As they approached the harbor, the Port Authority stopped them. They did not care for the style of the ship or the black sails—Wesley’s hat notwithstanding. As the ship was held directly under the terrifying smoking spouts of Drumindor, dock officers boarded and searched the vessel thoroughly before allowing them to pass below the bridge between the twin stone towers. Even then they were given an escort to berth fifty-eight, slip twenty-two of the West Harbor. Being familiar with the city and the Port Authority, Wyatt volunteered to notify the officials of the impending invasion and warn them to search for signs of sabotage.

“I’m off, mates,” Derning announced as soon as they had the ship berthed. The topman had a small bundle over his shoulder.

“What about the ship and the stores?” Greig asked. “We’re going to sell it—you’ll get a share.”

“Keep it—I’ve business to attend to.”

“But what if we can’t get …” Greig gave up as Derning trotted away into the narrow streets. “That seemed a bit abrupt—man’s in a hurry to go somewhere.”

“Or just glad to be back in civilization,” Banner mentioned.

Tur Del Fur welcomed sailors like no other port. Brightly painted buildings with exuberant decorations welcomed them to a city filled with music and mirth. Most of the shops and taverns butted up against the docks, where loud signs fought for attention: THE DRUNKEN SAILOR—JOIN THE CREW! FRESH BEEF & POULTRY! PIPES, BRITCHES, & HATS! LADIES OF THE BAY (WE WRING THE SALT OUT!)

For recently paid sailors who might have been at sea for two or more years, they screamed paradise. The only oddity remained the size and shapes of the buildings. Whimsical western decorations could not completely hide the underlying history of this once-dwarven city. Above every door and threshold was the sign WATCH YOUR HEAD.

Seagulls cried above them as they crisscrossed a brilliant blue sky. Water lapped the sides of ships, which creaked and moaned like living beasts stretching after a long run.

Hadrian stepped onto the dock alongside Royce. “Feels like you’re gonna fall over, doesn’t it?”

“To answer your question from before … No, I don’t think we should be sailors. I’d be happy never to see a ship again.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about land sickness.”

“Still feels like the ground is pitching beneath me.”

The five of them bought fresh-cooked fish from dock vendors and ate on the pier. They listened to the shanty tunes spilling out of the taverns and smelled the pungent fishy reek of the harbor. By the time Wyatt returned to the ship, he was red-faced angry.

“They’re going through with the venting! They refused to listen to anything I said,” he shouted, trotting up the quay.

“What about the invasion?” Hadrian asked. “Didn’t you tell them about that?”