The Guild of the Cowry Catchers - The Pirates of Wefrivain Saga
Sep 2, 2026 · 1 hr 20 min · 12 segments
"Taking Tricks" Visit https://www.patreon.com/abigailhilton to view the original illustrations for the first two books, painted by Sarah Cloutier and others. Maps and species charts are also…
Abigail HiltonHostTaking Tricks Silas Ackleby sat amidst the pile of leaves where he'd woken and stared gloomily at the cowry coins in his palm.
It would be at least a yellow month before the pelican sailed.
Somehow I've got to survive until then.
He should not have gone to Miri's last night.
It had been a stupid indulgence.
He certainly shouldn't have tipped the girl so much.
Ah, but she always seems so happy to see me.
He would have had enough money, too, if he hadn't managed to get his pocket picked while he was concentrating on the game that evening.
He'd ended up with nothing but his winnings, and they had not been substantial.
Silas's stomach growled, but he ignored it.
"'I can work with this.' He stood up, brushed the leaves from his trousers, washed his face in the stream, and took a long drink of water to fill his stomach." He brushed his unruly red blonde hair, not quite curly, not quite straight, and braided it into a traditional sailor's queue.
He put on his other shirt, threadbare and wrinkled, but clean.
He inspected his faded green peacoat, a little ragged, but definitely the most presentable item he owned, and put it on over his wrinkled shirt.
He hid his small stash of supplies in leaves, squared his shoulders, and walked down the hill towards town.
Port Carraway straddled the broad Mansean River of the same name, and it saw all kinds of shipping.
More importantly,
to Silas's mind, the port hosted a massive airship bay on the wealthier east bank.
The Carraway River ran along the bottom of a wide, protected valley, and many airships moored here during the off-season.
Winter was almost over, and the first of those ships would begin taking on crew soon.
Quite
soon, Silas assured himself.
In the meantime, Port Carraway was a thriving town, surrounded by farms and within a day's travel of half a dozen schools.
Students, sailors, farmers, and merchants mingled freely on the easygoing port.
Silas had had a room there at the beginning of winter, but now, well, he would have a hammock soon.
He slowed as he reached the West Bank waterfront, considering.
Taking Tricks Silas Ackleby sat amidst the pile of leaves where he'd woken and stared gloomily at the cowry coins in his palm.
It would be at least a yellow month before the pelican sailed.
Somehow I've got to survive until then.
He should not have gone to Miri's last night.
It had been a stupid indulgence.
He certainly shouldn't have tipped the girl so much.
Ah, but she always seems so happy to see me.
He would have had enough money, too, if he hadn't managed to get his pocket picked while he was concentrating on the game that evening.
He'd ended up with nothing but his winnings, and they had not been substantial.
Silas's stomach growled, but he ignored it.
"'I can work with this.' He stood up, brushed the leaves from his trousers, washed his face in the stream, and took a long drink of water to fill his stomach." He brushed his unruly red blonde hair, not quite curly, not quite straight, and braided it into a traditional sailor's queue.
He put on his other shirt, threadbare and wrinkled, but clean.
He inspected his faded green peacoat, a little ragged, but definitely the most presentable item he owned, and put it on over his wrinkled shirt.
He hid his small stash of supplies in leaves, squared his shoulders, and walked down the hill towards town.
Port Carraway straddled the broad Mansean River of the same name, and it saw all kinds of shipping.
More importantly,
to Silas's mind, the port hosted a massive airship bay on the wealthier east bank.
The Carraway River ran along the bottom of a wide, protected valley, and many airships moored here during the off-season.
Winter was almost over, and the first of those ships would begin taking on crew soon.
Quite
soon, Silas assured himself.
In the meantime, Port Carraway was a thriving town, surrounded by farms and within a day's travel of half a dozen schools.
Students, sailors, farmers, and merchants mingled freely on the easygoing port.
Silas had had a room there at the beginning of winter, but now, well, he would have a hammock soon.
He slowed as he reached the West Bank waterfront, considering.
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