[Tarot]

The Captain nodded at the Elflord, but he and the men seemed wary of approaching Nimavel and his troupe of assassins. Maybe it was a standard rule when one worked for Zoric. Maybe it had to do with the strange superstitions of this island. Regardless, Latresse called all hands on deck, had them unfurl the sails, and finally the Fortunata left the harbor.

Nimavel and his men were for the most part left to their own devices, and everyone made sure to get some badly needed rest, though being consummated professionals, none let their guard down for a second. The waters were calm and crystalline - the Eunesian sea at its best. The schooner cut through the waves with the elegance of a fish, betraying the ancient experience of the Eunesian shipwrights.

The ship sailed forth, though it did not go too far, skirting the curves of the elongated island of Chelseanna. Soon, the Fortunata took shelter in a small cove that had obviously been used for the same purpose many times before. A simple, frugal pracenda was then served. No alcohol was allowed on the ship. The sailors did not try to stir conversation with the Elflord and his associates.

A few candlemarks later, just as planned, the Fortunata slipped out of its hiding place. Under the pale moonlight, it was surprising to see how different the Southern half of the island was from the Northern one where the town and its Port rested. The change was rather sudden but felt almost physically tangible as soon as one crossed the imaginary line that cut Mount Tuli in half. The North was the domain of civilized life, of strange customs, of violins, elaborate bows and refined art. The South was covered with woods, rocky cliffs, and large patches of wild bushes dotting coarse-grained beaches. Hardly any trace of civilization in sight. The very air felt different, tingly, savage, untamed. And this was where the assassin would be landing.

Sunrise was fast approching. Latresse spoke pretty much the first line since they'd left the Port. "There, the Cove Nascosto." He pointed at a curve in the coast, a small length of beach between two cliffs. There was a single ship visible in the distance, looking nothing like a fishing boat of any kind and much more like the Fortunata itself. One could only suppose it was the ship of the Nexian targets. It was entering the Cove, but they did not seem to realize they were being watched.

"Time to drop the rowboats," the Captain said. "There's nine of you, so two will be enough." While the sailors carried out the order, Nimavel would have to deploy his squad and decide how to proceed.