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	Anchorage in Jeilk. Meeting Precola.
	The wind was true, the tide pushing them in the right direction. 'The Remorseless' was traversing the sea efficiently, just as Isar had wanted. He strolled contentedly across the decks, smiling to himself. He had already planned what he was going to do when they pulled up in Port Jeilk. "Kruk, take a rest. We'll have Oswyn at the helm now." Shouted he, and Kruk thanked the Captain as he raced to his quarters below deck, where he would rest as he deserved. The sky had not a single cloud in it. Isar could see the very faint outline of Jeilk on the horizon. Another few hours of the favourable sea and he would see the land forming more clearly. Everyone on board was working hard, though Isar doubted they needed to. The ship was sailing so elegantly that it seemed to be able to sail of its own accord. "There's no need for such hard work, lads! Easy, she can handle it today! Don't be so overwrought about it." Isar proclaimed. A few of the sailors looked inquisitively at him. "Ah, Cap'n? You feeling okay?" Siltar, the second mate, asked apprehensively. "Of course. Off you go, Siltar." Silter looked at the riggers, shrugged, and went to lean against the guardrail at the bow to feel the spray of the sea. Isar followed him. The Captain looked at the figurehead. A woman with her hands across her chest, her eyes closed, and lips as red as blood. Long red hair flowed over her shoulders. "Remorseless…" Isar breathed deferentially. Siltar was watching the captain. "She is beautiful." He added as an afterthought. "Siltar, I hadn't asked for your opinion. Get down and make sure the sails are kept as they are now. I said don't work yourself so hard, not don't work at all." Siltar sighed with relief, the Captain he recognised had come back. Isar's strange dazed attitude was something completely different and unusual. No doubt Kruk would know what was wrong. Or right, as it seemed. Isar watched with keen intensity when Jeilk came into view. He retrieved his spyglass from somewhere within his jacket, and inspected the land. He couldn't see much, though. He had been to Jeilk a number of times before, but as he and his crew were pirates, they tended to avoid Jeilk, and Blimsee the neighbouring island. Pirates weren't very highly considered on those shores. He could find himself in trouble, but that's where he trusted Oswyn. Oswyn had the brains. Isar could think quickly enough for himself, of course, and was as cunning as a Captain could be, but Oswyn normally noted things that Isar would overlook. It made the entire process much more devious and concise. "Siltar! Get that flag down! We'll be flying no colours, else they'll recognise us!" Isar yelled. Oswyn joined him at the bow. He knew his Captain too well. "Captain, I presume you'd like to discuss something with me." "Not out here, let us go back to my quarters, where I have some drink, and the charts to see. We must consider all situations." Oswyn dutifully followed his Captain to his cabin. He could almost hear his own mind whirring. When he took the seat he always took in Isar's cabin, he rested his head on his palms and began to speak. Isar listened, and the two of them sat together, discussing, until they heard Siltar's cries of "Land ahoy!" from the deck. Isar managed to sway the harbourmaster from getting their Captain's name from him. He was told Siltar's name, and Siltar's name only. When they reached the village that was beside the shore, Isar rounded on his crew. "Liberty ashore granted, we'll have a few days. This won't be easy, but when we do leave, you all have to be ready to jump to and obey, else it's the noose for us. This is a very bold task Kruk, you'll be accompanying me, and you, Oswyn. The rest of you, use what coin you have left. Siltar will hand round some silvers. Be ready for when we want to go, we may need to make a very hasty departure." The sailors nodded and went off in groups. Port Jielk was a lively, happy place, and the shore side town was as jolly as ever. Isar noticed that the harbourmaster was looking at him, and suddenly turned with a stern face, as if to say 'mind your own business.' Osywn joined his captain, grinning. "Where first, Captain?" "A couple of the lads are bringing a barrel of fabric ashore, we'll make ourselves merchants here, that way people will be less suspicious." "And no doubt the extra coin is handy." "Of course," Isar winked. Kruk joined them with the barrel in his hands. "Cap'n, the others have gone now. Where are we taking this?" He asked, the barrel nearly hiding Isar's face. "Anywhere. Let's check the market first," Isar was already strolling away. Kruk nodded at Oswyn, and together they wandered about to see what they could find. Hardly anybody noticed them, except a few people noticed Kruk, and wondered where he had come from. Luckily Kruk didn't look much like a northerner, so no questions were asked. A likely looking marketplace was where Isar stopped. "This looks like it could do with some finely woven fabrics from Fur'lik!" Isar declared loudly. A short, skinny woman appeared from behind a tapestry. "Fur'lik?" She squeaked. "But that's beyond the Brigands' Shores, few make it past there without being stopped by pirates," She observed listlessly. "Ah, pirates. Not a problem for 'The Remorseless'. She's only the best ship in the western seas." Isar answered, full of aplomb. She raised an eyebrow. "What have you got?" "Tell us your name." Kruk put the barrel on the floor, and rested a hand on it. "I'm Precola. What have you got?" Kruk took a sample of the fabric out. It was a silky sheet, green and flowing through the sailor's hands as if water ran through his fingers. "This." He smiled at Precola. Her eyes shone. "It's beautiful…" She muttered something inaudibly, then seemed to remember who she was talking to and gathered herself, standing straight. "How did you get that? And no doubt you're going to sell it for an unreasonable price." "Oh contrare, dear Precola. We'll offer twenty golds for the whole barrel." Isar offered. It was a fairly cheap deal for the fabric they had, as it was so rare in Jeilk. Oswyn nudged Isar, encouraging his captain to remember that. Precola's face lit up. As she parted her lips to speak the word 'deal', Isar spoke again. "We'll offer twenty-eight golds." Precola scowled. "Twenty-six." "Done." Isar smiled, and Kruk held up the barrel, stuffing the green silk inside. Precola dashed behind the tapestry and gathered what money she could find, and put it into Isar's hand. "There, now give me the fabric and don't come near me again. I know that you're pirates, not even the best merchant can make it past them!" "It doesn't matter what kind of merchant you are, it depends on the ship and who is sailing it." Kruk answered sharply, and gave her the barrel. She scowled again, and then beamed at the fabrics. "Oh papa, we have it at last!" She whispered. Oswyn made a face, and they left, Isar counting the coins. "Well isn't this something sweet! With our shares between us, it's ten golds for me, and eight for the two of you, here," He handed them the gold coins. "Hey, you!" Precola shouted from her fabricated domain. Isar turned, as if bored, and he sighed with one eyebrow raised. "Yes Precola?" "Where did you come from? At least tell me that." Kruk looked at his Captain, wondering what lie the man would concoct. "We came from Hort. We always come from Hort." Isar had very cleverly told her the truth, and she would assume something from that information that wouldn't be true. Something to their advantage, of course. "I didn't know that men from Hort were so…" "Incredible?" Oswyn laughed. "Goodbye, Precola." He made to walk off, but Precola didn't move. "Can I trade with you? I would so love to get hold of these fabrics for myself." Her eyes were wide and full of hope. Kruk winced. "I'm sorry, but I don't think the mate or the crew would approve of a woman aboard. A terribly superstitious lot, they are, I… we can't, I'm sorry Precola. Just make do with the fabrics you have, and hope that one day the tides will bring us back with more. Be ready with the gold for when we do come!" Isar didn't even let her take a breath to speak before he had whisked Kruk and Oswyn away. They were far up the street before Precola had exhaled. "A strange man…" She muttered sadly, returning to her home. Precola's father had been taken by pirates, as well as small hopes of revenge, Precola wanted to sail to Fur'lik to get the fabrics that her father had died trying to acquire. "Damn pirates…" She grumbled disdainfully.
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