She punched at her brother halfheartedly; he ducked under her fist, blew a kiss at her, and left his room. He didn't bother to sneak by the garret room where the maids were—they had proved able to snore through hurricanes and his mothers first shout for them to get out of bed—but was quieter going down the stairs. He went noiselessly past his sisters' rooms and ghosted past the floor where his parents slept. Mama was the one to step quietly for. Once his father fell asleep, only his snoring proved he was not dead. Mama had the fox-ears, asleep and, awake.

Down to the ground floor, a quick nip into the kitchen for some bread, then a five-minute jog to the docks. Osabo Netmender was in his boat at Godsluck Wharf. Once Pasco was aboard, Osa put his back into the oars, hauling the boat clear of the commercial docks and guiding it east, along Summersea's shoreline.

"I can't believe you're out of bed," Osa told his friend.

"Halmy woke me after her watch," said Pasco, yawning. "Look, this isn't some joke, is it? Your dad really thinks I can bring luck to his ship?"

"It's no joke," replied Osa, rowing with practiced ease. "Not when he's promised to pay you a silver crescent. Pa never jokes about money. And it’s the whole fleet, not just our boat."

Pasco shook his head, A silver crescent was too much money for any kind of jest. "I just don't understand," he muttered, stretching.

"Look, you danced for luck on the entrance examinations, and the temple took me to be a student there," Osa, said reasonably. "You danced luck for Adesina, and her baby popped out slick as seaweed—"