Three days later, and the morning of the day we’re invited to Hajarean’s ‘get-together,’ a ship docks in harbour carrying news. It’s an independent marketeer, arriving from Taka’utuk.

Chirasel is the first back to the boarding house with a copy of the printed newssheet. From her flushed face it looks like she ran all the way.

In summary, the newssheet reports that Satthei Fareis’s marketeer fleet did not arrive as scheduled at Taka’utuk. Three days late, a few ships did arrive, including Master Retican’s, Master Gerat’s, and a few of the smaller vessels, all in need of repairs and speaking of a massive assault at sea by the slavers. All the children had been taken, they said. Of the Satthei, no sign. The remnants of the fleet were expected to remain in Taka’utuk for repairs for at least forty to fifty days, which tells something about the damage they sustained.

“We have to go there!” Chirasel insists. She stands there with her hands resting protectively on Garelan’s shoulders. “We have to! There might be more news. I knew we should’ve gone there in the first place!”

And that’s the moment Hajarean’s carriage rolls up to the courtyard door. Early. With him in it.

“I think you should come and stay in my house for a few days,” he says. “All of you. I think it’ll be safer.”

“Safer? Why?” I ask.

“That ship,” he points in the direction of the harbour, even though it’s not directly in view from the courtyard, “usually comes into harbour with its holds full of goods from the Satthei Fareis’s market in Taka’utuk. It’s just had to make a nearly empty run and its Master’s pissed off. So too are going to be the local merchants who depend on that trade. Sooner or later someone’s going to figure out you’re from Fareis’s fleet, especially if they don’t count carefully enough and don’t realise you shouldn’t have been able to get here as fast as you did.” He gives me a firm look. “They’ll want answers, and things might get… intemperate, especially when you don’t have answers, and they don’t believe you. You’ll all be safe in my house.”

“Uh… Sam’s still out with Beni and Deme—”

“We need to go to Taka’utuk!” Chirasel hisses forcefully. “We should’ve done that in the first place and not wasted our time coming here!”

“You wanted to stay at the atoll until the slavers got us!” I snap back. “I’m sorry, Chi. Our first thought was to keep the children safe.”

“No it wasn’t. Your first thought was to follow that stupid bird!”

“What bird?” Hajarean asks. I remember, I didn’t mention the gyre falcon.

“Never mind,” I say quickly. “Chi, listen. Master Retican would not have left the Satthei if…” I give up and sigh. In any case Master Retican’s was the ship on which Chirasel and her son, and Beni and Asuti lived. That ship is their home, even separated from the Satthei. “Um…” I say. I’m confused now.

“Of course you must go,” Hajarean says to Chirasel. “You must get what news you can of your friends and loved ones, of course, but I don’t think it would be wise of you to rush off today. You would need to provision in any case, but furthermore: Master Fenan of the ship that just docked will be dining at my house tonight.” He smiles at Chirasel conspiratorally. “And we do know ships’ Masters do talk amongst themselves. He may have news direct from your Master Retican in more detail than the newsletter and more reliable than quayside rumour.” He looks at us both more seriously, and at Garelan. “Do not forget, it seems there are slavers operating in these seas now, in the heart of Jeodin. Until this threat is dealt with, I would hesitate before taking children of my own on a sea voyage, unprotected in a small sailboat when even the protection of a Satthei becomes uncertain.”

That’s the clincher. Chirasel holds her son closer. “Tani,” she says and makes a movement with her head to come aside and talk.

“Wait a moment,” I say to Hajarean. We step aside.

“Do you trust him?” Chirasel asks me.

“Yes I do.”

“But he’s an islander!”

“So?”

She looks unhappy. “I haven’t been this long off the deck of a ship my whole life,” she says. “It’s hard to know what’s firm.”

“He’s an old friend. I trust him, Chi.”

She bites her lip, uncertain. “I’m not going to let fear of the fucking slavers turn me into an islander. My son isn’t going to grow up an islander,” she says.

“I know. Me neither.”