Saiyun sighed as he finished a chapter of Jeweled Fist and carefully put a bookmark between its pages. Bill was right. Out of all the Great Martial Texts, it had proven to be the most useful. The challenge was sifting through the smut and gossip that the authors had deemed fit to include.

Setting the book aside, he stood and stretched, shading his eyes from the afternoon sun as the ship swayed beneath him. The deck was calm, most of the crew was in their hammocks, waiting for the cooler hours of twilight. Cai manned the helm, alongside another crewman. If he had a choice, Saiyun would have preferred the shade below deck, but his current duty required the sun.

Two of the summoning manuals Aven recovered from Azun's ship lay open on the deck, damp pages slowly drying. Thankfully they had only been on the water a short time. They had also been bound tightly shut, keeping water from flowing in between the pages. But the damage had still been done. The outer sections were saturated and stuck together, trying to force them open would have shredded the pages into a pulpy mess. So Saiyun had employed a trick he learned from his scribe days.

Turning his attention to an open chest full of sawdust. He reached in and gently removed the final manual, which was also the thinnest and most well-decorated. Golden writing in beautiful calligraphy accentuated the red leather. It was probably the personal manual of the Vao who held the Korav under her sway.

A shudder went up his spine as he reached for the sharpened razor. Cai had loaned it to him for three copper coins or a game of Chuxa's Palace later. He hadn’t decided which payment he’d chose.

The sawdust had drawn the water out of the other manuals just fine, but the red one was much thinner, which meant the water had penetrated deeper. It had stayed in the sawdust for an extra day, to be safe, and now it was time for the razor.

Saiyun slipped the blade of the razor carefully between the pages, he began using gentle pressure to separate them until he could open the book. He frowned, the damage was more severe than the others. The ink on the outer edges had run, leaving each page surrounded by a smudgy black border. The center was just fine, the illustration of a winged centipede having survived intact, along with some of the text. Compared to the other two, Saiyun doubted he would be able to pull much information out of this one, but every little bit helped. Liyen would be proud to see him now.

The smile faded from Saiyun's face and a heavy weight settled on his chest. Liyen was a cranky old archivist from Channan Harbor responsible for mentoring Saiyun when he arrived at his new post. In the first week a nasty storm had come off the water and blown a hole in the roof of one of the archival buildings. Saiyun had spent the next month at Liyen's beck and call, slowly drying out an entire shelf of records. When it was over, Saiyun had sworn he would never look at sawdust again as long as he lived.

What was Liyen doing now? Did he think he was a traitor? A murderer? Did everyone who worked in the archives think that?

He had been away for almost two months now. Had word of his crimes reached his family?

Taking in a sharp breath, Saiyun pushed the thoughts out of his mind. They were pointless. The way home was through these manuals. That was what he needed to focus on.

Setting the red manual down open, he weighted each side with bowls from the galley. The sun would dry what the sawdust could not. Perhaps the red manual would not be a complete waste.

He turned to the other two and carefully flipped their dry, brittle pages. He jotted down a few notes on the ever-growing list of summons that could be preserved from the sodden manuals. With new pages exposed to the light, Saiyun settled down to find his spot in Jeweled Fist again. After a few pages, the sound of heavy footsteps on deck compelled him to look up.

Yazwa approached him, her white and green dress spotted with faded blood stains. "Are you, uh," she said, tying her dreadlocks behind her head. "How's Jeweled Fist?"

"I wish I could say it wasn't worth my time," Saiyun said, climbing to his feet to speak to her. "But the authors speak of wisdom that matches what I've read in other books of the Great Martial Texts. Aching's War Diary and the Letters of Ren Lao also explain at length that disorientation and deception are the key in the opening phases of any battle. Jeweled Fist says the same. The only difference is that it's written for single or small groups of men. It remains irritatingly relevant."

"Irritatingly relevant?" Yazwa asked, eyebrow raised. "How can something be irritatingly relevant?"

"Because the authors, for some unfathomable reason, see a need to preface their instructions by explaining in detail the, er, events that led up to them," Saiyun huffed, holding up the book. "In the previous chapter they have a section on how to survive being attacked in bed. You would think that would be straightforward, but each example is preceded by a detailed report of their...activities."

"What?" Yazwa snickered, a grin crossing her face. "Let me see."

"No, it's much too ah-!" Saiyun yelped as Yazwa tugged the book out of his hands. He scowled, again reminded of his weakness compared to...everyone else on the ship. But that too would be remedied soon. Aven was slowly teaching him to swim whenever the ship stopped to weigh anchor. It was frustrating, humiliating work, but at least now he could keep his head above water. "Are you quite finished with that?"

Yazwa shook with laughter as she flipped through the pages. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, handing it back with a shaking hand. "It's just...the language is so flowery."

"Yes, despite their other faults, the authors had skill with a pen," Saiyun said as Yazwa broke out laughing again. He cleared his throat when she managed to get herself under control. "Their wisdom will prove most valuable now that I can manage two summons at once."

"That's right," Yazwa said, closing the book and brushing a tear out of her eye. "That was kind of a shock, wasn't it?"

Saiyun nodded. It had taken him much longer than he wanted to admit to realize he had summoned Jado and maintained the Ijose Turtle at the same time. That was supposed to be one of the benefits of sending new summoners into battle so quickly–stress could bring out the best in a man. "I haven't been able to practice with Jado at all, since all the wood we have here is part of the ship. But I have been able to maintain two of the turtles during swimming lessons. Which is encouraging."

"What about those?" Yazwa asked, pointing at the drying books. "Are there any good ones in them?"

"Several," Saiyun said, readjusting his shirt. "There is an enormous variety, even considering the water damage. The challenge is figuring out which one best suits my purposes. My research indicates mobility is vital, but I have yet to find any quite as quick and versatile as Jado. That was drawing from Tsen's records, which indicates there may not be anything better than Jado. I have uncovered a fair amount of air-medium summons, but I still don't know if I'm capable of that yet. That's another aspect, time. Finding one that I can reasonably master before we reach Adoti is another limiting factor. There is no easy solution."

Yazwa stared as he rambled on. "So, uh, there are good ones and bad ones?" she asked sheepishly.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Yes," Saiyun coughed, recognizing her pitiful attempt at smalltalk for what it was. "Did you need something?"

"I wanted to ask you something about this,” Yazwa said, patting the satchel at her side Aven had stolen from the other ship. “Are you certain of what was written here?"

"I'm sure,” he said firmly. “It's in Old Qis, clear as day. Numbers and the names of birds. Obviously it meant something to its previous owner, but I don't know what."

Yazwa opened the little box and pulled out one of the glass vials. In the light of the sun it was a bright crimson. She held the vial between her fingers, twisting it this way and that. "I need to ask a favor. Did you ever figure out who owns the manuals?"

"There was some debate," Saiyun said, thinking back. Vao manuals could be incredibly valuable to the right people, and the crew demanded a cut. "If we decide to sell them, Bill says one manual will be split between me and Aven, since he stole them and I'm salvaging them. Proceeds of the other two will be split among the crew. Why?"

"I think I know what these are," Yazwa said, sliding the vial back into its case. "But I need to be sure, and the only person that can tell me is Tsen, and I've got nothing to trade. If you give me a summon I can use to barter, I'll give you my share of the tin when we sell it in port. Favor Game."

Saiyun reached into his pocket and pulled out the list. "Just take it."

"What?" Yazwa asked, taking the list in her hands.

"I may be sailing with pirates, but I'm not a pirate," Saiyun said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "We're both trying to get home. I'll help you however I can. Just make sure you offer him a one for one trade. One summon for one piece of advice. You know how he is."

-

The list felt heavy in Yazwa's hands as she coughed in vain to clear her dry throat. When she looked at the vials with her Sight they had a roiling, crimson glow to them like the clouds of a spectacular sunset. She tried to look deeper and find something familiar, but there was nothing. Tsen was the only person who could tell her what was in the vials, even if she already had a suspicion. If she was right, the contents were the product of forbidden blood Achal.

Waiting for Saiyun to finish the list had been agonizing. Over the days Yazwa had done anything to keep her mind occupied. Learning more card games from Cai, helping Ji while her arms were bandaged up, exercising, designing a new staff, learning how to steer the ship and navigate by the stars… But now that she had the list in hand, there was no more putting it off. When she was held hostage at the temple in Ortan, one of her fellow captives told her Ca Diro had broken the blood taboo. Finding the vials so close to where she encountered him couldn't be a coincidence. If they really were blood magic, Yazwa would have to tell someone who could track Ca Diro down. Even if it meant revealing herself again.

She slowly made her way down the stairs to the door with five locks. "Tsen, I want to barter," she said, knocking softly.

There was a moment of silence before the locks clattered and the door opened a crack. "What are you offering?" Tsen asked, only one purple eye showing.

Yazwa held up the list, "Saiyun has been drying out the manuals Aven got from the other ship. I will trade you one of these summons in return for a detailed answer to a question."

Tsen's eye narrowed as it swept over the list. He stepped away from the door and pulled it open. "Touch nothing."

Yazwa's eyes widened as she stepped in. The cot and desk were still there, so were the two open portholes and unlit lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Sheets of paper covered nearly every surface. They were several layers deep on the bed and desk and hung from any spare space on the cabin walls. Bits of string ran from piece to piece in a pattern Yazwa could not decipher. Only a narrow strip of the floor was clear of paper and it led to the chair at the desk, also free. "Why?" she asked, taking a careful step into the room.

Tsen took a seat in the chair, facing Yazwa. "The knowledge I gathered from the records of the Emerald Arrow requires me to reorder my records. Everything is in the proper place, disturb nothing."

Yazwa tiptoed into the room on the narrow strip of floorboards, letting the door swing shut behind her. Under the pile of papers on her desk she could see an empty hardback book. "What's all this for?" she asked, swaying to keep her balance as the ship plodded forward.

"Is that the question you want a detailed answer to?" he asked, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

"No no no," she said hurriedly. "Did you find a summon you don't know on the list?"

"Sharp Haztar," Tsen answered instantly. "I have seen it before, but I do not know its secrets. Ask your question so I can get back to work."

Yazwa frowned, pulling the satchel off her shoulder and handing it to Tsen. "I need to know what's in these vials. Not a one word answer either. I need details, that's part of the deal."

Tsen plucked the satchel from her hand from where he was sitting. "Sharp Haztar will not buy unending questions. There will come a point where you must barter again."

"Fine," Yazwa said, clearing her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She was finally getting her answer.

The satchel opened with a snap and Tsen examined the writing inside before pulling out one of the vials. He rolled it around in his palm and looked at it in the light coming from the porthole. Then he gently shook it next to his ear and sniffed the stopper. "Hmn, a very viscous material in high-quality glass. This came from a true artisan."

"Use your Sight," Yazwa swallowed. "When I looked it appeared like moving red clouds."

Tsen glanced down, eyes flashing to glow light purple. But no sooner had they flickered to life they snuffed out. Tsen leapt to his feet, holding the vial at arms length like it was a snake. "Blood Achali," he snarled.

"I knew it," Yazwa said, letting out a breath and wiping the sweat from her brow. It had to be Ca Diro's doing. Not only was he breaking the Blood Taboo, he was selling it too. "Good, I need you to tell me more. What does it do? What is it for? Can you tell me where it was made, I need to---"

Tsen ignored her, gathering all the vials in one hand. He stepped across his papers on the floor and thrust his hand out of the porthole. When he pulled it back in it was smeared with red liquid and shards of glass.

"What are you doing?" Yazwa gasped, frozen in shock.

"You fool," Tsen snapped, bending over to pick up a scrap of cloth that he used to wipe off his hand. When he finished he tossed the rag out the window. "How could you keep that on the ship for days? You're an Atemzlite, you know the wrath that would be called down on if those were discovered. The Chuxa themselves would come after us."

Yazwa's stomach clenched. "That's why I had to be sure of what it was. I needed you to tell me more about it, so we could find where it was made, so we could help the Church track it down. Now it's gone!"

"Even if I were foolish enough to help you, it would do you no good. I am completely ignorant of blood magic. Move," he said, pushing her aside and getting down on his hands and knees next to the bed.

"You?" Yazwa asked, staggering sideways onto Tsen's papers. "The one who's always on the hunt for new knowledge? You abide by Illitzo's blood taboo?"

Tsen hauled something out from under the bed wrapped in a canvas sack. "If you are asking if I piously abide by the laws of Atemzl, I do not. In my younger days I met someone who offered me a deal. In exchange for a vast trove of knowledge, I would abstain from blood magic for the rest of my life and alert him if I ever encountered any. I keep my bargains."

"Is it...one of the Chuxa?" Yazwa asked as Tsen got to his feet and pulled a decorated bronze bell out of the sack. One glance told her it was made by a master. It was a perfectly symmetrical cylinder, decorated by relief panels that each featured two or three women. There was some lettering on it that she didn't recognize either.

"It is not," Tsen said, hanging the bell on the wall and rapping it with his knuckles. A deep, clear tone rang out, filling the little cabin. "I believe our conversation is at an end."

Yazwa glanced around the little room, expecting some creature to pop into existence as the sound of the bell faded. "But you still owe me."

Tsen sank into his chair and turned his back on her. "I have not yet learned the secrets of Sharp Haztar, so I owe you nothing. I could not provide you with a detailed answer to your question, so you owe me nothing."

Yazwa opened her mouth, but closed it and slumped her shoulders. It wasn't that Tsen wouldn't help her, it was that he couldn't. Either way, arguing with the shriveled old man would be like arguing with a stone wall. Without another word, she turned and left the room, shutting the five-lock door behind her.