By the time Tolaryian had changed and returned to deck, the rest of the crew had launched the two small boats normally used when the ship was free diving off reef waters for high value mussels and other shellfish, occasionally spearfishing for some of the rainbow sharks nearby, which always proved extremely valuable for various potions or spell components, as well as when preserved they sold at a high rate with certain vendors in the Imperial city of Dhar Fanajar as aphrodisiacs for humans too fat and lazy who some how needed help with their sexual prowess.

Tolaryian shook his head at the thought and approached Captain Loricare as he directed Tomoar at the helm as the Sea Crawler approached the nearly flooded dinghy. As they neared to about a hundred feet of the small boat, the Captain ordered the crew to reef sails and maintain steerage windage only. Tylerian’s melodic voice floated out across the sea to the small boat, “Ahoy, the boat. Anyone there?”

A bedraggled figure, lifted her head, and with the common tongue, replied, “Help, please, help us please. The Fates of Luck have brought you here. Oh, thank the Fates!”

Loricare frowned briefly at that, before nodding at Norilenea, who had stripped down. She dove gracefully into the sea with a coil of rope wrapped around her body, swimming quickly towards the small boat. After a minute of swimming, she latched onto the dinghy, threading the rope through the gunwale on the occupied lifeboat, before breasting over the edge to get a count. She signaled with a quick hand the sign for four, before sliding back into the sea.

At that the rest of the crew still on-board the Sea Crawler began slowly pulling the nearly sunken lifeboat towards their fishing vessel. The passengers, all but the woman, were too weak to help get themselves aboard, so carefully they were hoisted via ropes onto the deck.

Tylerian began to review their conditions, as the ship’s herbalist, she was the best thing to a healer the smaller vessel carried. At her touch, the balding human stirred and muttered, yelling out in the common tongue about “fools and slaves.”

The woman, still wrapped in garments except for her exotic face, murmured quietly to him, and Tolaryian was shocked to understand parts of her speech, for it was the language of the Fates. As Tylerian finished ministering some ointments to the two others, both human children of about eight years, what the humans believed to be young adults, one female and one boy, the woman continued to murmer quietly, and Tolaryian remembered enough of it from his education to recognize them all as prayers for health and luck, or at least he thought since the accents felt archaic to him.

“Captain, she might be a Kahina,” he murmured in his native tongue. Even the normally unflappable Loricare blinked momentarily at that before responding with a simple “Why?”

“Because, if I can hear her correctly, she is praying in the language of the Fates, well, and their acolytes of course. My sister taught me the rudiments one summer.”

“Then go help Tylerian, and see what you can find out about our refugees.”