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.