Zel glanced up at the dark-skinned man who'd come into stride beside him, then set his eyes on the road ahead. "The cold waters near the Gratian Icelands are rich will all kinds of sea life. The fishing industry there is profitable but the work is hard and they're often short of hands. If we can't pay our way monetarily, we'll do it in labor." Zel wasn't sure how well Larea would hold up working on a fishing boat in the cold, but he, Ahmaht, and (more or less) Sigrun, who'd all had physical training, should be able to do enough work to pay for her passage as well. They couldn't very well leave her behind after all.<br/><br/>"If no ship will take us I'll gladly rent a rowboat and paddle us there." There was a seriousness in the stone man's voice that took away any possibility of that being a joke. Restoring order to the spirits was important to him, perhaps more so than for the others, but they would stay along for sake of their friendship with Larea (and possibly him, but Zelgadis wasn't apt to think that way). "I'm tired of this," he muttered. "I want to get my magic back."