"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."