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The morning after that night, Sajahka woke early, bathed, selected his favorite of the seashells he had gathered the night before to set beside Leu’s pillow while he slept, and headed out to purchase them both breakfast. The get-together had been conveniently set at the end of the work week, which left the day open for other activities—or sleeping in, as some preferred. Leukos unsurprisingly being in the latter category. And thankfully, Sajah did feel immensely better come morning than he had the night prior. Yes, he truly enjoyed the man’s company: but he was going to get that, and evidently, Leu liked his too.

He had enough of his own emotional points of complication that he really didn’t need more immediately, and it could only be a good thing to have the opportunity to continue to get to know the man, learn his job, and become comfortable in his new surroundings in the meantime. Besides, with the benefit of sobriety on his shoulders, he was all the more convinced it would have been a bad idea to start anything the way they had been headed.

Things were different now. For both of them.

Last they had been together, Sajahka’s interest had been set firmly on Nyko despite his eagerness for distraction in the meantime. Now, if he let himself admit it—he was fairly certain he didn’t want ‘just to ********’ with anyone. Nyko had made clear he wasn’t interested, and while the sting of that was still present, it was healing, and he could at least accept that he needed to move on himself and be capable on his own two feet. Without the prospect of Nyko in the distance, however, he didn’t think he could realistically kid himself into thinking he would be satisfied in the long term by ‘no commitment.’

He had wanted everything with Nyko, and been ready to settle for a lifetime of watching on. Now, he had had a taste of so much more with Leukos, and did not have the barrier of Nyko as some protective distant impossibility to keep his heart from setting itself elsewhere.

If he was going to begin building something with someone, he wanted it to matter. And he liked Leukos enough that if they started sleeping together now, he would all but inevitably want it to be meaningful for both of them. So, for however long Leukos had a boyfriend, at least, he was almost surely better off keeping things as simple as they could be.

Besides, it had not exactly sounded as though Leukos was the most inspired by whoever he had taken into life, and Sajah had to suspect that would work itself out in its own time without his help. He didn’t need to be the ‘source’ of trouble. He didn’t want to be involved in Leukos’ boyfriend drama.

It was simplest and best to be a good friend unless or until anything else made sense.

So, that was the mindset Sajah went forward with, and for several weeks, it went well. They shared quarters but did not get wildly drunk together. They shared meals, but not their bed. They went to work together and came into an easy routine that he felt good about. He was earning coin of his own the right way. He was learning every day about both his job and in stray portions about the other tasks around the place as he had opportunity to observe and even occasionally aid where appropriate. He learned the names of the beasts and his co-workers.

By the beginning of his third week, he had enough to his own name that he was able to contribute to food and rent money and begin considering the possibility of some, ‘Thank you,’ to Leukos that didn’t involve anything indecent for a friendship.

But what could he bring home to the man that Leu didn’t already have?

It was mid afternoon during their lunch break, and Sajah was taking a walk through market, perusing without necessarily any intent to purchase, his mind wandering when at his back pocket—it was just the faintest fumble of movement, but on instinct, Sajah’s hand snapped back, gripping like a vice around-

A very small wrist, moments before his eyes narrowed on the culprit.

Little thief.

The child squawked in outburst at being caught, eyes flaring wide, and then face gradually draining of color as the impact of failure sunk in. The child—Sajah couldn’t honestly tell what the gender was at first glance, but he pegged boy as a half-wild guess thanks to reasonably short, raggedy hair that hung only just above the shoulders and so much filth that one couldn’t have accurately guessed what color his clothes were supposed to be—jerked against his hold.

“H-hey, let go—”

Scoffing, Sajah took what was his — just a few coins, unsuccessfully picked from his pocket — and then shook his head. What an amature. Understandable though, he supposed, at that age. But really, if the kid was going to be waltzing about the streets he’d be endangering his hands if he didn’t work up his skill some. For now, though, because he could afford it and knew what it meant to be on that side of the pecking order, he held out a portion back of what had been taken.

The child squinted. He only took a moment, though, to apparently decide any risk was worth it, and snatched the offering up greedily. Sajah released his grip. The child bolted into the crowd. He huffed.

It was, he imagined then, surely the last he’d see of him.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. The next day, at approximately the same time, as he was moving away from the street vendor where he had just purchased lunch, there came a familiar, sloppy pull at the back of his clothes where he had kept his coin last time-

His grip locked on a wrist.

He raised his eyebrows. This time, he earned puffed cheeks and an abashed pout from his ‘attacker.’

“Well, you fed me last time,” the boy blurted, and—Sajah probably should have been offended, but instead, as much to his own surprise as the child’s, an amused laugh bubbled up of its own regard. Then, he reminded himself this was no way to teach a child, and cleared his throat, shaking his head. The child huffed. “Aw, c’mon, I know you got some…I just wanna little that’s all-”

“Shhh, tch.”

The child squinted.

Sajah released his grip, and reached to where he had moved his coin, withdrawing enough specifically for one biscuit as sold across the way by the local bread vendor. After holding up the coin, he gestured, making sure the child looked, and seemed to understand, before he handed the prize over. The boy flushed, and as Sajah watched, happily pocketed the coin. The moment the child’s back turned, he flashed a grin. Perfect.

He let the boy have his head start, wriggling through the crowd towards the bread vendor as indicated, and only after a dozen or so paces did he take gradual pursuit, careful not to draw special attention to the fact that he was following—though, silly boy, he didn’t even look back. Not that Sajah supposed he had much reason to believe his interests were at risk. Always odd, how thieves never anticipated being stolen from.

The boy made it to the vendor unawares. “Aye—oi, you!” The child called to the merchant, drawing attention to himself and clearly proud to have the capacity to pay. “I want that one. I got—”

The look, though, on his face as his fingers went into his pocket where he had just placed his ‘earned’ coin, only to find nothing, was — in Sajah’s opinion — priceless. The boy squinted. He stuffed his hand deeper, whipped around to turn, squinting at the ground and then all about him.

“I had-”

Then, Sajah stepped forward, placing the same coins on the table before the bread merchant who, when Sajah notched his head toward the kid, turned the requested roll over without question. The child, for a moment, didn’t seem to manage to notice, his cheeks too busy turning a furious purple.

“Ai, kid,” the merchant broke through to the boy’s attention, gesturing as he held out the bread.

Wordlessly, it was snatched up. The boy’s eyes were narrowed, though, on Sajah as he took his first greedy, cheek-stuffed bite. “‘Ow’d ‘ou ‘et that? Was mine…”

Sajah pulled his slate board from where it was looped at his hip — ever handy — and scritched out the words: yur sloppy — before turning it to face him. The boy’s eyes narrowed, squinting, and then he gave a light puff, looking away.

“I can’t read. You can’t talk, huh?”

Sajah blinked, surprised at how quickly the child came to it—evidently not stupid, under all that dirt. He nodded.

“Well, that sucks. My name’s Naz. It’s nice to meet ya anyway, I s’pose, and…” He rolled his shoulders. “Thanks, I guess.”

It would not be the last time he saw him.

The morning after ‘that’ night with Leukos, both Sajahka and Leu remained home as promised to one another the night before. Work would survive one day without them, and there were more important things to be done, places to explore, boundaries to smudge carefully and words to share in the meantime. Sajahka rose early and brought them both fresh breakfast, after which point the day was one dedicated to one another, taking their pace as gradually as it need be. And, for all that it was difficult in portion—it was also good, in ways it never had been before. Sajahka felt legitimately that they were carving out new territory, and that what he had now with Leukos was something he never had before. Different, but precious just the same.

They could not avoid work long, however, and soon, their routine became again mostly what it was before, simply with the added step to their relationship that seemed to make every aspect of life better in its own way. Sajah, though, still had a personal task at hand to tend to, and it only took watching Leukos once more from a distance with Tazkah to know he needed to move quickly.

To avoid causing Leukos suspicion or extra concern, he took the time for his investigating when he would have otherwise been purchasing food at market. It was easy enough to trail Lord Zergag, but the first several times, there was nothing of note to be gained: the man was simply going home—to an unsurprisingly lavish abode, but to no special effect as far as Sajah was concerned. He had just began to wonder, in fact, if all the man ever did was return home calmly—when on this particular day he took a different turn on his path, and Sajah’s interest was peaked.

Leukos would be suspicious if he didn’t manage his errand in a timely fashion, but as the lord’s carriage took a turn for the harbor instead of its usual route, Sajah hoped the extra delay would be worth it, and certainly, he was willing to gamble. It took him a little longer on foot to make the trek, but shortcuts favored him, and fortunately, it wasn’t far, such that soon enough, he had successfully caught back onto the man’s trail. The man had no reason to recognize his face, so he did not have to be as careful as he might have been otherwise.

Still, he kept a healthy distance. No need to draw attention to himself, after all, and luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. Apparently, his target was already ‘late.’

“You promised to be here an hour ago-”

“I was held up.” The man’s quick, snappish tone did not demonstrate any more patience towards the man he’d come to see than Sajah had seen anywhere else, which wasn’t a surprise. “Is the next shipment in or not? I still don’t understand why I have to be out here. The financials of the transaction have already been managed, and I asked to have your reports delivered to me personally…”

“Tathazar insisted on finalizing the details in person, and there were complications with customs…”

Lord Zerosh visibly bristled. “There were complications and that made someone think I would want to be anywhere near to the process? I-” He seemed, though, to think better of his words in their reasonably public setting, and with something of a snarl, he strode past the man he had been addressing. Inconspicuously as he could manage, Sajah, too, trailed them, attempting to get nearer this time so as to better make out the words when the lord’s volume dropped to a hiss. “I do not think any of you understand how much more I have on the line than any or all of you combined. There is a reason I wish to keep a healthy distance from your proceedings and if your boss continues to insist on dragging me too close, you can assure him he risks losing my support entirely. Am I making myself perfectly clear to your dull ears?”

If the man was impressed by his threats, it wasn’t immediately apparent. He grunted. “I’m sure…I will pass the message along. In the meantime, The Eideren is at port. We lost three this time on the voyage over, and several are sick enough they may not sell for full price…and because you were late, Tathazar is back with the authoriti-”

“I don’t care what he is doing. If he wishes to meet with me, he had best make time. Now. I have places to be, and I have no interest in lingering any more than necessary…” Sajah could see the man’s face pucker, even from a veritable distance. “It smells down here…but while I am at it, I hope you managed to keep your logs in order this time? I will need the full manifest, and any documentation you pass by customs.”

“For a man concerned about keeping his hands clean,” the ship hand muttered, “you do realize that keeping the records on your person will only-”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion. Are you going to lead the way or not? I think I’m breaking a sweat and my patience is thin.”

Privately, Sajah had to wonder if something could be thin when it hardly seemed to exist to begin with, but, as the pair moved down the way, he opted not to immediately follow. He felt fairly certain he had the building blocks he needed. But before leaving entirely — with the most handy name of the ship in mind — he opted instead to take the extra time to peruse the docks himself at leisure, scanning their titles—until he came upon it.

The Eideren.

Sajah had never been on a full sized ship before, only small boats, and then only for transport to the islands to begin with. This was a massive vessel docked at the far end, evidently a cargo-bearing craft of some nature — which seemed to fit with what he had heard — and, as Sajah passed by, currently mostly unoccupied from what he could see on first pass. There was a woman standing by the gangplank, but she looked idle and bored, and Sajah could guess that the crew had already off-boarded for the time being, likely predominantly out while their cargo passed through customs.

Sajah debated, weighing his options as he sized up the ship, the boarding ramp — and the nearest window to the dock. It looked reachable. His gaze flit to the woman, though. It wouldn’t be especially subtle, and difficult to pull off undetected unless he was very quick about it. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that if he had even just a spark of magical talent, it would be easier to stage a distraction. Catch a small part of the dock or her pants on fire perhaps. As it was…

“Ay, Royanda…”

Sajahka squinted, lingering in the shade of an awning of a currently empty market stall as someone approached up the pier. He couldn’t hear what was being said, after the man moved in close enough on her to begin his conversation, but there was what appeared to be a brief argument before he retreated again—and she moved up, onto the deck. Seeing his opportunity as open as it was likely to get, Sajah moved out, onto the dock, leaning to grip the starboard side window—if only he were a little taller, but perhaps that only would have made it impossible to fit in. He hoisted himself, feeling his pulse do a small flip as he nearly lost grip—and then he was there, stuffed in its frame, and wriggling himself inward.

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

It seemed apparent by the conversation he had overheard already that something was afoot, but it didn’t seem enough yet to return to Leu with. The first thing that struck him was how it smelled — of strong spices and food on the surface layer, but under that, something else wound into the tapestry of scent that Sajah couldn’t quite pin down except—death. That couldn’t be right. Rotting meat, well masked by a complex web of other scents. As he dropped from window to the top of the first crate his boots hit, he heard sounds, and immediately slunk down, fitting himself into the shadows between boxes and listening.

The woman was cursing. After some amount of shuffling and fiddling over whatever it was she had come down for, however, her footsteps again retreated, and Sajah drew a fresh breath, and stood, giving his eyes time to adjust as he surveyed the room he’d made it into. He wasn’t sure why it had a window. It looked just to be a store room. Slipping one of his knives free of the sheath at his hip, Sajah tackled a crate, prying just to see. It was what it smelled like, though. Bags upon bags of spices. A similar process on two others revealed the same, and as he moved through the ship, careful to keep an eye out for stray lingering crew members, he had almost began to think this portion of his mission at least was going to be a dud.

Then, he heard something.

Scraping. Clawing. A whine and a rumble, indistinct, but clearly not made by any man, and coming from beneath his feet. There had to be a lower portion of the ship. On the lookout, then, it didn’t take him long to find—and immediately the scent he had thought he smelled before went from well-masked to almost overpowering. It reeked. Of s**t, piss, and sickness, like a putrid swell welling up—much, Sajah found, like some slave wagons used to smell like. His eyes had to adjust again to the near total darkness as he edged down, just enough-

Something snarled.

A low, rumbling growl emitted from somewhere to his left, and Sajah felt a familiar prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The minimal light pouring in just from the hatch Sajah had come in through caught and glinted on a set of yellow eyes, and—janarim. Cages upon cages of them, packed almost as tightly as frozen fish. He tried to count in the darkness as his eyes grew accustomed, scanning the rows—but there had to be dozens of them, and he couldn’t see-

And then, he heard movement again, this time more than one set of footsteps.

He pulled out.

He had seen enough, in any case. Though he wasn’t clear on all the details of Matori’s shipping and trading laws, Lord Zergug had seemed nervous enough, and this seemed wrong enough, that surely there was something against it.

First, though, he would have to bring the information to Leukos.