Hammers rang across the harbor of Black Reef Atoll. The ropes and pulleys on the Jin Clan’s pier squealed as the crew of the Sea-Serpent hauled sacks of dried sea cucumbers and barrels of gray silt out of the hold. Guards in sharkskin armor kept the pearl hunters and rogue cultivators back from the gangway.
The back room of the Jin Clan’s compound was quiet and smelled of camphor and cloves. Steward Jin sat behind a dark wooden desk and ran his fingers over an ivory counting frame. He had some color in his cheeks again. He looked better than he had when Iron Fin Wu’s boats first came through the fog.
Pei Jing took a seat on a cane stool. He rested the wrapped Cloud-Splitter between his boots, with enough room to stand quickly if he had to.
“The last five mid-grade spirit stones,” Jin said, sliding a small velvet bag across the desk. “And Wu’s belongings are yours, as we agreed.”
He glanced at the door, then lifted an iron-banded cask from under the desk.
“Ten gallons of deep-sea shark fat, from the clan master. It burns clean, and the smiths here like it for tempering blades.” Jin set the cask down gently. “If you’re ever free for another voyage, we’d be glad to have you.”
