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    Private Lacquer and Labor

    The sky was a howling blue, broken only by the filter of clouds that drifted along the dockside breeze. Whiteport, again. Mako lost track of the time he was spending among these cobbled streets, so foreign from the decks that had housed him until now. Already the experiences filled the goblet...
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    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    Mako sat in a chair plush for its wear, ankle over knee. A wrinkled map rested on the table before him, held down by emptied bottles that reeked of day spoiled wine and cider. Wrought of thin linen, ink sun-faded, it lent an appearance of undeserved age. Medleys of glass and pottery presided...
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    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    An intrepid dawn stood between Mako and his destiny. It cracked leonine over the horizon, bled into a sea that sloshed loud about the hull of the passenger galleon Magnifience. A bustle of activity greeted him: the captain was posted at the gangplank, wheedling thanks from wringing hands as he...
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    Mako, the Motherless

    The man known as Mako, born the sole heir of a father too deep in his cups to man the deck of a lowly skiff. Bilge-eater, skiff-waif, any insult for the motherless shipborn. Weaned on yarns spun of a Seaxan mother, a homeland forgotten by the rising tide. Twenty-odd years he spent among the...
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