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overwhelming him at their sight. They floated gently in the breeze, the watch crewman bantering with each other from the underslung decks. Sailing on the open ocean was a fine thing, but nothing compared to the wind-born sway of flying through the air.
    "But why?" asked Lina. "Why did he marry her?"
    "A moment of raging insanity," said Fengel. The two thugs turned back to him, fists ready to chivvy him along. Fengel smiled at them and continued up the ramp to the building.
    The front door opened onto a richly appointed parlor. Fine carpets covered the floors and oiled teak paneled the walls. A small couch sat against one wall, facing a portrait of a distinguished Perinese gentleman next to a door hanging slightly ajar. Past these a stair led upwards to the floor above.
    "Thomas? cried a voice through the door. "Is that you?"
    The second thug who'd manhandled him strode over and pushed open the door. "Yes sir," he said quietly. "And I've brought the debtor you asked me to go find."
    "Fengel?" said the voice. "Ah, excellent. Show him in please."
    Thomas glared over at him. Fengel was already moving. He sauntered over to the door, Lina and Henry falling in behind him.
    The room was a small, well-decorated office. Bookshelves lined the walls and expensive rugs lay upon the floor. A massive mahogany desk dominated the small space, a single chair facing it.
    Mr. Grey sat behind it, as bland as his name suggested. Middling height, average weight, and light brown hair, his skin tanned but not so dark as an islander. His eyes were an unremarkable shade of brown. As if in compensation, his clothing was wealthy and refined. He wore a suit, expensive and slightly unreasonable considering the climate, and his hair was slicked back with pomade.
    "Ah,” he said in a soft voice. "Captain Fengel, have a seat. So good of you to drop by." His eyes flicked to the pair of crewman behind him. "Would you and your crew care for some refresh—"
    "Yes," said Fengel, Henry, and Lina all at once.
    Mr. Grey blinked, taken aback. "Some tea, Thomas," he said. "And biscuits." Thomas grunted and backed out of the room. Grey turned to face Fengel again. "Have a seat. Now, let's get straight to business. It's come to my attention that you and your crew returned to Haventown in a leaky dinghy tied up down at the docks."
    "Longboat, actually," replied Fengel. He took the lone chair before the desk. The floor creaked as Henry and Lina moved up behind him.
    A moue of annoyance fluttered across Grey's face. "Yes, a longboat. As I take it, your most recent venture has failed?"
    Fengel nodded, despondent. His ship. His beautiful ship, blown to smithereens by arcane flames. He forced the thought from his mind.
    "Then, most importantly, I take it to mean that you cannot pay off your loan?
    Despite himself, Fengel winced. He could feel Henry's eyes on his back. Fengel smiled a brittle smile. I need to say something. Something quick, witty. He opened his mouth but Grey bulled on.
    "And the distinct manner in which you arrived suggests that the collateral is...unavailable?"
    Fengel sighed, like a balloon letting free its air. "Gone," he admitted. "Dead by an aetherite's infernal magics."
    "I see." Grey steepled his fingers. "Mister Fengel. You are aware that you owe me in excess of two hundred and forty-five thousand gold sovereigns?"
    Henry sucked in his breath. Miss Stone whistled. "How?" asked his steward. "For what?"
    The financier consulted a ledger on his desk. "The details are extensive, but in short; your captain owes me, and by extension the western cartels, for five separate loans over the last year and a half. Ostensibly to repair, refit and supply his ship."
    Henry quieted in shock. Fengel was glad for that. "I am aware," he replied to Grey.
    "And you cannot pay."
    "No."
    Grey tapped his ledger. "Well then, it is quite fortunate for you that I have a task all lined up."
    Fengel blinked, his confusion returned. "I'm sorry?"
    The financier rolled his eyes. "I