The harpoon struck like a bell, vibrating through the lifeboat. Wood cracked. The line screamed. A skiff pulled alongside, six shadows under a dripping awning, all teeth and leisure.
"Got 'em," said the man in blue goggles, cheerful as a vendor.
"Lucky us," Ponyo murmured, wrapping a chain around the shaft as the boat jerked sideways. Koby yelped when seawater slapped him.
"Cut it!" Koby sputtered.
"They'll just throw another," Ponyo said.
Another harpoon hit, pinning them in place.
"Panic now?"
"Not yet." Ponyo looked past the grinning pirate to the scarfed figure with a ledger—calm eyes, quick as a bookkeeper counting coins.
"Alive," they said. "They're worth more breathing."
Hooks clanged. Hands hauled them aboard. Ponyo let himself be dragged up first, better they counted him.
"Sea Brittle work, huh?" Gils, the goggled pirate, tapped Ponyo's shirt. "You the Widow's bitey kid?"
"She gossips?" Ponyo asked.
"Everyone gossips," said the scarfed figure. "Only fools don't listen."
"I'm Lemra," they added as the skiff turned for shore. "Welcome to Ashport."
Ashport Haven sprawled like a rusted crown, built from ships that refused to sink. Docks layered on docks, planks lashed to masts, tarps for roofs, lanterns like low stars. Cranes groaned, smoke kissed fog into bruises.
They passed a barge where a tattooed woman sold knives and bitter herbs, a chain of anchors hung like bells, a barefoot boy darting with buns.
"Don't," Ponyo warned as Koby leaned toward the tray.
"I wasn't—okay, I was."
Lemra's tone was mild. "That bun would be mostly air."
"I hate this place," Koby muttered.
"You don't know it yet," Lemra said.
They reached a boardwalk of quick, measuring stares. Ponyo memorized planks, nails, shifts in rain. The harbor was a map unfolding.
Gils docked at a platform slick with fish oil. On one side, fish flapped in baskets. On the other, people did.
The Prison Market was quiet, clerks reading lots like grocery lists. Buyers tilted heads, assessing.
"They sell—" Koby started.
"Everything," Lemra said. "Don't make a scene."
Ponyo counted guards instead of looking away. Boots. Keys. Hinges. Drafts.
"Why aren't you scared?" Lemra asked, amused.
"Maps are easier if your hands don't shake," Ponyo said.
They were dragged off the skiff. Rain slicked the sloping dock. Gils whistled a losing tune. They passed a tavern crouched under canvas: THE LANTERN SPINE. A tall woman leaned on a cane, one gold eye and one scarred white. Her gaze fixed on Ponyo's chest—the compass shard—before she disappeared inside.
"Who was—" Koby started.
"Quiet," Ponyo murmured.
"She only kills people who deserve it," Lemra added. "And people who don't."
"Not comforting," Koby said.
"Wasn't meant to be."
They entered a yard of cages, lanterns swinging. Lemra pointed. "In."
Ponyo stepped in first. Top hinge was new. Bottom hinge warped. Guard favored left foot. Keys rode right hip. He filed it all away.
Koby followed, shaking. The lock clicked. Lemra made a note in their ledger.
"Bredma's name sets the tide," Lemra said. "That makes you very expensive—or very doomed."
"Maybe both," Ponyo said.
"I like expensive better."
"Does expensive walk out on its own?"
"Not often."
"New hobby," Ponyo said.
Lemra almost smiled. "Don't go anywhere." Orders were given. Guards settled in. The market clerk's voice droned steady as rain.
Koby slid to the floor, palms pressed to his eyes. "Can we panic now?"
"Two breaths," Ponyo said, crouching. "Then we plan."
"You have a plan?"
"Always," Ponyo said. "But plans change when the world does."
"That's a no."
"That's a… soon."
A woman in the next cage laughed softly. "First time?"
"We're getting out," Koby said too fast.
"Optimism looks good in rain," she said.
"Name?" Ponyo asked.
"Varis. Used to be from somewhere else. Doesn't matter now."
"Where are your guards laziest?" Ponyo asked.
She studied him, then smiled faintly. "Half-bell shift. Dice game on Hook Pier if it's dry. Big one scratches his ear when he lies. Keys jingle more when he drinks."
"Good," Ponyo said.
"You're trouble," she said.
"Sometimes."
Boots approached. Lemra returned with a man in a captain's coat.
"Boss of the Hook Pier wants a look," Lemra said.
"You the Widow's brat?" the man asked Ponyo.
"You sell your mother with your fish?"
"Only if the price sings," the man said.
"Bidding at dusk," Lemra added.
"Dusk," Koby whispered, pale.
Ponyo winced at his shoulder wound. "We won't be here at dusk."
Gils tapped his harpoon. "Everyone says that."
"They were wrong," Ponyo said, grinning.
The tavern flap stirred again. The gold eye watched him, unreadable.
A boy with crab legs hovered near, fingers twitching for keys. Ponyo shook his head. Not yet.
Varis tilted her head. "You really think you're walking out?"
"Think?" Ponyo said. "I'm mapping the door."
The bell tolled half once.
"Nice view," Ponyo murmured.
"I'm going to throw up," Koby said.
"Do it quiet. We're working."
To be continued…