Hana had bent to work the moment the ship had gotten underway. She had begun at the bottom, magically waterproofing the surfaces of the bilge. Though thankfully it was empty of water, the entire space reeked of something she couldn't decide smelled more of rotting kelp or fermented fish. Dragging a heavy knife through the wood, she carved out an oval on the walls and floors of the bilge. Reaching her hand into a bucket of animal fat, she layered it onto the indentations she'd made. Mixed with herbs and charcoal, the fat would keep the spell tied to the wood, waterproofing the bilge for a season or two. The spell itself, however, would have to wait. From there, She worked her way up to the crowded storage space. That took moving the crates and barrels to let her trace a complete oval. Wheel helped her, silently lifting the boxes as she crawled on her hands and knees, smearing the animal fat into the grooves. It was a cold day, and she had to warm the fat between her hands as she worked, making them greasy. She lost herself in the task, and didn't realize that she had finished the storage area until she looked up for the next set of crates to move and saw Wheel climbing up the ladder to take a smoke.
She went up on the topdeck after that, her back aching as she dulled the knife of the planking. She stretched for a minute before she made her second loop of the ship, this time pressing the fat into the grooves she'd made. Finally, she went to her room to retrieve the thurible that held the incense she'd burn as she cast the enchantment. Until this point she'd had no point for self doubt. But now, about to cast the enchantment, she briefly froze up.
She knew she could cast the spell, she'd done it plenty of times before. But, holding the thurible by it's chain, she thought she'd forgotten the words, and that it'd fail. She thought about the certainty of her own failure the entire time she descended into the bilge, smoky incense filling the air of the small space.
She began the spell. Stopped, coughing on nothing. Her blood pounded in her ears. She began again, and this time recited the entire spell flawlessly. The wood of the bilge was slick, and water rolled on top of it. It wouldn't mold, and bugs wouldn't find their home in it.

She went up to the next room. Repeated the spell. Coming up onto the top deck, Hana smiled and cast the spell, walking the perimeter of the ship as she spoke. Testing it by dribbling water from the bucket of rainwater they kept, the water rolled along the deck, sitting in a puddle, unabsorbed into the planking. The spell had worked. Hana nodded to herself, then went to put away the thurible.

---

Pieter tapped the stem of his pipe against his teeth as he thought. "Well, me and Uban can ask around."

Berlin's eyebrows raised up with a smile. "You AND Uban eh? Oh ho ho! Someone's moving up in the world, I see. Good. Good." He nodded to himself, obviously pleased by the new layer to Uban and Pieter's relationship. "I'm glad to see that you've found a suitable apprentice and I'm doubly glad you found it in him. Good! If you think you can get some information for me, I'd be in your debt. I'll leave it to your capable hands. Is there anything you need from me to help you along? A particular heading? A different speed? You just let me know."

Berlin loved Pieter. Not only had they been great friends for what felt like ages now and had been through many adventures together, the younger man had to admit that he was just damn resourceful, among other things. And that was a trait he greatly admired out in the middle of the ocean with no sight of land. And it was good to be able to trust someone implicitly--both their skill and their character.

---

Uban, meanwhile, was helping Rohaan manage the ropes aloft. He was a good topman and had the experience to boot. But he could not match young Rohaan's agility or fearlessness in the ropes. If his hold slipped, he could flutter away as a bird, unshaken. If Uban's failed, he'd end up injured or dead for certain, and that made him a little more cautious. But for all that, he was comfortable and confident in his own right.

"Nah, see how the sail there has gone a bit slack?" Uban pointed.
Rohaan looked at it, studied it, then studied Uban with a perplexed gaze. "It ain't slack."
"Aye, it is too. Look, see that bit there? It's got some tension, aye. But it's got more in it. Squeeze it out of it! You just gotta adjust it until it's at just the right spot. And to do that, you need...which line...?" He was quizzing him, watching his lean little face screw up for a second in thought before the boy became a monkey and swung effortlessly over towards a different lineset and, turning to an older version of himself, he hauled on his guessed line. Sure enough, the cloth responded and even he saw the tiny, subtle stiffening of the canvas at the corner.

"Like that?" the older Rohaan asked, scratching the beginnings of a blonde beard.
"Aye, good!"
Immediately he was a boy again, perched casually up in one of the shrouds like it was his own vertical hammock. "How do you know when to stop pulling, exactly? I mean, I thought I had it."
"It comes with practice. And a careful eye. You gotta pay attention to the whole sail, including the little corners. That's how you start squeezing every little inch out of 'er."

Rohaan nodded, filing this away for later thought and practice.

Pieter nodded to himself as he packed his pipe, working through the problem aloud as he spoke, "We'll have to take out the rowboat, and a few barrels of rum. If things go well, I'd imagine it'll take half the day. Anchor out a half league from us, hm, and with the way the winds have been blowing, half a league east of here. Rio can come by every hour to check on us, and we can put the lad to work and bring us home when we're done. The sea watches everyone who travels on its surface, and with the proper gifts, they'll tell us where the Barizians went." The priest shook his captain's hand as farewell, and went to collect his apprentice.

Standing under the rigging, Pieter paused for a moment in his task to watch Uban and Rohaan clamber around the sails. When he was younger, he'd loved being in that world of sail and sky. Now he was older, and his concerns were of a more earthly, or rather, watery, bent. "Ay! Uban! Come on down! Get the rowboat ready, we've gotta talk to the locals!"

Striding away, Pieter set to work, gathering the supplies they'd need for the trip.

---

Setting the last of the barrels down on the decking, Wheel asked the priest, "Anything else, Pieter?" "Nah, thanks for the help." Dismissed, Wheel prowled along the ship, looking for his quarry. The scrawny boy didn't look like he was up to anything important, so Wheel pounced. "Let's work on knife fighting, boy."

Berlin nodded thoughtfully. "Aye. I'll have him do that. The work would be good for him with things as they are. Busier the better. Aye..." he said this to himself, then his eyes came back to Pieter. "We'll be here waiting for you." He eyed the barrels of rum as Wheel hauled them up and wondered quietly to himself if they had any left. He hoped they did. If not, he would have to sack the next ship he saw just to get some, because they would need it for their upcoming battle, either for celebration or to ease old pains not yet worn away. He looked up and watched Rohaan in the rigging with Uban and a twist of anxiety wormed its way into his chest, though he made no sign of it. He always felt responsible for the lad, and though he'd weathered many fights just fine, this was going to be different in a lot of ways. He just hoped it wouldn't turn out to be a disaster.

It was then that he noticed the water on the deck. It beaded and pooled on the wood instead of soaking it through, and as the ship rocked slowly and gently the little droplets rolled down and away. That was new. The captain stared at it, blinking, then turned to find Hana. Ah, of course. Why he hadn't taken up with a mage sooner, Berlin never knew. He caught her eye and, gesturing to the deck, gave an approving nod. Good work.

--

Uban climbed and swung down to the deck with his trademark smile. "Gonna have us a chat with the locals eh? Alright, yeah, let's--oi, hey, the locals?" The strangeness of that, being in the middle of the ocean and a good distance from land, suddenly dawned on him. He stared at his mentor for a moment, then his eyes widened in a kind of half recognition. He had a guess, but couldn't say for certain what 'locals' really meant. "Aye...the locals. Um...I'll get the rope." He didn't know if they were going to meet mermaids, but if they were, he wanted to be a little more prepared this time than he was before. A look of fear was on his face, but not a deep fear. It was mingled with excitement, like the nerves of someone riding a horse for the first time. But he joined Pieter in the rowboat all the same.

"A'right, so we got rum...what's it for? Not for drinking, I assume?" Uban paddled dutifully, allowing his elder to simply sit and direct him. His mousey brown hair was tied back in a knot behind his head, but the few loose curls that strayed out of it swayed back and forth in the wind as his body lurched forward and back with each stroke.

--

Rohaan stood dangling from one of the shrouds as Wheel called up to him. He didn't move at first and instead kept his bare toes curled around the rope they rested on with all the skill and ease of a bat. The lad looked over at Berlin, who was at the helm and from his expression had obviously heard Wheel...Rohaan waited to see if he'd intervene. After what happened last time, he was sure there was bound to be something from Berlin, but all he got was a warning glance that he understood with ringing clarity. Behave.

A little grin sparkled in his lapis eyes and he simply dropped from the shroud, plunging down towards the deck like a lead ball except he changed to a bird at the last moment, swooped over to Wheel and presented himself to him as a sleek, silken ocelot. The blue of his eyes seemed to clash against his black and golden coat, but it made them stand out all the more for it. The svelte cat crouched low in a readied position like he would either bolt or pounce at any moment and his tail twitched sharply behind him. But his ears were forward, his eyes bright and locked on his teacher. All together, he had a playful look, but no less dangerous. Rohaan gave a single swipe at Wheel's ankles like a little cat playing with a string before returning to his natural form.

The boy was grinning. "Gimmie a blade, I'm ready, estahan!" He held a hand out to his teacher, grasping at the air with his fingers impatiently. "I'll stick you this time!" That wasn't likely, but he liked the idea anyway. "Do I get to shift? Or do I have to do it without?"

Hana flushed at Berlin's approving nod. "Is there anything else you'd need enchanted, Captain?"

--

Pieter puffed on his pipe, enjoying the pleasant day as his apprentice paddled for them. He'd done enough paddling in his days, and he approved of getting the young buck to do the work. "Yeh don't think it's just us on this old ocean of ours, do yeh?" He laughed, "Boy, we're guests in this place." Nodding to the looming barrels of rum, he added, "And that's for our hosts."

--

Wheel ignored the boys banter, striking a match and lighting a cigarette. "Kid. When you're training with me, you're going to be training to fight like a man." He held up a hand to stop any backtalk, "I know you can turn into a lion and tear some poor bastard apart. But if you're stuck with only one tool, you'll eventually come to the point where it doesn't work." Wheel started stretching, and stared down the boy, wanting him to join. "I knew one man in the pits who'd only use an axe. He could take off a horses head with it. We did some work together, and the guardsmen came after us. He buried his axe in the shoulder of a guardsmen, and he had to leave it. He could barely use a sword, and a pimply faced conscript stuck him in the gut." Flicking the stub off the side of the boat, he looked down at the boy. "If you can't kill with everything, something will kill you.:

Uban, as always, gave a smile but this one was less sincere and merry than his usual. Instead it showed both apprehension and an embarrassment that he hadn’t considered they weren’t alone. It was almost a sheepish cringe. Not that he wasn’t eager, just understandably nervous after his last encounter with mystical beings. It had struck him hard and he would not forget it.
“Are we...visiting mermaids again? Or uh...something else?” And before Pieter could answer he seemed to know in the pit of his stomach which it was. He felt both a chill and a wild thrill. There was so much of this world he had not known before, but he would know it now, bit by bit. No matter how nervous he was, he was unflappably curious.

—

Berlin shrugged. “I mean, if you can enchant my hip flask to never be empty...” he chuckled a little. “Anything you could do towards preventing holes being blasted in my beautiful ship would be appreciated, if that’s something you can do. Or...” and suddenly Berlin began to chuckle darkly, and though he tried to master himself as he spoke, he never fully did. “Or you could give Rheoaan a bath.” This was obviously some good joke he found very amusing. “He’ll get in just fine with a little cajoling. The lad likes water. And if you bark at him he’ll scrub well enough. The trouble comes with getting him out. And not even I can save you if you have the gall to try and comb his hair.” His look was severe, but there was a glimmer in his eyes. “Once, when the lad wasn’t yet nine and knew about a quarter of the Carisian that he does now, Uban was supposed to keep watch one night. And during his watch he decided he would get himself drunk, and as a punishment I sent him to try and bathe the little devil.” He laughed. “He never did it again.”

Berlin leaned against the rail and glanced at Rohaan and Wheel and, seeing that both of their body language read as amicable, he turned his gaze out to the horizon, enjoying the morning sun on his face. “But all jokes aside, I’m pleased with your work, Hanabaptiste. You’ve been a real asset in your short time here and I’m amazed I haven’t picked up a mage sooner. But I’ve got to ask you…we’re coming up on a true battle. It’s gonna get hot, and I would never throw you in the midst of it if you weren’t ready for it, or against your will. So tell me, where are you most suited? At the very least I would like you to be prepared to aid if any one of us catches a wound. Uban and Rheoaan in particular, I worry about. Pieter mans the guns and thus has some cover if he needs it, and trying to injure Wheel is like trying to injure a mountain. I would like you to be prepared—whatever that means for you—to do some healing or wound-tending when its said and done. And if that’s all you’re comfortable with, I am satisfied. But…” a curious gleam showed in his gray eyes. “Do you have any skills in combat? How was training with Uban?”

Berlin liked to know his crew, perhaps better than most captains ever bothered to either for lack of time or to maintain a feeling of higher rank—a philosophy Berlin did not believe in much. Men march further for friends than orders, he learned. And beyond a personal interest, he, like the rest of them, were curious about what she could do, and how her skills fitted in with others like Uban’s.

—

Rohaan huffed, rolling his eyes. “Well last time you said I could shift AND fight like a human, so I asked!” But he didn’t argue. He liked the challenge and only wanted to know what the rules of this game were. Wheel had tossed him a knife and he looked down at it, admiring its shape and the craft of it, even though it was old, used, and not anything of note—a good practice blade. He touched its edge curiously but carefully as he listened to Wheel’s story of the man with the axe. He’d never used an axe for a fight before—only for chopping wood back home. Distantly, he wondered what it would be like to fight with one. Rohaan bit back a comment about their previous argument about archery and instead hatched a dark, impish idea in his brain.

The boy shifted his weight to one foot in a relaxed, carefree stance, focusing still on the shape of the blade. “The pits?” He asked, glancing up at his teacher. He was eager to hear more of Wheel’s past, as the man was pretty close about it and he guessed it had to be interesting. But he had other intentions. “What pits? Tell me! Tell me!” Rohaan did not expect to get an actual answer, but he waited for the moment that Wheel began to answer and in the middle of that answer, Rohaan leapt forward and slashed at Wheel’s legs with a cry of, “HHYYAAH!” And then recoiled back, his stance ready and his eyes alight. The fight had begun, and he was determined to show his teacher that his previous lesson had stuck.

Pieter only smiled, and said, "Here's good enough I reckon." Rising to a crouch, he took a barrel of rum and tilted the entire thing overboard. With a splash, the barrel ducked down and bobbed to the surface again. Feeling a slight pang in his chest at losing so much rum, he withdrew his pistol, aimed, and shot the barrel through. "A gift of pleasure for knowledge." He called out. His voice carried something more than words. It shivered in the bones, carrying itself silently through the water. Nothing happened. Pieter scratched his beard. "Hey, you want some?" He removed a flask from his pocket. "Hana had a spot of gin. Want some?" The waves that rocked the boat grew imperceptibly softer.
___

Hana laughed, then sobered up when she tried to figure out if Berlin was serious. "I could uh, try? If you really wanted me to. Maybe. I could also fireproof the sails for you if you'd like." Glancing out to sea, she chewed her lip as she listened to her Captain's request. "I'm not really trained for battle magic, so I don't think I could be much help fighting. I can work up winds, rain and fog for the fight. I can defend myself, but beyond that, well..." She glanced back at Berlin, gauging his reaction, she said, "I could only try something with the cannon balls and Uban's lightning. If you'd like."

___
The boy dropped into a relaxed stance, keeping his eyes fixed on the blade. Wheel couldn't remember the last time he saw Rohaan focus on anything for longer than a minute. Wheel sprang away from the boy's lunge, then lashed out, blade darting. The fight had begun, and Wheel was testing and demonstrating various techniques to his pupil.

Uban felt a chill that seemed to cut through the midday sun, then noticed he had goosebumps and his hair was sticking straight up as Pieter spoke. In the five years Uban had been with Berlin, it wasn't the first time he'd heard Pieter speak this way. But he'd never paid attention, and never been so...up close. He could not suppress the feeling of awe that blossomed in his chest at the withered man. Something in him, some childish impulse made him reach out his and towards the water, but some other, more weathered instinct of his kept it from reaching the water's surface.

Uban blinked. "Gin? Ah, yeah, hand that over!" He was never one to say no to a drink, but he did especially like gin. He wasn't aware of it, but some quiet part of his brain made a mental note to himself that Hana liked it. The young man took the proffered flask and put it to his lips, but no sooner had he taken an appreciative swig of the clear, almost piney liquid did he notice the little rowboat rocking a little more than usual. His pleasant expression melted into alertness (he trusted in Pieter's skill as a priest enough to not be worried) and as one hand steadied himself on the gunnel of the little boat, he used the other to hand back the flask.

"Uh...Pieter...?"

----

Berlin laughed. "No, belay that, I was joking! Don't try. Really. Don't. You need him to like you, after all. And a never-empty hip flask would be flying too close to the sun." He grinned, and that expression grew evermore as she told him she could protect his sails. His expression was nearly hungry, eager, like a man who'd just found innumerable treasures. "You can do that?" he asked incredulously. "Aye! Do! Fireproof everything you can! Fire is more of a risk on this ship than on others, I would say, and any protection against it would be invaluable. Yes, do that."

She explained that her magic was not so much developed for offensive might, and he nodded his understanding. "Yes, I wondered if that was the case. That's alright." And there was no hint of disappointment in his tone, no note of judgement. Berlin understood. "A fog would be very good, if you can manage it. Keep our approach secret until we spring our trap, and then to make us seem like ghosts in the gloom. But no rain....I'd like to see their ship burn to ashes." There was a darkness in his tone that she had not yet heard before, and that the rest of the more experienced crew rarely ever heard either. Berlin was an even-keel man most of the time and not one to be prone to wild fits of anger like his young charge. Even Uban, who was as good natured as they came was more vulnerable to losing his temper. But Berlin still had one. And when it showed in full, it came down like a clap of thunder.

But as quickly as his hard edge showed itself, it vanished. Cool gray eyes searched her with all the easy curiosity of a gentle friend. "Cannonballs, hmm? Mmm..." he nodded to himself, approving of this. "You'll have to inform Pieter of whatever it is you plan to do--he's the one who mans the guns. But I think that's a good line of thinking. On another note, do you have everything you need? I don't just mean for the upcoming battle--just, anything you need? I expect we'll head into port again after we find our quarry--either The Borealis will need repairs or we'll have--hopefully--some freed prisoners to send on their way. If it's practical things you need, let me know. If you're longing for some more extravagant items or other luxuries, Rheoaan is the one to talk to, actually. He's good at erm...obtaining things." He smiled.

--

Rohaan had been foiled, but he remembered the trick for later anyway. Chances are, not all of his opponents would be so quick or as observant as Wheel, who knew him and knew his ways. The boy keenly felt the welts and bruises left by his teacher the day before, and even more so now that they were being doubled. But he fought on. The pain seemed to fuel him, to trigger some instinct of pride or self-preservation that made him push harder, made him more aggressive. He was not perfect, not by any stretch and some of the techniques which he'd been passable at the day before, he seemed to have forgotten until he was reminded mercilessly and painfully by Wheel. But other techniques seemed to have stuck. The shifter expounded on them, pouring into his new knowledge all the street-rat instinct that had kept him alive so far, and he quickly began to improvise. Beyond the knife, he would use nearby objects as plots to trip Wheel up, or to distract him, and once he aimed a deck brush squarely at Wheel's face. If the man had not knocked it aside with a speed only he could manage, it would have gone squarely and firmly for his nose.

Once, however, he gave an awkward parry, his feet just slightly uncertain beneath him, and Wheel's blade slipped a little and bit his knuckles. Silver blood welled up in a little bead and he yelped angrily. The boy's instinct kicked in and he quickly became a Cyradan before his teacher's eyes and attempted to snap at him with his smooth black teeth, his powerful jaws clamping together with a hard, audible snap. But the sudden weight rocked the ship violently like it had been struck by a malicious wave.

Berlin staggered, one hand shooting out to the gunnel to steady himself, and his other gripping Hana's arm briefly. Rohaan, realizing he'd broken the rules of their game, shifted back quickly and the ship lurched again, rocking back and forth in diminishing sweeps until it finally returned to its usual bobbing in the calm waters. Rohaan heard his captain shout, "DAMNIT RHEOAAN!" but he ignored him, snarling challengingly at Wheel instead. Rohaan looked at the little silvery blotch on his hand and wiped it across his face, just under his eye. It was not an errant swipe but something purposeful, and the vokurian battle ritual left a glittering streak like macabre paint under his right eye. He gave a little war cry and lunged back at Wheel again, stabbing and swiping and parrying as best he could against the much larger man.

Pieter savored the taste of gin and the smoke of his pipe as he looked stoically at the few bobbing pieces of wood left from the barrel. Him and Maria had once been shut up in a cabin together laying low, and they'd had plenty of time and gin to kill. Good memories. Smiling, he looked to Uban, "Yes lad?"

___

Seeing the excitement in Berlin's eye, Hana hurriedly clarified what she was actually able to deliver, "I can't keep things from catching fire, but I can make sure it doesn't continue to burn. It's not perfect, but it's something. Um. Also, I don't have enough gypsum to fireproof the entire ship. What would you like me to concentrate on first?"

___

Rohaan was progressing fine, he'd remembered most of what he'd been taught, and he relearned what he'd forgotten. They'd been working with the fighting knife on its own, and he decided that they'd next work on knife and shield fighting. It'd be good for the boy to learn how to defend. Wheel's eyes widened when he saw the cut on the boy's hand. These blades should be perfectly dull. But the use must have roughened them up. It was time to put a pause on the fighting. When the boy became a dragon, he tensed up, ready to spring away. But the boy corrected himself, instead launching himself into another flurry of attacks. Wheel responded defensively. Slapping away the thrusts and avoiding the careless slashes, Wheel waited until the boy's immediate fury lessened. Once the boy's rage gave way to panting caution, he said, "That was acceptable. Get a drink of water and we'll move on."

Uban gave another one of his half smiles, half winces and glanced between his mentor and the rising sea as if he wondered, Do you not see this?. He let the question hang for a moment as his mind raced. This wasn't mermaids. So then...what could it be? He was clearly nervous, but his curiosity was stronger and eventually he asked with a little nervous laughter, "So uh, Pieter...what did you just summon, exactly? Because uh...heh, That's not mermaids is it?" He leaned over the gunnel as much as it would allow without tipping the small boat and peered down into the sapphire depths.

--

"Oh, I see," Berlin said with a nod, his tone indicating that he guessed his vision was too good to be true and he was now coming back to reality. But it was still a reality that pleased him. Fire was the fear of every ship's captain, and Berlin in his youth once barely escaped a flaming ship with his life as it plunged into the deep. A lantern had been broken and the whaling ship's tarred timbers went up like a bobbing torch, and twenty souls went into the sea, with only half of them making it back out.

"I think the sails," he said after a moment. "If I were to cripple a ship, I'd take her sails first, so we'll protect ours. And if you have anything left, is it possible to protect specifically the barrels of our powder hold?" And, thinking of his own experience with ship fires, he said, "The other day you were teaching Rheoaan to read, and you created a little light...if given the right materials and equipment, could you eventually make some deck lamps without flames? Is that possible? Forgive me," he laughed a bit, "I've never met a mage before, so I don't know what's possible." Berlin's eyes were kept on the knife fighting lesson now and not Hana; after Rohaan's quick shift into his favorite form (which was often an indication of heightened defense or offense on his part) his heart had skipped a beat in fear that the training had gone sour, but the boy quickly mastered himself and the skirmish stayed civil. Perhaps he hadn't been giving Rohaan that much credit for his control, but he couldn't totally forget his worry either.

--

Acceptable! Rohaan beamed with pride at that, his focused battle-rage dissolving just as soon as Wheel called a halt. His anger, after all, had not been true rage but the kind of intense zeal that comes with tackling a challenge. This was a game, and it was one he liked quite well. "Ta'neia, Estehan." ((Thank you, teacher)) Rohaan touched his fist to his forehead and it left a wet silvery blotch of blood from the tiny nick on his finger, which he then brought to his mouth and sucked. It was no deeper than any cut he ever got chopping food in the galley, but it stung a little. The lad trotted off to one of the rain barrels, picked up a tin mug that hung on a makeshift hook beside the barrel, and scooped up some cool water.

Berlin looked down at him, noting the silver blood on his face. "How...how'd it go?"
Rohaan, midway through chugging water, merely gave an affirmative "mm" that resonated in the tin mug.
"Yeah? Your face alright?"
Rohaan nodded and held up his nicked knuckle; it had stopped bleeding but it left a little line of dull silver tinged with red. "He owes me blood now!" He grinned wickedly. "I'll get him. I'm getting better Ca-mm."
"If you manage to mark Wheel, I'll be truly impressed, Rheoaan. I wonder if I can. One of these days you'll have to show me just how good you're getting."
Rohaan brightened at this; Berlin was quite good with a blade and he was eager to show off his new skills. But for now, he had more things to learn from Wheel, and he hung up the tin mug and bounded back to Wheel, his cobalt eyes fixed on the larger man. "What next?"

Pieter firmly grasped Uban's shoulder and pulled him back in the boat. "Sit." He had stowed his pipe, and his other hand clutched the seat. The water before the rowboat churned as a massive turtle head emerged from the waters. A fleshy neck appeared, and it would have been called delicate if it weren't thicker than a man's chest. The top of the shell crested the water, dark scales wrapped in seaweed. From what was visible, it was clear it was larger than the boat. The neck turned, and a single, piercing brown eye fixed itself on the sailors. The turtle opened it's mouth, revealing a deep red mouth large enough to bite them in half. In a voice that shook the air, it said, "You got anymore of that?"

___

Hana started to nod, then realized that she'd be copying the captain, then realized that she had started to nod so it'd look weird if she didn't nod, then realized that she'd spent so much time deliberating between nodding and not nodding that her neck had found itself in some strange halfway point between nod and not nod, which she wasn't aware existed, and that her fixation on nodding meant a slightly too long pause in the conversation, which Hana hoped could be played off as thoughtfulness. "Hmm," She began, squinting her eyes as if she were fixed on thinking, "I'll have enough supplies to cover the sails and buff the barrels with what we have left over. It certainly wouldn't rate with the Elbish navy, but it won't go up because of a stray spark." Feeling more in her element as she continued to disapoint Berlin, she went on, "I maybe have enough supplies to enchant a wall sconce, but to be honest, Captain, most of what I brought was for medicine." She laughed, "I didn't expect to be the ship's carpenter."

___

While Wheel waited, he went over the training equipment, making sure the falchions were safely dulled and that a strip of cloth was wrapped around the tip. There was a time and place to train with real blades, but not now. These had been swords Wheel had kept from previous fights, and since he'd had no other use for them, he'd converted them for training. He'd weighted the handle and the blade to give it more heft. The bucklers were boiled leather wrapped around wood. Despite the signs of heavy use, they were well kept.

He lit a cigarette as he spoke to Rohaan,

"We're now using swords and bucklers. This will leave bruises, it will hurt, I will not coddle you. If you can master a sword and buckler, you could possibly survive in this world. Right now, if I gave you a sword and buckler, you would not only die, you would kill everyone on the ship and yourself at the same time. With great effort and the blessings of all the fuckers I've killed, it can be fixed. But that means you must learn as a man and not a shapeshifter. You must be the weakest you can be, and you must be perfect. If you don't, it'll be because you failed, and that'd piss me off."

He tossed the sword and shield on the ground before the boy. "Well?"

The water boiled before them like a massive blacksmith's quench barrel, white froth rising and turning the dark seas to a light blue-gray color in an increasing radius, much to Uban's surprise. He felt his heart beat faster and his stomach twist. He trusted Pieter, but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous about what would surface. However, he'd spent two years with a nearly feral shape shifter and had thus grown accustomed to seeing large and frightening creatures like cyradan and more ordinary but no less formidable predators like tigers and great bears. It was the unknown that unnerved him. The turtle surfaced it's great head and he felt his fear subside and give way to wonder and awe. It was a gorgeous creature and made even more so by the fact that he'd never seen a sea turtle of any size before, only the small land variety.

The creature asked for more liquor and its great voice resonated through his chest, but there was something sweet and earthy about it, something almost wholesome. His mouth hanging open a bit, he whipped out his flask and poured its contents.

---

Something about the way Berlin looked at Hana hinted that he knew or guessed some of her inner turmoil and doubt. His soft gray eyes were not exactly piercing, not like Rohaan's. They did not bore through the masks of other people with force, they simply saw through them like they were only a mist in the wind. He reached out one rough, massive hand and put it on her shoulder and for the first time she felt a small taste of Berlin's inborn magic. Her fears did not disappear but for a moment they were shrouded a bit and the sting of them felt simply less. Distant and unimportant. In his touch was reassurance that no words could convey and a warmth like holding a mug of hot tea on a cold night.

"And we'll have need of it. You weren't the first medic I've had to seek on land, but you were the first I had to bribe." He laughed softly at that." His eyes found hers and he said coolly but with no less conviction and sincerity, "We are glad to have you, Hanabaptiste." And he meant it.

---

"I would not!" Rohaan stamped his foot indignantly. "You make it sound like I'm weak and...panetic!" Of course, he meant 'pathetic' but it was not part of his regular vocabulary so it was a little fuzzy at times and he simply made a guess at it. "I'll show you panetic!" If there was anything that motivated Rohaan besides survival, it was proving people wrong when they doubted him.

He stooped and scooped up the weapon and the shield, the latter of which he immediately decided he did not like. He thought it was like carrying a brick when trying to hunt. Cumbersome and not very useful. The sword also felt large and awkward compared to the dagger. The dagger was part of him, an extension of his arm, but this? This long, heavy thing was alien and sluggish in his hands as he swung it experimentally. He was also not prepared for the continued momentum the sword had and his casual swing went long and the blade bit just barely into the gunnel beside him.

His deep blue eyes went wide in terror but all his attention had gone from Wheel to Berlin behind him. He was thankfully otherwise occupied with Hana and didn't see Rohaan give a little heave to free it from the dark wood. Breathing hard, his face paled a bit as his silver blood rose to his cheeks in a blush. Embarrassing didn't quite cover it. But when his eyes met Wheel's, his expression turned hard and defiant.

"It's big." He did not say 'too big', even though that's what he was thinking--that would be defeat and that wasn't going to do. "How do I..." Flustered, words were failing him at the moment so he just repeated, "How? And this..." He lifted the little shield a bit and scowled at it. He understood what a shield was for and had seen soldiers with them, but he'd never actually seen someone use one. So he ineloquently asked, "What do I do with it?"

Beyond the jostling of the boat, Pieter hardly moved, his focus on the turtle. His eyes narrowed when Uban hastily emptied the contents of the flask into the frothing waters. The turtle dipped its head into the water, and though it didn't seem to drink, when it lifted it's head to look at the sailors, a slightly glazed look had come over it's eyes. Pieter judged that the time was right, and spoke, "We're looking for someone." The turtle lowered it's neck slowly, bringing it level to Pieter's head. The difference in size was so astounding, it became hard to recognize it all as a single thing. The shell jutting out like a rock, the endless neck, the gleaming eyes, and the terrifyingly sharp beak. A nip from that beak would be enough to kill them. Pieter put his hand gently on Uban's chest, a silent instruction, Shut the fuck up, let me do the talking.

"Everyone's looking for someone." The turtle replied in it's deep voice.

"Aye, and we're asking you to tell us where the people we're looking for are." The turtle rolled its eye in- playfulness? Was it humoring them? If it wasn't, they'd soon be dead.
"There are too many human ships for me to remember now. Not like how it used to be."
Pieter nodded deeply and pulled at his beard, understanding the difficulty of his request.
"Aye, we understand. It's important we find them, so we'll try and jog your memory." He gestured to Uban to dump one of the barrels into the water. It bobbed in the water before the turtle gently grasped it in it's mouth. Tilting it's head back, it bit into the barrel like a man would a grape. Rum gushed down the turtles throat, and splintery wood fell around them into the water. Spitting a scrap of wood the size of Pieter's hand from it's mouth, it returned to the conversation with an amused air, "I may be wiser than everyone on land, but I still need to know who you're looking for."
"Barizians. Men with ships drawn by oars. There's one, but there might be more." The sea grew abruptly still, and the turtle withdrew it's head, studying them. The muscles in it's neck tensed. Pieter's heart hammered in his chest.
"What." The turtle said softly, "Do you want with them?"
"They have done unforgivable things, and must be punished." He answered.
A great plume of steam came out of the turtles nose. Tilting it's head, it looked pointedly at the barrels. A hurried nod from Pieter to Uban told him what to do. They watched with relief as the second barrel was dispatched as quickly as the first.
"The one's you look for- they stink. They smell like blood and rot, and they stain the waters as they pass. There are nine of their ships, though one of them is much bigger than the others. Only the small ones sail about, the large ship has not moved since it arrived five moons ago."
It paused pointedly, and another barrel was rolled out. After it had drunk, it continued, "I know where they hide, and something else that would interest you." The last of the barrels were rolled out, and finished in quick succession. Had a reddish hue come over the turtle's scales? Sweeping it's gaze over the boat, it remarked, "Well, it seems that you have nothing else to offer me, so I'll be on my way. Come again with more barrels, those are always a pleasant distraction." The water churned noisily as it sunk into the waves, turning it's head away from the two sailors.
Pieter sighed to himself, gave Uban a brief pat on the shoulder, and called out, "Knowledge for knowledge! A secret of mine for a secret of yours!"

The water stilled immediately. Only the turtles great head was still visible. Swinging it's head so it was up against the boat, it said, "I don't want a secret of yours, priest." An immense eye fixed itself on Uban, staring into him. "I want one of his."

---

Hana expected to flinch at Berlin's touch, but instead relaxed. The tension locked in her shoulder eased up. The buzzing in her head went away, and she was able to bring her attention to what was going on. She trusted him. She wanted to impress him. She could be herself around him. She looked back into his eyes and said, "You're not the first pirate I've treated- but you're the first I've joined." She could do her job. She'd do it for Berlin. And Pieter, and Rohaan, and Uban and Wheel.

---

Wheel watched coolly as the boy threw his tantrum, ignoring the oncoming headache the curse was bringing. Finally, after seeing the chip in the gunnel, he spoke, "Right now, you're pathetic. You're scrawny, you can't win a fight without turning into a beast, and you think that if you don't know how to use something, it's useless." He lifted his shield, "You're still small, so it's going to be hard for you to learn how to use this properly right now. Later, I can fix up a better sized one for you. You're going to work with the size it is right now, however, because I want to see you struggle." Wheel continued, demonstrating exercises with the buckler and sword that would build strength and make it easier to use. Lifting it, holding it in place, slow, steady circles. All of it slightly dull, unexciting, and very painful.

Uban couldn't take his eyes off the thing. Was it proper to call the turtle 'thing'? Probably not--definitely not. It was too majestic, too...BIG. He could see his own reflection in one of its dark eyes, though it didn't seem to study him much, not like he was. Uban was staring. Open mouthed, eyes wide, practically unmoving except for tossing barrels over at Pieter's wordless command. He tried not to, but each time the turtle took a barrel and popped it, crushed it, he couldn't help but see himself in the barrel's place. Except if that were him, it wouldn't be rum sliding down its throat. He surpassed a shiver and hauled over another barrel.

How had this creature, this monolith been in the ocean the whole time and he'd never even heard of it? At least he'd heard about mermaids before. But this...this... Suddenly he had a new appreciation for priesthood and, most of all, Pieter. He took his eyes off the turtle just long enough to admire the older man as he stood in the bobbing, rocking boat, the wind in his hair. Uban was certain then that he'd never see his mentor the same way ever again.

He had also noticed a pattern--to summon mermaids, Pieter had offered rum. The turtle was no different, and he wondered if all the mysterious creatures of the sea bartered like this for rum. Maybe some were partial to whiskey or wine. He thought about all this but didn't open his mouth to ask any question or say anything. He wouldn't dare.

The turtle slipped slowly beneath the water with a gurgling, churning water around it and he realized he'd been holding his breath as Pieter took a sigh of his own. Wow. That was an experience and he knew Rohaan would enjoy hearing the story. Maybe Hana would too. As Pieter gave his final call to the creature, Uban reached out for the oars again, preparing to head back to the--

What?

At first, Uban didn't comprehend what the turtle was saying. Me? Does he mean me? As if there were any on that boat besides the two men. He looked at Pieter for some kind of assurance and then back at the turtle and was immediately lost in its gaze. The one eye fixed on him, and if he thought the creature was intimidating before, he was wrong. Dead wrong. Was this planned? Had Pieter set this up? He tried to look back at Pieter but he couldn't look away. The eye consumed him. He felt the sheer weight of it bearing down on him, hot like the summer sun and weighty like a smith's hammer. And he couldn't look away.

Do something, Uban. Say something. FUCKING DO SOMETHING UBAN.

Did he even have breath anymore? Was he even certain he was alive? No. He felt lost, outside his own body for a span of horrible, electric seconds. If his stomach sunk any lower it'd go through the boat. Don't get us killed. Don't get us killed. Please, by sun and stars don't get us killed, Uban.

But then he found he was able to take in a breath and, as he did so, his gut instinct started to take over. True to form, more trusty and reliable than frost in winter or an obedient sheepdog, Uban grinned. Truthfully, he was wasted as a farmer and should have been born into a troupe of performers, because the performing instinct was strong in him. Whether it stemmed from a desire to hide his own insecurities, came from a result of years of playing and singing in crowded taverns, or because he'd always played the peacemaker between his asshole father and his siblings, Uban could always be counted on to at least pretend to make light of a terrible situation.

With that signature smile on his face, Uban gave a quick "Um..." and cleared his throat as he dropped the oars and let them rest in their binding rings. And that was all the terror he showed to the creature, though Pieter could read him better. "A secret of mine? Right. Okay."

He racked his brain. Secret of mine? He had no secrets, or nothing interesting anyway. He didn't even have much in the way of unique experiences he could rely on for uncommon information. He'd been a simple farmer's son. And then a murderer. Then a poor bastard with no future until Berlin made him a pirate. He thought about things only he knew and only thought of his lightning. As he pondered this, he let a ball of it form writhing and blue in his palm, sitting there as harmlessly as a stone until he clenched his fist and it extinguished with a crack. No, that was just a show, not some piece of knowledge. Uban thought of Rohaan and wished the boy were there so he could exhibit him for the creature (maybe it hadn't seen a shifter before...?) but he realized that would just be more of the same. A show. Knowledge...secrets...He was entirely the wrong person to ask. Uban thought of Hana and wished she were there. He remembered their talk on the beach about magic and all the things that she knew that he didn't. She had plenty of knowledge, plenty of secrets, he was sure. Damn, he wished she were there.

And then it came to him. It was a weak idea, not something he would act on in any confidence but it was all he had. His hazel green eyes had gone a bit gold now after summoning his lightning; he finally was able to break his gaze away from the turtle to look back up at Pieter for a second. In those gold eyes was an apology, for he had no idea if this would satisfy the creature or insult it. But it was all he had. So, closing his eyes, he began softly to sing.

William Taylor was a brisk young sailor
full of heart and full of play
until he did his mind uncover
to a youthful lady gay

Four and twenty Yonin sailors
met him on the king's highway
as he went for to be married
pressed he was and sent away

Folla-diddle-um fol-a-day-ry diddero
folla-diddle-um fol-a day-ry-day

A sailor's clothing she put on
and went board a man-o-war
her pretty little fingers long and slender
they were smeared with pitch and tar

On that ship there was a battle
she amongst the rest did fight
The wind blew off her silver buttons
her breasts were bared all snowy white

Folla-diddle-um fol-a-day-ry diddero
folla-diddle-um fol-a day-ry-day

When the captain did discover
he said, "fair maid! what brought you here?"
"Sir, I'm seeking William Taylor
pressed he was by you last year."

"If you rise up in the morning
ear-ly at the break of day
there you'll spy young William Taylor
walking with his lady gay.

Folla-diddle-um fol-a-day-ry diddero
folla-diddle-um fol-a day-ry-day

She rose early in the morning
ear-ly at the break of day
Here she spied young William Taylor
walking with his lady gay

She procured a pair of pistols
on the ground where she did stand
there she shot poor William Taylor
and the lady at his right hand

Folla-diddle-um fol-a-day-ry diddero
folla-diddle-um fol-a day-ry-day

His voice grew louder as he sang and his final note carried on the wind above the slop of water against the boat. As always, he had a good voice. It was strong in volume but pleasant in tone, and the tune of the old song itself was catchy. Uban guessed that, if it pleased the great turtle at all, it would be humming the tune to itself for a few days. At least, that's what he did when he first heard it.

Uban didn't speak. He didn't want to ruin the effect of his last note ringing over the water, but he also had no idea if he could manage to say anything intelligent or worthwhile, so he opted not to altogether. He simply gave one look up to his mentor, and then back to the massive, deadly, powerful, fickle creature that had all of its attention on him. Right. He could do that. Right?

--

Berlin gave Hana one last soft, subtle smile before turning and, taking a telescoping spyglass from his vest pocket, scanned the horizon for his priest and apprentice. They were far out, and he could barely make out some kind of dark something on the surface of the water that was probably the little boat. And another dark shape. Easily the size of the boat itself, though he could discern no more from it than that at such a distance. He did not see the flapping of oars or waving of arms that might indicate something horrible was happening, so he decided not to send Rohaan out to investigate. Even so, he silently mouthed a very short prayer of safety to lady Tevira.

He turned to watch the boy's progress in his lessons with Wheel and, with an expression that was half smile and half wince, he said to Hana, "Got some kind of tonic or salve for bruises and sore muscles? He's gonna need it." Berlin was half joking, though he didn't doubt that if she did have such a thing, it would be welcomed. Berlin knew that training of any sort meant pain and exhaustion, and Wheel was as good a teacher as any for not being soft on the lad. Perhaps them training together would be good after all.

--

The exercises were grueling. They were not the most intense thing he'd ever done, but the repetition of them made his muscles burn and they lacked any kind of mental stimulation. Which meant he was bored, exhausted, and sore and his patience was waning fast. Still, Rohaan was determined to stick it out. Maybe that was the only thing that kept him going--stupid, bull-headed pride. He did not groan, he did not whine. As troublesome as the lad could be, at least no one could ever accuse him of whining. But he began to slow and fumble as his ten-year-old muscles simply gave up without his consent, until finally after dropping the sword twice, he dropped the shield, too. He did attempt to pick them both back up, but the muscles in his arms wouldn't listen to him anymore and his hands were shaking.

Rohaan looked down at his own limp arms, and then back up at Wheel. In his unnaturally blue eyes was a deep conflict in which half of his mind, the logical part, felt the condition of his limbs and knew he was spent. The other half hated himself for it. Some part of him remembered then what they were doing, what their current purpose was and where they were going. Who they were going to meet on the sea. And, unbidden, he remembered his own brush with Barizians two years ago. Remembered the dark hold where he was kept like a sack of grain--worse than livestock. Remembered the weakness in his muscles and the pain in his limbs...not unlike now.

Rohaan didn't want to feel that way again. Helpless. Hopeless. Weak. Feeling it now and realizing with a stab of anxiety that it was possible for him to be like this during a battle against his most hated enemy, the fight left Rohaan like a candle's light robbed by a cold wind. Feeling some subconscious drive to run and hide, Rohaan unconsciously took a small step back.

"Are they gonna kill me?" He asked. He was dead serious. Real fear was in his eyes and his body language began to scream 'feral'. Withdrawn. Tense. "Do I even have a chance? You know how they fight. I...don't remember. Just guns. I remember guns." And he'd learned about those since. He'd gotten stronger. Older. Smarter. But would that be enough?

The turtle listened to the song, deep eyes revealing nothing. After the last note, there was nothing but silence. Pieter sat on his hands, stiffly silent. He watched the turtle as it leaned in closer, bringing it's beak directly in front of them. It opened it's beak slightly, and the smell of rum and decaying fish rolled over them. Opening it's mouth wider, the sailor's view of the world was replaced with the sight of the inside of the turtles mouth- ready to crash down upon them without warning. Abruptly, the turtle swung it's head into the sky and laughed. Returning it's gaze to the two, it's eyes were half lidded in amusement. "Quite the song." It's voice was dry, and the humor lacked warmth. It regarded them like a cat playing with a mouse. "It's a shame, if I were a mermaid, I'd drag you down with me." It paused, enjoying itself. "I don't keep pets, so you won't be joining me today." Swinging it's head to Pieter, it said, "The one's you're looking for are on an island two days south of here. Follow the handle of the Plowshare." Craning it's neck so that the tip of it's beak brushed the side of Uban's head, it spoke in a whisper so low that it could barely be heard.





uoy ot txen nam eht fo death

Booming laughter followed and the waters around them churned. "Watch out for a rotting eel!" It called out as it sunk beneath the waves.

The water calmed.

It was still.

It returned to how it had been before.

---

Hana winced when she looked over at the two training and said, "Aye- I mean, yes Captain. I can get my camphor."

---

Wheel stood over the boy, his face a mask. He had worked the boy to the point of exhaustion. They were done today. They'd made progress. Which wasn't hard when you starting at the bottom. "They're going to try and kill you. And they'll fail. I wouldn't be training you like this if I expected you to die, would I?" He lit a cigarette and said, "Take a moment to catch your breath, then put away the gear."

Breathing. He was supposed to do that. Breathe. Right. In and out, just like he always did.

Except he couldn’t.

The great beast’s head loomed closer. Closer. Closer. It’s mouth opened and all he could think of was the wet crunch sound those two points of its beak would make as they liberated his torso from his legs. He didn’t think he’d die today, he really thought that would happen later in some kind of battle or a freak accident falling from the shrouds on a stormy night, not like this.

Oh sweet Tevira don’t let it drag on, don’t let it hurt too bad, don’t—

The turtle laughed. While Uban wasn’t convinced that was a good sign, he also knew that the turtle wasn’t eating them alive in a single snap, so that was something to be thankful for. But then the great turtle relented and proffered up the information they came for, and Uban finally became aware of the fact that he was gripping the sides of the little boat with such force that his fingers were stiff and unwilling to move as he pried them away. Whew. They’d survived the encounter and, reaching for the oars again, he could finally—

Oh, not again.

The thing’s head moved closer to him, closer, closer, until he felt the hard, smooth beak on his cheek and the back of his jaw. For how big and powerful the creature was, he was surprised by how gentle the contact was. How controlled. It whispered something to him, something he didn’t understand but made a forceful effort to commit it to memory for later pondering when his heart wasn’t in his mouth. Only one word, the last, was intelligible to him. Death. Some logical part of him decided that couldn’t be anything good, but at the moment he had other things to think about.

And then it was gone.

Uban stared after it, unmoving, mouth still open. He sat like that for a long time before he blinked and found his voice again. He looked at Pieter, wide eyed. “The hell…?” A few more stunned breaths and then, “I offered up a fucking song? A giant drunk beast of the marine underworld demands a secret from me and I give him William fucking Taylor?? AND YOU LET ME?” He gave a loud, very nervous laugh. “Good grief, Pieter, warn me next time! I mean, what am…what did…you gotta start teaching me what to do in situations like this. I mean….sun and stars…” He put his head in his hands, still chuckling. As he ran his hands over his hair, a little tiny bolt of static jumped out from between his fingers like snake fighting to escape them. His eyes remained bright gold. ‘I think I’m just happy to be alive. Confused, definitely. But still breathing.” He put his hands down on his knees and another arc leapt up, buzzing for a half second before popping out of existence. Noticing, he shook his hands like trying to get water off them and said, “Sorry, sorry, ack! I sometimes start sparking when I’m uh, you know, really really nervous. Like a bloody wool blanket in winter, damn.”

He grabbed the oars again, this time actually managing to plant them in the water and get some force behind them. The effort felt good; it gave somewhere for his nervous energy to go. “So um…..you gonna tell me what that was..?”

—

Berlin paced a little, pretending to check the level of oil in the nearest deck lamp just to give him something to do. It was an unsatisfying action so instead he pulled out his flask from his vest and took a hearty pull from it. He hated waiting. Especially now the he felt like cleaving heads for once. He didn’t usually feel the urge, and that seemed to be his trademark among pirates. When he’d been a young bosun on pirate captain Torvold’s ship Chance’s Folly many years ago, Torvold had once said, “Berlin? Aye, the one who could tear a man in half but don’t want to. That’s him there.”

Except this time he did want to. Berlin didn’t know all of Wheel’s story and he never pressed, but he knew the man had experience with the Barizians and he guessed not all of it was good. Uban, too, had narrowly avoided being sold off to them, saving himself only by escaping from the prison that specialized in taking those of magical blood, and who had an ongoing relationship with slavers of all sorts. And Rohaan… It was enough to make him truly angry. The fact that they not only destroyed a humble fishing town and took captives, captives that were likely being slaughtered as they waited, and that they had marked the majority of his crew in one way or another made him furious. Nobody touched his crew and got away with it.

Nobody.

—

Wheel’s words were of some comfort to Rohaan, though deep down he was still fighting the lurking anxiety of having to face his enemy again. They would try. Many people in the world had. He’d been captured, beaten, starved, and when he’d escaped he’d been kicked at, almost stabbed once, clobbered, trampled, swatted.....the list went on. And even under Berlin’s care he’d been battered a bit in fights and, more recently, shot. The world had tried to kill him and it wouldn’t stop. He knew. And there was no way he’d let that happen.

After shaking out his limp muscles he struggled one item at a time to put the gear away, and then slunk away like an injured dog to lick his wounds. He swiped a bit of salt pork from the foodstores and, not feeling up to climbing the ropes to his own hammock up in the crow’s nest, he settled on Uban’s hammock and lay there, spread eagle like he’d died. He felt like he had. Though through the fear and anxiety he did feel a measure of pride for what he’d done. He was horrible with a shield and equally so with a sword, but at least he was decent with a knife.

Everything felt loose, like the fibers holding his body together had come undone. And now that the adrenaline had passed, he felt every single one of Wheel’s “lessons” on his arms and ribs and legs. He’d be a mass of pallid bruises by tomorrow, and some of the earlier ones were already beginning to show through hot pale welts. Unlike humans, bruises on him showed as white and sometimes ugly green or yellow around the edges, not black and blue. As the ship rocked slowly the hammock also swayed with it, back and forth. It made him feel like he was floating. He lit no lamp down in the crew’s quarters but was content to lay in the darkness and listen to the gentle sound of creaking timbers.

Pieter bent his head to pack his pipe, thinking about the tight knot in his chest and what it meant. His hands were wet with spray as he carefully struck the match he'd won off Wheel in a card game. Uban sat across from him, babbling. Relief and accusation and wonder wrapped in one. "You went into this meeting blind because I cannot prepare you for what lurks beneath the waters. I have not met a tenth of what dwells below. I have heard legends and I have seen things, and everything I have seen defies legend. I can arrange some precautions, but I cannot prepare you." There was venom in his voice. "Because I cannot pretend that you can be truly prepared." He reached behind himself, withdrew a hidden brace of pistols. Set them heavily down between them. He looked squarely at the youth as he drew from his pipe. Exhaled. "I couldn't counsel you when the turtle had arrived. Speaking in such a way before them is dangerous." Adjusting himself so that he lay flat on the board, he said, "Well boy. You met your first turtle. The one we spoke to was middle aged, perhaps 500 years old. They're an old race. They like to be left alone, but they'll be polite if you bring gifts. They're wise, and will answer your questions if the gift- or sacrifice- is big enough." He fell silent and looked to where the Borealis should be. "What you did, when you sang. That was dangerous. It worked, so don't forget it. But that was an unneeded risk." He chuckled, "If you don't have any secrets boy, don't worry. They'll come along soon enough."

---

Hanna descended to her cabin, muttering to herself as she considered the tasks ahead.

---

Wheel passed Hanna as she descended the stairs. Grabbing her by the arm, he spun her to him. "What do you know about blood magic?"

For a while, the only word Uban really heard was “Sacrifice”. Once again he remembered when the great beast opened its pointed maw, and the smell of its breath and the wide, open space of darkness that was its interior. He thought for sure it would clamp down on him for his insolence. What he did was pretty stupid. And if he’d been thinking about it longer he probably would have told the creature that he could hold lighting in his hands and call it to heel like an obedient dog. And then done his best to live up to that description. But no. In his panic and stupidity he nearly got himself killed. Nearly.

Uban eyed the pistols, wondering how their presence had slipped his notice—even before the turtle came. And what exactly had he planned to do with them...? It’s not like shooting the turtle would have done anything...unless he shot the eye, and that would blind it. But they’d both die.

“Unnecessary? So you mean to tell me there was a right answer to that? What was I supposed to say?” He was glad of the oars as he paddles back to the ship. Their sloshing gave him a rhythmic sound to ground him and the effort gave him somewhere to put his energy. No more stray tentacles of lightning squeezed out of his fingers, though his eyes hadn’t yet gone fully green.

Uban sighed in concert with the moaning of the oars. “I get that you can’t prepare me for everything...” he looked down at the passing blue water below him, noting how empty it seemed. Yet he knew somewhere down there was a turtle the size of a galleon at least, lurking without sound or ripple or bubble. “But you can at least tell me what exactly we’re going to summon from the depths when you’ve got a mind to ask it questions? I mean c’mon, don’t they got books on this? Not that I’m great with letters anyway, but—“ he shrugged helplessly. “C’mon you gotta give me something. Throw me a bone, Pieter...What if next time I offend the shit out of something and we both die? Y’know? How did you learn?”

And Uban recalled an albeit hazy memory of the two of them on the beach after the mermaids, after Uban felt like his heart had been grasped with warm, comforting hands and then mercilessly plunged into icy black water. Pieter had told him how he learned about mermaids. And suddenly he regretted asking the question. The answer, he guessed, was probably not a happy one.

He shook his head, letting his lips flap together like a horse as he sighed. “I don’t know, Pieter. I just feel a little out of my league here. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want to be your apprentice—I do. I really do. I just...do you....do you think I’m cut out for it? Truthfully?” Uban wanted to be. He was unsure when Pieter had first asked him but since he’d had time to mull it over, and especially now that he was beginning to understand just how vast the ocean really was, he decided it was really something he wanted. He had never made anything of himself, not once in his life. And he’d gone from being one kind of lowborn sap to another, if not progressively lower. Murderer of one of his good friends was a hard reputation to fully shake off, even though he’d killed since. This was a chance for him to actually accomplish something. Be someone. But....he thought of the turtle. It’s mouth. Those eyes. And his asinine offering. Would be he be so lucky the next time?

—

Rohaan was already asleep. Not deeply, but enough that his dreams of warped reality made it difficult for him to reconcile where he was when the sound of footsteps coming below woke him. He moaned a little in indignation and then with a grimace reached over the side of the hammock to snatch Uban’s wool blanket and pulled it over himself. His body didn’t seem to want to work like it should; it had been a very long time since he’d been pushed to that degree. But at least he got the blanket—a draft of air kept leaking in through the hole in his shirt where only a few days ago he’d been shot. Now the hole, the scar, and the iron ball he wore as a necklace now were the only reminders it had ever happened.

He shut his eyes, allowing himself to fall back asleep more intentionally this time, when he heard heavy footsteps—either Wheel or Berlin by the weight of them—and then..... Wheel had asked Hana (or he guessed it was her by the much lighter, shod footsteps) about blood magic.

Rohaan didn’t know much about it himself, just that it was something that existed. But he knew why Wheel was asking. Barizians. He kept his eyes closed in case more could be gleaned by pretending to be asleep, and he listened carefully.

The smoke curling out of Pieter's chapped lips should have eased the knot, but instead it grew tighter. Listening to Uban as he voiced his fears, Pieter reflected on the mistakes he'd made because of his own fears. The priesthood had been on a long wane for generations. Every year, there were fewer priests, and the ones that remained were grayer. The sea took it's toll, yes. But less people were willing to pay. The old way of doing things no longer worked. He could not be like his teacher.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, "Aye, lad. I think you're cut out to be a priest." He coughed, took a sip of gin, and continued, "You're bright and charming, and the sea's taking her liking to you." His voice grew cold with memory, "I was taught by watching my friends die. I drowned, and was pulled out. I drowned, and the boy drowning next to me sank while I floated. That's how I was taught. We were worthless, and our only coin was our lives." He drew on his pipe, smelling the world through smoke. He exhaled, "But that's not how it should be taught. You're worth more here than you would be under the waves. Death isn't the only teacher." The knot inside him loosened, "No books, I'm afraid. Hana bought them all." He laughed, "Don't worry, lad. Those turtles aren't as scary once you see them so blotted they can't swim."

Hanahbaptiste shook Wheel's hand, glaring at him. "Don't touch me." She didn't have the patience for this, and she hadn't liked how he'd grabbed her. Hana eyed Wheel, the man was slightly shorter than her, she realized. He'd stripped off his shirt while coming downstairs- was he trying to emphasize his lean physique? Despite the chill, he was sweating from his exercises with Rio.

He put his hands on hips and repeated, "Tell me about blood magic."
"It takes a lot of dead people. Are you looking to do something with all the people you kill?"
He smiled without a trace of humor, "We're all killers on this ship. If you're trying to hurt me, you're doing a poor job of it."
She looked at him levelly, checking the surge of resentment and frustration with a cool, "What would you like to know?"
Wheel was briefly put back because of the question, but recovered himself and said, "How powerful is it?"
A hint of Elbish pride stirred in Hana's heart as she answered, "It's an outdated practice. The old blood sorcerers were quickly swept away by more disciplined magics."
"That's great, but it doesn't exactly tell me what they're capable of."
Hana furrowed her brow, "I don't know how to work blood magic, if that's what you're asking. But I do know that a single human could produce incredible magical energy."
"So it's like the old stories? Exploding cities and massive storms?"
"You can't store it, so you either have to use it all at once or waste it. Which is why blood sorcerers always destroy themselves. If you can only work massive spells by killing people, things start to backfire."
Now that they were talking, Hana felt herself losing the caginess from earlier.
"But the Barizians are doing fine, so obviously they know something you don't."
She took that back.
"Seven virtues, you're a dick."
Wheel pushed his jaw forward, eyes bright, "That's the problem with you. You spend so much time looking through a telescope you don't figure out that you're looking up your own ass."
Hana's blood pounded, "You're going to be sorry you said that."
Wheel laughed, "Gonna complain to the Captain?"
"No, I'll set you on fire."
"Is that what Elbar does to pirates?" He lowered his voice, mocking, "Is that what you're going to do to Rohaan after you're done civilizing him?"
Hana spat. She said, "We shoot rabid dogs in Elbar."
"I may be rabid, but I'm no dog," he countered, "Watch it, princess. I bite." He swept past her, closing the door to the armory before she could say anything.

"Fucker."

Hana went to her room to begin her work.