed to be the deepest blue. But maybe that was the skin around her eyes, influencing what he saw. “We could have just gone away.”

  “I couldn’t have done that, Syrin.” Alinyaln sighed. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Orsinum.” Alinyaln said. “He’s working with the cannibals. They… Tarnation, they ate my men. My Cloud Crafter and my State Shifter, they made sure they were alive when they were eaten, I don’t know why. The screams—” He cut off, squeezing his eyes shut as sudden tears came to them.

  He took a deep breath, collecting himself. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Syrin instead was crying, her gentle tears falling on his chest hair. “It hurts to see you in so much pain, Lyn. And you’ve lived with this for six years?”

  Alinyaln nodded, pulling her in close with one arm. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

  “How did he get involved with the Orsinum?” Syrin asked quietly, resting her cheek against his chest now.

  “Don’t know.” He choked out. “I—I don’t know if he’s one of them now or not, but he’s still working with them. Some of the plantation owners we talked to described men with sharp teeth manning the ships.”

  “Thousands of slaves.” Syrin mused. She swirled a finger in his chest hair, causing bumps to rise along his arms and neck. “It can’t just be for feeding, can it? Else they would have just bought as many as they had needed and left.”

  “We don’t know what they eat.” Alinyaln pointed out. “I doubt it’s only human flesh though.”

  She drummed her fingers on his chest. “I met someone once who seemed to know more than anyone else.”

  “Is that a riddle or something?” Alinyaln asked her.

  “No, not a riddle.” Syrin said, then shook her head as if to clear it. “Have you ever wondered where our Gifts come from? Or how it works?”

  “I can’t say I have,” Alinyaln admitted. “Did you meet someone who figured it out?”

  “He didn’t figure it out, but he tried to.” Syrin said. “He came to me, actually, and watched my work. He’s actually the one who taught me about the gemstones.”

  “Gemstones?”

  “They hold power, if you can channel it correctly.” Syrin explained. “He told me it had something to do with the rules on how our magic actually works, like the laws of nature. I wasn’t able to figure it out but he helped me see how it could be done.”

  “The Three Powers aren’t magic.” Alinyaln said. “They’re Gifts from The Triplets, given to men in their absence.”

  Syrin laughed. “I told him the same thing. He said, ‘Everything is either magic or science depending on how much of it you understand. To me, everything is magic.’”

  “What was his name?” Alinyaln asked, curious. He never grew jealous over Syrin’s love life while he was gone. While he didn’t feel the need for female companionship without her, he didn’t expect her to be beholden to him in such a way.

  “Zack.” Syrin said. “He had this curious little book he always wrote in when he saw something interesting. It seemed to never run out of pages.”

  “So, what’s this about gemstones?” He felt like Syrin was meandering a lot in her rambling, leaving him with more questions than she was answering.

  “Oh, right.” She said, then she sat up and crossed her legs. Alinyaln sat up as well, supporting his weight instead of using the headrest. She grabbed a string from the bedside table and held it in front of him. “See this string?”

  “Sure.”

  “I can Craft it to make it a different color, right?” Syrin closed her eyes for a moment and then the string went from black to white. “But once I let go of the Crafting,” She dropped it and it fell onto the bed, the color having returned to black, “The effect ends. A gemstone can allow the Crafting to persist after the effect should have ended.” She then reached over and grabbed a small gemstone, barely the size of a grain of sand. She somehow looped the string around the gem and closed her eyes again. This time there was a flicker of green light as the Crafting took effect, more of Syrin’s energy being used. The string turned white again and remained white after she dropped it, stark on the dark blue bed spread.

  “So… How’s that any different than a Sigil?” Alinyaln asked. He wasn’t fully sure on how Cloud Crafting worked, but he knew that some Sigils were somehow self perpetuating, not needing any sort of external involvement to make their effects more permanent.

  “It’s not, really.” Syrin said. “It’s moreso like treating the Crafting like there’s a persistent Sigil, and this,” She said, picking up the string again. “Works on things you can’t carve a Sigil into.”

  “Oh.” He said. Now it made sense to him, at least a little. “And what does this have to do with Tyrnarm?”

  Syrin looked at him and opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. “Nothing, I think.”

  “Your thoughts wandered on you, then?” Alinyaln sighed in resignment and pulled Syrin close to him. She got like this sometimes, when she let her thoughts race somewhere unintended, leaving everyone else behind. Alinyaln considered himself to be a smart man, considering that he had no real education, but Syrin was far smarter than he was. He let her talk, but if he was being honest it was just because he enjoyed the way her words sounded, not necessarily the meaning behind them.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Don’t you have a Cloud Crafter on your new ship?” It was standard practice to have one employed on most ships, or at least one for a fleet of ships, as they could track the weather and keep the ships clear from treacherous waters. Fortunately, the weather had been good for the Mercy of Dradinoor, so Letno’s services weren’t really required.

  “I do,” Alinyaln said. “She wasn’t able to track him, though, even with him having the ability to Craft. Part of me wonders if the Orsinum have found some way to hide him.”

  “And you think if her and I work together we can find Tyrnarm?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for, Syrin, yes.” Alinyaln said quietly, looking at her. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t important to me. I didn’t want to bother you in the first place—”

  “But you’re desperate.” Syrin finished for him.

  “I can’t lose him.”

  “And you won’t.” She said, then she pushed him back down and straddled him. She kissed him passionately on the lips, a deep and lustful kiss.

  *

  Alinyaln left the tailor’s shop some few hours later, right as Syphys began to pass before the moon. He rubbed at his neck where Syrin… He laughed. What a woman, he thought as he hopped up onto the gangplank of the Mercy of Dradinoor, skip in his step and a grin on his face.

  He looked around and only saw Drags the Dragonkin sitting against the railing of the poop deck, bottle of Mikklid rum in his hand. He held the bottle up to Alinyaln in greeting, then took a swig from the bottle.

  Waving at the man, Alinyaln made his way belowdecks where he found a gathering of Yishks playing a card game. Based on the pile of cards in front of them, it must have been hoto, a guessing game. Yishks weren’t really allowed property—though Alinyaln was fine with them keeping trinkets—so they bet not with money but with chores.

  “I’ll take scrubbing the bilge,” A gruff looking Yishk said, “But I’m offerin’ up scrubbing Phinny’s back.”

  A roar of laugher came from the other Yishks, Ninia playing alongside them. Alinyaln stepped up into the light of the lantern above, crossing his arms. “Since when is bathing Phinny a chore I've ever made any of you sorry lot do?” He asked of the men, a stern look on his face. “Is that why you all seem to lack for time for your other duties, you’re giving the drunk a bath?”

  The Yishks all flinched when he spoke, only just then noticing him. They looked down in shame, but then the smile broke out onto Alinyaln’s face. “At ease, I’m only teasing.” He said to them with a laugh and a wave. “Lass, come with me.”

  Ninia didn’t hesitate, she got up and called back to the men, “Have fun with tarring the deck!”

  “I thought that was your chore?” Alinyaln asked the girl as they walked back up to the deck.

  “It was,” Ninia said, “But four diamonds beats two gulls and waves.

  “But not three and three.” Alinyaln pointed out. “I saw the men’s hands. It looks like I saved you from Timphinny’s bathing routine.”

  Ninia shivered, then looked up at the Captain as they exited the hull of the ship into the moonlight. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s another reason we’re in Tusana, lass.” Alinyaln said, pulling a key out of his pocket and unlocking his cabin door. He entered and waved for Ninia to follow. He flicked a switch on the wall and bulbs of light powered by captive lightning came to life illuminating the cabin. If one looked closely, the lightning could be seen bouncing around the inside of the glass sphere, assuming you weren’t blinded in the process.

  There wasn’t much to it. A long table with a few chairs surrounding it, a writing desk in the corner, a large bed and at the foot of that bed was his trunk of clothing. Alinyaln didn’t want much these days, and his cabin reflected that. The back wall largely consisted of windows that looked out upon the ocean, waters glittering in the moonlight, the ever present spire of the Dead Hills in the distance.

  Ninia looked around at his quarters, then grimaced. “I expected this room to be nicer.”

  “It’s what I need.” Alinyaln said, “Nothing more.” He walked over to his bed and pulled out what was hidden beneath it, a heavy chest that he dragged across the floor into the open. He tapped where the lock should have been three times then with a click the chest was unlocked. Alinyaln lifted it open and showed it to Ninina.

  “Yanuan Below,” Ninia said, her eyes opening wide. “So many Gins…”

  Coins of both gold and pewter filled the inside of the chest, entire coins made up of eight sections each and dozens of pieces scattered around. “Why are you showing me this?” Ninia asked him. It seemed like she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from the chest.

  “We’re going to count them.” Alinyaln said, pulling a pillow from his bed and tossing it at her.

  Ninia caught it, then as Alinyaln placed it underneath him as he sat on the ground, she followed his example. “You don’t know how much is in here?”

  Alinyaln shook his head. “I don’t really pay attention. I put some aside after every boarding or sale, so it’s not easy to keep track of. I should write down how much I put in and take out, sure, but I've never been one for more fiddly work like that.” In truth, he just didn’t care how much he had. It wasn’t money he could spend wantonly, it was for a specific purpose he felt an accurate accounting of it was unnecessary until it was time to spend big.

  “You know how to count Gins, right?” The Captain asked her.

  “I’ve never really dealt with money, sir.” Ninia replied, shaking her head.

  Alinyaln grabbed a pewter coin from the chest and inspected it. The coin was large, about the size of his palm, and it was heavy. It was divided into eight segments along specific lines, each segment with a different ornate design on them that was meant to be impossible to replicate. In theory, all segments should be unique to one another on a Gin, but that was almost never how the banks reformed the coins, instead grabbing Pieces at random and putting them back into place.

  He broke the coin in half, then again, then yet again, leaving a single segment remaining of the eight. “This is a piece, the smallest denomination. Nothing will ever cost less than this.” Then he held up an entire Gin. “We call this a Gin, or Regin.” He handed it to the girl who took it and inspected it. “One Gin is eight pieces, so if you’re charged eight pieces you can hand them an entire gin, or the other way around.”

  “Then the Golgins?” Ninia asked, grabbing a golden coin out of the chest.

  “One segment,” Alinyaln said, this time just pointing to a piece of the coin, “Is worth an entire Regin. Eight segments, a full Golgin, is worth eight Regins.”

  “64 pieces, then.” Ninia said after a few minutes, using her fingers as she added it all together in her head.

  “Clever lass.” Alinyaln nodded to the chest. He didn't want to make the lass feel bad about her poor arithmetic skills, it was an area of study she had little experience with. “And now that you know what to do, we need to get these all counted up.”

  Ninia looked dismayed at the prospect. “I thought I had the rest of the day off, Captain?”

  Alinyaln shrugged. “You can have a Gin for your efforts, how about that?”

  Ninia considered this, then sighed. “Aye, Captain.” And she got to work pulling out coins and setting them into piles. Alinyaln counted as well, taking coins and setting them into his own stacks.