On the morning as the Cilicians corsairs at beside their beached boat on the sea shore a strange sail arrives nearby.

It is a very small ship so Shazir is not much concerned. He sends only a handful of guards to the water line to shout for the owner.

The people he loves and honors are all permitted to eat while the Captain of the borrowed ship go to talk when the boat arrives.
The Cillician Wisdom, Tigrania stands nearby. The High Lords finish their plates and begin to walk to areas around the camp.
Not looking plannned but they are actually making a cautious move to watch the perimeter.

The Captains crew eat without noticing any of this. Too much trust in them that it does not concern their lives. The Cilician Corsairs do notice. They change very little but somehow are nearer to their weapons.
Their sharp eyes less on their food now and more alert to a risk of ambush.

Home is so close now. Trouble here would be a mere inconvenience.

A very thin and weathered old man steps out of the boat but will not come out of the water. He speaks a moment with a guard.
The guard is one of Shazir own personal, Talosian. He returns and takes one knee before bowing his head before Shazir.
Great King, the old man says he comes with a message to you. One from Illyria. He will not set foot out of the water though. He is like us, he loves the feel of the sea.
Shazir is curious but feels no unpleasant warning to be concerned about.

Talosian, tell him I will speak with him. Wait.
I will tell him myself. Remain here with the captain, please.
Talosian is not pleased. Not at all. He does know it is not his place to question his King.
As you wish, my King. May Daevas guard you now.
As the guard rose and only watched with discomfort, Shazir stepped to the wet sand of the surf.
He removed his sandals and then walked into the waves as fart as the boat and the old fisherman standing in the foamy wake.

Old man, do you have a message? What is your name?
In a raspy voice the man replied.
I am no-man. Do I speak with Shazir, Heart of the Flame. Known as the King of Cilicia?
You do.
Well I am a now only half a fool on a fools errand then.
The old man smiled a toothless smile and handed a parchment of tree bark like the ones found near Tibiscum which Shazir and his people had left, not so long ago.
A thing that made Shazir Very curious.
Old Man? Are you not a sea traveler? Am I mistaken about the callous on your hands and the salt dried skin tanned by many suns upon the waves?
Naye, exalted one. We both have a mark of the salt in our veins.
Smiling at the honest words and pure fearlessness of the old man, Shazir looked to the marks of the writing on the thin wood rolled in his hand. A thing he already new was widely used after the beginning of it with either the Romans or the Hellenes.
His eyes had no understanding but he saw the old man beginning to hide a smile.
You know these words already old man?
The old man just nods his head. Then slowly he says in way of excuse.
You know how it goes I think. A long and lonely trip. The winds carry my boat fast but my mind doesn't always get much to pay attention when the sea is calm. I hadda do sunthin ta not get a little loose in my attic. Please pardon.
Shazir is smiling inside but shows a fierce look of displeasure in his face.
Well then, it seems my time would be a waste to read it. Shazir hands him a small silver medallion. The old man takes it and tries it with a few of his good teeth.
There, now I have you. I expect you to die from the poison on that coin. Unless you tell me the true words of that writing here.
The old mans jaw drops open and he begins sputtering. The coin dropped in the waves at his feet.
You villian!
Quickly, Old Man, and I'll give you the antidote.
The old mans eyes light and he quickly speaks every word. Almost faster than Shazir can understand!
As he finishes nervously he drops to his knees in the water.
I did what ya asked Great Lord! Now keep your bargain! You must or I'll curse ya with my dying breath!
Shazir laughed. Not cruelly, but with genuine humor. The wet old man was just a nosy old salt with not enough mind to keep to his own business. He looked like a soggy scarecrow.

Shazir said, I believe you, old man.
Then why laugh you cruel villain!
Didn't you when you read it first?! Now the cure is to share a pint of drink with us and eat your fill of breakfast!

As Shazir turned he knew exactly what was happen behind him by watching the others relax and resume eating. He turned to ask the messenger to hurry up while waving Talosian to get a drink and a dry set of his best clothes for the old man.
There in the surf on his knees soaking wet, the old man sat. His mouth wide open. As the two looked into each other eyes the old man read the joke between them and began to laugh and splash the water.

Haya, Old man! Get the silver before the sea has it! It is for you to tell the comedian Mert, my reply. We need to get you dry and fead too.

Tell him, he can speak to me personally of his grievance if his piggy legs and scrawny chicken arms can manage to bring him to see me face to face over his ugly nose and his cow fat face! Until that day comes I will watch Illyria for more trouble than it can handle.

With all that done the day was spent at repairing ship and boat and drinking to a journey home and stories of what lovers and heros would do when they returned to their families.
The next morning everyone went on with the rest of their voyage.