It is theorised that certain core locations are [more] favourable for certain types of theurgy. Element-raisers, for instance, benefit more from cores located in the general area of the hands, mouth, or feet.
Furthermore, it is believed that specific core locations also add certain value to one's theurgy. A core located specifically in one's palms or fingers, for instance, is believed to give the theurgist better control over his or her theurgy.

—Corthair's Compendium of Theurgy

7

↝ A FRIEND IN AN UNLIKELY PLACE ↜

The inspection came on the third night; three men, garbed and armed in naval liveries. 'Apologies for the interruption, madam,' said the first.

'What are you expecting to find?'

'It's simply a matter of routine.'

'Your passengers pay an arm and a leg exactly to avoid these inconveniences.' Isla dropped to her bed. Why did she provoke them so? It must be her nerves – though not for the turbulent storm raging above deck. She had a strong gut for such things.

The men opened her drawers and cabinets. Nothing. Of course not. My secrets aren't to tumble out like used underclothes. 'No squatters in my laundry?'

'Not even a mouse, madam.'

'Oh, what relief. I feel so much safer.'

The inspectors tipped their caps and left Isla to scour through her trunk. Where is that bottle ...

Awful though it tasted, jin did wonders to soothe her. She had drained one bottle between her first morning and that day's breakfast, but Sir Edric had provided at least three more.

If Noi could only see me now. A small dose with their tea was one thing, but drinking enough to rival the sailors ...

Noi.

Isla cursed the thought away and resumed digging for jin, yelping when her fingers brushed something soft and warm.

Her salamander clambered from the sheets to Isla's squeal. 'I thought you were dead!' The daemon chirped as she showered it with kisses.

'You found a squatter.'

Isla looked up at the voice. Darned inspectors couldn't even close a door properly. The woman standing half-hidden in the corridor was the loveliest Isla had ever seen. Tall, dark, an unconventionally large nose, and lips so full the colour of scorched earth.

'My name is Eshe. We share a corridor.' Her Eling was clipped and harsh, like the traders from the coasts of Terra Sol, yet she made it sound as though that was exactly how Eling was meant to be spoken.

'Forgive me, Eshe, but you caught me in the middle of something.'

'Your stowaway? I shall not breathe a word of it.'

Isla sniffed. 'The crew doesn't care for one small creature.'

'One small firebug. What have you named it?'

A name. Ten years the element had been with her, and she never once thought to give it a proper name.

'All things must have a name.'

'I just ... call it little one.' After all it has done for her. Even the drink could not drown her shame.

'Pe pettr. I like it.'

'Excuse me?'

'Pe pettr. In Liguer, this is how we say little creature.'

Isla triumphantly extracted a bottle from her luggage. 'Pepper? I suppose that's suitable.' She pinched its cork and pulled.

'Not pepper. Pe pettr. The 't's roll like a whisper from the roof of your mouth.'

Isla was too drunk to attempt it again. She pushed her bottle away. 'I've probably had enough, anyway.'

'Certainly it smells that way.'

'I'll have you know, jin smells like a garden.'

Eshe smiled again. Or she never stopped. 'And this rose needs some fresh air.'

'Are you mad, woman? There is a storm up there!'

'Only its aftermath, and that is when the deck is most quiet. Come. If we are lucky, we might see the stars.'

Isla stared at Eshe's outstretched hand. She had not come aboard Tempestorm to make friends. Look where her last one had gotten her. Haana was no friend, Isla reminded herself. Likely this one only looks to pass time. Eshe seemed harmless enough. Ordinary, but for the stone twinkling in her nose.

She stood, swaying hard enough that Eshe had to step in and aid her. 'It's the turbulence.'

'Of course,' said the Ligueri.

The storm had blown the clouds away that night, and they were treated to a dark canvas dotted with silver and pearl-blue. They walked a while, stopping along the taffrail, where Eshe singled out one cluster of stars after another. 'That one we name the desert fox. Those are his ears, and his tail always points south. His eyes watch the old man with his cane – the prophet.'

'I thought Liguer is a land-locked realm.'

'Not only sailors have use for stars. We are a desert land. Our people travel, chasing the rain. Often we must find our way back to one another.' Eshe told her then of her tribe. It had been a bold and outrageous decision for her to part with them, but Eshe spoke with the passion of one without regrets.

Thus was their night spent – and the next – until the week passed and Isla found herself drawn to Eshe more than she had intended. The older woman's presence gave her courage; even this stranger, from a realm of sand and stone, could now stand upon a vessel surrounded by endless water and not tremble.

Though I'll wager she doesn't have a murderous royalborn awaiting in Surikhand.

They were again sitting upon the deck that afternoon, Eshe laughing over her own tale of a Surikh gentleman who had confused her cabin for his. '... the most drunk I have ever seen a man,' she was saying. 'He lay in my bed and shrieked like a hag.'

That's what it was. The sound had woken Isla, and she had reached under her pillow for a knife that was not there. They did not allow weapons aboard the ship – at least, not without special permit. Isla poured another glass from her flask and drank. 'You should keep your door locked.'

'You should mind how you drink, else you share his fate.'

'I do watch my drink. How else am I to ration for an entire month?'

Eshe laughed. 'There are, you know, other activities in which we can partake.'

'If you mean the game room, I'd sooner perish of scurvy.' She avoided the place and its occupants like the very kiss of Ogbu. Rich Surikh nobles and returning emissaries; it was crucial she did not accidentally draw anyone's attention.

'I only worry. You have not stopped drinking since we left port. It is no wonder your head aches relentlessly.'

'I drink because of my head pains.'

'Liquor only leaves more pain come morning.'

'A different sort of pain.' One that is nothing compared to the pummelling otherwise. Her head had not stopped troubling her since she unleashed it against Haana. The jin clouded it to a tolerable degree. 'But I've never told you of my headaches ... and relentlessly, as you put it ...'

Eshe's smile faltered. 'I am much more observant than most.'

'How do you mean by that?'

'There are things I discern that are beyond others' ability.'

Isla drew back, studying the woman. What did she know about her, truly, other than the things she had openly shared? Now they were sitting together like life-long friends, when the wiser option would have been to keep to herself. How had she allowed herself to be pulled in to this indulgence? Had Haana's betrayal not been a lesson enough?

The stud in Eshe's nose twinkled.

What would Noi think of all this? Eshe had stepped so smoothly into her caretaker's place – that alone should have been suspect.