Closed to Vincent Cain.
"Land on the horizon, cap'n!" the first mate hurried toward a grizzled, fat seafarer with an anxious gleam in his eyes. "It's Beinost, alright. The navigator you picked up is definitely worth his salt." They exchanged glances then looked in unison toward a strange man who leaned over the railing. "What did he say his name was?"

"Stalt, if memory serves," the captain replied in a robust baritone. "At least, that's what the ship manifest says. I couldn't tell you if it's true or not. The man rarely talks, and when he does it's all business. If he really is Tobias Stalt, he's a bloomin' fool for leaving behind his father's business a second time."

"Aye," the young blonde woman sized up Stalt, a man who wore rags unfit to clothe a Merchant Prince of Dehlos. The tattered black vestments flowed gently in the sea breeze as they drifted steadily toward shore, still several nautical miles off. "He's really living up to the reputation of a man who doesn't care about coin."

"Best mercenary in the Free City of Dehlos, I heard," the jolly, plump, white bearded geezer huffed. "Or he was, once. Rumor has it he left for two years without a word, even to his father. If you believe the local market buzz."

"Storm's brewing," a dull voice chimed. Both captain and first mate turned to regard Tobias, who continued to stare out to sea. The waves seemed placid, but the wind slowed. "If you want to avoid the shoals, unfurl the sails and get as much wind in them as can be managed. You don't want to try docking in Beinost during a storm."

"You heard the man, Miss Harle. Give me full sail, and bring us into port."

"Aye, cap'n!" Harle called out orders to all hands on the deck. Men snapped instantly to work, hands full with rigging and feet scurrying up it. "Full sail!" she barked. "Get us to Beinost within the bell, or its no dinner tonight!"

Tobias took a step toward the captain. "You promised you would leave the minute we got to Raiaera," the older man whispered in a low voice. "The others can't smell the death on you, but I'm no green sailor, Stalt. These children don't know the pain of war, and gods willing they never will. But someone like you? The reaper follows everywhere you go. Do you intend to keep your word?"

Shadows cast by his hood parted as Tobias raised his gaze to regard the captain. A chill rushed down the old man's spine. He gazed into amber eyes devoid of light and marked the creature before him. Those were the eyes of a man who had suffered immeasurably. "My word is my bond," Tobias replied curtly. "No harm will come to you or your men."

The captain nodded in silence.

"Landfall in eight minutes on current course, cap'n," Harle called back to him from the bow. "We should outrun the storm with plenty of time to spare!"

"Good," came the muttered response. "Good." He glanced to where Tobias stood, but the specter of a man already returned to his place along the rail. "What did you see," he asked curiously, "that changed you?"

Tobias smiled to himself sadly as he gazed into the depths. "I saw the world," he answered dryly. "Just like I dreamed of as a child."

"The Harbor bell is ringing," Harle cried out, "they're guiding us in."

"Maintain course and speed, Miss Harle," the captain ordered. He turned to Tobias and shook his head. "For what it's worth, Stalt," he said. "I'm sorry."

Tobias chuckled.