The man let out a long and frustrated sigh at the woman.
For a moment it looked like he might simply wave Sonder through out of exhaustion.
Instead he shook his head.
"No," he said. "Not doing this."
He turned to one of the younger sailors nearby.
"Oi. Go fetch the captain."
"Now?" One of the younger sailors asked.
"Yes, now."
The woman groaned. "Really?"
The man nodded firmly.
"If you're selling spots on my boarding line," he said, "then the captain can be the one to sort it out."
The younger sailor jogged off toward the rear of the ship.
The woman folded her arms and leaned against the rail.
"Well," she muttered.
Then she glanced sideways at Sonder.
"Looks like you're meeting the captain."
The wait did not last long.
The captain appeared.
He was an older man, broad across the shoulders though age had begun to settle into his posture.
A thick gray mustache covered his lip, and a black patch rested over one eye. His coat hung open at the front, and where his left hand should have been, the sleeve was pinned neatly just below the elbow.
The remaining hand was large enough for two.
"'S this?" he asked, his voice calm but rough.
No one spoke.
Then the sailor who had stopped Sonder at the gangplank cleared his throat.
"Captain," he said. "We've got a passenger problem."
The captain looked between them once.
"'Splain."
The sailor gestured toward Sonder.
"She says she already paid for passage. Problem is, I didn't sell it to her."
The captain's single eye shifted to the woman sailor.
She lifted both hands slightly.
"I might have."
The captain didn't react.
Instead, he stepped closer to Sonder.
The deck creaked softly beneath his boots as he stopped in front of her.
He looked her up and down slowly.
He took in the expensive but travel-worn clothes first. The single pack. The staff in her hand.
Then his gaze paused.
The sword lodged through her chest did not go unnoticed.
His eye lingered there a moment longer before moving upward to the necklace she had and then her pale face.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he noticed the faint dust-like shape settled close against her shoulder. Sireacht had drawn herself inward, barely more than a grain of rice.
The captain studied her for a long moment.
The rest of the sailors had gone very quiet.
Finally he spoke.
"You pay 'er?" he asked Sonder.
"Yes," she replied simply.
"Real pay? No fancy items? 'Xotic artifacts or promises of work after th' voyage?"
"Yes. The money I gave her has very real worth and she took a lot."
The captain nodded once.
Then he turned toward the woman sailor.
"Well," he said calmly, "'s unfortunate."
She winced slightly.
"For ye."
He rested his one hand on the railing beside him.
"If one of m' crew sells passage," he continued, "then th' ship 'onors the sale. 'S the rule. Otherwise I look like a cheat."
A few sailors nodded quietly.
Sonder said nothing.
The woman sailor exhaled in relief.
"See?" she said. "No harm done-"
"You're cleanin' th' latrines."
Her relief vanished.
"Fo' the entire voyage."
The deck erupted in a few poorly suppressed snorts.
"An'," the captain added calmly, "whatever payment y' took for this little arrangement belongs to th' ship."
The woman groaned.
"Captain-"
"Ye can argue with the sea if y' like," he said evenly. "But those're the terms."
He held out his hand.
Slowly, reluctantly, she reached into her coat and produced the folded Gloamish notes. She placed them in his palm.
The captain looked at the paper briefly, turning one piece over between his fingers.
"Huh," he muttered.
Then he tucked the money into his coat.
His eye returned to Sonder.
"You've got passage," he said. "Two weeks if th' winds behave."
He jerked his chin toward the deck behind him.
"Try not to cause trouble."