CALLAN would be hunched over a sheet of paper in the back of The Full Cask, muttering as the ink began to spread along the side of her right hand. Every so often, she’d grasp her blessed trident, hoping that its coat of water would wash away the ink. But instead, it only seemed to smear further. With a grumble, she would fold the note up and tuck it into the envelope she had swiped from the library.
It was not hard to find her Mistan brethren at the market; her steps lead her easily to the sound of jovial singing and laughter. It was a comfort to hear that all was generally well at Marionsport, from the schools of fish swirling in the water, to the hymns that would carry the ships day in and day out.
Is it possible to be jealous of a slip of paper? She thought to herself, watching as the man pocketed the couple coin and the note. To be carried away, in the pocket of a friend, back into the welcoming hands of home.
. . .
A note would soon be posted among many in the sturdy drydocks of Sirensong.
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IT WOULD BE FOOLISH OF ME TO HOPE THAT MY REPUTATION WOULD PRECEDE ME, BUT BEING THIS FAR FROM HOME REQUIRES A BIT OF FOLLY.
A CREW HAS ASSEMBLED TO SAIL THE TAPESTRY OF THE SIREN SERENE - BUT AS YOU AND I BOTH KNOW, THIS CANNOT BE DONE WITHOUT THE HAND OF ONE OF HER FAITHFUL, STEERING THE SHIP.
I AM NOT ONE TO ASK FOR A FAVOR FROM MY FELLOW SAILOR WITHOUT MUCH TO OFFER IN RETURN. THOUGH THE PROMISE OF COIN MAY BE SLIM, WOULD YOU CONSIDER TRADING IN THE CURRENCY OF ADVENTURE?
IF YOU WISH TO TAKE PART IN THIS GLORIOUS EXCHANGE, SAIL FOR THE NEEDLE PIERCING THE SKY, THAT FABLED SPIRE.
YOURS IN THE SIREN SERENE,
CALLAN ANCAIRE
HEIR TO THE ANCAIRE COMPANY
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