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More than anything else, Indi hated the weather in Saric. The heat was oppressive, something only the locals could tolerate for any amount of time. The number of bodies crammed into the tavern, all stinking sweat and stale beer, leering eyes and groping hands, made it worse. Jamming a sweat-soaked strand of hair out of his eyes and behind one ear, he looked over the crowd. Half of them stared back expectantly, the other half was engrossed in rowdy conversation, or nursing a tankard, or leaning to fondle a barmaid with a long-suffering smile. Ribbons of pipe smoke rose into the stuffy air, some of the more exotic weeds making his head tingle. He lifted his lute and cleared his throat. One more song and then it will be late enough to call it quits for the night. One more song, and he could finally leave the building and breathe the relatively cool ocean air. His fingers plucked and strummed and he began to sing.

*******

The sultry sea breeze caressed Indi's skin where his shirt hung open, he lifted his nose to take in the salty scent. He also caught whiffs of tar, fish, and something foul. This city is a cesspool... He fingered the knife at his belt as a shadow slunk along a building at the corner of his vision. Footpads were a nuisance, no matter what city you visited, but Saric's thieves guilds were better known than most. He picked up his pace until he was striding along the pier. The docks were quiet this time of night, though men were still working here and there among the great ships. There were vessels coming and going at all hours in a port the size of Saric. Perhaps one was headed north? He could try his luck in Freya's city, though there were far too many artists and musicians for one more to walk in and make a decent wage... Perhaps the eastern islands? It could not hurt to try new places once in awhile. Though the islands were small and the villages therein smaller still, those folk had probably not seen a decent songsmith in some time, if at all! Yes, north and east to find small fame among the islands. Nodding to himself, Indi headed for the Harbormaster's office.

*******

Standing in the alley below the window to his rented room, a hole in the wall above a cutlery shop, Indi gave pause. The flicker of a guttering candle made it clear that someone was waiting up there. Muttering softly, he made for the stairs and took them two at a time. Better to get it over with. He pushed the heavy canvas aside and stared. A young woman in a diaphanous scarf and little else was sitting on the sleeping pallet, the only furniture in the room. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Indi, I had hoped to catch you. I have some news." She rose gracefully and moved to him, taking the leather lute case from him and setting it aside before wrapping her arms about his neck. "You would like wine, yes? I brought some elven vintage. Come sit down, have a drink." She danced toward the bed, pulling him along. He went along silently, his eyes sweeping the room for the few belongings he would gather and take away from this place. Maybe I can wait just a bit longer... A small bronze cup was pushed into his hand, the scent of sweet elven wine filling his nostrils. Lillian was talking now, her news consisted of some deal her father had worked up with one of the other guilds. Indi tuned her out and began planning his trip again. He had better find some warmer clothes, it had been almost a year since he'd been north of the Great Plains. There was a sturdy pack in the corner of the room, what little he had in the way of clothing, his lute, of course. Oh yes, his stash of coin under the floorboards...

"Indigo," her dangerous tone of voice snapped him out of his reverie, "you have not touched your drink. You heard not one thing I have said..." Her eyes were knives, and her hand clasped his arm, tightening to an uncomfortable grip.

"Ah.. Lillian, I'm sorry. It is just that I haven't eaten all day, and I'm feeling a little dizzy. I don't suppose you would go and fetch me some bread or something? Then I shall hear every word." He trained his most dazzling smile on her and was almost amazed that she released him.

"I am thoughtless, yes? I shall find my delicate songsmith some food and then we shall continue this discussion. And afterwords... well, I suppose the food will do you well. You shall need your strength, yes?" Her eyes softened only just, from blades to smoldering coals, and she leaned in to kiss him deeply. "I shall return directly." And then she was dancing out the door. Dumbfounded, Indi stared at the fluttering canvas. Who knew I was that good? Shaking his head, he jumped for his pack and began stuffing it full of his belongings. He would be gone before she returned. Knowing Lillian, it will be better that way.

Snugging his wide-brimmed hat down to shade his eyes, Indi peered out over the ship's rail at the endless expanse of blue skies and darker waters, kissed with the sun's harsh radiance. The last glimpse of land, a rocky point jutting out from the west, a week gone, and the distant shores east of Saric, a murky stretch of blighted swamp, a week again. The Windwalker veered south and east as it left port, giving the Marsh of Dead Men wide berth. The captain had explained how not even a good mile of white-capped waves would keep the bloated living dead at bay, how many a fool captain led his ship and crew to gory doom by skimming the shores. Any vessel manned by anyone with any sense would keep well clear of that stretch.

Indi took the story in stride, of course he had heard of the Marsh of Dead men, he knew a keening dirge or two related to heroes and fools who entered the unholy place. He even offered to sing them for the crew, but they respectfully declined. No, the crew was much more interested in stories of foolish rulers and the common folk who bested them, or songs of women and wine and dancing. And so it was that Indi found his fare drastically reduced, being that he performed every day for the crew and sometimes again in the evenings. Along with half the cost of the trip, the hat and a decent wool coat were among his payment. He was not, however, the only one to share a story. He listened with deep interest when anyone spoke of the eastern islands.

Polyks Cove, a mercenary's paradise, where blood, ale, and gold all flowed freely. It could be a tough and cutthroat place, but also a place to make one's fortune a dozen times over. And then there was North Saren, a fistful of islands so far north that it snowed almost year round. A place of barbarians and giants, but rumored to be littered with the treasures of both. A smallish bit of turf called Minotaur Isle, named for the supposed herd of mythical Minotaur who ruled the place. And finally, Dawn Island, a mysterious frontier with pair of budding settlements. For reasons he could not explain, Indi found himself most drawn to the last of these. And so he paid back a fair share of his earnings to the captain in order to be dropped off at Dawn's port, Hales Shallows, on the ships way to Polyks.

"Land, ho!" came the cry from the crow's nest. Adjusting his hat again, Indi squinted at a line on the horizon and found himself humming an unfamiliar tune.