Four owl-dudes heaved at their oars, driving the little dinghy through the waves and towards the town I could now see more clearly. Wooden buildings, none of them with more than two storeys, with steeply sloping roofs and wide guttering.

  The fleet had… parked? Did one park a fleet? They’d dropped anchors half a mile or so offshore, creating a floating forest as a counterpoint to the dense trees that stretched up the hill, which dominated the centre of the island. A longboat had been lowered, and here I was, soggy owls heaving on oars as Plop and Alicya chatted quietly at the front of the boat.

  I trailed a hand into the water, watching the waves from the oars pulling the boat along split apart as my hand cut through them. The water was crystal clear, and the sand and rocks a few metres down were covered in barnacles and seaweed. Shoals of tiny fish sped back and forth, pursued in turn by bigger fish.

  Suddenly, the bottom was obscured, and another one presented itself. My fingers brushed against a faintly scaly but very shapely ass, and I snatched my hand back. Behind said bottom was a thick column of flesh ending in wide flukes. The tail flicked, rotating the body and presenting a slender stomach below what I could only describe as a pair of fishy mommy milkers.

  Large green eyes blinked, and thin lips parted as she stuck her tongue out at me before disappearing in a swirl of green hair and webbed fingers. Her upper assets seemed not to affect her hydrodynamics, in defiance of all the laws of logic and science.

  I leaned out and tried to follow where she had gone under the boat, but when I moved and looked over the far side, I couldn’t see anything other than the little fishies swirling back together after something had passed through.

  “Mermaids?” I called, interrupting Plop and Alicya’s conversation on the new tribal dynamics among the swarms of furries I needed to deal with.

  “Pisckin. They spend most of their time helping the fishing ships, herding the shoals into the nets,” Plop said. “They’re famously antisocial, so don’t expect to see them very often.”

  A much larger longboat, with two banks of oars on either side, pulled ahead of us. The crew were rat-people, toothy snouts sneering down at us from above. Piles of nets were heaped up at the rear of the ship, just behind a particularly large ratkin who held the top of a long lever that disappeared into the waves behind the boat. He wore a simple coat and a sash above threadbare shorts that came down to his knees.

  Ratty eyes narrowed in my direction, and angry muttering followed. Someone threw a fish head that splashed into the water next to me.

  “What’s their problem?” I flicked the sailors a middle finger.

  “You look like a human.”

  “I don’t think flying in as a dragon would be the kind of first impression I want to make, Alicya.”

  She shrugged. “You could add a few scales or something? SPice yourself up so you don’t just look like a member of the species that’s been preying on the young girls of Shaftbase.”

  “Shaftbase. Testislands. What's the end called? Broken Purple Mountain?”

  “The Tip.” Plop’s voice was cold. “Is it a problem?”

  I held my hands up in surrender and went back to looking for fish booty. Looking didn’t hurt; having resisted Lady Artington’s charms, I certainly wouldn’t cheat on Esme with a fish. I wasn’t going to mess about with my mammal suit either. If they got uppity, they’d get to see my real body.

  We pulled to a stop behind the fishing ship, and one of the Strixkin hopped onto the dock with a rope to begin securing our ship to the wooden pontoon. Alicya moved very carefully, glancing nervously at the water as our little bowed bobbed up and down, before lunging for the planks that were attached ot the land.

  She sighed happily and stamped her feet, causing one of the planks to split with a loud crack. With a yip, she sprinted down the pontoon and onto the cobbled street at the end.

  A string of curses from the ratkin trailed after her as they worked to roll heavy barrels down ramps and store them on the dock. Their long tails curled out behind them as they scurried back and forth, flicking from side to side for balance as they ran back up the thin gangplanks.

  The four owl-pirates from a line and advanced ahead of Plop, Alciya and me. Half a dozen rat-things stopped stacking barrels and… I really couldn’t describe their expressions. Lips pulled back to reveal long, yellow incisors, eyebrows raised to widen their eyes. Their tails flicked back and forth rapidly, and they shivered, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Our escorts came to a stop as the rodents moved to block our path.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  “Screech-claws turn betray-tray?” hissed the largest of them. Grey fur and a missing eye gave him a sinister air. He was also missing a good foot off the end of his tail, which was wrapped in a filthy-looking bandage.

  “Move, greyfur. We’ve no business with the likes of you,” squawked the smallest of my guards. The feathered fellow’s head barely came up to the ratkin’s shoulder, but the rat flinched at the words. His tail turned back on itself and wrapped the hilt of a knife that protruded from behind his back.

  “Night-terrors not eat King-King. Norvegus release the swarm to kill-kill.”

  “You creatures are so dull. Move. We aren’t here to hurt the king of filth.”

  My allies were kind of dicks. There had been a pecking order on the ship, as you’d expect. Captain, sorry, Admiral shouts at minions, then minions do as they’re bloody told. It had reminded me a bit of home and the Dungeon. Discipline had been strict, but the entire crew had shared a sense of camaraderie, obvious even to an outsider like me.

  They had helped each other just because they could, and worked hard not to be the weak link dragging down the team. The hoots and screeches had often been interspersed by the chittering, high-pitched laughter that the creatures favoured.

  Each of the owls carried curved weapons on their hips that were made from three blades set next to each other, so they created a metal claw, and all of our escorts casually laid a hand on the hilts.

  “Bird shit-shits no bully,” squeaked another of the creatures blocking our path. They shuffled closer together, as though proximity was a substitute for courage. They outnumbered the four owls, but with Plop, me and my minion, we had a slight numerical edge. I glanced up at the bulwarks of the ship next to us and saw an array of beady eyes looking down at us. All work had stopped, and the ship wasn’t being unloaded.

  This state of affairs was obviously not Satisfactory for the captain, as a string of curses and heavy thuds followed by grunts and squeaks grew closer to the ramps.

  “Unload, stupids! Back to work-work!” The large one-eyed rat stopped at the top of the gangplank a few metres down the hull and glared down at us all. “Human prisoner?” he called.

  “He is our guest, and he isn’t a human,” Alicya replied. “I am Moon Shiver, returned to the tribes at last.”

  “Look-look like a human. Pellets to-to your claim!” squeaked the rat-captain.

  “She has died twice to prove it,” Plop spoke up. “And the human is a dragon, so be respectful.”

  The six rats blocking our way stepped back, and I chose to give them a lazy smile, eliciting worried chitters.

  “Drakekin?” called the captain, coming down a gangplank, his movements fluid and graceful. His grey fur and grizzled face, ears missing chunks in several places, had made me think he was old.

  “No. Just a dragon,” I said, pushing through the owls. “I’m here to speak to the king or council or whatever.”

  “Why? Talk-talk with king not easy.”

  “I’m from the Emp–” Alicya’s elbow appeared in my right kidney.

  “That is not your concern, ratkin. Get these men out of our way.” Alicya’s voice was cold and firm, a tone I rarely heard her use.

  “Scurfan, go let king know-know.”

  The big grey rat pulled his lips back from his teeth, but his tail unwound from the handle of his blade, and he spun away to scamper into the town.

  “Thank you. Is the Balance still being maintained?” Alicya asked.

  “Ferrets raid. Predkin all fight-fight. Mostly each other. You really her?” the captain looked Alicya up and down.

  “I am.”

  “Why back?”

  “We can’t win a war against the Empire. I’m here to stop it from happening.”

  “Moon Shiver kill humans? That why brought drake-drake?”

  “No. He brought me. We’re just here to help.”

  “Stay? Porkin want not-nice trade-trade. Bastards! Need help,” the captain said hopefully.

  “I’ll do what I can to put things right, but I won’t be staying for long.”

  “Why not? Might be a good idea,” I suggested. “We can keep in touch by portals or orbs.”

  “Your conversation isn’t that exciting, although I did like Kat.”

  “You bloody would. No danglies to get punched.”

  “Need help?” the rat captain reiterated.

  “We heard you. You can bring your grievances to the council. We will need to convene one shortly,” snapped Plop. “Mistress, if you’d like to follow me?”

  “Stupid feather shit-shit,” muttered the captain. “You! Work-work now!” he rounded on his crew and began chivvying them along with abuse and the occasional clip to the head. They scurried back to business, rolling more barrels to the top of the ramps as we moved on towards dry land.

  Back home, on Earth I mean, I had suffered from seasickness whenever my dad had taken me out on a yacht or a cruise. It got to the point he stopped inviting me. I’d painted the sides of too many of his business partners' boats with sickly yellow.

  That no longer applied. The voyage had been dull, but I hadn’t suffered any sort of vomitous excitement. I still felt a strange sense of relief as my feet touched the cobblestones at the end of the dock. The street stretched out to either side, long, low warehouses occupying the front, except for one building that made me smile.

  This property had large windows on the front, lit from within by the light of glowballs and a flickering fire for warmth. A sign hung above the door with an image that depicted a pair of humanoid rats fighting over half a wheel of cheese. A pub.

  The navy had been generous with their rum allowance, and naturally I was carrying enough booze to restock Robert Downey Junior at his worst, but a real pub, with hot food and beer and barmaids—they’d be rats, wouldn’t they?

  I consoled myself that I wouldn’t have to tidy up after myself.

  “Alicya, Plop, how about we stop for a drink before going to see the king furball?” I waved a hand at the inviting door a few dozen metres away.

  “I cannot drink in there. The rodents are filthy. Mistress, you will get fleas!” the owl objected.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. I could use a proper meal now I’m back on dry land, and I want to get a feel for how the ratkin are doing that isn’t coming a predator species.”

  “Moon Shiver! I would never lie to you! But those creatures are so… swarmy.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a word, Plop, and you’ve been outvoted. Let’s go get a pint.”