Kel stepped back and shed his coat, hanging it on a hook set into one of the tavern's many rough timber columns. It was one of the oldest places in Pavmouth Breaks, so the landlord Neak said, and he also claimed it was home to the most wraiths. Kel always smiled when he heard Neak telling that to a visiting fisherman or a newcomer to the village: Most haunted place in Noreela! Kel had visited a dozen places in Noreela City itself that also laid claim to that dubious title.

“No Namior?” Mella asked.

“She's coming. I spoke to her earlier.”

“Storm from the deepest Black,” Mella said, taking another draw on her pipe. She gasped, then exhaled a stream of pure green smoke. “You can almost hear the wraiths screaming in the wind.”

“No wraiths out there,” Kel said, perhaps a little too harshly. “It's just weather.”

Mella nodded and stared at him a little too long. Out of everyone, she was the most suspicious of his past. Sometimes, he thought she could see deeper than he knew.

Trakis returned and lowered a tray of drinks carefully to the table. Four jugs of Neak's Wanderlust ale and a dark bottle of wine. “I'm splashing out,” Trakis said. “Tonight it's us against the world.”

“A militiaman who affords Ventgorian wine,” Mella said admiringly. “You must be corrupt.”

“Eat sheebok shit, fisherwoman.”

Kel raised his jug and offered his squabbling friends a toast. “To us,” he said, “against the world.” He drank, closing his eyes as the initial bitter taste changed into something sweet and wonderful. Neak swore that he brewed naturally, without the help of magic or machines, and Kel believed him. Nothing tasting this good could be so false.

The tavern door opened, conversation stopped, and Namior Feeron entered, slamming the door behind her and shaking the rain from her long hair. She spied Kel immediately and smiled. As she came across to them, she swapped greetings with most of the tavern's patrons. Kel looked away. Seeing how well she knew this place sometimes stung him, because he also knew how much she wanted to get away. She longed for travel, exploration and adventure. She wanted to see Noreela City, Pengulfin Heights, the islands of The Spine that curved out from the north of Noreela, and she had even suggested a journey south far enough to see dangerous Kang Kang mountains. But every time she mentioned this, Kel Boon said no. He was staying here. I've had adventure, he would say, and however much she pressed, he would tell her no more. And that was the dark space between them, a gap which seemed, at present, unfordable.

“The harbor's mad,” Namior said, even before taking a seat. “Boats are crashing about, and some of those waves are breaking over the mole.”