The sounds inside the inn assaulted Emma; crossing the threshold was coming home to a unique chaos, and it had been too long on this trek. It was like a hundred circuses with a hundred ring leaders and audiences. The room before went through the same rhythms as the circus moments of hushed silence as the performer swung overhead, then raised to a sudden rapture of applauses at the trick's completion.

No one seemed to notice her in any obvious way, but eyes tracked her movements. Before she had taken five steps inside, an arm hooked into the crook of Emma's left arm. Emma's right hand went to the handle of one of her knives. Turning her head, she came face to face with a woman about her age, smiling broadly, with teeth of gleaming pearl white.

"Welcome back, Captain. You were not expected for another few months," the woman said. She was familiar to Emma, "What was her name?" she thought.

"Jenny. It's Jenny." Emma said aloud.

"Oh, you remembered. We had such fun last time. But, of course, you won all that money," Jenny said with an edge of admiration and admonishment. She tapped an index finger on Emma's shoulder, then ran the tip down just a few inches, tipping her head coyly.

"Yes. Where is three fingers, Lucian? I need information, and I have some of that money for it," Emma said as he leaned close to Jenny's ear.

"You have Lucian's money," Jenny replied, a bead of water formed at her temple. "You don't want a drink first, then?" Jenny asked.

"I am not in a drinking mood; three fingers Lucian is who I want," Emma said.

"You just sit here and have this," Jenny said, placing a drink on a table before her. "We will see what we can do," Jenny weaved through the crowd and disappeared behind a door next to the bar, much like a snake in the tall grass.

Emma sat back in her chair, adjusting her pistol holster. She placed both of her daggers on the edge of the table, opposite each other, within grasp. This was a signal that any would-be paramour should consider approaching someone else. Emma picked up the rough, clay-fired cup and turned it left and right in her hand. The liquid inside splashed the sides but did not come over the lip. Emma lifted the cup to under her nose and sniffed. It smelled like rum, definitely, mostly rum. Inside had a rich, sweet smell of sugars and the barrel's oak, but other ingredients also made themselves known. There was more than a hint of aniseed and coffee. So, this was definitely the house special, and it was a step above the sugar-sweetened rat poison you would get from most places on the islands. Emma lifted the cup to her lower lip, tilted her head, straightened her shoulders, and took a deep sip. The taste was what she expected. It was a proper mix of flavors, followed by an intense burn.

Sitting back in the chair, the cup held in her left hand, she stretched out her right hand to first touch the butt of her pistol, then tested that the handle of her dagger was within reach and scanned the room while she was doing it. More than a few conversations were held between the servers, the hosts, and the marks. This was not anything new. Emma had often been here, looking for information about marks for her own crew to take on. One scam after another.

Most Captains knew this was the deal for frequenting this tavern. And, so, the entertainment price was always a little too high. She noted three other tables. One had a single man who sat with a cup of rum and no company, and like her, his weapons were within reach to shoo off anyone who may have wanted to approach. Other revelers were less studiously aware of the dangerous nature of loose talk and were well into their cups.

Jenny reappeared from the back of the bar and took a moment to straighten herself up. She patted her front, removing some marks or lint, and lifted her bust. Emma watched as Jenny grabbed a tray from the bar's edge and placed it in her hand. A piece of paper jutted out between Jenny's hand and the tray and was visible only because Emma watched for it. Jenny moved out from behind the bar, empty tray in hand, wheeling around the marks and servers alike. Then, she tapped the shoulder of a slight man about five foot seven in height with a dark, bushy mustache matching his dark, tightly cropped hair. Emma watched as the man changed in demeanor from smiling and slightly drunk to a scowling creature, dropping the drunk act. They crossed the room, and the two sat at Emma's table. Jenny sat to Emma's left, and the bruiser took the chair directly opposite her.

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"Well, then. It would seem that I was not the only one to remember you from your last visit," Jenny said. Emma began to rise from her seat, but a hand was placed on her shoulder before she could get halfway up.

"You have returned somewhat earlier than we would have expected," a smooth, deep, English-accented voice said as a man sat down in the chair to Emma's right.

"Lucian," Emma said as she sat back down, nodding slightly and twisting in her seat towards him.

"Ah, yes. The ever-suspicious Captain Emma Rollins. I see one dagger pointed toward my staff, and the second one is pointed at where my stomach would be. Just waiting to run me through," the confidence in Lucian's voice elevated the statement to high sarcasm.

"It is just that your bruiser looks a little bit tetchy, and I would not want him to become too enthusiastic," Emma said with a polite grin.

"You have no information or reason to believe I would harm you in any way. It is simply not in your nature. And, well, of course, if it were, I would not be here in the first place," Lucian replied.

"We have talked on two occasions, so how is it that you think you have sufficient knowledge of my character to make such an assessment?" Emma asked

"It is simple. I am a broker of the probable and the possible, my dear. And, to make a fair assessment, that requires a lot of information. I get that from this source and that person. Anyway, I can, shall we say, then collate and distribute. But, this is not news or information that is of any real value," Lucian said

"So, let us do a deal, then. I want to know--," Emma was cut short in mid-sentence.

"You want to know where your brother is," Lucian finished the sentence for her. "Or, rather, you are looking for where Ravens Claws is docked. It would be simpler for all if captains painted the ship names on the balloon or hull. Don't you think?" Lucian said and smiled slightly.

"Well, then. The only thing we need to discuss is the value of the information you have for sale," Emma stated.

"Which? The location of your brother or the value of the location of the Raven's Claws?" Lucian replied. Emma looked back into Lucian's eyes, scanning for something that gave something away.

"Are they not the same thing?" Emma asked, and Lucian started to chuckle.

"And, now, you see why my business exists. Our little island paradise is simply awash with questions. If I might say, the one you asked was a good question. Most would not have seen the difference. But you did," Lucian said, laced his fingers together, and sat back in his chair.

"Lucian, are you attempting to butter me up with compliments. Is that your business? Because, so far, you have just talked about how good you are at stroking your... ego. Can you please help me find the location of The Ravens Claws? I want to get my brother," Emma said

"Excellent. You have a question, and I have an answer. And, all it will cost you is, shall we say, a favor," Lucian replied.

"A favor? What is this favor worth in gold?" Emma asked.

"Priceless," Lucian said. Emma leaned forward slowly, and the bruiser to her side did the same, mirroring her.

"Right, you are, then, Lucian. Give me the price and the information, and I will be on my way. Debts will be settled in due course," Emma said, turning her head slightly to the left, bringing the blade she had been holding from under to above the tabletop. She rested it so that the blade's tip pointed directly at Jenny, and the butt faced Lucian.

"The Ravens Claws is docked for one more day. Oh, look, a free piece of information. It's at pylon fifty-six mount side. Stay away from the waterside where your ship is docked at pylon eight," Lucian said. He clapped his hand twice and spun away.

"And the price?" Emma asked.

"My dear, the favor was not for you to pay. The favor was given to me to make sure you got the information. But, frankly, had your man not bungled the clothes merchant's offer, you would have had your information by now," Lucian said.

Emma's face lost all color. She launched for the door, pushing over a server that got in her way, and headed out. Sprinting in the last direction, she saw Mr. Wolf go, letting out a long, piercing whistle as she crossed the threshold.