“They haven’t cleaned it yet,” she said. “Thank the gods.”

Thanks in particular to Endarius, who gifted her with her enhanced smell. It seemed by focusing upon it with her mind, it enhanced the power. Her world suddenly grew awash with color. A dozen scents struck her, and instinctively she knew that the colors and the smells were linked. She put her face to the nearest bunk and slowly inhaled. The colors shifted. For a brief moment she fought off a wave of disorientation. Her mind was not used to perceiving the world in such a way.

The dizziness cleared, and with it came understanding. The scent of the woman who had claimed that bed, it was a specific yellowish color, weaving together through the air like a thread. Finding the thread was like seeking a particular stripe in a rainbow, not particularly hard once she knew what she was looking for. When she focused upon it, it seemed the other colors of the world faded, and the yellowish thread shimmered that much brighter before her eyes.

“Where did you go, little Seed?” she muttered.

Mari returned to the empty deck. Now in the open air, it was wrong to call it a thread, but more of little scattered flecks of paint marking pieces of the boat. Places the woman had touched the wood, or spit, or had a single drop of sweat fall from her forehead to the ground. Mari followed them, her attention split between them and signs of a patrol. Even after all these years, Vallessau was still under a nightfall curfew. If she was fast, and kept her sharp ears up and listening, she trusted her ability to track the Seeds without being noticed by imperials. If Thanese natives saw her, well…

The people of Vallessau had learned over the past three years whom the Lioness protected, and whom she hunted. No one would seek out guards to mention her passing. Truthfully, she could walk down an open road at high noon and likely get only whispered thanks and comforting embraces, at least until imperial soldiers noticed.

The scent path led her from street to street while skirting along the island edge, the gentle call of the ocean all the clearer to her sharp ears. The yellow thread grew stronger, and she noted familiar scents intermixed with it, of others who had called the caravel home for their three-month journey across the Crystal Sea. They bundled together into a twisted rope of color that she found easier and easier to follow. That rope led directly to a large lodging house that offered rooms to Thanese travelers come to Vallessau for trade or leisure. The building was practically awash in color from the Seeds, but more immediately concerning to Mari was the guard stationed along the front.