Hannah first went back to Eyset three years after she left. She didn’t want to—she fully intended to only come back when she knew Rene might be comfortable returning to Sólstaður with her, even if in hindsight it was a stupid hope—but she was getting paid, so she kind of had to. Some guy needed his cousin’s wine so one could figure out what made it popular overseas and replicate it; he paid half a fortune up front, promising twice as much if they succeeded.

And, sure, most of that money went to the captain—Hannah knew she’d be lucky if she saw a tenth of the total. But it was still something, and the guy’s cousin just happened to be the one who ran the orphanage-tavern. Once Hannah mentioned it, she was practically forced to go just to avoid paying locals to show them where it might be.

Hannah just prayed she didn’t see Rene; she didn’t know how to explain if the two met again, Rene doing whatever she chose to do and Hannah doing half-legal things so she wasn’t struggling to make ends meet. But being more honest…she wanted to at least check up on her. As long as they didn’t meet face to face, she could manage.

She had been an idiot and still was, admittedly, but that didn’t stop her for wanting to make sure Rene was still alive. Hannah kept an eye out for her the entire time. The crew was in Eyset for a whole week, and Hannah didn’t see Rene at all during that time.

In the last few hours before they had to leave, Hannah went to a little building that served as Eyset’s law enforcement. The place was about as dusty and uncared for as she remembered—it’s gotten better in the years since, surprisingly—and a single man stood behind the counter. He offered her a nod in greeting.

“Good afternoon, miss,” he said. “Need help with something? I know there’s some Sólstaðuric mercs or something running around, but we can’t do anything about them. As long as they don’t pull a knife or gun on you, they’re legal.”

She wondered for a second if ‘Sólstaðuric mercs’ referred to the crew—they fancied themselves as ‘pirates’ since most of their jobs were over the sea and not quite upstanding—then shook it off and went up to the desk.

“I want to check up on someone,” Hannah said. She hesitated, not entirely willing to ask the question but too curious to never say it. She just wanted to know if not seeing Rene was accidental or not, and Eyset kept a lot of records about the people there and where they were.

“Sure,” the man said, leaning back in his chair. “Who is it?”

“Rene Horize—blonde, taller than me by a few inches, looks mostly Sólstaðuric?”

“Let me check.” The man stood up with some effort, going to the bins of documents behind him. Honestly, Hannah could’ve just snuck in here at night and avoided the conversation—alas, she didn’t have that time to spare. “When’d you last see her and how old is she now?”

“Three years ago, and she’s twenty.”

Hannah impatiently waited for him to finish, looking around the rest of the room; upon further inspection, the place actually looked better than it used to. After about five minutes of shifting through papers, the man looked back at her and showed her one with legal jargon.

“The last record I have of her is a job application, three years old,” he said. She could slightly recall it—one of their odd jobs, probably, if not something Rene picked up after Hannah left. “The place has shut down since, so she’s either out of town or dead.”

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She let out a grim chuckle and took a step back.

Right. What did she expect? They were barely getting by together—why would Rene be fine on her own?

Not for the first time and not for the last, she cursed her own stupidity, whether it be from not taking Rene with her or for taking so long to come back or leaving in the first place. She enjoyed her life now—it was fun, and she actually had goals to aspire to rather than just scraping by as she went—but she just…wished they could talk it over. In all the time since, Hannah’s never found anyone she was so comfortable around.

She gave the guy some money as thanks—it looked like he needed it—then prepared for the trip back to Sólstaður.

…

Sólstaðuric taverns were nice in that most of it was private—you could get a room for just yourself or some friends then drown yourself in however much alcohol you wanted with only the waiter judging you. For particularly large groups or for those who couldn’t afford it, there were still seats open in the main room. Hannah never bothered after a certain point.

One or two of her crew were just outside her room, four or five more had their own room, eight were in the general area, and the remaining half a dozen were milling about in town somewhere. Unlike most, she didn’t bother keeping constant tabs on them—a lot of them chose to be with her because of that. It helped that she tried to avoid definitely illegal things whenever possible, so there wasn’t a reason to make sure they weren’t telling everyone they saw about their work.

Hannah drank and thought as per usual, taking note of the chatter and music outside the room. The tune seemed…slightly familiar. Probably from Dakari—its songs were distinct from the ones from Sólstaður. They always sounded more refined—then again, not many people in Sólstaður bothered with composing. They were more of a fighting group, competitive and combative. Hannah still felt like she fit in more here than she did in Dakari.

Or, if nothing else, she liked wiping smug looks off of guys’ faces when they saw her. Some imagined her as being taller; others thought they might have a chance at dating her. She took the comments in stride now—back in the day she would threaten to knife them. Good times.

Someone knocked on the doorway as Hannah picked up another glass. She answered before taking a sip.

“Yeah?”

“I heard someone talking about needing some help. It’s probably something we could do.”

“Did you ask for the details?”

“Sounds like someone needs a ride to Dakari. They look pretty rich.”

Hannah took a second to finish up the rest of the drink, setting the glass on the table once she was done. She stood up and left the room from the curtains, looking at the crew member that had told her.

“I’ll talk to them,” she said. She dug around her pockets a bit to gather some coins and gave them to him. “Go ahead and get a beer for the crew, too, and another bottle of sake for me.”

He nodded, pointing to the other side of the tavern.

“They’re over there somewhere; they’re using the shared language with a word or two in the first island’s tongue. Look more pure than you do.”

Hannah scanned the tables until she saw them and nodded. “Got it.”

He murmured some kind of ‘good luck’ as she walked off. Hannah moved through the crowd rather easily, reaching the table in a few seconds and casting them a little smile. Neither one seemed to recognize her—or even particularly understand why half the people around them were drunk.

“Are you two looking for someone to take you to Dakari?”

The two people—a man and a woman, very likely father and daughter—exchanged glances before nodding. Hannah’s smile turned into a sly grin.

“I have a ship that can take you there in half the time of any others,” Hannah said, putting one hand on the table. “It’ll be cheaper, too, if you want to get out right away; passenger ships are more expensive this time of year, with everyone trying to escape to warmer weather.”

It took a minute before the man spoke. “How much are you asking for?”

Hannah pulled back from the table, mostly nonchalant. She’s gotten jobs from guys twice as wary as this one; two decades’ worth of experience and some kind of reputation as being reliable helped with that.

“How about we start with how much you’re offering, and go from there?”