Just one ship arrived at the empty Comi Harbor. It had nothing to drop off, but what it picked up would be significant.

  Quin counted up to ten Neravivs (his boss included) as well as a handful of red cloaks who boarded the vessel.

  He and most of the Tyrovivs watched from either the roofs nearby or atop the walled gate that divided the harbor from the city proper. They weren’t alone.

  Teemed along the colony of towers behind them were all the non-cloaked Sentar’i. They sprawled to wherever they could get a view, curious about this development.

  Quin was equally curious. The upcoming voyage seemed to happen out of nowhere. As he watched the lone vessel set off toward the afternoon sun, he wondered what would happen now.

  Atop the gate’s wall walk, he and Onyl observed the pier and a gathering of other Tyrovivs. At the center, a blue cloaked Cosondere with a red bandanna.

  All Quin could tell about this Neraviv was that she appeared passionate as she flailed her arms while she gave some sort of speech.

  A few minutes later, those Tyrovivs dispersed at once. Among them was Conon who sprang at a beeline for his two partners.

  Ythan never talked to Quin, but spoke with Conon before his boarding. Chances were, the discussion had something to do with this turn of events.

  There was an equal chance however, the talk involved Quin’s standing with the team.

  “Okay, change of plans,” Conon said once he reached the heightened walkway. “Our current mission has to take a backseat. Til Bossman gets back, we’re tasked wit’ lookin’ over the harbor.”

  “And how long will that be?” Onyl asked.

  “No later than sunset considerin’ we were on a mission. Dunno when we’ll resume it though. Anyway, they need a couple of bodies pier-side for this watch, so you ‘n’ Quin’re due up.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Did Ner. Fyful tell you anything about what’s going on?” asked Quin. “Did something happen with this harbor? What about the chroniclers?”

  “Now’s not question time,” Conon responded tersely. “Just go to the pier. You’ll get instructions there.”

  Conon leaped over the walkway and out of sight. Maybe he didn’t have any answers. Maybe it had something to do with his talk with Ythan.

  Quin couldn’t help but feel some kind of coldness from Conon. He’d have plenty of time to stew over it while on watch.

  Unlike same task back in the Pit, Quin didn’t have to observe just amber hues in an underground hall. The outside gave him a much better view.

  The colony of towers took up most of his sight. They sported a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. He could only see parts of the sky though as they sandwiched the airy sea above.

  Aside from that, the experience had the same kind of boredom as back then. He along with several other Tyrovivs listlessly paced about the pier.

  Between them and the gate stood a whole district of empty buildings. With the exception of some necessary Yerp trades, Comi’s harbor section resembled a ghost town.

  Every now and again, Onyl would pop into view as she jumped from roof to roof on patrol.

  Others were involved too; their isolated bounces above empty roads made for the only source of activity at all.

  The Tyrovivs at the gate could see the rest of the city; Quin wondered about the scene on the other side. As the sun edged closer toward the horizon, he’d find out.

  Quin saw a few Tyrovivs gather up at the gate. More and more formed up until it became obvious a commotion had occurred.

  The Sentar’i across town made it even more so as they looked on from their tower abodes. Eventually, Quin received an order to add himself to the gathering.

  He reached the walkway and saw a crowd of people in front of the gate. All of them had stern faces as they were in talks with a trio of Tyrovivs.

  “I understand that’s not the answer you want to hear, but it’s the answer we have for you,” said the Tyroviv in the center, a man with a blue bandanna. “The harbor will reopen, but for the time being it has to say closed.”

  “You’re damned right that’s not the answer we want to hear!” answered an angry individual up close.

  He was a middle aged man with a wide beard that looked to climb the side of his face. Of all the people at the scene, none matched his ire.

  “For days now, you cloaks have kept the harbor to yourselves and now you lot are coming and going by sea as you wish? All while you tell us ‘it’ll open eventually’? No more dammit! No more of this madness!”

  His mini rant was met with cheers by the crowd behind him.

  As he listened and occasionally peeked out over the edge, a part of Quin’s heart sided with the crowd.

  Back in his courier days, he would occasionally find his usual routes cut off by the Cosondera. Sometimes he’d ask about the road blocks and if they answered at all, it would be with threats.

  He remembered his sister had an easier time as she usually talked her way through their blockade. He never thought about why that would happen.

  Quin’s cloaked colleagues on the walkway started to pass a note along each other. No words, no voices, no sounds.

  They communicated with each other via gestures. One by one they passed some sort of hand motion until the message came to him.

  A Tyroviv next to him used two fingers of one hand and continually tapped the back of the other. The Tyroviv quickly pulled back his arm after every tap.

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  Quin had seen something like this back in Sirqu when he took part in a chase. Back then, Mia used non-verbal motions to direct him where to go. He felt certain their message wasn’t to chase anyone.

  “Pass it back!” hissed the Tyroviv through their mask.

  Quin promptly imitated the gesture to the next Cosondere. They nodded then passed the message along to the next and so on.

  Since his Pit training had been cut so short, Quin missed out on any learning about the Cosondera’s plethora of hand and arm signals.

  Onyl had taught him as much as she could in the days up to now and if he remembered well, the “tapping” of fingers actually meant to jump. But jump where, Quin wondered.

  He had to figure it out soon should the situation boil over.

  “We’re all tired of you acting like you own this city!” the man shouted. “Nobody here agreed to that when we let you in!”

  “Look around you fool,” replied the blue banded Cosondere. “Does it look like we’re feasting? Does it look like we’re engaged in leisure? It would do us no favors to close off the most vital part of the city just to show the locals who’s in charge.”

  The cloaked negotiator raised both palms beside his head. “The days have been bothersome for us all. We’re not blind to the disruption the closures have caused, but let’s think about where this situation’s going. Your best scenario would be to turn back now before that option goes away.”

  “Your best scenario would be to give us our harbor back before we take it back!”

  A clash seemed imminent. Many of the Tyrovivs undid their bottom clasps in anticipation of a showdown.

  Quin’s eyes zipped around to find the potential spark to chaos. It was closer than he thought.

  Out of the corner of his eye, a figure popped up from over the edge. Someone attempted to quietly scale the gate.

  Instinct and reflex took over. Quin kicked his leg up and greeted the intruder with a good old fashioned roundhouse.

  Air and pain escaped the trespasser’s mouth before it was broken up by the ground. A clash had commenced.

  The Cosondera simultaneously leapt backwards off the gate, all except Quin. He mimicked his associates as best he could. The Sentar’i locals vaulted right after them.

  Quin couldn’t look before he leaped, and he more or less went into a long trust fall.

  His foot caught the corner of a roof and he tipped over in his descent. He saw the ground as it came closer to view. He saw enough.

  Quin rotated over and gave himself momentum to roll before his feet snapped to the road.

  A fist immediately came into view. He narrowly dodged it when he found himself in combat with a man twice his age.

  He backed away as he blocked the man’s strikes. He could feel the wall behind him as he neared it.

  Just as his opponent planned to pin Quin against said wall, he twirled out of the way. While in pivot, Quin lifted his leg and connected his knee to the man’s back.

  The kick sent him on a quick launch before he bounced off the wall and flopped against the road.

  Quin had no time to register his downed foe as another jumped in to have a crack at the cloak.

  This new opponent attacked more slowly. He swung at Quin with heavy hooks but he dodged them all.

  Once he saw an opening, Quin gave his attacker a hip bump and the space allowed him to plant a boot to their face. Another foe had been lain out.

  Quin then felt something wrap around his arm. A near transparent chain coiled tightly around his limb. On the other end, a woman, a ghost artist. A brief tug of war ensued before help arrived.

  Out of nowhere, Onyl descended before them and in one motion, lifted her leg and stomped on the [Ghost chain].

  Attached to her hand, the woman was forced down to a crouch before she faded her [Chain]. It left her open to Onyl and a spinning back kick to the head.

  Down went the ghost artist as she rolled harmlessly toward a building.

  “Stay sharp!” Onyl shouted before she bolted down a road.

  Chaos filled the streets. Screams and smashed items filled the ears. People ran. People flew. People punched. Hand to hand combat took up every block. In this madness, corners were dangerous.

  Quin dashed over to an intersection; around the corner, an interception. A flying dropkick darted in and out of Quin’s view as he barely avoided it.

  He couldn’t even turn to meet this new attacker when a different dropkick connected with his back.

  He tumbled over before he quickly picked himself up. He squared up with his new challenger, a man closer to his age when reinforcements hopped over the gate.

  A new batch of Tyrovivs flew into the district to turn the tide.

  Quin’s opponent turned his head to see this new development. When he turned back, his face met a left jab.

  Before the man teetered over, Quin opened his left hand and grabbed the man’s arm. A quick yank brought him back to close quarters where a right hook waited for him.

  He was allowed to fall after that.

  Yet another assailant popped up. Quin pirouetted strike after strike when he saw a chance for one of his own.

  He went for a kick to the mid-section when his leg got stuck over his foe’s arm. Quin tried to force himself free. No budge.

  The assailant bashed Quin’s knee. He let out a muffled groan cut short after a punch to the mask.

  Nearly defenseless, Quin understood his predicament as he hopped around. Then a Tyroviv swooped in with a blindside wallop.

  Opponent instantly knocked out, Quin’s leg was free. He turned to thank his colleague, but they quickly sped over to the next scuffle.

  Among the backups, Conon had no issue with the opponent before him. For every dodge, he unleashed a quick one-two combo of strikes. That ceased when another Sentar’i grabbed him from behind.

  Conon couldn’t move his arms as he faced a combination of punches himself.

  The two attackers then took turns with their offense until one of them planted a foot across Conon’s chest. On the ground, a pummeling seemed to come his way when Quin dove in with a shoulder tackle.

  One foe flew until a wall caught him. The other planned to strike back, but Conon hooked their legs with his own and tripped them over.

  The Sentar’i tried to get up when Quin rammed his better knee against their face. Out of commission, they were.

  “Need a hand?” Quin offered as he stuck an arm out to his partner.

  Conon lightly chuckled before he grabbed Quin’s forearm. “Thanks brother.”

  Quin, Conon, and the rest of the Cosondera worked together to gain an edge. It wasn’t long before the brawl reached a foregone conclusion.

  The sun moved over a bit to get a better angle but by then, the skirmish had wrapped up.

  The rowdy Sentar’i were back at the gate’s wall, but this time in binds.

  A unique strand kept them bound; wound around their wrists. Some were unconscious, others tried to break free. No avail. Every time they exerted themselves, the bind would brighten and tighten.

  One of them tried to stand. A Cosondere kicked them back down.

  “We tried to be nice,” said a masked female Tyroviv. “You only have yourselves to blame.”

  Off to the side stood Quin, Onyl, and Conon. They nursed their sore joints and muscles as they watched the round up.

  “They keep closin’ the harbor cuz they don’t want any black-nailed Yerps hidin’ around,” Conon began while he shook his arms. “But since they keep closin’ it, the locals get more hot ‘n’ bothered.”

  “Perhaps if they were told why, they would be less agitated.” spoke Onyl.

  “Maybe. Maybe the Black Nails got something to do wit’ our mission held off.”

  “Is that why Ner. Fyful went on that boat earlier?” Quin asked. “Are they about to do something big?”

  “You ‘n’ yer questions brother. Bossman only told me what to do til he gets back but wit’ leadership leavin’ us here like this, it would have to be something big right?”

  Onyl cupped her chin. “Well hopefully, they can handle their affairs with as much ease as we handled this.”

  “Here’s to hopin’. Speakin’ of, good job back there Quin. New Tyrovivs tend to freeze up ‘n moments like this. Kinda looked like you’d done this before.”

  “I wanted to do my part,” Quin said. “I want to contribute to the team as best I can and I’ll try to think about the team more from now on.”

  “It’s Bossman you gotta convince. You tell him those things ‘n’ you show him those things, ‘n’ he’ll...well...I can’t say he’ll be friendly, but he won’t be as grumpy.”

  That probably would be as good as it could get for Quin. He needed to prove to Ythan that he wasn’t just dead weight that needed to be saved.

  He knew he can have a place on this team, he just had to show it to the blue cloak.

  If he can fully display his worth and value, then Ythan might have less of a problem with him. Maybe.

  Onyl took a couple of steps away from the gate. “If things have calmed down over here, then we should return to our posts. Come on Quin, our jobs are not done.”

  Onyl sprang out to the pier before Quin followed suit. If the lone ship returned anytime soon, Quin along with the Tyrovivs on watch would be the first people seen when it docked.

  He planned to make sure his best self would be seen first.