Hours pass, as preparations are made and business is concluded.

Part way through the morning, a boy turns up carrying a tubular leather case, and a bundle of papers.  Morgan's map, and the notes used by Ren Mayhew in its creation.

People come, and go, all morning, and Donovan isn't sure that all of them use the door.  Still, he is kept busy preparing food and drinks for them.  It is a matter of pride with him, as he tells anybody who will listen, that nobody leaves the Blue Rose hungry.

At the appropriate time, the Rokt leads the way down to the harbour, and to one particular vessel...

Seahorse she's called.  A two masted sloop, in reasonable condition (though parts of her have clearly been freshly repaired).  She is also too small to carry all of the panthers.

Morgan soon realises that his road map may see some use, after all.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:58, Sat 08 Sept 2007.

James stands on the docks, enjoying the sea air (albeit somewhat corrupted by the less savoury odours of the harbour) and admiring the Seahorse.  He had something of a soft spot for ships.

Unfortunately, he preferred to be admiring them from dry land.  Sea-sickness was a flaw in James' constitution that had never completely gone away and blocked sinuses from his cold promised to make the journey even less pleasant.

Some quick work in the markets had found James with a few changes of clothes, a small pack to carry them in - and a much lighter purse.  The shopkeepers of Cadiniagart were keen to start recouping storm losses and James was rather too obviously in a hurry to haggle at any length.

"It might be best if you take your panthers by land, Morgan.  We'd need a small fleet to carry them comfortably.  You might also have the chance to meet your fabled Julian if your route passes through the Forest of Arden."

"Just try not to pick a fight with his hounds."

James smiles but his warning is serious.  The stories Bleys had told of his brother's hunts were scarcely credible but be it dog and cat or hellhound and super-panther the odds of a ruckus weren't hard to calculate.

Roman nods at James' remark.  "Aye.  'tis said that not a rabbit enters his domain but that he knows it.  Some say he feeds his hounds on human flesh - and his horse, too."  In fairness he adds "It is surprisingly common among the better war-mounts...."

There is still the matter of a plan - who will go by which route.  Roman has a suggestion.

"To try to simply sneak in seems foolish.  Perhaps it is better for those who seek to enter surreptitiously to hide in the shadow of another.  Think you, if I boarded the ship and arrived in demon-form it might make an adequate distraction ?"

"I've a mind to agree, James." The words come slowly, "Though loathe to return to my own version of travel magic. A woman reported it takes three or four days by land, but six or seven are required for Amber's ships. I'm sure her time require the use of your brand of travel magic, but I don't doubt a ship run by,"

 A short gulp interrupts. Morgan still isn't comfortable with the idea that Corwin is real, rather than something to curse by.

" by, Corwin has the same advantage. Are you certain you would not rather stay together, and take the faster route?"

"Are these the passengers what ye promised me, Vensh?" a female voice calls from the deck of the sloop, and the Rokt responds, "Dhat dhey are, Rhovane.  But it seems dhat dhere are more of dhem dhan I realised."

The woman steps up onto the rail, with practiced ease, and surveys the group standing on the quayside.  "Too many for Seahorse, thats for sure.  Some, or all, of ye'll have to find another ship.  Ye'll need to decide which it's to be, and quick-smart too.  We'll be sailing soon, so there's no time for lollygagging on the dock."

She is probably in her forties, with a square jawed face, and straight, blonde hair, reaching just past her collar.  Heavily built, but it seems to be mostly muscle.  Her clothes are practical; a dark red overcoat, worn over a linen shirt, and loose-fitting pants of emerald green, cut to mid calf.  Her feet are bare.

A broadsword, hanging at her right hip, completes her outfit.

"I'm Rovane Khorach, Skipper of Seahorse, and I'll welcome ye aboard.  Some o' ye, anyroad."

James speaks quietly in reply to Morgan and Roman.  He's still not quite sure how much he trusts the Rokt.

"I'm sure it would be an excellent distraction, Roman, but quite risky for you.  In any event, I've announced myself and I have no intention of skulking about.  Let's see if I can provide an adequate distraction."  James gives a grim, little, smile at the thought of the challenge before him.

"I think Tahirah should come with me, by ship, for the same reason.  Her gifts will be most useful in the open with direct access to the family.  But I think Morgan and Banglen-Yp should go by road.  Doubtless the group of us together has already been noticed, but the longer their true intent remains concealed the better."

"Which leaves you, Roman.  Would you rather come as envoy." James indicates himself, "or agent?" gesturing now towards Morgan and his cats.

At the captain's approach, James falls silent unwilling to continue in the presence of a stranger.  Still, he is as courteous as he can be.

"Hello, Captain, and thank you for your welcome.  I'm James and with your permission I'll be coming aboard.  Most of the others are here to see the Seahorse off, I doubt there'll be need to house more than three of us."

Roman sighs, and answers James in an equally quiet voice.  "For Amber it seems best to be open.    Luke believes that they will not do me harm.  If he is right the less I conceal the safer I would be....And your role would be easier if suspicious eyes were turned another way, would it not ?"

"But I will not be an envoy.  If word got back to Chaos it could bring harm on any I pretended to represent - or were suspected as being those I represented.   Dealings with Amber are deeply suspect, back home."

 

Having been watching the ship intently, almost staring, Banglen-Yp seemed nearly oblivious of the conversation around her until she spoke.

•• I have never gone by ship • and would like to do that ••

She still does not look away from the ship, nearly transfixed by the hull, masts and every other detail of the ship.

 

The Captain looks to the sky, then back to the quayside"Aye, well, the sooner ye're aboard, the sooner I can give the word.  If ye've still any doubts, I can tell ye that ye'll not find a faster ship in these parts."

"Nor in any other parts neither."

Something catches her eye, and she poinys towards some of the crew, who are dropping filled sacks down into the hold, "Mind how ye  drop them sacks!  No bugger'll pay fer lost cargo!"

She turns her attention back to the passengers, "Talking of which, Vensh's already paid for yer passage... "

"It was dhe least I could do."

"... so ye've no need to worry 'bout that."

Disappointed, but not surprised, Morgan acquiesces. "Well then, I expect I'll see you all see when we get to Amber." His leave taking is short. A shallow bow to the captain, a deeper one to Banglen-Yp, and he becomes a colorful streak amidst a number of black ones, angled away.

James looks briefly concerned.  It had not been his intent at all that Morgan should travel alone.  Well, he wasn't alone so much, having a small legion of cats for company, but still.  All the same he is not one to deny Banglen-Yp her wish.  Nor could he call back Morgan, who is already well out of earshot.

"Goodspeed, Morgan and farewell."  Out of earshot but not out of mind.

James looks around.  Roman and Banglen-Yp are close by, if Tahirah is present they can depart.

Tahirah stands silently, just a bit back, turned such that one can only surmise she has been watching the other ships along the docks, or looking out to sea.  Or perhaps she was simply waiting, already looking in the direction Morgan and his panthers would take.

Now she turns, ready to follow the others aboard.

She'd go first, but she's not entirely certain how one crosses the border from earth to sea, and would like to see it done once or twice before she tries it...

"Well,  no point in keeping the good captain waiting."  Roman marches over to the ship and over the gangplank, onto the deck.  On board he turns, ready to help the ladies if they seem in need of it.  With his Amberite blood, James is doubtless too proud to accept aid.

James, too, makes his way up the gangplank and onto the Seahorse.  His balance is up to the task, but he accepts Roman's hand out of politeness.  Once on deck, he takes a moment to look around and get his bearings before turning his attention to the captain once more.

"Could you spare somebody to show us to our cabin?  Or will it be cabins?"  James doesn't want to assume anything about the ship's layout or, for that matter, how much Vensh has paid for their passage.

Tahirah follows silently, giving Roman's hand a small squeeze in thanks as she crosses from the plank onto the ship.

"Aye, I'll show ye the way myself, rather than give any of them useless lollygaggers another chance to slack off."  Her words may seem a little harsh, but the grin that accompanies them says a little more of the truth of the situation.

She turns to yell towards a knot of men working to lash down some crates near the bow, "Tarrek!  Passengers're all aboard.  Soon as everything's squared away, make sail, and take us to Amber."

"Right y'are Rovane!" comes back the reply, accompanied by a wave, from a bearded man who looks older than the mountains behind the city.

The woman leads the companions aft, and down a flight of stairs, speaking quickly as she goes, "Afraid old Seahorse's no pampered noble's personal barque.  She's a working ship, and space is valuable."

The corridor below deck is narrow... so much so that people walking through it almost have to turn sideways to do it, and the ceiling is low too.  A few paces in, Captain Rovane lays a hand on the latch of a door on the left side of of the narrow passageway, "Here ye go.  We've only the one room for passengers, but it'll be big enough for ye, and if any of ye're shy, I can get the carpenter to nail one of the spare sails from the beams, as a sort of curtain."

The room is dark, with a low ceiling again, which actually slopes a little lower towards the hull.  What little light there is comes from a recess in the ceiling, which has small windows set all around the sides of it.  Wooden runners allow some of the panes of glass to slide aside, and several of them stand open, admitting fresh air, and the sounds of the ship.

Hammocks have been slung between the outer hull and the wall which separates the room from the cramped corridor.  The only concession to luxury is a thick woollen carpet on the floor.

"This is it.  Got naught better to offer ye, but on the credit side, travelling aboard this ship means ye won't have to sleep in here too often."

"Ye can get breakfast at the crack of dawn, a bite to eat at noon, and dinner at sunset.  Ye'll hear the cook call the crew for their meals, and that's when ye'll get yer own food too.  Simple stuff, same as my crew eat."

"Any questions?"

Aaron appeared, as if from nowhere, at the Captain's side. He took in the cabin with one measured, experienced gaze, and nodded in confirmation.

"I'll stay above decks, hell or high water," Aaron said, deciding instantly. "The rest of you lot are welcome to the cabin."

To the Captain, Aaron gestured above them.

"If you need help with anything, Captain, I'll gladly work my passage. I know full well that help from a trusted crew is better than some random stranger, but I also know that on a working ship, any free hands are generally appreciated. The offer's there, if you wish it."

He let that hang for a moment, awaiting response, before deciding to make his way above. Aaron would let his mind rove in history for a short while, but as soon as he felt the sense of shifting, he would cast his own senses into it, if just for the sake of knowing the experience.

"If anyone else would like to discuss things," he said to the rest of his group, "Don't be afraid to let me know."

"I'll bear yer offer in mind, but I'm hoping that, with that bit of a squall blown out now, we shouldn't run in to anything my crew can't handle.  If that changes, ye'll know about it.  Until then, they work well together... almost like they can read one-another's minds."

The woman looks around the cabin, "Any of ye're free to go on deck, of course, but ye need to keep a sea eye open while ye're up there.  If something happens, ye might need to get out of the way, quick'n'lively."

She thinks a moment, and then asks, "D'ye have any gear ye need to bring aboard?"

Roman answers the captain "We've been traveling light.  Everything has been brought with us."

He turns his gaze to Tahira and Banglen-Yp "If either of you ladies would prefer the curtain the captain offered, it would be best to ask now."

Tahirah weighs the question curiously - almost tantilizingly.  She's always had her own space; even as a child.  Certainly in recent years, no one - not even the Lords - would have violated her privacy.  She had even managed, quietly, through careful good timing and the unspoken politeness of the others, a room of her own at the Inn.

Sharing a room with others...any others...is strange; on some levels, disquieting, but on others, exciting.  Yet Roman's question startles her somewhat, directed as it is - the Captain offered in general, yet he specifies the ladies.  Do men have no concerns for modesty, where he comes from?

A possible answer, of course, is wrapped neatly in the question.  Where he comes from, evidently, people can change from people to storms; changing from one shirt to another must seem irrelevant in comparison.

She's crossed from Land to Sea; stability to change.  It's a good time to experiment; to break down established barriers.

For her part, she declines the offer with a flat wave of a hand.

 

Curtain.

Shy.

Banglen-Yp shrugged her shoulders, uncertain what it really meant.  There was a lot of things she still did not understand, and if the card-lady was happy without one so was she.

Deck.

Now there was a place she planned to be.  And then some.

 

"As Roman says, we're travelling light."  James punctuates the remark by stowing his small pack in a locker.  It can't be left to slide about if the seas get rough and the hooks on the wall seem reserved for the hammocks.

James is a little surprised that Tahirah and Banglen-Yp decline the curtain.  In some ways it would make James more comfortable as well.  No matter, it was possible to divide a room by time and habit as well as by fabric and James was happy to allow the others privacy should they desire it.

"I'll stay below for a short while.  I imagine you'll want the deck clear while you're moving out of the harbour."  James tells the Captain.

"Aye, we'd be grateful for that." the woman agrees, with a half smile, "It's good to see that some of ye have some little knowledge of ships.  Might make things a bit easier for all."

Her eyes go to the ceiling, as footsteps hurry across the deck above.  She edges towards the door, seeming a little nervous, "If ye don't mind, I should get back on deck, and see that all's well up there."

"I think we can manage here, Captain" Roman cheerily adds, although the quarters are a little more cramped than he would wish.

"You get back to your crew.  We all want a safe and a swift voyage."

Roman casts a dubious eye over the hammocks.  Some minor shapeshifting seems in order when trying to sleep in one of those.

The captain gives a bow of thanks, and backs out of the room.  A few heartbeats later, her voice can be heard through the small windows around the odd recess in the ceiling, "Put yer damned backs into it, ye shower of no-good lollygaggers!  Tarrek!  Ye've been letting them skive off again!"

There is a few more minutes of frantic movement above, and the sound of people hurrying overhead.

"Cast off, fore and aft!  Foresail only, Tarrek!  Slow and easy, till we clear the docks!  Lookout, keep an eye open for wreckage!  Damned storm made a mess of the harbour."

The ship suddenly seems to come to stir around the passengers, like some sleeping creature shaking itself to life.  The boards beneath their feet start to move with a slow rhythm, rising, falling, swaying from side to side...

To some of Seahorse's, this is familiar.  To others it is an entirely new sensation.

So this is what it is like to sail on water.  Interesting

Still there are questions and advice.
"James, if you're familiar with ships like this, you'll tell us when we can go up without being in the way ?"

"And Banglen-Yp, it'd probably be a good idea not to show your 'mean face' while we're on board.  You'll scare the sailors"  Probably scare them overboard.  I wouldn't like to try to manage this ship with half the crew gone,

Tahirah is standing with her customary sense of serenity when the ship starts to sail.

Then the ground starts to move.  The first, abrupt, change, doesn't sway her at all.  It's not so very different from when the occasional monster would crash itself against the walls of Charyk, sending ripples through the stone...like any native to the tower-city, she adjusts to sudden, unexpected jerking like that almost without noticing.

It's the continual, gradual, constant shifting which follows, that gets to her.  After only a minute, she sits down on the floor, right where she is.  She rests a hand flat on the floor.  The first lurch had been brief; she wonders...

"How long does this part last?" she asks.

 

Banglen-Yp smiled at Roman.

•• Why would I want to show them that unless we are attacked by swashbuckling pirates ••

It certainly sounded like a question, whether or not it was serious was another matter.  But then she slipped out of the door anyway, too eager to miss much of the events taking place outside.

Should anyone look out of the cabin or try to stop her, all they will see is two kittens quickly making their way up the stairs to the deck.

 

"Not ships like this so much," James answers Roman, "but ships.  And in every case I can remember the first half-hour or so is the busiest, unless we were to hit a storm."

"But I would try and head up after ten or fifteen minutes.  They should have the sails up by then and you'll get the best view as we leave the harbour."

James then directs his attention to Tahirah's question.  "By this part, Tahirah, do you mean sailing out of the harbour?  You don't, I think.  The rolling will continue until we get off at Amber.  If you're feeling...unwell, then I sympathise.  You might try lying down in a hammock but personally I find it helps to get up on deck.  Keep your eyes fixed on the horizon and your mind fixed on, well anything except your stomach really."

Roman can think of reasons why Banglen-Yp might prefer her "mean face" but doesn't say anything.

When she goes off to play - as is her way - he focusses on the others.

"I suppose the sailors must get used to it.  And it's less disturbing than some places I've been.  If you can shapeshift even a bit, lowering your centre of gravity might help."  Full shapeshifting may be beyond them, but small adjustments of body shape can't be that difficult, can they ?

While others discuss the journey in the cabin below, Seahorse moves swiftly to the harbour mouth, and then out, into open water, where the waves grow a little higher, if somewhat slower.

From where she stands, the Captain can observe all corners of her empire.  The crew hurry to obey her commands, confident in her ability to guide them safely to their destination.

She notes the presence of the two kittens, playing atop one of the cargo hatches.  They must have come aboard with the passengers.  At least this voyage might see a reduction in the number of rats.

A half hour passes, then an hour, and the ship speeds across the waves, and then heels sharply to port, as Captain Khorach commands an adjustment to the course...

 

Finding excellent use for the claws, the two kittens watched with great interest as the huge sheets above were unfurled, caught the wind and began to move the huge bulk that was the ship.  Especially one of them pays extra heed to everything going on, as if studying and taking note of every single aspect aboard.

As time passed they move about, played, observed and generally evidently enjoying themselves.

Eventually they could be found seated in a strategic spot where they might peek out at the great water upon which the vessel floated, they leant up against one another, softly purring in their little togetherness.

 

James takes to the deck in time to see Cadiniagart and her harbour slide into the distance.  He had intended to keep to his quarters for a while longer but his good intentions were defeated by an increasingly queasy stomach.

He stakes out a spot at the stern rail, having first asked the Captain's permission.  He was still getting his feel for the ship and while it seemed an out of the way spot, his proximity to the ship's wheel might make people uncomfortable.

Once there he puts his advice into practice, fixing his eyes on the horizon and his mind on a place much further away.

After adjusting his shape a little for better balance, Roman proceeds to the deck, after James.  He scans deck and sea, keeping an eye out for a pair of kittens.  Satisfied that the kittens aren't up to any dangerous mischief (right now) he looks to see how the others are coping.

With an amiable smile at her passengers, Rovane continues with the business of captaining her ship.  Passengers near the wheel don't bother her, so long as they don't try to touch it.  Better up here, than hanging about amidships, where most of the crew are working.

She squints at the sky, and calls across to those by the rail, "Reckon ye'll get a smooth crossin', at least.  Not normal for this time of year, but that blow must've cleared the weather out."

Then she looks forward again, "Tarrek!  To the wheel!"

The man starts back along the deck, moving quickly.  Then he stops, and bows to the two kittens sitting on the hatch cover, before continuing up the steps to the wheel.  Rovane shakes her head, "Still superstitious, Old Man?" she slaps the sailor on the shoulder, as he takes the wheel.

"Must do some good, Rovane, I's still livin'."

The Captain grins at him, "Ye might have something there."

 

When the man bowed to the two kittens one of them raised a paw and appeared to wave at him.  The other mimicked this moved and mewled a little, whereupon the first one turned to regard the other, seemingly amused.

The first kitten stood up and skipped after the man, taking up a seat near him to watch him as he worked the wheel.  The other joined up, and due to their small size they easily fit where they would be out of the way as well as able to see.

Once more the kitten seemed to observe and take note of what was going on, studying both the man at the wheel and everything else around.  Now and then it glanced out over the waves, momentarily losing itself in thoughts.

 

Tahirah stays sitting where she is, as the others, one by one, wander back up to the deck.  She's not entirely certain what Roman's talking about, but her center is lower when sitting, and that does, indeed, seem to help.

When she's quite sure she's alone, she slides herself along the floor into a corner of the room.  She's also not quite sure what James means about feeling unwell - she's just afraid she'll fall down.  After sitting for a while, feeling out the timing of it, she tries standing, and begins pacing back and forth inside the room.  Trying to time her footsteps to the pace of the rolling finds that it's almost regular enough; staggering to the side and becoming briefly entangled in a hammock confirms that it's not quite.

Practice; and feel.  She smiles a little to herself.  Stillness, Change, and Time - the Tides of Fate.  Water, Force, and Movement - Swimming Against the Current.  New experiences bring a greater understanding of castings that, before, had been only words.  Symbols whose meanings made little sense to her, instinctively.  As she considers it, her steps begin to find the feel of it.  Allow for the chaos within the order; find the stability within the motion.

Even as she begins moving with more confidance, however, she makes her way over to the barrels and crates, and sits herself down upon one of the barrels.  Carefully, intuiting the timing of the rolls, she begins to lay out cards upon a crate.

Tarrek, used to handling Seahorse, is adept at attending to numerous tasks at the same time.  It is because of this that, in defiance of logic and biology, he is able to keep one eye on the weather, one eye on the passengers, one eye on the crew, and one eye on the small cats, while somehow managing to give his entire attention to the movements of the ship.

The wind is quickening, now, further from the land, and the ship is forced to tack, but there's nothing unusual about that, at this time of year, in these waters.  Seahorse is making good time.  He looks astern, seeing how low the mountains behind Cadiniagart have sunk below the horizon.

His natural conviviality gets the better of him, at last, and he turns to the nearest of the passengers.  "I's thinkin' as how it were one o' yerselfs what brung the two little moggies aboard.  Good idea, that were.  There's nowt like a cat ter bring good luck ter a ship."


Below, in the passenger cabin, Tahirah attends to the serious business of learning to walk, for a while, at least, before settling down with her everpresent cards...

Roman is rather glad that James will be fielding that question.  It's too tempting to drop hints...

Everyone on deck seems to be coping .  The kittens are being good.  For now, all is well.

He scans the horizon, looking for traces of the Shadow-path the ship must be following, the subtle changes that mark the shift from world to world.

James looks up belatedly as he realises the comment was directed at him.  "What?  Oh!  Sorry, I was miles away."  Eventually his thoughts catch up, "Yes, they came aboard with a young lady in our group, although that in itself is more good luck than good planning.  One of them's a real hunter, small as she is, she'll disappear just like that.  So don't be worried if you only see the one about later."

James looks distracted, not to mention pale and even a little green.

 

The most curious of the two kittens seemed equally interested in the chameleon called James as he shifts to various shades, as watching the helmsman steer.

After a while, though, both kittens look at one another and scampers off somewhere else on deck, playing catch and nimbly avoid getting in anyone's way.

Soon they are out of sight somewhere, doing kitten-things, perhaps.

 

Roman studies the way ahead, looking for signs of a road across the water...


Near the prow of the ship, one of the sailors leans out over the rail, pointing down to the water, and yelling excitedly, "More luck, lads!"  A moment later, the surface is broken by a sleek, grey shape, leaping high in a playful arc, before returning to the waters with scarcely a splash.

 

Breaking the surface once more the sleek shape lets loose a series of whistles and clicks, sounding rather happy in nature.

In dives into the water again and races under the surface alongside the very bow of the ship, chasing its reflection and shadow with ease.

Then it is gone...

...only to appear close to the other side of the ship, where it launches itself into the air, doing a somersault with a twist.  With a splash it lands on its back and is gone again into the water.

 

The captain reappears on the deck, and speaks briefly to two of the hands there.  One hurries to fill a pail with water, while the other fetches a couple of mops.  Rovanne herself climbs up to the wheel, and squints at the sun for a moment, before looking astern, where the mountains are barely visible above the horizon.

"Making good time, Tarrek, that's what we want to see, eh?"

Her expression changes to a puzzled frown, as she continues, "I just sent Jags and Berst below to clean up.  The main passage were full of sand and mud, from somewhere.  Must've been more'n a hundred pounds of the stuff."

Tarrek shakes his head, he has no idea where the mess came from, and he isn't going to venture an opinion on the matter.

A look at James brings a grin back to her features, "Not got yer sea-legs, after all, then?  If it's troubling ye, I can get the cook to whip up a remedy he knows?

James speaks from his position hunched over the ship's rail.  He doesn't bother looking up.  "It's not my sea-legs that are the problem.  It's the sea-stomach I've never had.  More's the pity."

"If you think I'll keep it down I'm willing to try your cook's remedy.  I'll try just about anything once, particularly..."  James trails off, sounding very unhappy.

When Tahirah finally does emerge from below, she's walking smoothly.  Not as if born to it, but well enough to maintain an air of mystery.

That kind of thing falls apart pretty quickly, when people see you staggering to the side and falling in a tangle of your own mystic robes.

She looks around for a place to observe the sea, and decides James - an experienced voyager - has probably picked the best spot, since that's what he seems to be doing, too.  She walks silently over to stand beside him, one pale hand resting on the railing.

Roman can make a good guess where the mud came from.  She needs to be house-trained ?

He moves towards the rail where the others stand.  Quietly informing them, "We're definitely shifting, so I presume we're headed the right way."  Attempting to make small-talk he adds "Have either of you sailed on other substances ?  This is my first time on water."

"It'll be no trouble, and it'll work.  Sometimes we get new crew aboard, and some of 'em don't cope well with rough weather, at first, so the cook has this special recipe."

Leaving Tarrek at the helm, she heads off again, heading below, only to reappear a short while later, moving about the deck, berating the crew for their laziness and general lack of seamanship.  None of them seem to take her remarks seriously, and just continue as they were.

The cook brings James a steaming mug of tea, so big that he almost has to carry it with both hands, and advises the seasick passenger to drink it all, while it's still almost too hot to swallow, or he won't get the full benefit.


The hours pass, and the weather continues fair, and soon there is no sign of the land behind, not even the mountaintops.  And still the lone dolphin continues to dance around the prow.  A fact which, together with the presence of the cats aboard (even if they seem to have hidden somewhere, perhaps to sleep) is generally agreed to be a Good Sign by the entire crew...

With the passage of time the cook's home (galley?) remedy seems to do the trick.  Feeling a lot more comfortable, James leaves his position by the rail.  Passing close to the patrolling Captain he advises, "I'm going to our cabin for a lie down.  Pass my thanks to cook, his tea has been a great help.  I wouldn't be surprised if I skip dinner all the same."  With that, he heads below to sling his hammock.

"No," Tahirah replies to Roman, watching James leave.  He looks greener than usual, even after the draught from the captain...she wonders if he can turn into a storm, also.

After a moment in which it probably seems she's going to leave it at that, she says, soundig far more like an ordinary person than usual, "I've never been away from Charyk.  It's a little bit...overwhelming.  But I like most of it, so far."

Roman nods, gravely.  "I see.  Perhaps it is as well that we are headed this way, then.  Although the regions we have passed through have been somewhat..cosmopolitan, at least at this end of reality things are more stable."  Attempting a small joke he goes on "Still if you miss the monsters, the Black Zone could be worth a visit..."

 

•• What shall we do with the drunken sailor •
• What shall we do with the drunken sailor •
• What shall we do with the drunken sailor •
• Early in the mooorning ••

Banglen-Yp came dancing across the floor, bare foot and wearing some kind of white and blue outfit.  She seemed to experience no ill effect from the rocking of the ship whatsoever, and it did not hamper her dance, which was surprisingly well performed - a jig of some sort, to those knowledgeable in such things.

•• My mommy always said there were no monsters • no real ones • but there are ••

She stopped near her two companions and tapped the side of her nose, grinning.

•• The water is nice • you should try it ••

 

As Tahirah's voice emerges, it is definitely amused.  "I believe we are beset by monsters enough," she suggests.  "But perhaps someday I will visit.  Is that where you are from?"

Banglen-Yp's comment startles her rather more.  She knew the Worlds that the Roads wound along were, indeed, different worlds, with differet people and different rules...but she still has a hard time imagining how anybody could say there are no monsters.  "Water," she muses, moving on.  "The inimical source of life.  The sea combines Water, without which nothing can grow; to salt, with which nothing can grow.  It is...beautiful.  Terrifying.  Fascinating.  How does one `try' such a thing?" she asks, curiously.

 

Banglen-Yp smiled happily at the seer and said cheerfully.

•• It is not hard • just jump into it ••

She mimicked a jump.

•• But if you swim slowly perhaps best use a rope •• I find that doll fin makes for a good swim • though ••

Some helpful and honest advice, it sounded like.

•• You can adopt • yes ••

That one was definitely a question, aimed at the woman.  What it actually meant might be less obvious.

 

"Before anyone else goes swimming, perhaps you would like to tell us if there are any monsters down there ?" Roman asks.  "And, since we are moving between worlds it would not do to get too far from the ship - it would be too easy to get lost."

 

Putting her chin in her hand and looking up at the sky, the strange blonde pondered.

•• Other than me ••

It sounded every bit like a rhetorical question.

•• Not that I saw • but then • one persons monster is another persons pet ••

She smiled, perhaps happy to have been able to be of assistance.

•• Not sure we move fast enough • but if we do water skiing will keep you close to the ship ••

Another lovely idea, cheerfully offered.

•• But a rope will keep you close either way • and if you want I can keep watch too ••

 

"Shouldn't be monsters in these waters." Rovane chips in, overhearing some of the conversation, "If the truth be told, I was sirprised to see the dolphin, wherever it's gone to now.  They're not so common at this time of year."

"If any o' ye want to try the water, we can drop a rope over the side for ye.  But I'd say ye shouldn't do it just now.  D'ye see that crag, there, off the port bow?" she indicates an obsidian spire, jutting up from the ocean a couple of miles ahead.  Rising perhaps eighty feet, but no more than twenty feet wide at its base, it glitters in the afternoon sun, razor-edged and cruel as a needle, like a huge knife thrust up from the waves.

"It's called Tooth Rock, but not 'cause of the way it looks.  The waters at its foot are home to sharks.  Lots of the bastards.  As we get closer, some'll swim over to see who we are, follow a bit, and then go back home."

"Some captains let their men feed the things, or throw stuff at 'em.  Not me.  I don't see any sense in encouraging 'em, or annoying 'em."


Seahorse moves closer to the monolith, and sure enough, fins start to appear in the water, and great, grey shapes, moving beneath the surface.

Something else too... floating wreckage...

James is blissfully unawares of Tooth Rock and its lurid history as he slumbers fitfully in his hammock in the group's cabin.

At the appearance of the sharks, Roman comments.  "Not a good time to learn to swim. "  Noting the wreckage, he grimaces and adds "We should prepare for danger.  The sea lanes to Amber should be safe as waters go, but no sea is entirely safe.  This flotsam may be merely the result of a mishap - maybe it has even drifted in from somewhere off our route.  But it could be a sign of hostile action.  Someone may be attempting to block this route."

"And learning, I should need," Tahirah agrees.  She listens to Rowan's cautions, not entirely following the terminology, but grasping the gist of it well enough, as she watches the wreckage float by.

The ship skirts the dangerous waters near Tooth Rock, keeping well away from the savage reefs which are sometimes exposed in the troughs between waves.  The sharks accompany the ship, occasionally rolling at the surface, raising a dead black eye, as if to study the tasty morsels looking down from rail.

Tahirah looks out into the water silently, her fingers moving idly as she watches driftwood bob past in the water.  "The storm," she murmurs, after a bit.  "Not the Rocks.  The storm caught them, too far from shelter.  Far from here, worse than what was felt at Cardiniagart.  Reaching out like a hand; caught, smashed, and scattered..."  She trails off, tilting her head slightly.  "Scattered," she repeats.  "There is too much here, so far from the center.  This did not befall a single ship.  These are the remains of..."  She hesitates, and then turns to Roman.  "A Sailing?  What are many ships together called?"

Roman muses "Many ships ?  Could be a fleet or a flotilla or a convoy or only a squadron.  I think it dpeends on how many and whether they are warships or traders.  Can you tell that much ?  It might be worth knowing whose ships they were and what they were doing.  Amber does have means of controlling the weather around here..."

"There's places a little further east that likes to send their merchants out in convoys, escorted by their navies, the usual excuse being to protect from pirates over that way." Rovane comments, then shakes her head, "Most sailors've got enough brains in their skulls to realise that it's just an excuse to send a couple of warships out with them.  Being able to send their military to a foreign port makes a kingdom look strong."

She considers Roman's second question for a moment, then, "The weather this close to Amber's usually good, and better the closer ye get.  Mind ye, there's always storms around this time of year, and this year they've been worse than normal."

"Some of the lads reckon that there's trouble somewhere, and the gods're too busy scrapping among themselves to keep an eye on things."

"That's just superstition and nonsense, though."

She makes an odd gesture, a quick movement of her hand, touching the tips of her first two fingers to her lips, then to her brow and, finally, to the ship's wheel

Roman shakes his head.  "I've never heard of Gods meddling here.  But Amber does have that power.  THe question is, whether they used it."

Rovane shrugs, "Who can say?  I've heard more tales about Amber, and what her lords can and can't do, than my entire crew's had hot dinners.  I tend to take them with a pinch of salt, and try to avoid getting into situations where I'm likely to find out the truth behind the rumours."

"Always seemed like the wisest course to plot, d'ye see?."

She looks to the sky again, as if seeking reassurance that the weather still promises to hold fair, then looks back to the main deck, where one of the crew, a thin, stoop-shouldered man, is just making his way into the main passage.  He raises his eyes to meet her gaze, then glances at the nearby passengers, before stepping inside.

"So long as the voyage goes well, I'd as soon remain ignorant of what they can do, should they put their minds to it."

James remains safely ensconced (en-hammocked?) below-deck.

 

Banglen-Yp, at some point, has moved off and are alternating chasing or being chased by the other kitten.

As before, one kitten seem quite interested in the ongoings while the other is more like a typical kitten, although both of them do their share of stalking and ambushing unsuspecting prey.

Even so, they always seem to pick a sailor that are not busy with something crucial.

 

The cabin door opens, and one of the sailors enters, turning to ensure that the door is closed again behind him.  As he faces back towards James, he straightens up, losing the hunched shoulders, and growing taller.

"James." says Benedict, with the barest of nods, "I have new instructions for you."

A glance around the room, and the Amberite moves away from the door, placing his back against the curve of the hull, in a position where he can observe the skylight.

"Follow your own plan."

"So long as the voyage goes well", Roman echoes "Aye, but that's the question is it not ?  A convoy or a fleet wrecked by a storm.  Was it natural or was it sent.  And if 'twere sent, by whom and for what purpose ?  I would be a good deal more comfortable knowing, for then we would at least know the danger."

James rolls around so that he is sitting rather than lying in his hammock.

"Hello Benedict,"  James smiles in quiet amusement, "I was planning to.  But new instructions from whom, if you don't mind?  And why overrule Corwin?"

The answer was obvious really.  If James was trying to sneak into Amber there were better ways of going about it than taking ship.  James was much more interested in finding out the details of his 'new insructions'.  He was also curious about Benedict's defensive position: Was it Benedict's native caution or something more immediate?

Tahirah turns away from the sea, to face Roman.  "Those are deeper questions," she says.  "More than I might seek in simple Leipsomancy." 

She glances about the ship, and quickly decides that if there's one thing she's going to dislike about sailing, it's the lack of convenient seating arrangements.

With a small mental shrug, she slides down to sit cross-legged on the deck, and withdraws her deck of cards.  As she begins to pull them out and set them down, she makes sure to lay them out lightly - they won't slide too far, and she wants the reading to draw from the sea.  Her usual crisp triangles come out turned, cards slipping over to touch on other cards, but...it's a chaotic situation she seeks to discern.

Benedict, even leaning with his back to the wall, and speaking quietly and calmly, doesn't appear relaxed.

"Corwin agrees with me.  Too many ears at Cadiniagart.  So we gave you false orders."

His eyes briefly follow the sound of footsteps crossing the deck above, before coming back to James, "Hoped to get people looking the wrong way."


Rovane shrugs, "It's the season for storms.  They happen more'n I care to think about.  Aye... bad ones sometimes, too."

James was unconvinced.  Any heads that Benedict hoped to turn would surely realise their mistake as soon as James announced himself in Amber.  The only benefit would be to draw attention away from his means of travel - Ah!  Maybe that was why Benedict was tense.

"Fair enough.  I think I'd best go and warn the others to be on their guard.  I take it you wish to remain anonymous?"

Tahirah sweeps her cards back up and stands again.  "I see nothing to indicate... intent, behind the storm.  There is only the harsh chaos of the weather at sea."

She's a bit proud of that one.  She knows the sea is harsh, because she'd heard caravanmasters talk about it now and again - the comparison usually running that the monsters surrounding Charyk were undeniably vicious, but at least you could count on them.  The Sea, it seems, just doesn't care.

"But the fleet was made of up many nations," she adds, in case that's important.  "I sense no lingering threat to our own voyage," she finishes, directing the note mostly to the captain.  "But...there is very much that is random to the sea; I can say little with certainty," she admits.

 

As if on cue, a small kitten pounces the last of the cards as it is gathered.  Despite the lack of claw it seems proud to have caught something, even though it is neither a rat or very edible.

Before it can test the latter the second, and more studying kitten comes along and seems amused by the first one's antics.  It nudges the first one gently and looks up at the woman.

Almost as if trying to slide the card towards her it lets out a small and happy mewl, still holding a paw on the card but evidently not intent on keeping it.

The first one does not seem to mind, but starts to stalk the tail of the second kitten instead, its rear end lifting up in preparation of a devastating surprise attack, much like it just exercised on the unsuspecting card.

 

Roman nods.  "At least it is no threat to us,  Mayhap we'll have the good fortune to avoid danger before reaching port."

He doesn't add that the port has danger enough.

"Of course." is Benedict's short reply to James' question about keeping his presence here anonymous.


Rovane laughs quietly at Tahirah's assessment, "Uncertainty is the best we can expect from the sea.  Hope for the best, plan for the worst, and expect to get both, as the saying goes."

She watches the kittens for a moment, then looks back to her passengers, "If the weather stays as it is, which is not certain, by any means. not at this season, but if it does, we should make port late the day after tomorrow."

She kisses her fingertips, and touches them to the wheel.

"With luck."

Tahirah watches the kittens curiously, taking the card from the second kitten, and holding it loosely between two fingers as she finishes talking to Roman and Rovane.    "That is a good saying," she decides, as she settles back down to sit on the deck.

She gives the card a curious glance, before it vanishes back into her sleeve with the others.  Change.  Prominent as it was in the Reading, she's not surprised to see it again, though she had thought it was among the first she had picked back up.

She picks up a nearby bit of rope, and then follows its length to make sure it's not currently attached to anything important.  Confirming that it's currently just coiled on the floor, deck, she begins arranging the end of it into a strange configuration in front of her.

After a few moments, the rope starts to twitch, and then the end lifts itself up slightly, to wave somewhat randomly in the air before the kittens...

 

As the woman picked up the card, the second kitten released it - and the first kitten pounced the tail of the other.

After a few moments of wrestling and playful kicking and biting the two kittens stopped, locked in half an embrace with one kitten having placed a paw on one of the other kittens eyes while having its own tail partly chewed on.  But they had frozen in that position and watched the contraption take shape in the hands of the white-clad lady.

As the rope began to twitch both kittens, as if having trained this manoeuvre for many days, lunged at the rope, somehow untangling themselves in an instant.

Both of them missed the twitching rope and landed at nearly the same instant.  The first one hoisted up his rear and prepared to pounce once more while the second instead began to stalk the tail of the first one.

In this case, clearly payback was a fluffy little kitten.

 

The weather continues fair, and the ship seems to make good time, at least in Rovane's expert judgement,  With the rock, and it's sharks far behind, and no other landmarks in sight on the endless expanse of water, she still seems anle to judge their progress with some degree of accuracy.

At least, she gives that impression, and the passengers are in no position to disagree with her assessments.

The afternoon rolls past, in pleasant conversation, and the entertaining play of the kittens (followed by their falling asleep).

Eventually Rovane announces that dinner will be ready soon, and that the passengers can take it in their cabin, or on deck, as they see fit.


Below, James is alone again.  The cook's special brew has ensured that the amberite doesn't even have seasickness to keep him company.  His visitor, Prince Benedict, no less, has returned to his shipboard duties, with all the expertise of a man who has spent a great many years performing such tasks.

During the afternoon James reappears from belowdecks.  He spends much of his time as before, propped against a railing and trying to stay out of the way.  It appears, however, that he's feeling better and his face has resumed its normal colour.

He does make time to stop at wherever Roman and Tahirah happen to be and he spends some time playing with the kittens.  In each case his purpose is to deliver a short message, "Stay alert.  I had a visitor downstairs with a warning from Benedict.  There may be an attempt made to stop us reaching Amber."

James stays with the kittens longer than is strictly necessary, making quick, scurrying motions across the deck with his hand or twitching the end of a line back and forth to tease them.  James' enjoyment is tempered only by the lingering thought that one of these is not a kitten and the possibility that the stunning young woman is also nothing but an assumed form.

When dinner is called, James decides to eat with the crew.  He's not sure how much food he'll be able to stomach just yet but he intends it as a gesture of thanks to the cook and the Captain.  It will also give him the opportunity to scrutinise most of the crew.

 

The kittens found themselves quite busy playing with everything offered as well as one another and a few things not offered as well.  They leap like dangerous predators in a rather cute and cuddle manner, missing more than striking true, they tumble and roll, climb and stalk, looking ever so amused.

Then, as if on a signal, one of them simply fell asleep while chasing a particularly elusive target, right as he was climbing over the other kitten to get to it.

That kitten, the most curious and keen one, took this extra thick blanket with the kind of relaxed calm only cats can, although she did reach out with a paw to capture the tail of her kitten-blanket, stirring a few twitching paws and whiskers in return.

Not much later dinner was called and as if knowing this despite being asleep, the "blanket" woke up and bounded away, closely followed by the now rather well flattened other kitten.

 

Dinner, as it turns out, consists largely of bread and a sort of stew made mostly from fish.  To drink, there is wine, weak beer, or water.

Rovane eats at the wheel, and has the same meal as everybody else.

Half crew eat quickly, and return to their duties immediately, so that the other half can have their own dinner.  The Captain eats just as quickly, but the passengers are allowed to take their meal at their own pace.

By the time the second half of the crew have finished eating, the sun has dropped almost to the horizon, and the air is definitely growing cooler.

Tahirah gives a nod of understanding to James' warning, noting, "I have seen no interference yet."

She quietly takes her own meal to the cabin, eating privately.

Roman eats wherever seems most convenient.  The fare is simple, but that is to be expected under the circumstance.   In other circumstances it would be easy to snatch better food with the Logrus, but here that would be unwise.  Just as it would have been unwise on the earlier stages of the journey, before falling in with this strange crew.

The sun touches the western horizon, in a sky painted crimson, and broken up by narrow, black bands of cloud.

"Fair weather again, on the morrow." Rovane comments to any who are close enough to listen.  "Often the way after a storm."  Her voice and expression seem very satisfied, and an observer might get the impression that the good weather was something she had arranged herself, and that she is well pleased with the result.

And so, Seahorse sails on, into the gathering twilight, as the stars come into view overhead.  Constelations which are familiar to some of her passengers, as they draw closer to home, and wholly alien to others, travelling from much further afield.  To at least one, even the concept of fixed patterns of stars seems truly bizarre.

 

At dinner it had been the blonde beauty that had sat down to eat.  Where the material came from, for those knowing or suspecting, nobody knew, but there she was in all her glory, if that was what it was.


Later on she is on deck again, watching the crew as well as the sunset, smiling happily as if she knew something no one else knew.

 

With darkness falling, and exhaustion sweeping over most of her passengers, Seahorse sails on, into the night...

The great ocean remains relatively calm, and there is a shift in the wind which causes Rovane to reassess her estimate of their sailing time, and order that more sail be used.

Dawn comes, and the sky is pale and clear, as the ship pushes on towards Amber.

Not all has gone so well though.

It rapidly becomes apparent that the ship's mate, old Tarrek, has passed away during the night... and the mood on the ship seems subdued this morning.

When news reaches him of Tarrek's passing, James seeks out Captain Rovane.  "I'm very sorry for your loss - and the ship's loss.  We don't know your funeral customs and what have you, but if there's anything we can do to help please let us know."

James would very much like to examine the body for any signs of foul play but he strongly suspects that such a suggestion would be very offensive to the crew, so he refrains.

Tahirah also finds the Captain, although no one has told her the news specifically.  She stays a respectful distance as James addresses her, and then steps forward slightly, with one of her quiet bows that seem to be the equivalent of a schoolchild raising her hand.

"Where I come from," she says quietly, "It was a custom that some would request of me to spend a time of Solitude with the departed.  Many beliefs and hopes passed through Charyk; I offer no guidance nor blessing, only...company.  In respect for the welcome we have received here, I would offer this to master Tarrek, if you desire it."

Roman is unsure what is to be done - dying of old age is something of an achievement in his home realm, but it is less so for the ephemeral inhabitants of lesser lands.  Shaking his head he lets thos emore familiar with such a situation do what is to be done.

The captain nods her thanks to James, "We don't often see deaths aboard Seahorse that weren't through accidents, and we don't see many of them.  If ye've knowledge of how to prepare the dead for the last voyage, and how to send them on the way, I'd be grateful for the help.  I don't remember it perfectly, I know that, and Tarrek deserves a proper sending."

Banglen-Yp appears on deck, carrying just one of the kittens.  She seems to be her usual self this morning, despite the pall which seems to hang over the ship.  Certainly she is aware that something has happened, for she sits at the rail, staring intently at the faces around her, but it is entirely possible, from her expression, that she does not understand the meaning of what has occurred.

With Tahirah's offer, Rovane smiles, albeit sadly, "Are ye a priestess, of some kind?  Ye've the air of one, and right enough.  Even if ye're not, though, I'm sure Tarrek'd appreciate yer company, while he gets ready for his last voyage."

 

Letting the kitten down when it began to get restless - there were so many things to investigate after all - Banglen-Yp remained perched on the rail, watching the exchange between the others with big, round eyes that appeared to take everything in.


                                                                                Death.


                                        Fragments of memory.


                                                                                                                                                                Distant.


                                                  Alive.


                                                                                          Still alive.


A gentle smile spread over her features as she looked away into the distance, starting to hum on a quiet song, a slow song, both sad and hopeful at the same time.

 

Roman moves slowly to the rail, to stand near Banglen-Yp.  Who knows what the blonde will do, or how the crew will react ?

 

The blonde looked at Roman as he approached, and then, once he was standing next to her, spoke.

•• Hello Roman • what is on your mind ••

It definitely was a question, that latter part.

She tilted her head as she looked at him, the smile still remaining as before.

 

"A priestess?"  Tahirah considers that.  "Something like, perhaps."  She gives one of her bows, a bit deeper than usual.  "I shall be glad to watch over him a time, then."

Roman looks up, surprised that she's noticing him again.  Perhaps the novelty has worn off her animal games.  "Death, the different ways it comes - and how the living deal with it".

James looks a little uncomfortable, he hadn't expected to be asked for advice on how to hold Tarrek's funeral.  Still, he tries, "Well, where I come from, I understand that the custom is to wrap the deceased in sailcloth weighted with lead or something similar and to sew the wrap closed."

"Then there's usually a ceremony on deck when people can say something about the deceased - something nice about how they'll remember him.  I'm sure Tarrek would've, well, perhaps you ought to be one of those that speak.  And maybe toll the ships bell."

"When all is said and done the body is placed on a plank or board, you place it over the rail and tilt till the body slides into the sea."

"I guess for special burials they might've used good linen or one've the ship's flags.  I'm not sure."

James looks to the Captain to make sure he hasn't stepped out of line or offended her.

"Aye, that sounds pretty much as I recall it." Rovane says, thoughtfully, "I always feel like there should be more to it, though."

"Maybe it's just that I never feels quite right doing funerals."

She glances towards where Roman and Banglen-Yp are talking, a little way off, then back to James, with a half-smile, "I'll just go with what I remember, I suppose."

 

Surprised at seeing Roman surprised at something, Banglen-Yp was glad he was talking to her again.  She almost wondered if she had offended someone by joining the group on the ship, but she could not figure out how or why.

•• Oh • death ••

She nodded and smiled gently at him.

•• Yes • dying is a big part of living ••

A simple statement, said in a voice suggesting nothing beyond stating a fact.

•• In some ways the biggest part ••

Her gaze locked with Rovane's briefly and she sent a nod to the captain.



                    Then, a murmur.



 

"A part of living I hope to avoid for a long time yet..." Roman comments.  "I would count myself fortunate to live out my full span and die peacefully in my sleep".

 

•• Been there • done that • got the T-shirt •• There are worse things ••

All said with a straight face, and that slightly odd smile still lingering.

 

Roman shrugs, thinking Does she mean she's died ?  She's strange enough as demons go for it to be possible.    "Dying is somewhat final for most of us.  If the experience is not so bad, there is still the loss of what might have been.

"I know what you mean."  James agrees wholeheartedly with the sentiment.  What he doesn't say is that the Captain should be grateful there's time for a funeral and a body to be disposed of with dignity and respect; James remembers far too many left to rot where they lay.  His hand moves unconsciously towards his neck for a moment before he remembers that he is not wearing his dog tags.

"If you'd excuse me Captain, I'd like to have a quick word with Tahirah."

When they are alone James continues, "I'm probably being over-cautious, but if you do get an opportunity to inspect the body could you check it for any signs of foul play?  The warning I got has me a little uneasy."

 

•• Life is loss • why should death be different ••

A small shrug went with that deadpan statement.

•• Beside • what might have been is there with every choice made when alive too ••

She tilted her head at him briefly, before bending down to scoop up the kitten who came trundling towards her, as heavily as a kitten can.  She bored her nose into its neck, at which the kitten started to purr.

Then came a whispered statement.

•• Nine lives ••

 

Tahirah is quiet for a moment, perhaps weighing whether James's request would be too disrespectful.    "As you like," she says, finally.  "Perhaps while I am encloistered, you might arrange for yourself or Roman to watch, and assure that I am not interrupted without at least a moment's notice?  My attention will be... occupied, if I am to do this, and would not care to give offense."

Roman shakes his head at the oddity of discussing philosophy with this child-woman.  "A choice closes some paths and opens others.  Death, for most of us, closes all paths.  Look after your little friend.  Nine lives may not be enough for a young and vulnerable life, caught up in a war."

 

•• I shall • and he shall see more •if he so chooses ••

Most likely the strange blonde talked about the little kitten in her arms, as she looked at and mewed to it after having spoken to Roman again.

•• Life • per definition • is vulnerable •• It is the very idea of it • making it precious ••

Her gaze went to him again.

•• Even for ever ends ••

 

"I will keep watch,"  James confirms.  "I don't really mean for you to be intrusive or disrespectful, just if there's something obvious or it doesn't feel right.  I don't know."

While Banglen-Yp and Roman discuss the meaning of Life, the Captain shows James and Tahirah to where Tarrek lays.  For lack of any better place, he has been moved to the hold, while the ship's carpenter works on a coffin for him.

The body iw wrapped in a thin wool blanket, and rests on a couple of boards laid across a pair of trestles.

There is a definite atmosphere on Seahorse this morning, obvious to everybody (except, perhaps, Banglen-Yp).  The crew are working at their various tasks, though they are unusually subdued.

"The less vulnerable my life is, the better I like it" declares Roman, not mentioning that that is the attitude that got him into this situation.

And so, as Tahirah works in the hold, ostensibly preparing Tarrek for his funeral, James sits on close to the open hatch which provides all the light that the white robed woman has to work with.

Roman and Banglen-Yp are discussing vulnerability and life, though the strange woman seems more occupied with what is happening around her, everything from the constantly changing, yet immutable, ocean itself, to the work of the crew, and the antics of the kitten which seems to accompany her wherever she goes.

Captain Rovane smiles briefly at the sight of the small cat, followed by a frown, as she wonders where the other one has disappeared to.  She hopes it hasn't fallen overboard and drowned.  A bad omen like that, at about the same time that Tarrek passed away, would likely see her looking to hire a lot of new crew at Amber.

James, true to his word, keeps watch from the hatchway above while Tahirah conducts whatever ministrations she feels appropriate.  There's not much to watch; sailors are a pretty superstitious bunch and James thinks it unlikely that they'll try to interrupt.

He does spot the Captain's worried frown and makes a mental note to ask Banglen to put in an 'appearance' at the funeral.

Tahirah stands quietly beside the body, the way someone might stand by a friend in a coma.  Not really with the expectation of awareness on the friend's part, but...just in case.

Time passes, and the ship moves on, cutting through the waves at a good pace.  If not for the corpse in the hold, her crew would probably be in good spirits.

An island slides by, a couple of miles to starboard, and the cries of a seabird colony carry across the intervening distance... many thousands of them circling the cliffs and plunging deep into the water below in search of food.  Rovane makes a course correction, turning the ship hard to port, and holding to the new heading as the island drops away to stern...

 

The strange blonde - it is what she is at the moment, at least - only smiled and Roman.  As time passed she watched everything around her, as if trying to memorise it.

Her eyes trailed the island.


                                        Islands in the stream

                                                                                                                        That is what we are

                                                                                No one in-between

                                                                                                                                                                How can we be wrong


                                                            Sail away with me to another world


          Another world.

 

Tahirah hums quietly to herself.  Or maybe it's to the corpse.

One of the mariners steps up to the wheel, where he engages in quiet conversation with the ship's captain.  It only takes a few minutes, but when it's over, Rovane hands the wheel over to him and steps away.  She makes her way around the deck, stretching, yawning, and stopping every so often to watch the activities of her crew-

Still, there is the subdued atmosphere, but the men are, at least, performing their duties.

Eventually she reaches the spot where Roman and Banglen-Yp are talking.  She greets the two passengers, "We make good time this morning.  Maybe Terrek's spirit pushes the wind into the sails."  No sooner are the words out of her mouth than her expression falls, and she glances at the nearest of the sailors, to see if there is any sign that any of them have heard her.  Then a quick change of subject...

"Did ye have a comfortable night?"


At the hold, James sits near the hatch, keeping watch, while Tahirah does her mysterious work with the deceased Tarrek...

"I slept well enough, Captain" Roman replies. "Whatever the reason for the fair wind, it is good news.  Our errand is urgent, and the sooner we arrive the happier I will be". And it gets the waiting over...I hope that the Amberites won't be too hostile...

Time has passed, and continues to do so.

Finally, after a time which seems much longer than it really is, Tahirah emerges from the hold.

Rovane notes the white robed woman's reappearance, and with a nod to Roman and the quietly thoughtful Banglen-Yp, she hurries across to speak to James and Tahirah.  "Is all well?  Can we start the funeral?"  Her expression is hopeful, as if she wants to get this matter ended as soon as possible,