There was a commotion towards the back of the tumult and a metal staff rose above the heads of the crowd, sweeping from side to side as it approached. A path was cleared. The man wielding the staff was a little taller than most, and his white hair was cropped close to his scalp. Like those that surrounded him, his skin was pale and flawless, although there was something about his eyes that was disconcerting, and when he came to the head of the crowd Silus realised what it was: the man’s pupils were silver.

The crowd fell silent as the silver-eyed man looked at the crew, holding the staff out to each in turn. Dunsany looked ready to meet it with his sword, but a glance from Silus told him to be calm.

“We mean no harm,” Silus said, stepping forwards. “We find ourselves somewhat lost and were hoping you could help.”

As Silus spoke the man adjusted the rings running down the middle of the staff, each one inscribed with a symbol.

“What is this place called?” Silus persisted. “Are you” — another ring clicked into place — “native to this-”

The staff began to hum.

“I apologise for the delay,” the man said. “Though your words are not entirely unknown, it took me a time to configure the correct combination. Please, follow.”

The man turned and started to head towards the centre of the settlement. Silus stared after him for a moment before following, the rest of the crew following him hesitantly.

As they made their way through the crowd, Silus noticed the girl who had led them to this place looking at them with a kind of awe. She held up her pet and smiled, and he waved at her. She bashfully ducked back into the crowd and darted away.