Editing Keep an eye on imports and exports

{{Action
|Icon = crate.png
|ID = 265756
|From Storylet title = Spire, Inn, Leviathan
|Description = Heavily laden vessels dock centrally – in the Cage, a dockyard nestled within the leviathan's exposed ribs. What hidden treasures pass through this skeletal sepulchre?
|Unlocked with = {{Unlock|Upon the Belly of the Whale}}, {{Unlock|Labour By Candlelight}}
|Success title = Today's treasures
|Success description = [see below]
|Success summary = Description varies with {{IL|Smuggled Airs}}.
{{Variant table|Condition = Smuggled Airs|Condition type = Text|Effect = Description|Show Unaccounted=yes|Compact=yes
|Value 2-9 = A hold of twenty clinking crates is unloaded[…]. A man holding a candle stamps one with a rubber seal, and another picks the marked crate up, tendons straining in his neck.<p>The […] captain almost disguises his wince[…] "For the leviathan's share," he says.
|Value 10-19 = A clanking patchwork junker of an airship […] Miserherders stroll […]. Each bears multiple armfuls of coruscating glim, and they walk unhurried […] Years spent travelling at the pace of a Moon-Miser are hard to shake off. The crowds part and flow around them.
|Value 21-28 = A hawker unrolls her mat on one of the wider gangways, revealing a tumble of shimmering crystal geometries. "Lattice-charms," […] "hewn from the Depression! Never lose your way again!"<p>Nobody meets her eye. Nobody approaches her. At length, she leaves.
|Value 32-39 = A brawny dockhand unloads bales of moss from a hold. Their dirigible is fitted with quadruple-jointed armatures that extend from the front of the gondola. Farming equipment, perhaps?
|Value 41-48 = Tall men and women with pale eyes unload crates from a gleaming airship, their arms straining […]. An official of the Moon pries one open […], revealing stacks upon stacks of coins. Stuivers: a dragon's hoard […], gleaming-new and marked with flint and steel.
|Value 51-59 = A dirigible of familiar shape […] from London, in the colours of Mr Fires. Neddy Men loiter[…] unwilling to set foot on the leviathan's walkways. Dockhands unload rolls of whisper-satin and puzzle-damask. They Neddy Men leave quickly, and much richer for it.
|Value 63-69 = A tiny dirigible – little more than a hot-air balloon, really – ejects a group of wide-eyed men[…]. Their faces are caked with rock-dust and blood. One clutches a dusty bone[…]. They speak French […] in hushed tones, and regard the port with supreme suspicion.
|Value 71-79 = Smugglers tie half-anker casks of roof-drip together in closed loops. […] another smuggler […] hauls the casks up, one resting against their chest and another against their back, ropes across their shoulders […] They set off […], cargo snug against their person.
|Value 80-89 = There is a great to-do as a battered dirigible is guided up the stalactite to a mooring-post far […] from the rest. Its gondola bulges strangely, hosting pale and fleshy protrusions. "Quarantine." The dockhand's face is grave. "'Cos of all the spores."
|Value 90-100 = A soft ''thwip''[…] An airship lists and founders[…] A Starved Woman holding a candle dismounts from a […] harpoon emplacement, and a sombre silence falls […] a red-faced and orphaned crew watch […] the Moon is replete with criminals. Trust here is fragile, and justice swift.}}
}}
*{{Airs|Smuggled Airs}}
*{{Gain|Tantalising Possibility|5 x}}