The gentle evening breeze kisses her cheek and tickles her ear with a little strand of her hair. She cannot brush it back… she is standing on tip toe with a lit tapir trying to touch the wick of the last paper lantern. The arches of her bare feet stretch to get her the last few inches.

The wick catches, causing the lantern to shed a reddish-orange glow through the colored paper.

She smiles. She douses the tapir and straightens her frock. Her new cowry shell necklace (the shells courtesy of the otters) tinkles at the base of her neck. She looks up at the other lanterns she has strung… yellow, blue, green… all glowing festively above the long table.

She sighs, a little nervous, but pleased. She goes over to the table and straightens the paper thin slices of ginger, trying to give it a more aesthetic appeal. A platter of cucumbers, rice and tiny shrimp rolled in seaweed and sliced like coins of money lies neatly arranged at the center. Slices of fish… salmon, tune, mahi-mahi, each little slice meticulously cut, ring the cucumber roll like petals of a flower.

Braata watches the flame under the tea carefully, her nose lifted high in the air, as she sniffs the steam coming from the spout. It has a very pleasant smell to it, soothing. All of the food smells very different than anything Armando has ever prepared. The change is nice, everything delicate and precise. Not an inch of pasta nor a spot of sauce to be seen anywhere.

The genling sits down on the edge of the table, watching Selkie fuss over the ginger. Braata shakes her head, and grins a reptilian smile. "It is very nice of you to do this, I mean it took a long to prepare and all, and it smells great."

Selkie frowns, rearranging the tea cups for the fourth time since they had brought them out.

The little maridan giggles. "Everything is fine, they will love it, don't worry."

Selkie looks up at her friend, and brushes back a tickling strand of hair from her cheek. " I guess, um… I'm just nervous… do you really think they will like it?" Her brow creases in worry.

"What is not to like? This green stuff is pretty spicy though… <smack>"

"Stop that!" Selkie scolds. "Wait for everyone else, okay? It has to be perfect."

Braata giggles. "It had better be."

"What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing… nothing at all." She giggles again.

Kalaban looks in the mirror and makes some final adjustments to his hair. His shirt is immaculate and white as talc, open at the neck with long, puffy sleeves. His pants are black, his boots are shiny, and he is wearing his blue sash with both his rapier and main gauche - hilts shining in gold and silver - pushed in his scabbard.

It is not that he anticipates using his weapons at a dinner party, but… it does add a little dash to the sash, so to speak.

He smiles his gleaming white smile to himself. The reflection that looks back at him, of dark wavy hair framing a tan face, square dimpled chin, and penetrating eyes, is more than satisfactory. He puts his hands to his hips and frowns.

"Kal," he says to his reflection, "just who are you trying to impress? After all, the Reef Runner and her crew has seen the worst of you already." He turns in profile, noting his athletic build. "Who cares?" he says to himself lightly.

The door to his room unlocks and opens. A tired looking merchant, with a wife and babe behind his shoulder, comes into the room with their luggage. He gapes at Kalaban. His wife covers her mouth, preparing to scream.

"Ah, take no account of me, Sadik Hassan," he says politely. "I had thought you were delayed for a bit longer. I shall not be in your way… in fact…" he says, jogging toward the window, his bag slung over his shoulder. "I was just leaving."

He flings open the shutter, checks the street, and backs out, unhooking his whip. He stops for a moment, his eyes meeting those of the merchant's wife. He cannot see her mouth, for it is still covered by her hand, but he sees her eyes widening not so much by fear as by surprise and excitement.

He sniffs deeply. "Is that jasmine I smell? I love jasmine," he says, holding the wife's eyes for another moment. And then, before the merchant can drop his luggage, Kalaban disappears out the window, slings his whip to catch an eavespole, and swings himself up to the roof of the laundry next door.

He runs along the rooftops into the evening, mildly regretting that he had forgotten to tip the hotel housekeeper for the work he must have caused her for the unauthorized use of Hassan's room. He will make it up to her some other time.

Tonight, with the gentle evening breeze, comes further promises, carried on the heels of all things… an invitation to dinner from a shy girl with sea green eyes.

Ioz strides down the center of the street, his dark eyes roaming the outdoor cafes and nightspots for anything interesting, amiss, or attractive. Niddler half hops, half flies, and mostly talks in front of him, turning frequently and smiling crookedly. To his left, the lovely Tula tries to match his speed while keeping her own pace. Despite the distractions of the street, she is still managing to annoy him with her jibbering about this somewhat unusual dinner invitation to the Reef Runner.

"By the Shadow Moon, Tula, enough already! I am NOT going in a disguise to make believe I am not a pirate. If she is truly an ecomancer, she will have enough sense to not mistake me for someone like Abdul."

"Ioz, from Niddler's accounts of her, she has every reason to believe you will be just like Abdul, especially if you come in there with your *typical* attitude… besides… I don't understand why you insist on coming… the girl is not even remotely a threat. Don't you believe Niddler?" She sighs, throwing her hands up in disgust.

Ioz continues to scan the streets and alleys, a broad grin rising under his mustache. "Tula, you wouldn't know a *threat* until it has already bent you over the knee and spanked you. Twice. Don't you think so, Niddler?"

"Ehee, awk. Yes? No? Why are you asking ME? The girl is shy, like I told Tula, she was a slave to Abdul. But she also outduelled a Korb! Awk."

Tula glares at Ioz heatedly, stopping in the middle of the street and pointing her finger, stabbing him in the chest. "If you scare that girl… and ruin whatever chances we have of finding out if she is one of the lost ones… I will see that you are scraping an over-abundance of barnacles off of Ren's ships for the rest of your days, Ioz…" she threatens, then turns on her heel and continues toward the docks, trying to cool her temper before she too frightens Niddler's shy friend.

Ioz sighs and watches Tula's pretty backside as she stalks past him. "What… what did I say?" he asks Niddler, holding out his arms innocently. "Did I *say* I was going to scare anyone? Am I s-s-s-scary, Niddler?" he demands sarcastically. "Do I frighten little girls?"

"Awk! Eeep. Yes? No? Why ask me? I'm a monkey bird. But you might want to… leave the scimitar off and maybe let your hair down…"

"Ay-culda. Don't be an idiot, Niddler. Who could possibly be frightened of me, the most loyal of the loyal servants of Prince Ren? Monkey birds are scared of the shadows cast by their wings!"

Niddler reflexively checks his shadow and gives a nervous, twittering laugh.

Ioz shakes his head.