Singer Sailor Merchant Mage

“Success is getting what you want. Happiness is wanting what you get.”

Dale Carnegie

“What do you have to offer?” Captain Kashif was keen to get to trading.

“The first secret of getting what you want is to know what you want.” He replied unphased. He turned to Arawn, the eldest of us all. “Why are you here?” he ignored Captain Kashif completely to focus on someone he possibly considered his equal, judging by his age.

Arawn shrugged, “I’m just following my grandson to ensure he doesn’t get eaten.” Gesturing resignedly toward me.

“That happens often?” He asked, continuing to ignore Captain Kashif, who was trying to re-enter the conversation and taking a look at me, the child who had accompanied adults into this underwater realm.

“It’s nearly happened more often than you might think.” He answered, sounding put upon as if he had not been the cause of far more trauma than the occasional brushes with sea monsters.

“Welcome to Limumari, Little Lord.” He nodded to me, clearly clued in enough to the surface world to realise that the only child who could have swum all the way down to their village would have been one of the nobility.

“Thank you for the welcome,” I cautiously replied. He seemed less antagonistic when talking to Arawn and me, and I did not want to jeopardise that. Just like Captain Kashif, I could sense the potential profit should we be able to develop a working relationship with the village. “My name is Callen Kai Silversea, and we hail from the second island to the north, Wester Ponente. We come in peace and hope to trade.”

“Where are my manners?” He asked rhetorically as he smiled, perhaps amused by my courteous response from someone so young, before returning my greetings, “Welcome Callen Kai Silversea of Zaravia to Limumari. My name is Huli Albah of La Makan.”

“Zaravia?” I questioned. The Neriad appeared to speak the lingua franca Bussola perfectly well for such a slip, so I doubted it was a mistake.

“Zaravia is what it used to be called long before Ponente re-colonised it.” He explained as if it was obvious. “The world does not always revolve around the compass continent. The Azimuth Ocean that surrounds it covers just a much of the lodestone if not far more.”

“It was?” I asked, confused about the apparent recolonisation of the island. There had been no mention of a previous name for our island or any mention of previous occupants other than the goblins that had been hunted to extinction after the arrival of human pioneers from Ponente. Neither had Aleera and me, in all our explorations, ever found any signs of former civilisations or cultures. The island had always seemed pristine and untouched.

“It was indeed before the sea erupted in fire, the waters boiled, and the lava filled the tunnels to the inner lagoon, killing most and driving out any who survived.” He answered sadly.

“Were you there when it happened?” I foolishly asked, unthinking of his possible pain, excited to hear a first-hand account of the disaster.

“No, it happened long before my time, but I heard the tale from my grandfather’s lips, who was there when it happened and saw it with his own eyes.” He answered admonishingly.

I bowed my head in apology, “I’m sorry for your family's loss. What happened afterwards?”

He nodded in acceptance, “The few survivors fled south to other tribes of Neriad into what the sky dwellers would call Libeccian waters.” He answered.

“We hardly live in the sky,” I pointed out.

“Do you live in the sea?” he pointed out in return.

There was an awkward pause as we pondered one another’s points. I supposed it was all a matter of perspective. From his point of view, we lived in the sky. From ours, we still lived below it even if we were above the Lodestone and the Azimuth Ocean.

Captain Kashif was unafraid to interrupt the lengthening silence, “Welcome back to Ponentian waters. Is this a new outpost? Only you are not on any maps that I am aware of.” He commented on the seemingly secret nature of the village.

“New enough, I suppose, but it was not meant to be. We had hoped that the tunnels into Zaravia might have opened with the passage of time, but those who have explored that far north say they are still sealed. With humans having already colonised the island, renaming it Wester Ponente and building a port, we decided not to contest their ownership. Our tribe may have recovered somewhat, but we are still a remnant of a remnant of what we once were.”

“You wished to return?” I asked, excited about the possibility of new people and trades flooding my island.

“Originally, yes. But now, the majority are happy with where we are. We are settled here now.” He answered, reconciled to their reality.

“What if we were able to reopen the tunnels for you?” I could not help but ask. I was still buzzing about the possibility.

“Some would be interested sure, the young and the romantic keen on recapturing the fabled fame of Zaravia. But the majority are happy with what they have here and the homes they have made.” He repeated himself as if convincing himself that was the case.

“If you sent someone to show me where the tunnels were, I’m sure we could work it out.” I continued. Seeing as he was yet to be convinced, I took the liberty of singing a note and hitting a small patch of stone I had already invested with my magic as we talked. The stone sang with the vibrations as the tone was ensouled in stone, the pattern forming on the liquid rock before it solidified again.

“I can do it.” I boasted.

Here, the other guards that had accompanied us into the central spire structure leaned forward, interested in what I had done.

“Huli, is this truly possible.?” One of them whispered as if afraid to speak it any louder less the possibility of it vanishing beyond the surface into the sky and out of their reach.

“Perhaps, perhaps.” He murmured back to the one who had asked before returning his focus to us.

Ignoring Arawn and me, who had possibly offered exactly what they wanted without requesting anything in return, he turned to Captain Kashif, “So, interlopers from above, what exactly do you want?”

. . .

The situation had changed, and despite repeating his words, he was no longer quite so adversarial with the captain. A round of negotiations showed that they lacked metal but that they did not want iron but brass or bronze, as anything else would rust away too easily in the salt water. Unsurprisingly they had all manner of fish to offer in return as well as seaweed, but Captain Kashif was after more than just food. My treasure sense had pinged, and he hoped to get a cut of it before we headed for the surface once more.

I was less worried about obtaining the material wealth of the tribe and more interested in their people, trades and knowledge. I excused myself as they started to go back over the things that they had already covered in their negotiations, neither one completely happy with what they had ended up with and still arguing for more.

Seeing my disinterest in the ongoing lengthy discussions, Huli allowed one of the guards, Hulio, his son take me out to look at the maps they had gathered of the local area and show me on their map at least where the entrance to Wester Ponente had been in the past.

. . .

“The stone steps rose up under the cliffs on the island's southern side. “ Hulio was explaining as I poured over the maps. Attempting to memorise everything I could, I had one of my multiple minds hastily copying it onto a new mental map that I could add to my mental collection in my mind fortress.

“Why steps? I asked, curious. “They seem unnecessary for a race that swims in a tunnel that is effectively underwater all the time.” The entrance was deep enough under the water that the tide would have had no effect other than to raise or lower the level within it, not uncover the entrance.

“The last section here was not underwater.” He explained, pointing out how the tunnel rose out of the water but was still deep within the cliff. “It would have acted as a choke point to prevent sea creatures from entering the inner lagoon. A place we could have defended better against creatures unable to fight in the air.” He then highlighted how the original tunnel dipped below sea level to provide an underwater entrance into the lagoon back when the island was called Zavaria.

I said, “I think that the tunnel or other cracks must lead into the lagoon again.”

“Why?” he asked excitedly.

“The salt,” I answered, and Aleera would have understood immediately, but I needed to go into more detail for Hulio. “The lagoon is far too salty not to be connected, considering the freshwater streams that fill it from within the island. I’ve looked before for a tunnel but never found it. Perhaps with your help this time, I will. I’ve never looked for a tunnel that makes its way into the lagoon from the outside, only looked from the lagoon out.”

“My help?” he asked to confirm.

“Yes, if you are up for a visit,” I answered.

"What do you want Hulio?"