Author: I originally posted this story sometime in 2006 or 2007. I deleted it in 2013, because I was cleaning up my account and according to my story stats, nobody was looking at it anymore. But I recently got a request to repost it! So I decided to put it back up. Seems logical. I tried to fix spelling errors (and change the sprinkles of British-isms back to American-isms), but forgive me if I've missed any. I've also mushed together a couple chapters for each post.

Trade Winds

Prologue

"And these are the only documents you have on the subject?" he asked, voice low and calm. The elderly man seated beside him at a desk was not similarly disposed, and he stuttered nervously as he answered.

"Y-yes. Or, well… I think so. T-that's all I could find, at least." The librarian must have sensed some of the other man's displeasure, for he hastened to add, "I only have access to this library, you understand. I-in other places…"

"These are the only documents you have on the subject?" he asked again; this time there was perhaps a hint of warning in his tone. The librarian swallowed, his eyes darting from the man standing at his side to the grim, yellow-eyed man standing just inside the door.

"Yes, I-"

"Good," the man interrupted. He leaned over the librarian's shoulder to pick up the thin stack of papers on the desk. "You did well."

As he murmured the words into the old librarian's ear, he quietly drew a short sword from its sheath at his waist, and ran it swiftly through the old man's body.

"Thank you for your assistance."

The librarian gasped once, his face registering shock. He died soundlessly a heartbeat later. The man who had murdered him did not bat an eye as he stepped around the desk, sheaf of papers in one hand, short sword in the other.

"Clean this," he said dismissively as he thrust the sword hilt-first at the man who waited by the door. The man took the sword with a small bow, wiping the bloody blade on his own shirt. He followed his leader out onto the dock where their ship was anchored, a motley crew assembled at the base of the gangplank.

The leader halted near the edge of the wooden structure, looking up at the stars. He held out his hand expectantly. The yellow-eyed man placed the hilt of the sword in his palm. He looked down, inspecting every inch of the blade.

"The stars are bright tonight," he said thoughtfully. He tilted the short sword so that it reflected the night sky. His crew watched. "Perfect for sailing."

The weapon flashed as he raised it, to point off toward his right. "We sail northeast."

Chapter One

Normally, I don't second-guess my actions. After I've done something, I just deal with what comes of my decision- no regrets. It's pointless to agonize over what has already happened, for just that reason: it happened. You can't change that. However…

'Damn it all to Deep Sky! Why didn't I take that post?'

…this was a special case. After all, how was I to know that finding work would be so difficult? I'm a helmsman, one of the best. Hell, likely I was the best (if I do say so myself… which I do). It's not like I don't have a reputation. I mean, I'm the man who sailed on the Delphinus. I was helmsman to Captain Vyse the Legend. I had figured that that distinction would bring me a multitude of prospective employers.

No. The truth was, my sort of people were running out of work. After the defeat of Galcian and Ramirez—after the destruction of the old regime—Prince Enrique became the ruler of the Valuan Empire. The Blue Rogues could no longer prey on the Valuan ships that had previously been such perfect targets. The only possible sources for income for us were Black Pirate ships and Discoveries. And Discoveries were fast being discovered. Soon there would be no more call for adventurous sailors to explore the skies and report their findings. Pretty soon there would be nothing new to be found in the sky. The golden age of piracy was waning, and pirate-for-hire types like myself were the first to feel the decline.

After the final battle between the Delphinus and Ramirez and the Silver Gigas, Vyse had offered me a permanent position as helmsman on his ship. I declined, not considering the possibility that I wouldn't be able to find a job. I was a loner by nature; I didn't tie myself down to one ship. My reasoning behind this is sound, in my opinion. If I bound myself to one ship, I wouldn't have any say in where I went. By jumping from job to job, and thus ship to ship, I could chose where I went and what I did, after a fashion. If a potential employer was sailing somewhere I didn't want to go, I simply didn't take the job and waited for something more palatable.

It's been a year since I left the Delphinus, and I haven't had a job in all that time. Not even one proposition. My pockets were feeling rather empty, and a pirate with empty pockets is a pirate about to die. I have no desire to go out like that, and I was wondering if I could swallow my pride and ask Captain Vyse if his offer still stood when something unlikely happened.

I was in my usual spot, leaning against the outer wall of the Sailor's Guild building on Sailor's Isle, when I heard my name spoken by an unfamiliar voice. I glanced up, feigning disinterest. I had a reputation to uphold, and desperation was never good for negotiating pay.

"Are you Lawrence?" The man asked. I took in his appearance with a cursory glance. He was tall, nondescript—unremarkable brown hair and eyes—he was dressed well, though, and carried weapons of apparent high quality at his waist. Good. That meant he had money.

"I am." I replied curtly, after a pause.

"I'm looking to hire a helmsman. Bounty exploration," he said. I could see he was sizing me up, too.

"One hundred thousand gold. Up front," I told him dispassionately. Internally, I was wound tighter than a harp string. If he decided that my price was too high and didn't want to hire me…. Well, let's just say times would be tough for me in that situation.

"Of course." I was slightly surprised by his reply, but suppressed the expression of incredulity that threatened to flash across my face. He continued: "You want the best, you have to pay for the best, right?"

"Uh?" I made a small, undignified grunt of surprise when he tossed a bag at me. It made a clinking sound as it hit my chest before falling into the hands I held up to catch it. I blinked, and looked from the bag to my employer.

"That's half of it, there," he said calmly, "You'll get the other half when you show up at my ship tomorrow. We hoist anchor at daybreak."

"Right," I said, immediately pulling myself together and tucking the gold away. He studied me a half-second.

"And the name is Halvor. Captain Halvor Twyblade."

"Captain," I acknowledged with a nod of my head. He smiled wryly.

"I can tell you more about the job tomorrow, when I introduce you to the rest of the crew. Remember, daybreak tomorrow. If you're late, you won't be getting the second half of your payment. If you don't show up at all, I'll be coming back for my gold. Got it?"

"Aye, sir," I replied. My voice was back to its usual, cool, aloof tone. I'd swallowed my satisfaction with finding a job, and had slipped into professional mode once more. But I couldn't help but feel cheerful as Twyblade walked away and I leaned back against the wall, hearing the chink of money in my pocket and feeling its weight against my thigh.

'Things are finally looking up,' I thought in satisfaction.

Chapter Two

I arrived at the docks earlier than Twyblade had asked, my few possessions in a sack slung over my shoulder. I immediately spotted my employer at the prow of one of the ships moored at the end of the structure. I walked slowly toward him, running a trained eye over the length of the vessel.

She seemed like a good ship. Nothing in league with the Delphinus… but that was to be expected. As it was, she was mid-sized, long enough to accommodate four cannons along each side, by the number of closed gun-ports. Her keel was metal, the plating continuing up until the line of gun-ports; everything above that was wood planking. The name she bore was Windsoul.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" I shouted up at Twyblade as I stopped at the base of the gangplank. His head swiveled down to me. He gestured briefly, beckoning.

"Permission granted," he shouted in reply. I moved swiftly up the gangplank, adopting a long stride, excited to be on a ship once more. Yet I suppressed the emotion, keeping a stoic outer shell.

'You're a professional, damnit!' I chastised myself. 'So stop acting like a child with a toy boat!'

"You're early," Twyblade observed calmly. I shrugged.

"It would be pointless for me to stay on land, waiting and wasting time, when I could become familiarized with the ship. The sooner I can work quickly and efficiently onboard, the better."

"Indeed." Twyblade looked faintly pleased with me. "Well, we're still waiting for two of my crew, who went to pick up a few items we'll need for the voyage. In the meantime, I'll introduce you to the others."

"Aye sir."

Twyblade led me to the ship's aft deck, where two short and stocky sailors were coiling a length of heavy rope. They looked up at the Captain approached, and I realized that they were identical twins. Both had their black hair cut in the same bowl-like style, and below the dark fringe of hair, their pale brown eyes sat in strong features. Their square jaws completed the image of the stereotypical burly pirate thug. I guessed that they did most of the grunt work on the ship.

"Lawrence, this is Kender, and Galen. They're the mechanics, but they also do other odd jobs on board, as you can see. I can't give you any tips on how to tell them apart, though, I still haven't quite gotten that down either," Twyblade chuckled. I took a second look at the twins. He was right… there wasn't any obvious difference in the two. The telling differences, I supposed, would be in their personalities or bearings.

"And you would be our new helmsman," said one of them. It was a statement, not a question.

"That's right," I replied coolly, quietly. They turned simultaneously to the Captain- 'Galen's shoulders are a touch more stooped than Kender's' I noted absently- and briefly discussed the ship's second level auxiliary ballast with him. After a few minutes, Twyblade left the twins to their work, and led me below deck.

"On my ship," he said, "we serve three meals, but only at the times I've set aside for them. The galley's closed at all other times."

"Aye sir," I replied, when it seemed that he was waiting for my response. "What are the times?"

"We breakfast at dawn, when we wake; our second meal is at midday, and supper is at sunset. Basically, we eat with the sun," Twyblade laughed softly at himself, humor glinting in his eye. "Moons preserve us if it's overcast."

He stopped walking and turned toward the door next to him. Taking a guess from the mouthwatering smells that were emanating from the other side, I figured that it was the galley. Twyblade made a small 'ah-ha!' sound, and stepped inside, gesturing me to follow. I entered, and came face-to-face with a wiry black-haired man. He had a thin, angular face.

"Lawrence, this is Landric, our cook. He's also quite handy in a fight, but we try to avoid such things." Twyblade grinned over the cook's shoulder at me, "I prefer not to risk losing a crewman. Then I'd have to hire a new one. Such an inconvenience."

His tone was not serious, but I wondered suddenly exactly what had led to my employment. Had his previous helmsman died? Quit? Been fired? I shrugged off my speculations. What did it matter, anyway? I was getting paid, that's all that I really cared about.

I looked Landric in the eye steadily for a second. 'I hope his appearance doesn't reflect the quality of his food…' I thought absently, taking in his rather scrawny build. 'Although… whatever's cooking does smell extremely edible.'

"Pleased t'meet yer," growled Landric in a surprisingly deep voice. He looked at me with shadowed grey eyes. "Yer the Lawrence?"

"If by 'the' Lawrence you mean the one who fought on the Delphinus," I replied, "then yes, I am he."

"Huh," he grunted. "Tales tell that ye put in a bit o' fancy flyin' in tha' final battle."

"Not really," I lied; had it been anyone other than Captain Vyse or myself at the helm during that battle, we would have been sunk. The Delphinus had certainly been put through her paces during that fight. But in truth, I had only done what had been needed to keep my own hide intact. Landric made a doubtful noise, but did not comment. He turned back to his work, slapping a fresh fish onto a cutting board.

"Cap'n!" shouted a voice from the corridor. A second later, a petite girl burst into the galley. She huffed a moment in the doorway before noticing me. Immediately, a grin spread across her face, and she bounced over to me, peering up into my face impishly.

"Ooh, you must be our new helmsman!" She paused a moment, brown eyes dancing, and then said over her shoulder, "You didn't tell me he was handsome, Cap'n!"

"Tresa…" Twyblade warned, sounding a bit exasperated. I merely looked back at her, carefully keeping any trace of my thoughts from showing on my face. I heard Landric nearly choking as he tried to muffle his laughter behind me.

'…This might turn out to be a very long voyage. I hope she's not as persistent as most. Although she's already a little too bubbly for my tastes.' Tresa laughed, spinning around and flouncing—I cringed mentally—over to the Captain.

"Aw, I know, Cap'n. No romances on board," she gave me a sidelong glance, "…pity."

"Did you have something to tell me?" prompted Twyblade, impatiently.

"Sure do, Cap'n. Wanthope and Meshin are back with the stuff. They want to know where they should put everything."

"Right. Go tell them I'll be on deck soon." Tresa gave a cocky salute, and disappeared through the door. Twyblade looked at me.

"Sorry about her. She's a bit… energetic. But she has an amazing sense of direction, and the eyesight of a hunter-bird when she's up in the crow's nest. Not to mention she's as nimble up in the rigging as if they were solid ground." Twyblade gestured vaguely. "Besides, she'll obey me. She won't bother you."

" 'Energetic,' " I muttered darkly, too quietly for the Captain to hear. He continued:

"Come on up to the deck with me; you can help store the goods." He moved through the ship with assurance, confident in his captaincy. I followed contentedly, slipping back into ship-life like a fish slipping back into the sky. I'd missed it; I had been landed for much too long.

Up on the main deck, there were several crates and other assorted containers stacked in a miniature mountain of materials. The twins Kender and Galen, Tresa, and two other men whom I did not know were moving purposefully around the pile. One of the unknown men held a sheet of paper in his hand, and seemed to be in charge of the situation. Twyblade went straight towards him, hailing him cheerfully.

"Jerem! Have you all that was on the list?"

"Aye sir," replied Jerem as the Captain drew nearer, with me trailing. "It's all there. Where would you like everything stored?"

"Well, bring all the food stuffs to Landric; he'll want it put in the storage compartment off the galley. The ammunition you can put on the gun deck, and everything else goes to the usual place—cargo."

"Aye aye, Captain Twyblade," Jerem replied. He walked forward, nearer the supplies in question, and began shouting orders to the crewmembers who hovered there. Twyblade half-turned to me.

"That was Jerem Wanthope, my second-in-command. If I'm unavailable to talk at anytime, you can bring your questions or concerns to him," Twyblade swung away, abruptly raising his voice, "Meshin!"

A grim-looking fellow popped up suddenly from behind a barrel. I had to do a double-take, because, at first, his ruffled hair looked white, and I was struck with the impossible thought: 'A Silvite? Here?'

But as I looked at him again, I realized that his hair was in fact a pale grey, even though his face was youthful enough to be my age, or perhaps younger. That wasn't the only thing peculiar about his appearance, either. His eyes were an odd, flat, yellow color, like chips of sulphur. Completely unreadable. I really couldn't help but stare as Twyblade talked to him.

"—and it's stable in this form? We won't have any problems carrying it?" I cursed myself for becoming distracted, as I wondered what the Captain was talking about. Meshin answered him softly.

"Yes sir. They assured me that it would stay safe as long at they were sealed up tight, away from water and fire."

"I expect you'll keep them that way, until we need them," Twyblade ordered. It was a clear dismissal, and Meshin disappeared as silently as he had come. "Lawrence."

"Sir?"

"Help the others store the supplies."

"Yes, sir." I obeyed promptly, walking over to one of the crates. As I bent to get a grip on the edges, somebody came up to the other side.

"Here, I'll take this end. One, two… hup!" The voice was brisk and businesslike, and as I straightened, holding my end of the crate securely, I looked over the top to meet the gaze of the ship's second-in-command.

"We'll need to move this one to the hull compartment. The stairs are behind you," said Wanthope, nodding with his chin in the appropriate direction.

"Yes sir," I replied, taking a step backward as I craned my neck around to try to get at least some idea of where I was heading.

"I expect the Captain has already informed you of who I am, and as I already know who you are, let's skip the introductions. Welcome to the Windsoul," Wanthope's voice was a bit strained from the effort of carrying the crate, as was mine as I answered.

"Thank you, sir." We started down the second flight of stairs, into the belly of the ship.

"The Captain will fill you in on the details, but we're pretty much just Discoverers. We hunt for the Discoveries the Sailor's Guild has put bounties on. On a ship as quick as the Windsoul, we can usually beat out most of the other Discoverers, and the Captain's been building the best sailing crew for several years now. If you're as good at the helm as your reputation says, we'll be able to get to the Discoveries even faster. The Captain's looking for a good haul this time around," Wanthope nodded as we set the crate down next to the handful that were already in the compartment.

"I'm worth the gold I'm paid," I responded simply. We walked back up to the deck for another load, passing Kender and Galen as they carried a large barrel to the gun deck. Wanthope and I ended up carrying another of the unwieldy barrels down the same way as the twins. I furrowed my brow at the letters painted on the side of the drum.

'Pyrulen jelly?' This stuff was like liquid fire, but sticky. My mind conjured up an image of the barrel bursting, splattering globs of flame everywhere. I was a bit perplexed as to why we needed the foul stuff. 'We're Discoverers, are we not? Why would we need such a weapon? Well, maybe if Black Pirates give us trouble. The skies aren't free of dangers…'

We secured the barrel in a honeycomb-like structure on the gun deck, so that it would not roll around or be jostled in case of bad weather. As we brushed off our hands, the captain's voice came over the ship's intercom. It had the tinny-quality of a lower-grade system, but his words were clear anyway.

"All crewmembers to their stations! Wanthope and helmsman Lawrence to the bridge."

"I suppose we're casting off, then," Wanthope said, sounding pleased. So we made our way to the bridge quickly. The Captain was standing by the wheel, looking out the bank of windows before him with his back to us.

"Captain Twyblade," Wanthope took his place standing at a broad table that was spread with maps. Twyblade turned around.

"Are we ready to get underway?" the Captain asked of Wanthope formally.

"Aye sir." The sun had only just cleared the horizon, streaming into through the windows of the bridge. The vast expanse of clear sky stretched out beyond the wooden piers of Sailor's Isle.

"Helmsman, if you would lead us out," Twyblade swept his hand to the wheel beside him. Without hesitance, I stepped up.

"Aye aye, Captain!"

Chapter Three

"Bring her around twenty degrees west," Twyblade said lazily. I automatically adjusted the wheel.

"Twenty degrees west, aye sir."

"You know, Lawrence," the Captain remarked abruptly, "You don't have to stand so much on formality. It's so very tiresome, and I find that it sometimes gets in the way of operations. When I give you an order, it isn't always necessary to repeat it. I'll know if you heard me if you obey my command or not."

How was I supposed to respond? Did he want a response? I couldn't quite tell if he was speaking as the captain or as a person. It sounded like one of those instances when people in power have to exercise their power in an attempt to become more familiar with their subordinates. Those attempts usually fail, as the subordinates generally feel extremely uncomfortable, unsure if their conduct is out-of-line and fearing to disobey the superior by not doing as asked. I wondered if Twyblade was aware of the way he had sounded. I wondered if he wanted me to acknowledge his words. I settled with asking dryly: "Is that an order, sir?"

The Captain, if anything, is not stupid. He got my meaning. He looked at me with something very like shock on his face. Then I suppose the irony of his request and my comment kicked in. He gave a short bark of surprised laughter. "Was that… Was that a joke?"

He laughed again and then, grinning, said, "no. That wasn't an order, just merely a request. I've never been a stickler for all that pomp and circumstance, and besides, I don't really want my crew thinking I've got a stick up my arse. Just makes things unfriendly."

"I know what you mean, sir." I did, too. There had been several ships I'd sailed on where the captain had been stiff and haughty. Their crews usually hated them, and divided—or even nonexistent—loyalties could sink ships. I never stayed long on those vessels, preferring to be somewhere else when they did sink.

"I'm sure you do," Twyblade replied easily, as he leaned closer to a window and scanned the sky. "We're heading in the general direction of Ixa'taka for now. When we reach Horteka, inform me. I'll probably be in my cabin. Oh, and Wanthope will relieve you of your post at meal times so you can eat."

I nodded, really only halfway paying attention to his words as I pitched the bow angle up a touch to ride out a patch of turbulent air. The Captain exited the bridge through a small door at the back, separate from the wide opening that led back to the rest of the ship. I assumed that beyond the small door lay the Captain's quarters; some captains preferred to have rooms just off the bridge. It put them closer to hand, so if anything happened they could be right in the thick of things right away.

I could remember various instances when Vyse had fallen asleep on the bridge, in his captain's chair. Hardly professional, but he was always up and ready at the slightest hint of action, and in those times every second counted. It would have been pretty bad if the Delphinus had been under attack with her captain still in his sleeping cap, all tucked up in his quarters.

'I wonder if he still does that,' I mused. Kicking those kinds of habits, things you had had to do merely to survive, was difficult. Despite the new Valuan order instated by Prince Enrique, I still couldn't help but grab my cutlass's hilt whenever I saw a Valuan soldier. During the Empress' rule, during the time of Galcian, Ramirez, DeLoco, and the rest, the sight of a Valuan soldier had meant a fight for your life. 'But that's over now.'

I shook my head slightly and concentrated on the task at hand.

"Go get some food. I'll relieve you now," Wanthope broke the long silence of the bridge suddenly, and I felt a muscle in my jaw jump. Though I didn't jerk in startlement, my hands did tighten on the wheel briefly before I forced them to relax.

"Right. Thanks," I replied shortly, stepping out of his way. He took up my position, though his posture was notably more rigid than mine. I've heard people liken me, in both physical bearing and emotional, to a cat. Wanthope was more like a… rock. Solid. Immovable. Stiff and stern.

I checked myself just as I was about to enter the galley, suddenly hyper-aware of the conversation being carried on within the room. Over the hum of the ship's engines below, and the clack of cutlery and clatter of cookware next door, I picked out the sound of my name being spoken. I slid up against the wall just beside the door, so nobody could see me if they glanced up at the entrance, and listened.

"So what does everyone think of our illustrious new helmsman?" one of the twins—Kender or Galen, I wasn't certain—drawled. There was a pause in the others' conversations, a break in all the sounds coming from the galley as everybody froze.

"Cap'n says I can't flirt with him," declared the bold Tresa.

"Not that that means you won't," quipped a twin. There was moderate laughter at this. I could just picture the girl pouting outrageously.

"I think 's good t'have 'im onboard," Landric said. " 'E's a skilled 'elmsman by any account."

"Oh, of course. There probably isn't a sailor around who hasn't heard of the Delphinus' adventures. They may not know that Lawrence was the helmsman, but they do know that the helmsman was a good one," Tresa put in quickly. "And now we've got him."

"That is true. He's a good asset to the crew because of his abilities. As a sailor and as a soldier. Tales tell he's pretty good in a fight, too." The sounds of eating had been slowly increasing once more as they spoke, and now there was a break in the conversation as they all chewed thoughtfully.

"What about you, Meshin?" asked Kender/ Galen. I grew very still, listening intently. How did that strange gunner feel about me? I had an uneasy feeling that he didn't count me as a friend. And I didn't think that he was a person I wanted as an enemy.

"I don't like him," said Meshin's soft voice. I felt as if somebody had doused me with ice water.

"W-why?" asked Tresa, in surprise.

"When I first saw him I had the feeling that he was going to cause trouble. He's not meant for this," Meshin explained. I wondered what he meant by 'this.' Hunting for Discoveries? Why wouldn't I be?

"That's all? You don't like him because of a feeling you had?" Kender/ Galen asked, sounding halfway amused, halfway intrigued. Hearing Meshin reply in that unsettlingly quiet voice of his was not difficult, as all other sounds had once again halted.

"Yes. My first impressions of people are usually correct. Lawrence is going to become a problem." There was a clink of a knife being placed on a plate.

"Really? But Cap'n says he's best for this job," said Tresa's voice. There was a slight pause in which the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor could be heard—somebody was standing up. Likely Meshin, if I was reading the situation and events correctly.

"Yes, and I'll be taking that up with the Captain shortly," Meshin's response was cold and grim. Unease prickled over me.

I didn't want to be discovered standing at the door, eavesdropping, so I fled quietly. I'd get my noon meal a little later, when they weren't discussing me. I had plenty food for thought, in any case.

'So, I've inadvertently made an enemy of one of the most dangerous people on the ship,' I thought. 'Or perhaps he's not as dangerous as he seems?

'Yeah, and maybe Loopers drink loqua and dance the waltz every Sunday.' I snorted in derision, thinking of Meshin's sharp sulphur-eyes. The man positively oozed hostility, though it was as subtle as poison and twice as dangerous. I rubbed my forehead, 'Like I really need this kind of complication. If things get worse, I may end up sleeping with one eye open.'

After I had gotten my noon meal—scraped out cold from the bottom of the pot just as Landric was dragging it to the wash basin—I made my way back to the bridge to take my second shift at the wheel. Landric's grumbling followed me down the hall.

"Yer cuttin' it close, boyo. Didn' th' cap'n tell yeh th' mealtimes? Get 'ere sooner next time!"

"Lawrence," hailed Wanthope as I arrived on the bridge. "I need you to report to the Captain before you relieve me. I need you to tell him that there's a bit of a gale in our projected course, and ask him what his orders are."

"Yes sir." I turned around and walked to the small door at the back of the bridge. It was closed, but as I approached, I could see it wasn't closed all the way. And I could hear low voices through the thin crack between it and the doorjamb.

"Respectfully, Captain, I think we should dump him."

'Oh hell…' The voice was unmistakably Meshin's, and the subject was equally unmistakably me. His threat in the galley was obviously not idle.

"Really? You see, I personally think we will require him in the future. Or have you forgotten what I've told you?" Twyblade's voice was dangerously friendly.

"I have not forgotten, sir."

"Well, then I don't expect to hear any more on this subject from you." There was a pause, and Twyblade added: "I've heard your warning, and you are dismissed, crewman."

"Captain," Meshin said stiffly. I backed way up from the door as his footsteps approached. There wasn't anything I could do but stand there, and I was certain Meshin wouldn't be fool enough to think I hadn't heard anything. Sure enough, when he emerged from the room and saw me, his eyes narrowed.

I met his glare with a coldly expressionless stare. Nothing was said; nothing needed to be said. The look in his eyes acknowledged that I was now well informed of his animosity toward me, and I expect that my gaze communicated that the feeling was mutual.

'Things just got worse…'