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on how to arrange a meeting, we might add a garnish to your berth fee.”

“A garnish, hmm? Smart man. Rogues like me do not give advice for free.” Samboon picked up a piece of his own fish and fed it to the critter on his shoulder. “You will need to go through the Priest-Queen of Ru Waat to have a chance at gaining an audience with the Avatar. Do you know much about our fair nation?”

“Not a whole lot, no,” I said.

“Prrupt’meew is a country of city-states,” Samboon said, gesturing grandly with his fish. “Each one ruled by a Priest-Queen, a sacred mother of our people who administers the city and the lands of the city’s territory. All Priest-Queens are duty-bound to protect the Avatar and the Temple of Ancestors, in which they reside. However, in practice, it is the Priest-Queen of Ru Waat, our largest city, who controls access to the Avatar and serves as their greatest defender.”

“Are Meewfolk a feudal society?” I asked. “Any rules and rituals we need to know?”

“We do not have kings and queens and lords and ladies like Vlachia.” Samboon motioned derisively toward the city beyond the door. “Succession by birth breeds weakness. Any woman may become Priest-Queen, if she is strong enough. Girls train from youth to become braves, then temple guard, then priestesses, and then they may challenge the ruler of their city. It is a position of merit. The Priest-Queen of Ru Waat is the greatest warrior of the land.”

“Only women, huh?” I glanced at Suri.

“Women live in cities. Men live outside the walls,” Samboon said. “Unlike here, where all of my people are crammed into this noisome filth together. It is unnatural for men and women to live so close to one another, if you ask me. But enough of this. I have berth for six passengers on our next journey to the motherland: eight hundred olbia per head, non-negotiable. I normally charge a thousand, but Red tells me that there are four of you and one ghora who must travel, and I owe her a personal favor.”

Eight hundred per person was steep, but I’d figured we’d have to pay a smuggler’s tax. “Works for me. When do you leave?”

“Next month. The sixteenth of Boseg Kavi,” the captain replied, examining his claws.

“That’s two fuckin’ weeks away,” Suri blurted the same words on my own mind, more or less.

“Ah, the tin can speaks. Yes, my lady, it is two weeks from today,” Samboon said, flicking one of his ears to the side. “The Azure Passage is dangerous this time of year. It is the monsoon season in those latitudes. Typhoons and worse. If the storms do not get you, the Cloud Emperors will.”

“Cloud Emperors?” I asked.

“They rule the skies between the mainland and Meewhome, and they spawn during the monsoons.” He gestured vaguely toward the south. “It is toward the end of their breeding season, but one can never be too careful. Come with us in two weeks, and they will be out to sea and far away. But now? No, you won’t find anyone with an Avatar’s Blessing willing to go south until the storms have cleared.”

“What about for a thousand a head?” I asked, straightening as I saw the gambler turn in his chair to watch and listen to us.

Samboon scoffed. “No. And not for any fare, no matter how much you wish to go on this fool’s gambit. My ship is worth more than the lives of some imprudent humans.”

The gambler stood up, set his hat on his head, and slouched over to us. I glanced back, letting him know I’d seen him, and he stopped a respectful distance away. Samboon’s gaze slid to him, past my shoulder.

“Might be I’m able to help you.” The newcomer had a rough, gravelly voice, drawling heavily on every other word. “I got a ship, and I’ve made plenty of runs from here to Ru Waat. If the weather ‘cross the Azure Passage is as bad as you say... well, that sounds like an adventure to me.”

“Sure does,” I said. “We’d delay the journey if we could, but we can’t. Ilia won’t give us two weeks to play footsies in Taltos.”

He squinted at me. “Ilia? You mixed up in all that mess?”

“Sure am. On the side of sanity, or the side of Vlachia, whichever you prefer.” I twisted around, stretching out a hand. “Hector.”

He came close enough to give it a stiff shake. “Gar.”

“This is Suri and Karalti.” I gave Captain Taksin a sidewards glance. His ears were flat to his skull, eyes narrowed. “Do you know what the captain here is talking about?”

“Sure I do. Cloud Emperors choking up the Azure Passage.” Gar said. “But I wouldn’t be a goddamned smuggler if I wanted the easy life, now would I? Pussy cat here can cool his damn heels in Taltos for as long as he pleases. If you three are willing to insure my ship in case it wrecks, I’ll take you wherever you damn well want.”

“Pussy cat?” Samboon repeated, planting his hands down on the table. “Say that again if you dare, you shaved monkey.”

“C’mon now, no need to get all fluffed up about it.” Gar arched his eyebrows and tossed his head. “I can make it up to you. "I can make it up to you. A nice saucer of milk, a couple of sardines… How about I find a nice fat-bottomed peasant woman who scratches you just right on that spot right over your tail?"”

The Captain’s crewmates flattened their ears and hissed. Samboon got to his feet, looming head and shoulders over all of us. I calmly, but efficiently vacated my seat.

“Put your dicks away, gentlemen. We’ve got shit to do,” Suri snapped. “Gar, if you’ve got a ship and you’re willin’ to fly it, I’d say we can work something

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