"Right, that's a perfectly sensible explanation."

"Now, do you have any idea of how long it'll take before a ship is ready for us? It seems like you weren't quite expecting to need a ship on short notice."

"Not in the slightest. I hope it's more a matter of days or weeks than months or seasons, but I've little to base that on, and as they say, hope is a false Virtue.

We should be able to take ship to Siroc as soon as we reach the docks, even with the lurking armada."

"And so, wait we shall."

The docks of Atalaya bustle with colorful Freeborn citizens. Some appear to be on terribly urgent business, but some are just chatting animatedly in loose groups or even playing music to varying levels of appreciation from passers by.

Many of them nod respectfully at the hakima; few of them take any particular note of Hopper, and those who do look curious are silenced by Sofia returning their regard cooly.

Asking around a little, Sofia soon finds them passage on a ship that is leaving immediately, a small fast messenger sailboat; she hands over some coins for the privilege.

The vessel is moored against a slightly swaying wooden pier and it's a bit of a step to get aboard, and there's nowhere obvious to sit - just a plain wooden deck festooned with ropes and rigging, occupied by a small crew that are busy at them, and a propped up hatch with a steep ladder heading below.

Hopper excitedly jumps aboard, poorly hiding her powerful desire to return to the portal and summon the help of her own civilization. She calms down after getting on board, waiting for everyone else to join her. She's always been relatively good at handling stormy seas, although thomassian cruise ships are vastly larger and more stable.

Sofia accepts a hand from one of the crew to step aboard in a dignified fashion, and heads over to the railing around the aft, where she watches as the boat is secured for launch, glaring at anyone who looks like they might be considering striking up a conversation with Hopper.

A couple of packages are delivered into the hold, the hatch is secured, and they set off; the sea is quite calm and the sailors complain good-naturedly to each other about the difficulty of catching enough wind to get up to speed in the sheltered bay, with the air of old familiar whinging that nobody takes very seriously.

Hopper sits down, trying to think of all the people she's helping, and the luxury and leisure that thomassia will bestow upon them, once thomassia can begin to accept refugees from this miserable, medieval garbage can of a society.

"I suppose it's not likely to get too damp down there in Atalaya Bay," Sofia contributes.

The sailors seem to find Hopper sitting down somewhat unusual, but not enough to confront what they have decided must be the hakima's prisoner, from the amount Sofia clearly does not want them to have a friendly chat; mildly surreptitious glances, exaggerated shrugging etc increases markedly.

There is a little spray from the sides as the ship gets up to full speed. It isn't quite half an hour later when they have to start dodging fishing boats and manoeuvre into the harbour at Siroc.

Hopper waits patiently, not sure of where to go from here and taking Sofia's lead. She needs to blend in, now; she can't risk seeming too bizarrely excited or unusual.

The ship meets a small rowboat which contains an official of some kind that tells them where to dock, then ties up quickly and efficiently. Sofia gestures for Hopper to alight as soon as they're ready, and follows her off.

Siroc is a much larger and noisier city, with a wild profusion of piers, people selling all kinds of things from handcarts and fixed stalls, colourful canopies, duelling buskers, and really quite a lot of seemingly unattended children from toddlers up, running through the crowds, offering their services as guides and messengers, hawking bits and bobs from trays.

Between the sea breeze and copious amounts of incense and perfume, it doesn't actually smell as bad as it might.

As they leave the pier, Sofia tosses a coin to a girl who might be about ten years old, and tells her, "Tell the Ezmara shipbuilders that a hakima is on her way with a commission." The girl nods and scurries off through the crowd.

Hopper thinks all the children being part of adult life is charming, but them apparently having to work to live is disgusting. She stays standing next to Sofia, presuming that someone will meet her; after all, she didn't meet them, right?

"This way," Sofia prompts her, and offers a hand - "do you mind holding hands? I don't want to lose you in the crowd, but I don't want to give offence."

"Sure, we can do that. I guess that getting lost in the crowd would be an issue, here."

Sofia delicately but firmly takes hold of Hopper and starts determinedly striding through the chaos, resolutely ignoring everyone attempting to sell them things.

An awful lot of people are attempting to sell them things, including some very cute small children with sweets.

Hopper also ignores all the people selling her things, although she makes note of the children selling sweets. People have done blind tests, and buying sweets from cute children actually has been proven to taste better!

The girl they had sent ahead is waiting in an opening between two buildings forming a small alleyway; Sofia distributes another coin as she passes her on the way into a courtyard somewhat removed from the bustling throngs.

Here there are a number of long wooden tables; one is covered in haphazard piles of diagrams, pencils, rulers and set-squares and suchlike, another in woodworking tools and small scale models of various parts of a ship, another in weaving frames and scraps of all manner of fabrics.

Inhabiting the area are a number of squabbling individuals, somewhat less densely packed than out on the streets, pointing at diagrams and objects, arguing over various nuances of ship design.

A bored-looking teenager is leaning against the wall in the entrance-way; she neatly gets out of their way, but appears to be keeping an eye out so that no uninvited guests come through.

Two men are standing around near the entranceway, having an argument not about shipbuilding directly, but about who should be greeting their guests.

"Alejandro, I tell you, she may be a - dabbler - but she is the only one of us who has been to Anvil..."

The other man has strikingly blue hair and a hint of scales amongst his beard. "Gallio, I know you feel like you must involve your daughter in everything, but...

Oh, hello! Greetings, welcome to the finest shipbuilders in Siroc, would you like a drink, somewhere to sit, a little snack perhaps?"

"I did not come here for idle flattery. Do you have somewhere a little more... private?"

"Certainly, come right this way."

Gallio attempts to sweep the visitors into one of the buildings flanking the courtyard; Alejandro seems to be caught somewhat flat-footed, and gestures expansively before submitting to meekly follow them.

Hopper does whatever Sofia does. She gets the sense that there are power dynamics that she'd want to avoid; she's read about them in novels, where small errors caused enormous damage.

Sofia allows herself to be swept off by Gallio into a side room with a rather smaller, entirely clear table, half a dozen chairs, and another woman already waiting for them.

"Oh, hello! That was fast, Gallio..."

"May I introduce my daughter, Yasmina i Ezmara i Erigo, once General of the Red Wind Corsairs? I am sure that a commission from a hakima will be interesting, and she specialises in dealing with interesting things for our family."

Alejandro stalks in after them and takes a seat at one end of the table, pulling out a notebook and pencil, and glowering.

"Very well. Is this everyone for now?" On their general affirmation, she continues, "Huppera, why don't you convey the specifications of the vessel you will need."