Aran took a deep breath and almost smiled. The warm breeze in the southern seas calmly drove the ship forward under an overcast afternoon sky.

Naia had been going increasingly crazy as the three weeks progressed and he was fairly certain she’d try to drown herself, or someone else, before their journey home began. As such, Aran did his best to keep her occupied and out of harm’s way. Shale and Ailmon both stood at the railing next to him, staring at the horizon.

Suddenly, they both gave a little laugh and looked at each other, at the same time as Naia screamed, “Land! Godsdamned land! Ugly little splat of something happening! Right on the horizon!”

Her voice got closer as she climbed down from the rigging, and as always, whenever she moved about on the ship in her shorts and bare feet, every male sailor, and a couple of the female ones too, stopped in their tracks to stare at her long legs.

“We are here!” Naia exclaimed and pushed herself in at the railing between Shale and Aran.

“We know,” Ailmon said quietly with a little smile hiding in the corner of his mouth.

“Saibee just felt her family,” Shale said, her voice shaky with emotion.

All four stood for a moment as the ship approached the island. Only the sound of the creaking of timber and rigging and the voices of the sailors sounded. Then Shale put a strong arm around Naia's shoulders.

“The orc is groping me,” Naia said, not moving.

Aran laughed.

“I’m sorry about being so hard on you and not giving credit to your feelings about the shicks,” Shale said, still not letting Naia go.

“Ehm…” Naia gave Aran a sideways glance. Not quite a plea for help, but close.

He looked bemused at the tall, broad-shouldered, half-orc woman with the dark mane of tiny braids. She was hard to read normally, but this seemed like sincere …something. Well, she was still hard to read. A tiny voice at the back of Aran's mind warned him that it might be right now that the fungus revealed its play, and his hand casually came to rest on the dagger in his belt.

“She’ll be home soon,” Shale said and gave Naia a squeeze before letting her go. “I promise you, she’s happy and she won't hurt anyone. She’ll tell her family too, so they understand.”

Ailmon pointed to the small green island in the distance that looked like a small patch of swamp-moss hovering on the calm grey sea. “She was so far from home. I will go and get her crate. We should prepare to disembark.” He took a few steps towards the hatch below deck and then stopped. “Are you coming with us?”

Aran and Naia shared a glance and then Naia grinned. “Why not. I really want to see the shick-mother planted somewhere where I never have to feel her again.”

“Her…” Aran whispered.

“Fine! After three hideous, gong-farming weeks of tedium with crazy, fungus-loving people, yes, I have fallen and referred to the splat of mould as a woman. Are you happy?” she asked.

“I am,” Shale said and barked a laugh. “She’s so full of joy right now; I’ve never felt anything like it. I'm just sad you aren’t feeling it.”

Ailmon disappeared below deck. Shale padded Aran's shoulder and followed him.

o-0-o

The air itself hummed and Aran physically felt the vibration in his teeth and bones. He had a feeling as if the ground should be shaking under him, but it didn’t. All was silent, except for the air being alive with energy. He felt it lift his hair and course through him as the evening sky darkened and the blue twilight hung heavy around them.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Ailmon and Shale had led them into the low-hanging trees covering the small island, and there under their feet and up the tree trunks, they saw the fungus. It stretched all over the underbrush between the tangled roots of the trees and wove up the gnarled and winding trunks. The moss was a deep green with a purple shine to the flat seeds that grew from it everywhere. Jutting through the moss were pale golden mushroom caps.

Here under the trees’ canopies and with the darkness of the twilight, it felt dizzyingly like seeing lightning somewhere in your peripheral vision, only in this case, the lightning was golden and green and seemed to warble oddly and vanish when you looked at it.

Shale stood back and let Ailmon carry the fungus, which had now grown to fill an entire crate during their voyage here with the coordinates they got from Eli Callantes. Ailmon very carefully tiptoed into the moss, vigilant on where to place his feet and considerably more agile than the tall, thin, gangly bureaucrat should have been. When he reached a spot a little way inside, he carefully set the fungus down and made space for her before leaving as carefully as he had approached. He was solemn, but a small glimmer of unusual happiness hid in his gaze.

“Let’s get back to the ship,” he said in a hushed voice. “In case you aren’t feeling it, Saibee is grateful to you both for bringing her home. Both she and the other part of her is joyful at the reunion.”

They slowly walked back to the beach, careful not to step on too much of the moss, and when they arrived back on the ship, a blue darkness enveloped them as the inky ocean lapped at the ship’s sides. In the darkness, the eerie beauty of the fungus was visible as it lit up the space between the trees in purplish green luminesce, swaying back and forth and interspersed with golden flecks of light drifting gently in the darkness.

All four stood by the railing again, watching the lights in the gathering gloom as the sailors around them prepared to leave, most of them sending the island nervous looks.

“Thank you for coming along,” Ailmon said to all of them. “I’m glad I don’t have to be alone when we say goodbye to her.”

“You’re welcome. Me too,” Naia said. “Now can we please stop talking about our feelings? It makes my ears pop.”

“I think we should hold hands and talk about our feelings,” Aran said.

Naia instantly grabbed his hand and moved closer to him, making him freeze in place.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked.

Panicked, Aran looked at Shale, who just nodded calmly. “You literally asked for that…” she stated.

Aran disengaged from Naia, who laughed when he withdrew. “So,” he said hurriedly. “We’ll be out of reach of her in a little while. What do you suppose happened to Eli Callantes?”

“Ooh. Definitely killed himself!” Naia voted, leaning her back on the railing.

“Hopefully, the Guild was merciful,” Shale said with two wrinkle-lines forming between her brows. “Although he was our opponent, I feel like… I think he did it for good reasons. Wrong. But good.”

“We promised to bring the perpetrator to justice. I chose to give Saibee mercy because she didn’t know she was breaking a law. I hope I will never have to cross the line like that again,” Ailmon said, as if he was puzzling it out while he spoke. “In letting her go, I broke the law too.”

“What law?” Shale asked.

“A lack of knowledge of the right and proper body of laws of the city of Sonderport excuses no behaviour, deed, or action that exceeds or violates it,” Naia intoned.

They all looked at her with various degrees of surprise.

“It’s the first paragraph of the Great Prow. It’s written above the entrance to the courthouse down by The Niner.”

“…And you’ve been there often enough to have read and memorised them?” Aran asked.

“Duhh,” Naia said.

Nothing else seemed forthcoming.

“Is that a yes?” Shale asked.

“Of course. Why do you think Ailmon and I are friends? I work for the courts!” Naia stated, clearly surprised at their ignorance.

“You’re a bureaucrat?” Aran asked, incredulous.

“No, I'm a consultant in matters of death. I have a caster’s permit. Why else would I have that?” she answered, clearly not impressed with his intelligence. “Anyway. I'm putting twenty gost on Callantes being dead by his own hand before the Guild got around to it. What do you say? Any takers?”

“That’s quite a grisly sport you’re suggesting,” Ailmon commented calmly.

“Yep!”

“Alright. I’ll play,” Aran said. “I don’t think he will kill himself. He actually said he understood that he would pay, and he didn’t seem the type to give in to despair. I think he will give himself over to the Guild and be happy when they execute him. I’m putting twenty gost on that.”

“Nice!” Naia stated. “Shale?”

Shale shrugged. “Alright, I guess… he gets away? Twenty gost on that seems fair. He probably needs to hunt some people down he didn’t get to or something.”

“How? How would he do that?” Naia asked.

“We turned him over to the Guild,” Aran added.

“Sure…” Shale said. “Twenty gost on him getting away somehow anyway.”

All three turned to look at Ailmon, who had a faraway look in his face. He snapped to attention when he realised they were staring. “Oh, I refuse to gamble on a living being’s life. The law is the law and the only reason I complied with the Guild was that we had undertaken the task of bringing justice to the victims. Frankly, I should have thought that through much better and I will in the future.”

“What? You won't bet? Spoilsport!” Naia exclaimed.

“I will hope he finds some way to atone and find meaning with what he felt he had to do. That’s all.” Ailmon brushed a non-existent speck of dust off his still immaculately nondescript grey tunic. He looked at the others. “That’s all I have to add.”