Calliope walked unsteadily off the gangplank, ignoring  the leers and catcalls she recieved from the various dockside layabouts. It wasn’t entirely prudent to leave the ship completely uncrewed but in a port like Stormcrest it was unlikely that the ship would be outright stolen. Rigging her for sail alone would take an hour, which was longer than she planned to leave her. There were spells she might use to secure the Weather Witch but after two and a half days with no more sleep than the vagrant wind had allowed she hardly trusted herself to attempt to light a candle with magic, much less set up a ward.

The lower reaches of Stormcrest were wooden tenements, a maze of ship chandlers, bars, brothels and pawn shops. Sailors of dozens of nationalities and several races milled about haggling and drinking. Here and there a pistol cracked and swords clashed but it was the natural high spirits of a nautical town rather than any serious trouble. The  town rose gradual towards the blue hills. Naturally the houses and shops became more substantail the higher one got. The better quality houses were made from baked red brick with slate rooves. It was just possible to see the ramparts of the Crimsion Fortress from down here, banners flapping in the breeze and the glint of its great dwarven guns. Unlike Calaverde Stormcrest enjoyed a far greater hinterland so its millitary might had to be greater. In the fertile lands beyond the port were dozens of plantations, producing sugar cane, coffee, indigo as well as oats and barley for the population. A network of dirt roads connected the port to the plantations, bringing crops to the sea and manufactured goods out to the farms.

Makus had only just completed his discussion with the dockmaster as she strode past without a word vanishing into the crowd. She might have notionally granted command to the man but she certainly didn’t consider herself to be under his command. Most of all she wanted to get some sleep and then study the Codex. There had been no time during the voyage and her skin all but prickled with the desire to dig into its pages. There would be time, but first she had to make a stop.

The pawn shop was most of the way up the hill. It was well appointed, racks of swords and fine clothing were positioned around the outside. Smaller cabinets filled with navigational instruments, charts, arcane devices and spell books were carefully sealed with expensive glass paneling. Arcane illumination from crystal globes bathed the store with a glimmering radiance. Behind a small counter was a fussy man with a neat black coat, powdered wig and a pair of spectacles. He looked up as Calliope entered, measuring her worth with a practiced eye. A woman in fine clothing, but rumpled and dirty, concealing her face with a hood. A widow whose husband had left her less than she needed to keep up appearances perhaps. A weathly merchant who had made bad investments. The fellow all but licked his lips.

“Can I help you madam?” he asked in a prissy voice. Calliope made a show of being hesitant moving forward only reluctantly.

“I… I don’t know if I have come to the right place,” she stammered with faux concern.

“Infact perhaps it is best I go…”

“No! No,” the pawnbroker said with just a note of panic at the thought of such a juicy mark slipping from his grasp.  

“I’m sure whatever you require I can be of some assistance,” the oily man said. Calliope smiled within her hood and hesitantly reached into the satchel she had bought with her from Calaverde. She hadn’t troubled to share with Markus the fact that she had escaped with a small fortune. It wasn’t properly any of his concern afterall, as an avowed pirate he might just as soon slit her throat if he knew what she had. Carefully she withdrew a small intricately carved sapphire from her pouch.

“My husband… well the detail aren’t important surely,” she said, her face quavering. The pawn brokers eyes opened wide.

“I can hold onto it for you madam,” he said smoothly, “until you get on your feet.”

When Calliope found Markus she was dressed in a new white silk shirt with a gray leather vest corseted around her waist. Her legs were  sheathed in a fine trousers of soft doeskin tucked into black leather boots. A new rapier hung on her belt and a tricorne hat sat upon her head. Several arcane texts were tucked into her pouch, chosen to help her with her study of the Codex. She strode into the bar where the pirate sat, pulled a purse of coin from her tunic and tossed it onto the table. I clinked weightily and several gold sovereigns spilled out onto the table top.

“Start up money, to find a crew and proper artillery,” she said airly before taking a seat across from him.

“You may consider your half a loan,” she declared waving one of the barwenches towards them and calling for ale and hot stew.