"I hear you're the man to see about immortality."
Avareco looked up from his pint. The kid clearly wasn't old enough to be in this bar. Fifteen, maybe. There was a roundness to his cheeks that still spoke to childhood, He also, clearly, wasn't from around here. His Amestrian was clipped with some sort of eastern accent Avareco didn't recognize, and even if he wore his Amestrian suit like a natural, the girl beside him was fidgeting with her gloves as though they were strangling her fingers. When she noticed him staring, she gave him a level look, and then went right back to fidgeting.
"Who wants to know?" he said, and looked back into his mug. It was nearly empty. The boy grinned, and dropped into the chair opposite him.
"My name's Yao," he said. "We've been looking for you for a very long time."
"How long?" Avareco snorted. "Since before or after you left your mother's tit?"
The girl bristled. Yao raised a hand without a word, and she settled again, though not without a very nasty glare. His smile hadn't dropped in the slightest; in fact, it only seemed to deepen a little.
Avereco leaned back in his chair. "I'll bite. What do you want?"
"Two years ago, you took a man to the Insulo de Xerxes. He was my guardian. His name was Fuu." Yao folded his hands neatly on the tabletop. They weren't a noble's hands, for all that he talked like one. They were scarred and callused. He had a swordsman's fingers. "He never came back. We were hoping you could take us there."
Avareco leaned back in his chair. The Insulo de la Sudo didn't have much to offer in way of entertainment, but the Dublith Tavern was clear and orderly. Behind the bar, Marte was watching him. He winked at her, and then looked at Yao again, jeriking his head at the girl with the twitchy trigger finger. "And who's she?"
"Lan Fan," said Yao. The girl kept her mouth shut, but her eyes were dark and deep and talkative. "Fuu's granddaughter. She's particularly interested in finding him, considering he's the only family she has left."
She inclined her head.
"Sorry, kids," said Avareco. "I don't take passengers."
"Really?" Yao groaned. "Come on. Can't you make one exception? We've been looking for you for two years. Do you have any idea how hard you were to track down with only a name? We didn't even know what your ship was called."
"I don't make exceptions. Especially not for a couple of snotnosed brats. You'd do better to forget the Insulo de Xerxes ever existed in the first place." He stretched, and stood. "Sorry to say, I can't help you."
"That's a shame," said Yao. He spun a coin between his long fingers. "It's not like we're coming to you with nothing. We are willing to pay. I heard from the bartender—" he tilted his head towards Marte, who went back to wiping out her cups "—that you're short of a crew, too. I can provide that. All you have to do is get us there."
The kid was being serious. Avareco glanced back at the bar, then across at the door, before leaning forward, and seizing Yao's collar. "Listen," he said. "I'm gonna make this real clear for you. No. Chance. In hell."
A knife pricked against his jugular. The girl had moved so smoothly he hadn't noticed her take a step, and her blade was sharp enough to burn. Yao hadn't lost that dumbass smile. "Don't tell me you've never been interested in immortality, Avareco. There has to be a reason why you named yourself Greed."
Avareco let go of Yao's collar slowly. As soon as his hand was flat on the table, the girl—Lan Fan—vanished her knive back into her skirts, and clasped her hands behind her like a soldier. Yao tilted his hat back on his head—it was big, with a long peacock feather, like something a commander from the Suda army would wear—and then crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'm the same as anyone," said Avareco. "Anyone'd want immortality. But that island's nothing but a death trap. Whirlpools and wrecks and shoals you can't even see. You can't get to it. Not without a—"
"Map," said Yao, and he pulled a parchment from his sleeve. He offered it to Avareco. Avareco glanced at the girl—her mouth was tight—and then reached out for the scroll, but Yao yanked it back.
"Do we have an accord?" he asked. "Or do we not?"
Immortality. He rolled that around in his mouth. The immortal Avareco, captain of the Avarice.
"Throw in the hat," said Avareco, "and you'll have a deal."