A strong but pleasant breeze blew along the river, chasing the edge from the sun’s rays. Ponbus was no small distance from the sea, but the Southerly wind dragged across leagues of broad open water, generating a formidable fetch and slapping the tarpaulins that covered the dockside crates.

The cool air drumming on the side of his bruised head was actually quite soothing, Gabriel concluded. The briskness had a numbing quality that, in his current state, he was incredibly grateful for. In fact, everything about being outside, propped against their travel packs on the porch of the Horse and Barge, was a vast improvement on the claustrophobic racket within. Gabriel was actually in danger of enjoying himself. Life seemed simple, pure, entirely uncomplicated. There was just him and the elements, and all his troubles whipped by on the wind, drifting far from his little world. After half a turn of basking, he couldn’t even fathom what possibly could have bothered him.

“Gabby!”

‘Ah,’ Gabriel thought.

Bling ran up to her brother and hugged him before presenting a small handful of silvers and coppers that she cupped in her hands like they were a frail animal.

Lydia looked several degrees less enthusiastic to see her wounded compatriot.

She spat a wad of green mulch at Gabriel’s feet, “What are you doing out here? I distinctly remember leaving you on that side of the door.”

“I’m a grown man, Lydia, and free to move as and when I please.”

“You’re an injured man, and you make questionable decisions at the best of times.”

“Hard to deny, when I’m currently arguing with one of those questionable decisions.”

“Funny. Even funnier that you think you had a choice in the matter,” she took Gabriel’s chin in her hand and, as gently as a small giant clad entirely in metal is capable of, turned his face from side to side, “Bruising looks much the same. Eyes are focused. How do you feel?”

Gabriel swatted at the giant gauntleted fist manipulating him effortlessly, “I’m fine, I’m fine! What is this, concern? Please don’t tell me you are going soft on us.”

“Just protecting my investment,” Lydia squinted, “So, why are you outside?”

“Mm? Oh, yes, that. Well!”

Gabriel trailed off as Figo approached.

“Gabriel?” the young archer hailed, “What are you doing out here? You shouldn’t be out in the cold in your condition.”

“I’m actually finding the cool air rather refreshing.”

Figo frowned, “I still think it would be best if you sat down.”

“It’s noisy in there.”

“Is that why you’re out here?” Figo asked.

“Well, sort of. There are many factors and, oh bollocks,” Gabriel muttered up as he saw Vish approaching.

“Ladies, Figo,” Vish greeted as he joined the four of them.

“Hilarious,” Gabriel grumbled.

“Oh, ho-ho-ho, what have we here? Looks like Gabriel fucked up,” Vish grinned.

“I did not.”

“What do you mean?” Figo asked.

“He’s got that look, the look he gets when he messed up big time. I’m surprised you don’t recognise it, it’s pretty common.”

“I didn’t mess up.”

“If I had to guess, I’d saaay, hmm, let me see,” Vish scrutinized his travelling partner, “Travel bags are still here, so he didn’t get robbed. He’s not unconscious, so he didn’t start a fight. Hmm, tricky,” Vish clicked his fingers, “I know! He pissed off a bunch of locals by being a self-righteous prick, blew all of our money on some inane crap, maybe a round, a bet, or,” his eyes lit up, “no, a song! Then he tried to take it back, and got politely, but firmly, hauled out on his arse by the locals. How’s my aim?”

“How did you..?”

“Is this true?” Lydia asked Gabriel pointedly.

“A gross exaggeration!” he snorted, “That said…”

“Gods,” Lydia exclaimed with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, Gabriel, all of our money?” Figo groaned.

“We still have what Lydia and Bling made, and,” Gabriel threw up his arms, “Hang on. How in the hells did you know that, Vish?”

“It was plain to see. The guilt was written across your face as clearly as is written upon this here tavern,” Vish glanced up “Huh, Whors and Barj. Good effort.”

“You two spend way too much time together,” Lydia said with a shake of her head.

“Agreed,” Gabriel seethed.

“Too true,” Vish concurred, “I’m just messing with you though, I heard it down at the docks. The porters were talking about some washed up ‘man o’ class with a stick up his arse’ strutting around like he owns the town. Yes, they did make it rhyme,” he said in answer to the question nobody asked, “Anyway, I put two and two together and thought to myself,” Vish clicked his fingers, “Hey, I know a guy who matches that description, and who specializes in pissing people off. Could it be?”

“Birds of a feather really do flock together,” Lydia grunted.

“Hey, I resent that,” Vish said, “You’ve all had your shots at me, let’s not take away from Gabriel bashing time.”

Gabriel massaged his temples, “Yes, alright! There is some truth to it. I’m afraid I was hustled for the remainder of our money. I’m sorry. In my defence though, I really do think I might be concussed.”

Lydia walked off at that, and one by one the others followed.

“Hey, I mean it! I did suffer quite a bad head injury! Concussion is very serious! I may have brain damage.”

The four mercenaries headed towards the docks.

“Okay, fine,” Gabriel huffed, “I’m sorry, Okay? I’m sorry!”

One by one, the mercenaries disappeared around the corner.

Gabriel looked down at the four travel bags the patrons of the Horse and Barge had been generous enough not to steal from him when they tossed him out. Between them, the bags must have weighed a Gabriel and a half.

He sighed, “Yeah, okay, I probably deserve this one.”

---

Gabriel caught up with the others on a comparatively quiet pier, shared by a few of the smaller trading dynasties, who lacked the financial clout to have their own wharves and warehouses. The group were sitting on log stumps in front a seafood vendor, apparently enjoying freshly grilled fish cakes.

“The irony of this next comment is not lost on me, but should we be spending our last few coins on snacks?” Gabriel said, as he deposited the packs in a heap to the side.

They glared at him in unison.

“I’m just saying that we are going to need that money to get to Jandrir.”

“Don’t have enough,” Vish informed Gabriel, “We figured we might as well enjoy what little we do have.”

“What about the weapons Lydia and Natasha sold?”

“Not enough,” Lydia said between bites.

“Gods, really? You couldn’t haggle enough from that stack of weapons to buy us a spot on a raft?”

Lydia ran Gabriel through with her glare, “You really want to try and lay the blame at my feet?”

Gabriel cowered under her gaze, “I suppose we could always walk.”

“Road toll!” Vish said, clearly having waited for the opportunity.

“A road toll? Oh, come on now! Is there anything they won’t charge a person for? What will they think of next? Inheritance tax?”

“Take it up with the powers that be, my flippant friend,” Vish said as the last of his fish cake disappeared. He raised his hand for another.

“Well then, if I might tactfully return to my previous point, should we be spending what money we do have?”

Figo fidgeted and looked to the others for confirmation. Lydia gave the archer a subtle nod.

“Actually, Vish really came through for us, Gabriel. He managed to negotiate passage on one of the barges, free of charge, actually,” Figo said with a half-smile.

Gabriel was stunned, but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, “That’s brilliant. Vish, what can I say? Well done. Honestly, I’m really impressed. Impressed and grateful!”

Figo cleared his throat, “The operator isn’t charging us, true, but he has asked a small favour from us.”

Gabriel’s expression immediately darkened, “What favour?”

“He wants us to find his teapot.”

Gabriel had sudden flashbacks of mercenary days gone by. His body shook with latent trauma, and images of crockery strafed across his mind’s eye.

A teapot.

Not another teapot.

He had to admit, it did play to their strengths.

“Okaay, that’s not so bad. We’ve found teapots before, and we can find them again.”

Figo looked firmly at the floor, “The thing is, Gabriel…”

“There’s no ‘we’ this time,” Vish said, smiling smugly, “Your screw up, your fix,” Vish paused his taunting to thank the food vendor, who had just deposited a fresh fishcake in the mind-mages hand, wrapped loosely in waxed paper.

“So I’m to single handedly, entirely by myself, in this foreign and unknown town, with numerous houses, nooks, crannies and through travellers, find…” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “a teapot?”

“Bingo,” Vish said with a wink.

“You’re diabolical.”

“Did I hear you folk say you’d lost a teapot?” The vender asked jovially.

Gabriel cocked his head slightly, “Yeees?”

“Ah, sorry about that. You’ll be wanting to see ol’ Agnes, then,” the man said, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Why’s that?”

The man looked at them like they were a bit slow, “Because that’s what she does, she steals teapots.”

“No,” Vish whispered.

“Reeeally now? That’s interesting,. Isn’t that interesting, Vish?” Gabriel said.

“Unfair.”

“And tell me, sir, would you happen to know where I can find Agnes, the infamous teapot thief?”

The vender nodded enthusiastically, “Oh yeah, of course. She’s holed up in a hut on the hill just South of town. Can’t miss it, and can’t miss her. Unless she’s out nabbing a fresh teapot, that is.”

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time I did my bit for the team and made amends for my previous lapse of judgement. Off to find a teapot, I am, and to save the day!” Gabriel grinned.

---

It took an outrageously long time to pry the relevant information out of Vish, but the mind-mapper eventually relented and told Gabriel what he needed to know. Coupled with some extra tidbits from the vender, Gabriel was veritably armed with information. All that remained was to fetch the pot from the town’s local, deranged, teapot ‘diviner’.

As Gabriel ambled along he took in the sites of Ponbus, such as they were. It was not a grandiose place, by any stretch of the imagination, but it had an undeniable charm. The streets were dirty, but they were dirty with the mud and grime from continuous footfall from river to shore. Also, yes, there was no small amount of equine shite. Still, there was very little in the way of litter, or detritus. Gabriel got the impression that the people here were in some way, for some reason, proud of their little outpost community. The loaders laughed and grappled as they moved from post to post, and the porters shared a joke and a smile as they loaded up wheelbarrows or carts. The whole thing made him long for a sense of belonging that he had never really had.

As if in answer to his internal wallowing, Gabriel received a tap on his left shoulder. When he spun he saw a flash of red duck around to his right. He spun again to find Natasha hiding behind her hands, giggling.

“Hello, you,” he beamed, “Have you come to join me?”

In answer to his question, Natasha hooked her arm around his, and nodded for him to lead the way.

Gabriel couldn’t help but smile at his older sister. Despite all she had been through, her green eyes glowed with a lust for life, and her skin was smooth and unblemished by worry. He envied her, he realised. He couldn’t remember ever being that carefree.

They walked for a time in silence, enjoying the sounds and the scents of the small river town.

“Do you ever miss home, Natasha?”

Natasha screwed up her face, “Home?”

“You know, where we were born? Where we grew up and went to school?”

Natasha grimaced like she’d eaten something sour, “School?”

She stuck out her tongue and shook her head.

Gabriel laughed, “Do you remember school?”

She rocked her head from side to side, considering, “I don’t like it.”

As impressed as he was at the use of a full sentence, Gabriel got the impression that she did not truly remember. An impression of disdain seemed to remain, from a rebellious Natasha of years past, but he doubted his sister could call upon those memories as anything other than vague feelings.

He sighed, “You were always so good at school.”

Bling frowned and tapped Gabriel, painfully, on the temple, “Think,” she tapped her heart, “Do.”

Gabriel’s heart lurched as he recognized this as a phrase parroted from their parents. Their father in particular used to good-naturedly jest that if he wanted something thought about then he could always rely on Gabriel, but when he wanted something done he knew to turn to his daughter.

“I suppose not much has changed there,” Gabriel said quietly.

Natasha raised an eyebrow but Gabriel just shook his head, “Just doing that thinking thing,” he smiled, “If not home, then what about Gladstone? Do you miss Gladstone?”

“Gladstone?” The word came out awkwardly, with too many vowels.

“Yes. Don’t you want to be back with,” he felt a tad ashamed for saying it, “Figo’s mum?”

“Elaine!” Bling shouted cheerfully.

“That’s right, Elaine. You do amaze me sometimes, Natasha.”

They were halfway up the hill to the diviner’s house now, and Gabriel took a moment to look back at the town, and, of course, catch his breath. Natasha sat on her haunches beside him, annoyingly unphased by the pseudo-hike.

They stayed for a time, looking out across the vast expanse of the Malin River. Even this far up, the river was impressively wide. It was not hard to see how the Malin had earnt its nickname. Colloquially, it was known as ‘the crack’. This was in no small part because of the stream of crap that flowed along the river from Jandrir to the sea. Unfortunately, to cement the analogy, the Malin also split the continent like a pair of-

“Gabby?”

“Hm?” Gabriel replied, “Oh, it’s nothing Natasha. I was just thinking,” he closed his eyes as the wind fluttered strands of hair across his face, “I was thinking that a lot has changed. Everything has changed, actually. But we’re still here, together. I’m grateful for that.”

She smiled pleasantly up at him, clearly not as burdened by such musings.

“And I think,” Gabriel continued, “no, I feel,” he took in a deep breath of the slightly tangy air, “I feel like everything’s going to be okay.”

---

The nights were getting cooler in Tindra, and Liza wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders as she exited The Rusty Hook with Hannah and Thessy close behind.

“Better luck next time!” Hannah called over her shoulder as she followed Hannah out, “And get in some practice while I’m gone!”

The Rusty Hook was a simple watering hole, knocked up in amongst the prefab houses on Tindra’s outskirts, but it had a nice buzz to it, and it was somewhere they could drink in peace, without paying Chloe breathing down their necks.

“One of these days, you’ll lose, you know?” Thessy said.

“And when you do, they’ll be after that carrot ya keep dangling,” Liza cautioned.

“When I do, I’ll be so old and prune faced that I’ll probably be glad for the attention!” Hannah cackled.

“Cheeky cow.”

“If you don’t mind, it’s fucking freezing out here,” Thessy reminded them.

“I’ll keep you warm, Thessy!” Hannah cooed, making a grab at her friend.

“You can keep your hands to yourself. I know where you’ve been!”

Thessy sprinted a few paces away to dodge the playfully groping hands of her fellow waitress, and collided with a man who had all of the give of a Tindran limestone wall.

“Ooph. Eish. Mind where…” Thessy stopped speaking when she turned to face the man, moments before his paw like hand clamped down over her mouth.

Liza pulled a small knife, barely more than a cooking utensil, but was quickly spoilt for choice on where to sink it, as two more men came forward. They were close enough to threaten, but never left the shadows.

“Don’t panic, we only want to talk,” a slightly croaky but refined voice assured them, as the third figure slunk behind menacingly, “Put the knife away and I’ll make sure that my associate here doesn’t cause your friend any accidental harm.”

Liza looked from one person to the next, trying desperately to track them all at once. It was a task not made any easier by Hannah hanging from her arm.

“For some reason, I’m finding it difficult to trust you,” Liza said.

“I have everyone’s best interests at heart,” the young man assured her.

Hannah was yanked away with a squeal.

“If you so much as touch them,” she held the knife higher.

“Please, I’ve endured far worse than you.”

“This is about those travellers, isn’t it? The dark-skinned man and the redhead,” Hannah blurted.

“Don’t say another word, hon’” Liza scowled at the most talkative man, “You do, and we become nothing but loose ends.”

“On the contrary, you become allies. I don’t have any need or desire to go killing young ladies. I really do want the best for everyone,” the man reminded them.

“Goyun!” Hannah shouted, “They met Goyun.”

“Shh!” Liza hushed.

“I know. Unfortunately, we found Goyun to be,” the man hesitated, “uncooperative.”

“You’ll get no more out of us,” Liza growled.

The man dismissed her with a wave, “I think I’ll talk to one of your more intelligent friends,” he casually walked beside Hannah, careful to stay out of her line of sight, “What do you say, miss? Shall we have a little chat?”