"This is bad," said Aven, keeping pace with Bill as they left the manor. "What are we going to do?"

"We don't have a choice," Bill said, cracking his knuckles. "We can't make it out of the harbor without his say-so. I have to go get the tapestry."

Aven frowned, glancing back at the walls of the manor. "But that's the only leverage we have. The second you put in his hands he could have us all arrested."

"I don't think so," Bill said, shaking his head. "I think he's telling the truth. He doesn't want revenge; he wants this over and done with. I'm less of a threat to his cushy life sailing away than dead. I'll go get the tapestry alone."

"What?" asked Aven. "Why?"

"Because there's a chance he's trying to get me to lead him to the tapestry. Once I dig it up, he can have his summons off me in the woods. I doubt it, but I can't rule it out," said Bill, looking up into the sky. Dozens of birds flitted through the air above Chanan Harbor. Any of them could be Menshi’s summon, keeping them under watch. "If I go alone, it'll be easier for me to escape if it comes to that. In the meantime, the rest of the crew will make the ship ready to sail at a moment's notice. Once he hands me that pass, we leave."

"Are we giving up on the book?" asked Aven.

"No," Bill said, lowering his voice as a knot of people passed them by. "While I'm gone, your job is to spend every waking moment staking out the manor. Once we get the pass, we'll sail away just like he wants. After we're gone, you steal the book and make for Thetri village. Ji will stay behind to escort you, as it would make sense for there to be two acolytes on the road. We'll meet you at the village and then we sail away."

Aven was quiet for a moment, staring down at his feet. "There's a lot that could go wrong."

Bill sighed and patted him on the back. "I know, but it's the best we can do."

-

Aven knelt on the deck, gently scooping a few spoonfulls of honey into a bowl filled with leaf ash. He kneaded the mixture together carefully, adding water until it became a smooth paste. It was a cheap and simple burn salve, and it was likely he'd need plenty of it soon.

"Oh Aven," Cai sing-songed from the gangplank. "Someone to see you!"

"What?" Aven said, getting to his feet and going over.

Cai gestured to Yazwa, standing on the dock with staff in hand. "This lovely young lady says she knows you."

"You never came to uh…get me. So I came looking for you," said Yazwa.

Cai cracked a smile. "I'm the last person to complain about bringing women back to the ship, but try to be a little more discreet about it," he said, walking away.

"W-wait," Yazwa sputtered after him. "It's not like that!"

"Don't bother," Aven sighed. "He'll just pretend to have bad hearing. I'm sorry I didn't come for you. Things have been difficult. Are you ready to see Tsen?"

"Yes," she said, practically shaking with excitement. "I know you said not to bother, but I brought some money just in case." She patted the side of her dress. "Wait. Where did it go?!"

"Cai!" shouted Aven. The old man flung the purse through the air, and Aven caught it with one hand. "Keep a better eye on your things while you're here," he said while Yazwa slipped it back into her pocket. "Won't matter anyway. He doesn't care about money, only knowledge," Aven said, walking towards the door that led below deck.

"You mean, secrets?" Yazwa asked, falling in behind him.

"Not really. He'd take them, but he'll take anything that he's never heard of before. I've seen Bill bribe him with a turtle soup recipe before," Aven said, ducking to get down the stairs.

Yazwa ducked lower than Aven to get past the overhang. "How should I address him? Are there any native titles or honorifics he prefers?"

Aven opened his mouth but was interrupted by a cry of "My candles!" from behind the door.

"Well, so much for a good impression," he said, knocking on the door "Hey Tsen!"

The sound of multiple locks being opened rattled through the door before it swung open. "What is it?" Tsen asked, holding up a smoking candlestick and gently licking it. "Strange, it's gone completely cold."

"That's my fault, wise elder," Yazwa said, dropping to her hands and knees. Aven had to jump up onto the bed so she'd have space to bow. "It was not my intent. But I have a question only you can answer."

"Get up," Tsen groaned, leaning back in his chair until she got back to her feet. "What do you mean, this is your fault?" he asked, waving the candle around.

Yazwa swallowed. "I am cursed. A spirit has made it so no fire can burn near me. No Achali has been able to help. Aven tried to, but could not do it. He told me of your mastery of the Purification Arts, so I sought out your aid."

"In plain language, you need me to purge the curse from your body," Tsen said, standing up and grabbing a clay jar off his desk. He dipped his finger in and drew a symbol in ash on his palm. "Hold still," he said, holding his hand close to Yazwa's belly. "Breathe naturally,"

"Hang on," Aven said from the bed. "Since when do you do things for free? You wouldn't tell Batro what day it was without a trade."

Tsen was silent for a moment, slowly rotating his palm around. "This is a valuable research opportunity, not a common piece of trivia. Humans are rarely touched by spirits. Did it feel rough for you too?"

"What are you offering?" Aven replied, but kicked himself when he caught Yazwa's eye. "Yes, it felt like rough rock."

"That is a good sign," Tsen said, rolling up his sleeve. "A very good sign."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"You can fix it?" Yazwa gasped.

"Perhaps," he said, dipping his finger into the pot and drawing out more symbols on his arm. "Hold your breath and don't move."

Yazwa sucked in a deep breath and planted her feet wide. When Tsen touched her stomach with his fingertips a strong pressure filled the room. Yazwa strained her knees and held her back straight as the pressure grew more intense with each passing moment. Tsen furrowed his brow and took a deep breath, pushing his palm into Yazwa's stomach as the pressure grew and grew. Without a sound, deep wounds gouged in Tsen's arm, racing towards his shoulder. The pressure vanished and Tsen's bloody arm hung limp at his side.

“Curious,” mumbled Tsen, scratching his chin with his good arm while drops of blood pooled on the floor.

"Your arm!” shouted Yazwa, grabbing for the sheets on the bed. “We…we need to cover it!”

Aven grabbed her wrist. “Don’t bother. Did it work?”

"No," said Tsen, walking back over to his desk with his bloody arm swaying back and forth. "It did not."

Yazwa stared at Tsen’s gashed arm, putting her hand over her pounding heart. “But...but look at him!”

Aven sighed and let go of her. “I know it looks bad, but whenever he gets injured he reacts like this and the next morning he’s fine. Can you try again? You never stop talking up your skill.”

"If this were about skill, she would be cured," Tsen said, pulling a pen out of the inkwell and writing down notes. "But it is about power. Yazwa, you are beyond my ability, but you may not be beyond help."

Yazwa scurried forward, looming over him at his desk. "What do you mean? Do you know another way to get rid of the curse?"

"No, but I believe there may be a master of the Purification Arts that can do what I cannot," Tsen said, eyes on his paper as he wrote with his one working arm.

"Who is it?" Yazwa demanded.

Tsen was quiet until he filled the page, then he turned away from the desk to face her. "What are you offering?"

"Such an asshole," Aven muttered from the bed.

"I've been an apprentice blacksmith for years. I can teach you how to make anything," Yazwa said.

Tsen waved his hand. "I have spent many years in forges. I know what that profession has to offer. What else?"

"But have you been in an Ibscaal forge?" Yazwa pressed, walking closer. "We're some of the finest smiths in the world. You wouldn't learn our skills from some backcountry hammerer."

Yazwa proceeded to offer up every technique she knew, from acid etching to angle grinding, but Tsen claimed to know each and every one.

"How do you know all this?" she asked after the last technique failed to entice him, her throat dry as the desert.

"I have devoted my life to gathering knowledge," Tsen said, patting the metal case that held his many books. "There is no skill I have not mastered. If you have nothing to offer me, I ask you to leave so I may finish my notes."

"Wait!" said Yazwa. "Wait, I know something you can't possibly know. You've only ever quenched blades in water, right?"

"I am aware of oil quenching," Tsen replied.

"But not every type of oil. My family has a secret recipe that I know you can't have ever seen. Quenching a blade in it will leave the sword with a permanent red sheen," Yazwa insisted.

"Hmmm…" Tsen said, pulling out a new sheet of paper. "A worthy trade. What is this oil recipe?"

"You first," Yazwa said.

"Very well," Tsen sighed. "The Purification Arts are different from most other magics in the world. You are not born with the power like an Ezu or gain it when you reach a deeper understanding of the world like an Esgan. It is similar to your Achal or the summoning arts. It can be taught to anyone capable. But unlike them, you do not need to be devoted to a creed or a deity to learn. Most magic flows from the world of spirits to the world of mortals;however, the source of the Purification arts is the Caves between the worlds. The same Caves that tear apart any soul trying to pass between. The power of the Caves is what nearly tore my arm into its component parts," he said, grabbing his limp arm by the wrist and holding it up.

"Are you sure you don’t want us to do anything about that?" Aven asked, staring at the growing puddle of blood beneath Tsen's chair.

"It will heal itself," Tsen shrugged.

"Who can help me?" Yazwa spoke up again.

"I am trying to give you the complete answer," Tsen said. "Aven and I have both briefly passed into the Caves by meditating with a piece of rock taken from them. We dipped parts of our bodies in the Cold Waters to create a connection. That allows us to draw on the power that fuels the Arts of Purification. While we can touch that power, we are only capable of drawing out a small amount. However, that is not the only way to form the connection. Someone who has died, seen the Caves, and then been brought back has a much stronger link than such as we."

"You're talking about Yia, aren't you?" said Aven.

"Indeed," Tsen replied.

"And who is that?!" asked Yazwa.

"A Vathlanri priest, saved from drowning when she was a child. I would say she is your only hope," said Tsen.

"Where can I find her?" asked Yazwa.

"What are you offering?" Tsen replied.

"I can tell you that one," Aven said, standing up off the bed. "Just tell him the recipe for the oil and let's get out of here."

After Yazwa recited the recipe and promised to go far enough away to not interfere with Tsen's candles, she and Aven left the bloody cabin behind. "Where can I find her?" she asked, bouncing on her heels in the sunlight above decks. "Where does she live, what city?"

Aven looked around to make sure most of the crew were out of earshot. "Do you know what the Vathlanri are?"

"I mean uh…I've heard stories," she said, adjusting her dreadlocks behind her head. "They're women pirates, right?"

"Sort of," Aven said. "They're a race of women that live out in the deep ocean. They don't have any settlements on dry land, they either live on little islands or on ships in roaming bands called ata. Yia is part of a mercenary ata that travels all over the western Raoin Sea."

Yazwa's face fell. "But someone has to know where they are, right?"

A pit settled into Aven's stomach and he looked away from Yazwa's face. "The western Raoin Sea is a dangerous stretch of water. It's filled with pirates, privateers, mercenaries, and the warring fleets of a dozen countries. Even if you could find out where she is, good luck getting there without getting yourself killed."

Yazwa cleared her throat and gripped her staff tight. "So, you're saying…the only person that can help me is out of my reach?"

"…Yes," said Aven.

Yazwa stared at him, the silence dragging on until she turned and made her way to the gangplank again. When she put one foot on the dock she stopped and turned around. "Back at the manor, they're talking about executing Saiyun.”

The pit grew deeper In Aven's stomach. "That's…probably only if he doesn't comply. He'll probably just get prison time."

"How can he comply?" asked Yazwa. "We know where the tapestry is. He doesn't. He wasn't there!"

"Things will work out," Aven whispered. "Trust me."

"I remember where we buried it," she said, wringing her hands. "If I told someone…"

Aven reached out and grabbed her shoulders. "No," he hissed, leaning in close. "Then you have to explain how you know and why you didn't speak up until now. They'll come down on you just as hard."

"But he might die!" she said, tears shining in her eyes.

Aven squeezed her shoulders tighter, looking right into her eyes. "Bad things happen to people. All the time. For no reason. You know that."

Yazwa hung her head, taking a shuddering breath. "It's not fair."

"This is nothing," he said, letting go of her shoulders. "The further west you go, the worse it gets. The West Raoin Sea is a bloodbath. Go home."

Yazwa said nothing, scrubbing at her eyes as she walked away down the dock.

Aven watched her until she was out of sight, then cleared his throat and got back to work.