Huld came to with a jolt and his hand immediately went to his chest.

It was alright. The Emerald was still there. He allowed himself to breathe.

He was in the habit of checking it was safe as soon as he woke up, and frequently throughout the day, at the moment.

The Emerald's presence confirmed, his mind was freed to notice other sensations. Like the queasiness rolling around in his stomach. His gorge rose and he nearly vomited, but he put a hand to his mouth and managed to hold it back.

Blessed Eto, but I hate this airship, he thought. He infinitely preferred being on good, solid earth, where he belonged.

Huld sat up on the cabin floor, which caused another wave of nausea. He had known he was going to feel skysick on the airship since they had taken off yesterday, but he hadn't realised quite just how skysick.

He stood and, stiff from sleeping on the floor, tilted his neck each way, then stretched and cracked each of his knuckles.

It had not been a good night. For much of the night he had lain awake trying to ignore the motion of the ship, but he must have fallen into a deep sleep eventually out of sheer exhaustion, because he felt like he was emerging, groggy and foggy-headed, from a drugged coma.

All the hammocks were empty. He was the only one left in the sleeping cabin. Huld sighed. He had overslept too.

He recited his prayers to Eto and did his morning press-ups, which were bit creakier than usual, then decided to take a walk around the ship to get his bearings—he still hadn't worked out his way around it properly. He could also see what the foreigners—no, he corrected himself, what his friends were up to.

He had never really had 'friends' before, he reflected. He had been too focused on progressing through the ranks of his order to make any, and it wasn't as if preferential friendship was particularly encouraged among the monks anyway. If he was going to have some friends, which was in his interests with regards to protecting the Emerald, he was going to have to cultivate his friendships with them, he reasoned. And that started with exploring the airship.

The ship was massive, but somehow the sleeping cabin was cramped, its hammocks hung close together in series. Huld picked his way past them and went out into the corridor beyond.

From here, steps led up to the deck, or down to the second of the two belowdeck levels that made up the ship's hull. He decided to start with the lowest level and work his way up.

At the bottom of the steps was another narrow corridor. He headed in the direction of what he thought was the rear of the ship—though he couldn't be sure. He didn't even know what was back here.

A metal door, even from behind which he could feel heat emanating and hear a loud vibrating noise.

Huld knocked on the door, then pushed it open.

"Oh hi, monk man!" purple-haired girl Elrann said to him cheerfully, sweat glistening on her face, holding a wrench and turning to face him away from tinkering with an enormous metal system of pipes and chambers that took up most of the small room. "What's up?" She wiped her forehead on her sleeve.

"Er…" said Huld. "I am just having a look around the ship. I have never been on an airship for an extended time before, except for when I flew with you all to the Shrine to Eto, and that was only a few hours."

"Cool!" said Elrann, turning back to her work. "Well, this is my domain, monk-man: The Engine Room! As ya can see, it houses the ship's engine, and me! Someone's gotta keep it ticking over and running nicely, ya see."

"What?" snapped a voice from the funnelled mouth of a metal tube that stuck out of the ceiling near Elrann.

"Nothing, pirate-man!" Elrann said into the tube. "I was just talking to Huld who's come down here to take a look at the engine."

"Well get back to work! We're coming towards the Southern tip of Umbar and we'll be flying over it soon! I want full steam available when we hit it, so be ready!"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!"

Elrann turned a screw on one of the pipes that led between the metal chambers and a sharp hissing noise came from inside it. The vibrating noise from the whole engine got even louder.

"What did you do just there?" Huld asked out of the faintest curiosity, and because he wasn't sure what to say.

"I increased the pressure to the lower stern-side chamber," said Elrann, "to prepare her for going full steam soon. An airship engine is a bit like a heart, only one ya have to manage manually. Would you like me to explain to ya how it all works?"

"Er, yes please," said Huld, to be polite.

Elrann launched into a very lengthy explanation of how the different parts of the engine worked and what she had to do to maintain and manage them and how they related to the other parts of the ship, barely any of which Huld understood or was able to follow.

When he thought she had finished he said "Thank you." But she hadn't finished, she had merely paused for breath, so she just said "You're welcome," then launched into the rest of her explanation.

When he was sure she had finished and wasn't going to say anything more, Huld thanked her again and excused himself as politely as he could.

"Come back any time, ya hear?" Elrann yelled after him cheerfully.

"What?" said Sagar over the speaking tube.

"Nothing, Cap'n!"

"Keep your voice down unless you've got something to say to me!"

Huld got out before they started having an argument, making his way back down the corridor to the room at its other end.

So at the bottom and the rear of the sip is the 'engine room'. That makes sense, I suppose. It's near the big propellor contraption on the back. I wonder what is in here?

This door held a much larger room which seemed to take up the rest of the bottom level of the hull. In the centre of it was fixed a large oval table covered in green felt with various grids and numbers inked on it, an assortment of cards and coloured discs scattered across it, and a strange segmented-circle centrepiece carved from wood with a little metal ball resting on a protrusion from its middle.

A gambling table, Huld surmised—he had heard of these debauched customs of foreigners, though never seen the equipment for them before.

Around the table were various chairs, at one of which sat the Umbarian musician the party had acquired in Huld's absence, 'Quel', his crossed legs resting on the table, wide hat atop his head, picking out an intricate melody on his lute. He stopped when he noticed Huld had come in.

"Oh, hello Huld," the lutist said calmly, and smiled at him.

"Please, do not let me interrupt you," Huld said. "I am merely finding my way around the ship. The last time I was on it I spent most of my time clinging to the rail trying not to be sick over the side."

"Of course," said Quel. He resumed his playing and spoke over it. "Well, I have not been on this ship for very long either, but as far as I understand this compartment serves as a meeting space, games room and, especially when the weather is bad, a cafeteria. It's also the quietest place I could find to practice my lute-playing."

Huld took a chair himself and sat for a moment to listen the bard's playing. The man was very skilful at the instrument, the fingers of his right hand moving in a complex unpredictable sequence like water flowing over the strings while the fingers of his left made unusual shapes at the other end of them to vary the tone they made when they were plucked, sometimes hammering on them or pulling off them to bend the notes as they sounded. Quel must have spent many hours practicing his art. Huld had respect for that. It was a bit like all the hours he had spent in the temple dojo honing his technique in the art of fighting.

"Thank you," Huld said when the last notes died away and Quel set the lute down on his knees to indicate that he had finished. "Your tune made me think of my homeland, which I long for already."

"That is no surprise," said Quel, "for that piece is called 'Homecoming'. Soon we will be in my homeland, Master Huld, and then you will see what true civilisation looks like. Farr has its wonders, to be sure, more than most. But nowhere can compare to Umbar. Wait until you have seen it. The Temple to the Maker that stands tall and majestic over the Zanoma river… The luxuriant canal-boat networks of Ammil… Cloud-wreathed Mount Uupicc with its glittering waterfalls…"

The Umbarian's eyes had gone far away.

"It does sound…pleasant," Huld said, again to try to be polite. He had other thoughts, so in the interest of friendship he shared them. "But I fear that no wonders will compare with the beauty of Farr, for me. That is my home and where I belong, really. I will only be happy when we have found all of the Jewels, or the Morekemian threat has passed, or both, and I can return there and restore the Emerald to my people."

"Yes, it was very brave of you to break rank and offer to fly with us to protect the Emerald. Do you keep it safe about your person at all times?"

A little tremor of suspicion vibrated through Huld's mind. Why was the Umbarian asking him this? Did he have his own designs on the Emerald?

"I only ask," Quel said as if guessing his thoughts, "because I think that it is of the utmost importance that we take every precaution to keep the Jewels in our possession safe. We should not be careless with them, or allow any possibility whatsoever of their falling into the hands of the Emperor."

Huld considered the man, and judged that the Umbarian did not have malicious intentions. He had proved his hatred of the Empire by fighting admirably against them at Tenkachi, after all. No harm in telling him what everyone else knows anyway.

"Yes," he said, "I keep it here in my robe at all times, so I always know where it is." Huld patted it and felt its reassuring solidity there. "Close to my heart."

"That is well. And wise," said Quel. "I myself will rest easier, and not need my music to distract me so much, when I have returned home and found that our own Water Sapphire is safe."

Huld gave a sympathetic grunt, then excused himself and took his leave of the lutist. He hoped that the water Jewel was waiting to be found safe in Umbar, for all of their sakes, but he did not think it likely.

On his way back down the bottom-level corridor he noticed another door he had passed by before.

It led to a very short descent of steps and wooden bench above a large glass panel built into the floor, which showed the sky and land below.

The green-haired girl who was sat on the bench jumped when Huld appeared at the bottom of the steps.

"Oh!" she said. "It's you. Is it time for breakfast yet?"

"Not that I am aware," said Huld. He was relieved to see that she had closed the cap on the mouth of the speaking tube down here.

"Oh. Why have you come down, then?" said the girl.

"Er… May I sit with you a moment?"

"Um…okay."

Huld took a place next to her on the bench somewhat awkwardly, and joined her in gazing down through the glass floor.

Below them, in turn beneath stray whisps and fragments of white clouds, stretched a landmass made of wide plains and thick forests. The southern tip of Umbar, if Huld remembered the conversation between ponytail and purple-hair correctly.

This did not do wonders for Huld's skysickness, and he suppressed a belch. To allow it to issue would be most dishonourable, especially in the presence of a young lady.

He decided not to look at the land below, and glanced sideways at the girl.

She gazed down through the viewing glass with her bright green eyes, pale and tight-lipped, hugging herself.

The other newcomer. Where did the others say she was from again? Manyira? Suria? He didn't know anything about either of those places anyway. All he knew about her was that the others had found her at a theatre, that she had touched one of the sacred Jewels, the Carnelian, which she was seeking to retrieve, and that she possessed the power to summon terrifying beasts via projection of the element 'spirit'. Huld had witnessed that firsthand when she had summoned an enormous shadow monster to aid them at the battle of Tenkachi.

He wondered what to say to her. What would be the point of connection here?

The girl turned to him unexpectedly and said, "You weren't with the others in Shun Pei when they offered to let me travel with them."

Huld nodded. "No. I was back with my people training for the tournament, which I fought in as their representative. As you know, I only decided to join this collective later after I had obtained the Earth Emerald, in order to protect it better."

"Are you…" The girl's question hung in the air, unfinished. Her eyes were two big green planets.

"Go on," Huld prompted.

"…safe?"

Huld blinked. The question took him aback somewhat. What did she mean? Of course he was 'safe'. Although he supposed that for a young girl being around a man of his age and stature might be quite intimidating. On the other hand, she wouldn't have asked the question if she didn't already feel 'safe' to a certain degree, he realised in a rare moment of insight. He was getting better at understanding these foreigners.

"Young lady," he said to her as gently as he could manage, "I am a monk of the utmost discipline and the highest honour. I assure you that I am quite 'safe'. My order swear vows to protect the vulnerable, cultivate compassion and not to harm any other living thing, except when we are threatened, when we need to do so to fulfil the other parts of our vows, or when we are commanded by our lords to do so. In fact, I will make it a special point of interest of mine to keep watch over you and ensure that you come to no harm. On my honour. You have my word."

A rare shoot of a smile grew in the corner of the girl's mouth as she looked up at him then. "Thank you," she said. "I would like that."

Huld bowed his head to her. "Brother Huld, at your service, Lady Riss."

She actually giggled just a little at that, and Huld judged that was a good note to leave on.

I am doing very well at making friends with the foreigners, he congratulated himself as he made his way back up the steps, along the corridor and up another set of steps to the first belowdecks corridor. Apart from the sleeping cabin, this level held a store room filled with barrels and sacks of supplies, including rice and spices purchased in Farr, and that also housed cannons on either side, like the ones in the sleeping cabin. Other than that there was only one more small store cupboard, and there was nobody else down here, so Huld went up the steps to the main deck above.

Bright sun and cool air met him. This was where everyone else was. Fireboy, the old man and Vish were deep in conversation at the front of the ship. The only ones who were missing were goldengirl and—

"Morning, baldy!"

Huld spun. Ponytail, looking out from his prime position behind the ship's wheel atop the box-like structure that was built onto the back of the ship.

"Rise and shine!" Sagar called down again. "Rough night, was it?"

"I do not enjoy flying on airships," Huld called back. Of all the members of this traveling party, the skypirate was going to be the most difficult one to befriend.

"Don't worry, baldy, you'll get your skylegs eventually!"

"How long will it take?" Huld asked. Just. To. Be. Polite.

"Oh I dunno; a few days? The old timer struggled a bit when he first came aboard too, but he's doing just fine now. Try keeping your eyes fixed on a point outside the ship. That's meant to help."

Huld thanked him, pleased that his self-restrained effort at courtesy had again reaped a reward, this time of information. He wandered over to the ship's rail at the side of the main deck and tried to find a fixed point to focus on. Unfortunately, he couldn't. They were flying through cloud again, and flecks of white kept shifting as the ship sped past them, and apart from that there was only shapeless grey. The air was so fickle and changeable. Why couldn't it be like the earth—solid and reliable? He tried looking down at the ground instead but that made his head start to spin and he almost lost his balance. He wasn't about to fall on his backside in front of ponytail so he started to walk towards the three party members at the front of the ship in search of a distraction.

Fireboy saw him coming and broke away from the trio, walking to intercept Huld.

"Give them a moment," he said. "Vish had some more poppy seed last night and he's feeling particularly rough this morning. Cid's trying to convince him to come off it again."

Huld joined the boy at the ship's rail, and tried not to look down.

"How are you feeling this morning, Huld?"

The monk winced. Was his discomfort that obvious? "In truth, I did not sleep very well," he said. "I am not yet acclimatised to skysailing."

"Ouch," said Ryn. "I'm sorry. I hope you're not regretting becoming a long-term member of our group."

"No," said Huld, and he meant it. "I truly think that the Emerald will be safer hidden on this lone airship than being kept in Farr. And traveling with you will allow me to assist in the finding and protection of further Jewels. The Emerald will be used for the good of Mid."

"The good of Mid, and not just Farr?" the boy asked.

"Anything that is in the interests of Mid is in the interests of Farr," Huld countered. "I am very glad to be a part of this group."

That seemed to please the boy. In the spirit of friendship and openness, which were proving fruitful for Huld thus far, he shared a further thought:

"What I do not understand about this group, though, is that even though you are one of the youngest, you are the leader. No offence intended."

"None taken," said Ryn. "I'm not the leader though, really. If anyone's the leader, it's Nuthea."

"The Manolian princess? But she defers to you on all the important decisions."

"Does she?" The boy eyed Huld with suspicion. "You really think so?"

"Yes. So do the others. You are always given the deciding vote."

"Oh, that was just a coincidence that I came last when we voted last time about where to go next. I'm not always given the deciding vote."

"Well, the Manolian is also a woman. She cannot be the leader."

Ryn chuckled. "Why not? I've never thought that that should matter, really. After all, in her country, only women are the leaders. The men are servants, and look after the houses and the children."

"Yes, I have heard of some of these strange foreigner ways."

"Hey, you can't keep calling us that Huld. You're one of us now."

"Maybe… But I am not a Manolian. And I will still not be led by a woman. You can be the leader."

"If you prefer!"

That resolved one issue, at least, but Huld still felt vaguely unsatisfied. "But…why are you the leader? How did you end up the leader?"

Ryn thought about the question for a moment, looking out over the rail. They were well over land now, Huld couldn't avoid noticing, and the ship suddenly increased still further in speed, air rushing in his ears. He gripped the rail tight to steady himself and willed down another wave of nausea.

"I'm not really sure," the boy said at length to Huld's question. "I got thrown into this crazy adventure without ever asking to be. The Empire attacked my hometown, destroyed it, and murdered everyone I ever knew…" The boy bit back emotion for a moment. "At first, I just went along with Nuthea and Sagar because I wanted to find the man who killed my parents and get revenge on him. But then I did that, and I got the Ruby back, and it wasn't enough. I needed a reason to keep going, a reason to keep living for, a reason worth living for. A purpose, I suppose. And the best one I've found, now that I'm here, now that all this has happened to me and I have fire powers and the Ruby and I've met all these people, is carrying on searching for the Jewels to protect them from the Emperor of Morekemia. To stop what happened to me from happening to anyone else, as far as I possibly can. Maybe even to do…to do something great with the Jewels when we've found them all. If we find them all."

Ryn turned to look at Huld directly, and some fire flickered in his eyes.

"To be honest with you, many days, maybe most, I don't feel that happy, because I don't feel that good about myself. I feel like a failure, like I failed my family and my friends by not being able to defend them when the Empire attacked us, like I've failed myself by not being better or doing anything more important with my life. Like I'm going to fail by not being able to find all the Jewels before the Emperor does and keep them safe from him. But then…then I remember what really matters. I remember that, even though I've lost a lot of people, the new people I've found myself with still matter. (Especially Nuthea.) I remember that I've already done some worthwhile things, like retrieving the Fire Ruby, and helping retrieve the Lightning Crystal, and the Earth Emerald. And then I remember that we're actually doing pretty well—we've got three Jewels already, and we might actually pull this thing off, we might actually do this, we might actually do something great and save Mid from the Emperor. There's hope still. This isn't over yet."

Ryn looked at the sky and held up his clenched fist and the air around Huld got a little hotter. In his earth-alignment he recoiled a little from the threat of fire, but in his inner monk he could recognise the boy's passion and dedication.

"And that gives me the fire to keep going, just for one more day," said Ryn. "I just need enough fire for one more day, and I've got it, I've got the fire to keep going and keep cajoling everyone onwards and keep hoping and aiming and…praying that we'll do something great, to keep laying down my life for something that's bigger than me. Just for one more day."

The boy lowered his hand and the air cooled again. He looked back at Huld.

"I guess that might be why I'm the 'leader'…if I am!"

Huld held the boy's gaze, then nodded slowly. It was a nod of respect as much as assent, he realised. For a moment here he had glimpsed a man that he would be willing to follow as his leader. The memory of their Grand Final bout flashed in his mind; of the whole arena lighting on fire with Ryn's desperate attack. There was indeed great power here, though it was sealed up in a fragile and uncertain shell, and seemed only really to show itself when the boy was pushed past his limit.

"Morning, young man Huld," Cid said, interrupting Huld's thoughts and walking over. "Having a good catch-up, are we?"

"Yes. Ryn was just explaining to me how he came to be the leader of your group."

"Excellent!" The old man's face shifted into a wide smile, creating deep wrinkles like fault lines in a white cliff face. "Yes, young man Ryn here is definitely leader material. Though there is of course some contestation within the party," he added more quietly, "between him and young man Sagar, not to mention Granddaughter Nuthea…"

"Did someone mention my name?" said goldengirl, emerging from the doors of the box-structure built onto the back of the ship. The Captain's Quarters, Huld remembered, which the others had explained to him Nuthea had demanded that she, Elrann and Riss have as their own in which to sleep. She walked over too.

"Granddaughter!" The old man had been caught off-guard. "Er, yes, young men Ryn and Huld and I were just discussing how, er…" He ran out of path.

Nuthea raised a blonde eyebrow, suppressing a wry smile. "May I remind you, Grandfather, that the One commands us very clearly not to bear false witness, about any matter?" She was arrayed today in a floor-length golden dress, one of apparently infinite items of clothing that travelled with her on board the ship. If Huld hadn't taken a vow of celibacy he might have found her very attractive.

"Cid and Huld were just talking about how I'm the leader of the group," said Ryn carelessly.

Nuthea's expression twisted at once. "What? You are no such thing!"

"Yeah!" called down Sagar, who had now overheard from behind the ship's wheel. "I'm clearly the leader, not either of you, pup or princess!"

Ryn took the bait and his cheeked reddened. The boy could not help himself. "Says who? You're only here because you're after gold, gemstones and beautiful women! If Nuthea wasn't paying you to be here, then you wouldn't be!"

"Maybe so, but this is my airship! And if I hadn't rescued you and the princess from the Imperials in the first place, then you wouldn't even be here to be on this crazy quest. And you've needed the help of my wind projection every step of the way!"

"Well I'm the one who actually got two of the Jewels that we've found so far! I'm the one that gets the deciding vote about where we go next!"

"Boys!" Nuthea jumped in. "Look, it does not really matter who we call the 'leader'. We can all be the leader. Good morning, by the way, Brother Huld."

"Lady Nuthea," Huld greeted her appropriately, inclining his head. Even though she had trumped-up notions of women being able to be leaders, she at least also possessed dignity and poise, which was more than he could say for all of the members of the group. And she was a royal from another nation, Huld supposed. That was worthy of some respect.

"How are you enjoying your first long-haul flight on an airship?" the princess asked him.

Huld's stomach made a gurgling noise. "In truth, it is taking me some getting used to…"

"Don't worry," said Cid, "I was the same when I first came aboard. The sickness will wear off in due course. Ryn, Granddaughter, now that everyone's up and awake, why don't we go down to the hold and see about finding some breakfast? I actually find that eating something can help with the sickness, Huld."

A smooth means of steering attention away from the brewing argument, Huld perceived. And the old man clearly wanted to talk to fireboy and goldengirl about something else too.

That only left him on the deck. Oh, except for the black figure of Vish, standing up at the…what was it called? The prow.

No, Huld corrected his earlier thought, this one will be the hardest to make friends with.

But he decided he would try anyway.

The Shadowfinger showed no sign of noticing Huld's presence at his side, if he did.

"Good morning, Vish," the monk said.

Vish barely grunted in response.

"How are you today?"

Vish turned his eyes on the monk. They were bloodshot and sunken. The skin around them was slightly blue, the veins visible in it. The man looked utterly awful.

"I feel like death, Farrian," he said. "Leave me alone."

Irritation gritted Huld's teeth. How could the man be so careless with his own body? "I do not understand why you persist in eating poppy seed when it makes you feel so badly afterwards. You and I are both highly trained soldiers. You know the value of maintaining a healthy body and mind. The poppy seed is damaging you."

"Of course you don't understand, Farrian!" Vish snapped back. "Poppy is the greatest feeling ever. In the whole of Mid. It is thrill. Ecstasy. Pure, unrestrained delight. If you had ever experienced it you would understand why I cannot resist it."

"Perhaps so," said Huld. "But it makes you feel so terrible afterwards. You are irritable, you can barely concentrate, and you are clearly in pain. It is discolouring your mouth and harming your body, slowly poisoning it. And you must feel ashamed that you are enslaved to it. I thought the old man said you were trying to 'come off' of it?"

Vish hesitated a moment. "…I am. I mean…I will. When I'm ready. Look, what do you care about any of this, Farrian?"

Huld chose his words carefully. "I am just trying to work out who in this party I can really trust…and in whom trust might be less…well-founded. I carry a great treasure with me, Aibarian, the very Jewel of Eto. I need to know that everyone I am traveling with is as…committed to protecting it as I am."

Vish scoffed, even in his post-poppy malaise. "You have nothing to worry about, Farrian. All I care about is doing what I am told so that I can get my next poppy seed from the old man."

"That is what I am worried about. Who is to say that if the old man's poppy supply runs out, or the Empire come back to you with a better offer of more poppy, you will not sell us out to them in the blink of an eye?"

"I don't need to defend myself to you, Farrian. I've proved my loyalty to this group many times over."

"But why?" Huld pressed, suspicion sliding forwards in his mind. "Why are you loyal to them? If all you really care about is poppy seed as you say, then why do you not just murder the old man and take all of his seeds for yourself? If I was a wagering man, I would wager you have done worse before."

Vish's eyes went wide for a moment, and he didn't say anything. As if this thought had crossed his mind before. As if it was what he had already been planning, and Huld had guessed his intentions.

That was it. That solidified Huld's suspicion about the man.

He leaned in close and dropped his voice to gravel. "I am watching you, Aibarian. I do not trust you, and I am watching you. Chance and circumstance meant that we did not meet on the Tournament floor, but you had better pray to whatever foreign god you believe in that we never have cause to meet in combat. If you ever give me occasion to fight you, I will not hold back."

Vish merely chuckled. "I would hope that I don't, Farrian. If that does ever happen, I will try to make things quick, for your sake."

Huld didn't have anything else to say to that, so he resisted the urge to a throw a punch at the Shadowfinger now, and instead left him where he stood and stalked off to go and find some breakfast.

He would not forget this exchange, though.

Seven out of eight foreign companions being judged trustworthy was not bad.

But he would not forget the one.

Vish watched the Farrian monk walk away across the deck.

The monk's question had taken him by surprise. He had thought about killing the old man and taking all of his poppy, of course; many, many times. But he had never actually done it. He wouldn't actually do it. That was what he reassured himself whenever the thought crossed his mind, anyway. When the monk had named the thought, though, a stab of guilt had pierced him and he hadn't been able to say anything in reply.

The Farrian had mistaken this for serious intent. Never mind that. Let him think what he wants. What is it to me?

Vish looked back out over the passing landscape below the ship and tried to feel less awful. His mouth was sandpaper. His throat felt like some kind of animal had crawled into it, thrown up, and then died there. His every single muscle and sinew complained with aching. His most recent poppy seed hit had been massive, but now he felt worse than ever.

And on top of all of that, he realised, another of the monk's questions had disturbed him.

Why was he staying loyal to this group? Why didn't he just kill the old man and take all of his poppy seeds and have done with them? Maybe he should just do it.

But the answer was obvious, really.

The poppy seed was killing him. The Farrian was right, damn him. Vish couldn't go on like this. It might be glorious in the moment of the hit, but afterwards? Misery. Despair. Enslavement. Illness. Shame. Death. He was starting to move less easily and feel more pain, even long after the aftereffects of a hit had died away. He needed to come off of it.

And this group had given him hope. They had given him hope that it could be possible to come off the poppy. This group had given him hope that there was something worth living for other than poppy on the other side of it. That he could have a life, and maybe even a mildly happy one.

That was why he stayed loyal to this group, he reminded himself. Because somehow they had kindled hope in him that it might be possible to get free of his enslavement to the poppy, and start again, and live a good life without it. Because they had treated him like he was a person, like he had value, like he was worth something, not as a mere slave for performing a function, a finger carrying out the will of the hand that it belonged to.

The hope had been born when the Efstanish boy had spared his life for no apparent reason that Vish could work out. It had grown when the old man had presented him with the idea that it was possible to come off the poppy and learn to live without it. And it had been reinforced each time the group had taken a chance on him, trusted him, sometimes with their lives, and he had trusted them. Hope. And the hope still hadn't died. Not yet.

He was going to do it, he decided there and then. This time. This time he was going to come off the poppy. He would do whatever it took. The after-pain was too much.

He thought about taking out the single poppy seed that he had stolen from the old man, which he kept in an inner pocket in reserve in case of emergencies, and throwing it over the side of the ship. That was probably a sensible thing to do if he was never going to have another poppy hit again.

"Vish!" someone called. "Would you like some food?"

Further up on the deck were the others gathering for breakfast, inviting him over.

He put away the thought of throwing the seed over the side for now. No need to show them that I stole it by throwing it away in front of them. I'll leave it there, just in case I change my mind. And by leaving it there I can also show myself I'm serious about coming off the poppy by resisting the temptation to eat it. No harm in that.

Vish went to join the others for breakfast.

This time I'm going to do it.

Author's Note: Hey! Still reading? I would love to hear from you! According to my stats there are about 18 people consistently reading this serial and about 29 people consistently listening to the podcast version, however I haven't heard from any of you in a little while! Please drop me a review below in the box to say hi and let me know what you think of how the story's going lately. I'm always open to suggestions, comments, and feedback (and compliments if you like, lol!).