The decks of the<em>Trident</em>are bustling with activity, sailors shouting orders at one another across the ropes. Nervous cabin boys lead Ithir and Lao to their respective cabins, small, cramped affairs below decks.<br/><br/>Lao especially will find the quarters confining, and even though the rooms are tiny, they do at least afford their occupiers some measure of privacy - a luxury the sailors sharing swinging hammocks in the common quarters can not boast of.<br/><br/>The young sailors scurry out of the way once they've guided the mercenaries to their cabins. Each delivers what is obviously a memorized speech: "The<em>Trident</em>will be departin' shortly. Ye will be called by th' priestess fer a briefin' once we've set t' sea." Their stammers and street accents somewhat mar the delivery, but the message is nevertheless clear.<br/><br/>Above decks, Jacinth is finishing her interviews with the remaining sell-swords, her roster of mercenaries now half-full.