“Kahriah! My dear!” a man’s voice called out from behind a crowd of sailors and merchants milling about the square. Kahriah squinted toward the call and saw a tall figure approaching. “Welcome back to Onny!”

“Captain Thammasorn, how are you?” She asked warmly. Thammasorn was a tall man, taller even than Lohmen, and more muscular. He wore simple sailor breeches and a linen shirt barely laced in the front. A thick, black beard streaked with grey met glossy ringlets of hair to match. There was a rugged handsomeness to him, and he smelled like the sea.

“Keeping well, I suppose. My whole crew is shitting buckets down on the ship, but that’s almost a certainty when you sail the Slug’s Bane. I’ve seen it a dozen times. A standard case of Dragon’s Ass. I’d mix the medicines myself, but then I wouldn’t get to see you.” He took a step back and moved his gaze from head to toe and back up again. He stopped at her midsection.

“Are you with child?!” He exclaimed.

“No, I’m not…, and I might remind you never to assume such a thing about a woman.” Kahriah retorted, and the Captain paled.

“I…I didn’t…I, just thought….” The same Captain dripping in confidence just a moment ago was now an awkward, clumsy mess. A smile crept across Kahriah’s lips as she watched him squirm.

“You dungwraith!” he exclaimed… “You had me…truly! Tell me, who made an honest woman of you?”

“His name is Lohmen. He’s an artist,” she said defensively. “But we’re not married.”

“He’s a lucky man either way.” Thammasorn’s confidence had returned. “You are positively glowing. Come, let’s head down to the ship. I’ve got stoves and tables set up for you. We can skiff any potions out to them.”

“I don’t make potions, Thamma. You know that.”

“Of course, of course. We’ll skiff any concoctions out then.” He put his arm over her shoulder and led her out of the square.

Onny had strict vessel quarantine policies, and the ill seafarers were not allowed ashore. The Captain was only allowed because he wasn’t sick himself. As a Captain, he tended not to partake in the same rations as his crew while at sea. Dining alone in his quarters wasn’t an exercise in classism but rather in prudence.

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“I’m not sure what’s worse, a ship full of sick sailors or the Dragon’s Ass itself.” Thammasorn opined.

The two made their way down a small staircase cut from the stone cliffs at the square’s edge. They landed on a large, wooden platform where one of the many beach lifts was located, transporting passengers to sea level and back. They waited for it to arrive and let two people exit before entering the wood and iron cage. The Captain handed a couple of lords to the liftman, who shut the door behind them. He flipped a flag on the railing signalling the lower liftman, and slowly the lift descended from the platform to the beach below.

“It’s good to see you again, Kahriah.” The Captain offered in a moment of vulnerability, visibly unsettled with the rattling lift. “There aren’t many people you can count on in the realms today. Everyone’s got an angle at best and a knife to your throat at worst. Commerce is trickier than it’s ever been. Port bribes, Ranger contracts, protection garrisons…I swear, I’d retire if I didn’t need the lords. But being able to call on you, who’ll perform her magic without tax or deceit. It’s refreshing.”

“It’s not magic, Thammasorn, just herbalism.” she correctly sternly. “But I know what you mean. Something… something feels different about the Realms. Like there’s a charge in the air before a thunderstorm.”

The Captain nodded in agreement while the lift slowly passed by open windows of homes cut into the rock. Some had smiling Onlos, others just plants. They rode the rest of the way quietly before the lift hit the platform at sea level with a soft thud. The lower liftman raised the cross-board and opened the door. Kahriah looked back and marvelled at the cliffs and lifts, despite having made the descent many times before.

The two meandered their way to the merchant pavilion, where she unpacked her herbs and oils in a large room, appointed just as she’d requested. Ordinarily, she’d investigate the affliction, but Thammasorn had included the list of symptoms in his call to her.

“I’ll be an hour or two, Captain, but come back with a dozen glass vials, and your men will be better in a few days. Have them each take a mouthful tonight, and I’ll come back tomorrow and brew a fresh batch for the morning.” Kahriah instructed, and the Captain nodded and left her to her work.

On time and as instructed, the Captain returned with a case of glass vials, and Kahriah carefully filled them with an equal amount of her pungent tea-like concoction. She corked each one and placed it back in the case.

“See that they drink this in the next hour or so. The longer it sits, the less it works.” She said.

“I’ve already a skiff waiting, thanks, Kahriah. A drink later at the tavern?” He offered, the glint in his eye on full display.

“No drink this time.” She said as she made a show of her belly.

He made an understanding face and handed her a lords purse. She took it and peered inside.

“Captain…this is too much.” A puzzled look on her face.

“I pay more than that in bribes at the eastern ports. You deserve it.”