"There are plenty of options avaible," Captain Nora was telling them as she limped through the harbor. "Cog, carrack, longship, junk, so many choices. Hard to decide. I think I'd like my first ship to be something worth remembering, convenience of acquisition aside."

  Sara was trailing behind Nora with Evie and Hurlish, taking in the sights of Port Agrith. Positioned a fair bit northward of Hagos, it was one of the rgest port cities along the retively undeveloped coast of Sporatos. Evie served as their tour guide, expining that most of Sporatos' coastal territory had been seized within the st hundred years. Scattered city states had failed to unite before they were conquered piecemeal, then had their cultures shattered as they were subjected to forced migration, native poputions repced by Sporaton immigrants. The king's family had been slow in developing the nd ever since, one of Evie's mother's greatest irritations. King Sporatos simply didn't recognize the trading opportunities presented by such vast coastal territory, preferring to continue preparing for territorial conquests.

  Ironically, her mother's patronage of the coast meant that Evie was more familiar with Port Agrith than she had been with the capital city she'd lived her entire life in. She'd read through countless reports from her mother's agents in the city and had penned off instructions for the city's development near weekly. Had her mother's House not colpsed, Evie probably would have been treated more like royalty by Port Agrith's authorities than the King himself.

  Though she found the history lesson interesting in an abstract way, Sara's attention was far more focused on the ships they strolled past. They were a mixed medley of sails and wooden hulls, resembling a mishmash of cultures that Sara didn't know enough about to name from Earth. She guessed that, regardless of world, there were natural avenues of development oceangoing ships followed. Some, the ones Nora called junks, seemed vaguely East Asian to Sara, while the 'carracks' looked like the paintings of Christopher Columbus's fleet she'd seen back in school. She was sure that there were all kind of differences between her history's ships and Port Agrith's that someone more knowledgeable would point out, but she was clueless.

  There were also a select few ships whose style Sara had never seen even remotely attempted by Earth ships. They were the rarest and richest in the harbor, clustered together like they'd arrived as a group. Sara had to assume their construction was magical, because they had impossibly thin hulls that barely scraped the water, stabilizing skiffs attached by reedy poles on either side to prevent their narrow bodies from capsizing at the slightest breeze. They each sported two rge sails, near the front and back, and looked like they could have given a motorboat a run for their money. Their rge ft decks seemed to have only one floor below them, so most of the crew were milling about above, busying themselves with maintenance during their brief stay in port.

  "So, Champion," Nora said as they walked. "Which ship would you prefer?"

  "You're the expert," Sara said. "And don't call me that in public." She reconsidered. "Actually, don't call me that in general, it's weird. I'm Sara, remember."

  "Yes, yes," Nora replied. "But which ship do you prefer, Sara?"

  "A fast one? I assume those fancy ones are out of the picture. Those are nothing like the boats I knew back at home, at least in the history books. The ones I knew in real life didn't even use sails."

  "Interesting tidbit, that, one I'll be sure to investigate ter, but in the meantime we four must make a decision. After all, taking control won't come easy."

  "And there it is!" Hurlish crowed. "I knew a ditzy type like you was gonna pull something like that, Nora."

  "Huh?" Sara asked. She'd not caught whatever Hurlish had.

  "She's not here to buy a ship, Sara. She's here to steal one."

  "A mutiny, most likely," Nora admitted in a childishly conspiratorial whisper. "We'll likely need a ship with a tyrannical captain or some such, to make it easier to rally the crew to our cause."

  "Oh, come on," Sara whispered back. "You spent your entire life getting ready to be a captain, and you didn't think to include a ship in your to-do list?"

  "I had one, once," Nora replied airily, "but it's seven hundred miles away, likely auctioned off as abandoned by now. My journeys took me farther afield than I expected."

  Sara wished she could cim she was surprised, but she wasn't. Hurlish was right; Nora was absolutely the type of woman to have assumed a ship would just fall into her p. They had no choice but to forge on.

  "Alright, fine," Sara said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "So we need to pick a ship that's not just good, but easy to stage a rebellion on. How were you going to do that on your own, Nora?"

  "I don't know. I had a pn before the archfae took half my mind. Can't recall it at the moment, but I'm certain it made sense."

  "Will you remember it when we get on the ship? You said you get your mind back when you're on the ocean."

  "Maybe?" Nora guessed, bubbly attitude undaunted. "I've not had the chance to test yet."

  "We could throw her off a dock," Hurlish suggested. "That'd get her to come to her senses, one way or another."

  "I'd rather you didn't," Nora replied, picking at her clothes. "This uniform is rather difficult to under."

  Sara stared Hurlish down. "And we are not ruining that outfit, understand me?"

  "Got it, nympho."

  "Master?" Evie piped up, returning to the group. Sara hadn't even noticed her leave, so absorbed she'd been in the discussion, but the catgirl was walking back over the mossy cobblestones. "I believe I've found a ship captain whose murder you will enjoy."

  "Oh?"

  Evie pointed to a ship three docks down. "A merchant ship. The captain is currently busy peddling sves in the market. She seems to even crew the oars with sves, so Captain Nora's criteria of a crew easy to rouse to anger is met."

  Sara looked to the ship. It had three red fan-shaped sails of equal size, like the ship Nora had called a junk, but the hull was long and rounded, sporting a more european-style build that rose higher out of the water. It was rge yet sleek, meant for fording waves as often as piddling through gentle harbors.

  "Ah, yes, I had my eye on that one," Nora hummed thoughtfully. Sara could imagine complex mathematical equations theatrically flying around the Captain's head as she evaluated the ship. "A dromon's sail arrangement atop a hulk's hull, with a galley's ram hastily retrofitted to its bow. A distinctive ship, if nigh heretical in its cultural mix. How well it sails I shudder to imagine, but with so many oar ports there is always a second option."

  Nora turned to Sara, hands on her hips. "As you represent the muscle to my plot, does that ship strike you as reasonable ship to acquire?"

  Sara looked the ship over. "I mean, it definitely looks good," she decided. "Slick sails, that sweet ram, and that dark wood all go really well together."

  "Master, I think she was inquiring as to the viability of our defeating the potentially numerous loyalists on such a rge vessel."

  "Oh. Then I've got no idea. What do you think, Evie?"

  The catgirl rolled her eyes, thinking. "If the sves are freed in rapid succession, numbers won't matter, but we may end up having to sughter more crew than is desirable. I know little about sailing, but have often heard that the loss of key positions can spell disaster."

  "That's usually true," Nora said. "A ship on the open ocean deprived of its core officers is as good as sunk. Fortunately, I'm capable of filling any necessary role, as well as training repcements."

  "Then I don't see why we couldn't. Hurlish, any thoughts?"

  "Eh. Freein' sves is good and all, but the captain's not gonna just let us do it, is she? Gonna be tough. Bet we can manage, though. I'd give us better than even odds."

  "Perfect!" Nora chirped, spinning on a heel. The motion brought her into a stumble, one Sara had to pull her out of. The woman continued talking, undaunted. "Shall we go negotiate passage with the captain?"

  "I guess. Lead the way, Evie."

  The feline guided them through an alleyway, finding the market where their chosen ship's captain was just concluding her final sale. The woman's face had been stapled into a permanent scowl by a lip-rending scar, though with the way she growled and spat every word, Sara doubted an inability to smile was limiting to her.

  Sara tried to talk to the Captain herself, but she was immediately foisted off onto one of the crew, who disinterestedly gave them a price and time for the ship's departure. The captain worked nearby, already having forgotten their presence. The price seemed ridiculous to Sara, but she agreed anyway. It shouldn't have been much of a concern, not when they were pnning to stab the woman in the back and take everything she owned, but Sara's pride rankled at having someone think they got one over on her. The Champion of Amarat, while unskilled in many things, was not the kind of woman who was bad at haggling. She bit her tongue anyway, because the crew and captain thinking she was an idiot was helpful.

  They learned that the ship was called the Crossed Glory, having been half-built by a construction company that went under, then purchased on the cheap and finished by a rival, expining its odd design. The Captain's name was Tangletooth, a moniker that Sara recognized by gut instinct as self-decred. No crew would call their captain such an obvious insult, which meant it was supposed to be intimidating, and since there wasn't a single fw to her teeth, she knew the captain hadn't been dubbed it by her defeated enemies or anything equally dramatic.

  All in all, from her bck duster to unerring brusqueness as she swept away, Captain Tangletooth struck Sara as someone who was too zy and uninspired to actually earn the brutal reputation they pinly desired. She probably ruled with an iron fist, viewing the exertion required to crack a proverbial or literal whip as a terrible burden.

  The ship was set to disembark in only a few hours, hoping to navigate out of the port with the sun still in the sky. Sara and the others had nothing to prepare, so they arrived well before the departure time.

  What they saw had Evie keeping a subtle hand on Sara's sword arm, a gentle reminder to keep her weapon hidden in her bag. They'd taken off their armor, even Hurlish, completing the look of a group of naive women on their first journey across the sea. It was good that they had, too, because the set of Sara's jaw was tense.

  Sves were loading crates of goods into the ship, wearing nothing but rags. Those on the harbor were chained together at the ankle, passing boxes down the line to sves that were hauling packages up rope dders dangling from the hull. They had to bance their loads awkwardly on their shoulders, the threat of falling and whatever punishment they may incur ever present. What made it all the more infuriating was the long wooden gangpnk that had been extended to the dock, blocked off by the Captain and a few of her officers making idle chatter near the ship's railing. None of the sves dared disturb the meeting.

  "Why don't I handle the introductions?" Nora suggested, wobbling up ahead of the group. Sara held up a hand to stop her, hoping that it would be Evie or even Hurlish to make their group's first impression, but it was too te. Nora's boot excitedly thumped up onto the gangpnk. Sara cringed, waiting for the bizarre dispy that was sure to follow.

  But then Nora changed.

  Her boot heel nded on the gangpnk with an echoing click, her other wooden foot following smoothly behind. Her back straightened, pulling taut the wrinkles of her uniform, and her grip twisted on her snapped tree branch, turning it into a proper cane. Sara could have sworn she saw the Crossed Glory dip lower in the water as Nora strode towards it, like the ship itself was leaning low in a servant's bow. Sara felt the hairs on her arm raise as the wind whipped harder, a cold breeze sweeping away coastal humidity.

  "And who are you?" Captain Tangletooth hollered at Nora, interrupting her companion. "I'm done trading with anyone else for the day. We're underway within the hour."

  "A pretty ship ye got here, Captain Tilisa," Nora hollered, a thick and guttural Irish accent cutting through the harbor's hubbub. "A damnable shame about Olender's company, but Pester's Expeditions needed the windfall. Such is the way of business, aye?"

  "I said," Captain Tangletooth growled, "Who the hell are you?"

  Captain Nora stopped just before dropping onto the ship's deck, looking down at Tangletooth from a solid two feet above her head.

  "I'm Nora O'Gallison, she who paid for passage to Tulian on your pretty ss here. I've known finer, maybe, but none quite so unique." She tapped the toe of her boot in three sharp clicks on the railing, which once more echoed impossibly in the open air. "What's that? Lumber outta Alivan or Silven?"

  "Silven," Tangletooth answered reflexively, then scowled. "You got captain's threads on your shoulders, O'Gallison. What are you doing booking passage on my ship?"

  "Some baleful time spent away from the sea spat me out without a vessel. Got one supposed to find me somewhere 'tween here and Tulian, and I frankly cannae wait to be behind the wheel. Underway in an hour, ye said?"

  "Yes, if the damned crew don't fuck things," Tangletooth spat, words clipped as she gred at the sves on the docks.

  "Crew, ye say?" Captain Nora's eyebrow rose for a moment. "And here I thought they were sves, what with the chains about their ankles."

  "Sves, crew, it don't matter to them." Tangletooth leaned over the railing, voice raising to a shout. "So long as they do as I damn well please, that is!"

  Captain Nora's posture was unchanged, yet radiated imperious displeasure at Tangletooth's threats.

  "Permission to come aboard with my companions, Captain?" Nora asked.

  "Permission granted," Tangletooth answered, rolling her eyes. She gred over at Sara and the others. "Well? Get a damn move on!"

  Sara hurried up to the gangpnk, hopping up with considerably less grace than Nora had showed. The suited woman herself dropped down beside Tangletooth, cane tapping like a metronome as she began touring the deck.

  Sara ignored Tangletooth and the gaggle of officers around their Captain, going straight up to Nora. Evie and Hurlish were close behind.

  They all three took a moment to watch Nora as she moved across the deck. Her posture was military in its precision, the constant tripping and stumbling now absent. Her expression, while no less cheerful, had firmed. Rather than a ditzy child, she looked like a businesswoman finally taking her rightful pce behind an executive's desk, in the process of ying out every pen and every paper in exactly the right spot.

  "Well that was a hell of a change," Sara greeted. "Must've been one evil-ass archfey that gave an Irishwoman a british accent."

  "Aye. Talked like a feckless halfwit, I did," Nora said with a crazy grin. "Gd to be back to myself."

  "Nice to meet you, Captain Nora," Hurlish said, extending her hand. "'Fraid to say I misjudged you."

  "Nae, you didn't," Nora replied. Her voice had a new kind of cheer as she shook Hurlish's hand. More jagged, almost aggressive. "Just wasn't myself quite yet."

  Sara heard a sp behind her, and Evie snickered. Sara gnced back, spotting one of Tangletooth's officers rubbing a bloodied cheek.

  "What'd that guy say to earn that?" Sara asked Evie.

  "Tangletooth told her first mate 'that's how you act like a damn captain', and he replied 'so why don't you act like that?'"

  Sara ughed.

  "Ah, the joys of dissonant command," Nora sighed, smirking. "I think I'll be finding my ship well before Tulian. Practically falling into my hands, it is."

  "The sooner the better," Sara replied. "Wouldn't be hard to imagine a bitch like that working those sves half to death on the trip over."

  Nora's eyes glinted darkly. "Ye can count on her workin' them till they froth, Sara. The Crossed Glory's never had a te shipment under Tilisa's command, no storm or wind ever holdin' her back. Only one way that happens, and it ain't by taking it easy on your ds."

  "And you know that how, exactly?"

  "About a year ago I spent a week breakin' in to a harbormaster's office at night, readin' the logs by candlelight."

  "Of course," Evie said drolly. "Who else would risk their life to get an encyclopedic recollection of cotton shipments and fee disputes?"

  Nora fshed a cocky smile. "Any who want to be what I'm gonna be would do it, ss. And I'm still here today, ain't I?"

  "Barely. You'd probably have been left for dead in that forest if we hadn't stumbled across you."

  "And so I thank fine Amarat, whose intervention clearly shows the divine's personal vestment in my life's success," Nora said, saluting the sky. "Thank ye, Goddess."

  "Okay, I got a follow-up question," Hurlish interjected, plowing past Nora's grandstanding. "That accent. I never heard one like it. Are you pying it up?"

  "Perhaps."

  "Why?"

  "I like it. Adds to my mythos, y'see? Strange woman in a fine suit, speakin' funny while she tears your ship down around yer ears? Sticks in the brain, it does."

  "You don't have a mythos, yet," Sara reminded her.

  "And that's rarin' to change, no? My maiden voyage being the escortin' of this hemisphere's first Champion in two centuries is a mighty fine start to my biography."

  "So you're a glory hound?" Sara asked, not quite accusatorially, but getting close to it. "Not really interested in freeing people, or any kind of cause?"

  "Aye," Nora answered, unbothered by the admission. She walked to the far side of the ship, gripping the railing to stare out at the watery horizon. "I'm interested in the seas. The waves and the winds, and the roll of the ship 'neath my feet. That's what I'm here for. I don't think any one woman can know all the ocean has to offer, but I intend to see how close I can get. I got a good hundred and fifty years of life to toss into the waves, and I ain't gonna piddle about with 'em."

  Sara joined her at the railing. "Fair enough. I can respect a focused goal."

  "And what're yer goals, Champion?" Nora asked, taking her voice a touch lower, so it would be carried away by the breeze. Taking the cue, Evie and Hurlish backed off, stepping away to subtly discourage eavesdroppers. "Yer sve talks of freeing sves, and you have Hurlish of Hagos pping out o' yer hand. Heading to a dead city with fire in your eyes, talking of sughtering men as casually as cattle. Ambition knows ambition, Champion, and we both got a fire in us that'll burn down the world."

  Sara took a long breath, enjoying the view. The sun was a quarter above the horizon, just beginning to tinge the sky a tropical orange. Sailing ships of every kind slowly sliced through a painter's portrait, carried into the fading distance by the same breeze that tickled her scalp.

  "You've read plenty of books, Captain O'Gallison. What did they say about ships that kept sves for crew, like Tilisa does here?"

  Nora scratched her chin thoughtfully. "They're cheap. They're fast, for a short while, then they're slower than any other. Their crews are quick to rout and quicker to mutiny. They're the tool of the desperate or short-sighted."

  "So you won't keep sves in your ship?"

  Nora shook her head, her guttural accent fading to something more natural over the course of the conversation. "Nae. I'm not stupid, nor cruel. A knife in a sleeping captain's back is the quickest way to end a career, and I'm in it for the long haul."

  Sara considered how much to say of her pns, feeling the salty breeze blow. With Amarat's Intuition she'd seen Nora's motivations in the simplest of terms, and so knew that the Captain truly cared nothing for anything beyond her ship. That simple reliability would have made her a tentative prospective ally if it was all Sara knew of her, but she'd also spent a couple days traveling with the woman, and Sara's new self was nothing if not perceptive. She had a strong gut feeling that Nora would never, under any circumstances, take a route less than what she deemed optimal. And if she viewed crews pressed into service as ineffective, she simply wouldn't do it. Ever.

  "I'm founding a nation," Sara said, leaning close enough to whisper. "Turning old Tulian into something worth respecting, the first of its kind on the continent. No sves, no serfs, no peasants. Just citizens, without rank. A republic, but one where everyone votes, not just the rich. And I'm going to have to defend it to the death, because they'll come for us. Sporatos, first and foremost, but everyone else, too. They'll hate what I promise, fearing it'll inspire something simir in their own people. And they'll be right to fear it, because I'll be trying to do just that."

  Nora whistled low. "Some damn pn, Champion. Were you anything less than god-touched I'd call you mad."

  "You're not wrong." Sara slid along the rail, until their resting elbows touched. "We'll be a coastal nation," she stated seriously. "They'll come for us from the sea."

  "Aye. Tulian's cities were built with that in mind, but there's no doubt in my mind that their sea walls have crumbled."

  "We'll need a navy, Nora."

  "You will." Nora sniffed, scratching her nose with a thumb. "I ain't gonna be your admiral, Champion. Not gonna let myself be chained to responsibilities."

  "You'll still need a home port. A base of operations. If you start sailing at the head of a fleet, which I can't imagine you won't, you'll need recruits. A home for them, somewhere for them to keep families and the money they earn."

  "Aye."

  "And you'll need supplies. Wood and metal to build your ships, and you'll need shipwrights and carpenters."

  "Why can't I just get 'em elsewhere? Plenty of pirate lords headed fleets that they never paid a copper for."

  "Because those won't be good enough for you. I may not know much about ships, but I remember what they looked like." Sara reached into her Bag of Holding and pulled her sword every so slightly free, gripping its pommel casually, as if just resting her hand there. With careful focus she cast her newest spell, muttering, "Ta-da."

  Shimmering into vision above the back of her hand was a wooden sailing ship, one far taller and more complex than any that existed in the harbor around them. Sara could feel the spell tugging at her memory, reaching through time to pull details that she never could have seen from her half-mile glimpse while driving through Boston. Where the ships of Port Agrith sported lone, double, or rarely triple sails, the ten-inch floating illusion had a dozen billowing in an imaginary wind, ropes and pulleys spiderwebbing between them in a network of dizzyingly complex controls.

  Nora peered closely, a dangerous glint in her eyes. Sara felt another tug, this time at the nape of her neck, and the spell deepened. Miniature crewmen burst into silent motion on the deck, mirroring the motions of an old video Sara hadn't even known she'd watched. She became certain that her Champion's status was burgeoning the spell's potential, plucking at her neurons to draw forth a long-discarded memory of her in history css, eyes drooping as the projector's speaker droned on about the War of 1812 and the USS Constitution's role in it. Sara hadn't even known the ship she'd once gnced at was more than a tourist trap replica, much less one she'd heard of before, but the spell dredged up that decade-old memory regardless.

  Nora crouched to watch from closer, entranced, as the ship's sails fluttered, the entire thing leaning hard in a sharp turn. She was muttering a long string of complex terms Sara didn't understand, salivating over the dispy like a dog in front of a butcher shop's window. The ship sailed in slow circles through the air, rudder tilting and crew making furious gestures to one another.

  Sara found even herself shocked when hatches rippled open along the right side, dark iron cannons sprouting forth. A fg was raised, tiny fuses were lit, and Sara's eyes widened.

  She ripped her hand away from her sword, shaking it out to dispel the illusion. She wasn't sure if she managed to do it before Nora had seen the ship billow smoke and cannonballs, but she hoped so. Sara did not intend to introduce the horrors of gunpowder to this comparatively quaint civilization.

  "Nae, nae!" Nora growled, snapping her hand around Sara's wrist. "Bring it back, woman, now!"

  Sara ripped her hand from the Captain's grasp easily, a knowing smirk on her face. "You're smart, Nora, but even you can't have learned everything you need from watching that. You said your perfect memory works on text, which that wasn't. So if you want to know what I know, you'll base yourself in Tulian, and if need be, you'll find the notoriety you desire by defending her shores."

  Nora gred furiously at her for a moment, breathing hard, then suddenly threw her head back, ughing boisterously. "Ah, you damnable woman!"

  Evie and Hurlish, chatting with each other to look like they weren't guarding the meeting between Nora and Sara, gnced back curiously. Nora continued on, unconcerned with the attention.

  "Shoulda known tangling with Amarat's Champion wouldn't end well for me. Sinti woulda beat me senseless for getting lured into a trap like that. Sshed my sails and left me dangling from your tow line, y'did."

  "No hard feelings, I hope?"

  "Not so long as you're doing more than teasing a gal, Champion. Get me behind the wheel of a ship like that and I'll build you a new isnd from your enemy's scuttled galleys."

  Sara was about to say she was pleased to hear it when Tangletooth bellowed over at them.

  "O'Gallison! Y'got some old codger at the dockside, saying he needs to speak to you!"

  "Ah, that'll be Captain B'Leary," Nora smiled, frustration forgotten. "Sinti did say he was a determined d."

  Sara followed Nora to the other side of the deck, Evie and Hurlish folding in with their little group. Sure enough, the white-bearded man that Sara recognized from the previous evening's tavern was waiting beside the ship, sweating under the sun.

  "O'Gallison!" He shouted. "You said you'd say more when you were on the sea! Well?"

  "What're you asking after? I told you the old man said it wasn't your fault, didn't I?"

  "But you also said you knew why. I need to hear it."

  Nora gnced around at the milling audience, all of whom were in earshot. She took a deep breath, words spilling out in one long torrent.

  "Can't say it quite so pinly here, but the gist of it ain't hard to grasp. Your fnk carried nearly all the marines, and if you suffered the losses necessary to maintain formation the nding would have been a disaster. The real fault lied with the old man, who should have distributed assets more evenly, and made sure you had the freedom to maneuver. His habit of prioritizing rapid deployment regardless of an opposed nding's likelihood screwed everyone else. He never admitted such out loud, but I could see it eating at him every time it came up."

  B'Leary's eyes bounced along with her words, tracing a battle map he'd long since committed to memory. "Aye. I see your point."

  "Gonna stop bming yourself?"

  "Don't think I have it in me. But I'll stop drinking. I can do that for the old man."

  "Good. You living 'round these parts, B'Leary?"

  "I am."

  "Don't move away. Might have a job for you, someday soon."

  A whirlwind of emotions passed over the man's face. Excitement. Fear. Regret. Trepidation. Eagerness. Finally, whether naturally occurring or forced, he settled on determination and a soldier's crisp nod.

  "Aye, ma'am. Don't know how much good an old codger like me'll do you, but I'll be here."

  "Good man."

  With that Nora shoved herself off the rail, just as the st sve had finished packing their goods into the hull. Tangletooth whistled a warbling note, calling for departure.

  "Interesting choice, Nora," Sara said. "You sure he'll even be alive when you come back for him?"

  "He ain't as old as he looks, the years just treated him hard. And if I'm certain about anything, it's pilfering Sinti's old captains for myself. Ourselves, I guess I ought to say. No finer navy raised before or since than the Darkwater Horizon."

  "Funny name, Darkwater Horizon," Hurlish grunted, rejoining the conversation with Evie. "Almost familiar to me, and I never even saw the ocean before today. How'd they get it? Bragging they had so many ships they filled the horizon?"

  "Just so," Nora answered. "And bck sails on every ship. Sinti's navy coming in looked like a low-lying storm, it was said. And it could be fought just about as well."

  "It was defeated, though," Evie noted. "Sinti was exiled for the loss of the whole fleet, if I recall correctly."

  "It was, and he was. But anyone who bmes him for it was a damn fool."

  "How'd he lose?" Sara asked. "You talk about this guy like he was the best thing the world's ever seen."

  Nora shook her head silently, not willing to answer. Evie replied for her.

  "No one knows, Master. There were so few survivors found, and they've refused to say ever since. Most assume they were cursed somehow, compelled not to reveal it. Whatever it was, it cost the coalition opposing Sinti everything they had. So great was the cost that they couldn't hold their countries together, their kingdoms shattering. It's what turned the north into what it is today."

  "And people bme one guy for this?" Sara scoffed. "That's ridiculous. If whatever it was ruined countries, how was one guy supposed to stop it?"

  "'How could he not' is probably what people said," Hurlish guessed. "You heard how Nora was talkin' him up. He was the head honcho, the biggest, baddest bastard around. Who else were people gonna bme? Someone's gotta be the scapegoat."

  "And he wasn't the type to deflect culpability, no matter how much he should've," Nora agreed. "But what's done is done. Let's find our quarters and wait for the next storm, shall we?"

  "A storm?" Sara asked.

  "Yes. An ideal time," Nora replied firmly, pointedly not specifying what a storm was an ideal time to be doing. Sara could imagine that the word 'mutiny' was likely to provoke a certain reaction from Tangletooth and her officers, should they overhear.

  "What're the odds of one brewing up, though? Journey's not even a week."

  "It's the Tulian coast, Sara," Nora grinned. "A storm'll come. Not a sailor here doesn't know it."

  Sara looked up at the nigh cloudless sky, bright blue above and tinted orange beside the sun.

  "If you say so."

  -----------------------------

  --------------------------

  -----------------------

  Together they descended into the ship's hull, squeezing past the bustling crew of sves and indentured servants that were hurriedly shing down everything within reach. The first deck was mostly reserved for sves and goods, crates shed to the floor as a divider between the rows of oarsmen benches. Hammocks were strewn throughout the long room, ratty little things that the oarsmen could unhook from the ceiling to sleep in above their assigned benches.

  Nora seemed both delighted and disgusted by the Crossed Glory's strange design. The unusually deep hull, with the third deck entirely beneath the waterline, was apparently something of a novelty for a ship that relied so heavily on oars. It made rowing the ship far more arduous, but it was necessary if the captain wished to visit some of the rger river ports that apparently existed. Nora mented the junk sails and their dromon-esque arrangement, preferring a carrack's more modern design philosophy. She seemed to think those were all compints Sara would understand and empathize with, so she nodded along dutifully.

  What irritated them all, of course, were the sves. One by one they were tied to their seats, where they would stay for the whole of the journey. Food and water were brought to them at the captain's whim, and a single wooden bucket per row was provided for relieving themselves. The captain's and officer's quarters were above on the main deck, and were comparatively luxurious. Sara and the others would be staying in hastily curtained-off area on the same deck as the sves, their hammocks less moth-eaten but certainly not comfortable.

  One advantage of their ckluster dwellings on the Crossed Glory, a ship that was never meant for passengers, was its privacy. They were all the way at the front of the ship, or bow, as Sara learned it was called, and when the quartermaster wasn't preparing food right next to them they had it all to themselves. It was unlikely any of the officers would stroll all the way down unless they were feeding and watering the sves, so they could plot in private.

  Sara gave Evie the order to recall every detail of her mercenary trainer's lessons, specifically those regarding close-quarters fighting. The colr's enchantments immediately polished away the haze of intervening years. Nora, and to a lesser degree Hurlish, had been shocked that the order worked. Such fine control of a sve's mind wasn't supposed to be possible, the colr's dominion usually extending only to the body, but Sara had learned Amarat's blessings let her do more than others. It made sense to her, since Amarat was the Goddess of Connections, not just Passion, but Nora had seemed subtly disturbed by Sara's potential for toying with her sve's mind. As Evie began immediately drilling them all on the finer points of corridor fighting, Sara felt Nora's concern recede. The captain was a woman whose ethics drew from her practicality, not the other way around.

  After a few hours of reviewing in somewhat-obscured terms the best way to fight their way through the hold, Sara decided she had a better role to py. Evie had long since established her superior swordsmanship over Sara, and it turned out that Hurlish was actually a Level above the catgirl. She described it as her sixth "Growth", which called to Sara's mind a tumor, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing how private the information Hurlish had offered her was. While most of the orc's specific Skills purportedly pertained to smithing, having two levels over Sara made her a better fighter by default, the gap wide enough by that point that only a massive dearth in prowess would have allowed Sara to come out on top. By the buffed-out scratches on Hurlish's armor and the dings in her hammer, Sara knew that there was no way she could compare.

  So she'd excused herself from the plotting, figuring she had a better way to contribute. She walked out among the sves, who'd rowed the ship out of the harbor to the beat of a bored-looking woman's drum. While not an officer, the drummer clearly wasn't a sve, and seemed to have been given the unenviable task of pounding out a beat for hours on end. Sara walked up to her, asking where the ship's freshwater was. After following a grunted gesture to the rearmost section of the bottom deck, she found a long pole with a metal cup attached to the end and a bucket beside a barrel of water. Whoever was in charge of watering the sves would fill the cup and extend it to a rower, letting them drink. Sara filled a bucket with fresh water and stomped back up the stairs, pole cup in hand.

  Th drummer had given her a disapproving look when she'd returned, as expected. Sara gave the woman a quick once-over. Bored-looking, wearing boring clothes and sporting a boring hairstyle, even the words coming out of her mouth seemed half-motivated.

  "Cap'n says the sves only get water when she says."

  "You're not paid enough to care," Sara replied, slipping a silver coin from her pocket and offering it to the woman.

  "A'right," the drummer replied, free hand deftly plucking the coin from Sara's hand. "But it's your ass if she gets mad."

  "Noted."

  Sara began walking slowly down the rows, giving each of the sves as much water from the bucket as they pleased. She made a point to ask each person if they wanted a second drink, an offer many took her up on. She wanted to give every one of them a proper cup and let them drink it themselves, but it just wasn't possible without disturbing the rowing. She chatted with them to make up for the demeaning spoon-feeding, offering idle comments about news beyond the ship that she hoped would distract them from their predicament for a brief moment.

  Privately, though, her mind was churning. Every one of the officers she'd seen above had been armed, and most sported enough scars to suggest they knew how to handle their weapons. While taking the ship was absolutely possible, since Evie had said it was, she was beginning to suspect that doing it without innocent casualties would be achingly difficult.

  So between the brief conversations, she reviewed her new Skills. Sara had actually leveled up some time around killing Lord Vesta, but too much had been going on for her to really process it. Whether the extra level had been earned from freeing Kate or killing the Lord himself she wasn't sure, but she at least had her confirmation that sex wasn't a pre-requisite. She was now Level Four, a rate of growth astonishingly impossible for anyone that wasn't a Champion. In a few short months she was nearing the same level as Evie, who'd secretly worked herself half to death for years under a mercenary swordmaster, as well as in the lessons of extravagant academic tutors her mother had hired.

  Sara's newest spells were Empathic Link and Heightened Disguise, both of which had plenty of exciting possibilities, and not just in the bedroom. More interestingly, however, was the change to her css. The small bel had changed, and a brief subtext was now present.

  Bindtwister of Amarat

  She who breaks unjust bonds as easily as she forges pure ones. My Champion has found her quest. May her bzing eyes melt cool iron. May her tender gaze warm cold hearts.

  A css with descriptive text was something that she'd confirmed with Evie and Hurlish to be unheard of. The fact that the description seemed to be personally written by Amarat and addressed to her specifically? Equally surreal to her companions, and Sara shared their disbelief in that regard. Her brief meeting with the goddess had been... overwhelming.

  She still often found her mind wandering back to it. The second she'd chosen Amarat for her patron the other gods had disappeared, leaving her alone with a goddess. The face that had bore down on her seemed to stretch to the borders of reality, like she'd been looking at a pnet from above. She'd been torn apart by the force of Her words, then felt herself reassembled, atom by atom, soul reknit into the self she wore now. The Goddess' breath had been intoxicating, filling her to the brim with notions of sex, contention, and the heat of sultry eyes meeting across a smoky bar, or locked on a blood-soaked battlefield.

  And now that entity, so unfathomably powerful, was addressing her personally once more. The abstract idea of her being a divinity's Champion was one thing, but to have that pounded home was awesome in the traditional sense. Filling her with awe and terror, like a child barely out of the cradle stumbling up to the crumbling lip of the Grand Canyon. She was gd that Amarat seemingly approved of her quest, but the st part, 'warm cool hearts', was a little bit like getting told by the Grand Canyon to go get id. She was pnning on doing it anyway, but knowing that her sex life was on the radar of an entity capable of snuffing out stars like candles was... disconcerting, to say the least.

  Sara was forced from her reverie by a triple-beat from the drummer, every sve's back tensing as they threw themselves into their rowing. Sara looked about, confused, until she spotted the boots of Captain Tangletooth descending the stairs.

  Sara quickly dropped the pole cup and water bucket, shoving them under the nearest sve's bench. The sve obligingly tucked them back, hiding the water bucket with their legs.

  "You!" Tangletooth called towards Sara. "Bring me O'Gallison, and any of her troop whose hands who are familiar with a weapon."

  "Why? Are we under attack?" Sara called back. Rather than shout across the grunting sves, Tangletooth stomped closer, one of her more grizzled officers following close behind.

  "No, we are not, but a ship has been tailing us since we left port. I would rather--" Tangletooth paused and leaned around Sara, expression shifting in a difficult to parse emotional combination. "Ah, O'Gallison, there you are. Have your companions come up onto the deck, yourself included."

  Sara noted with some interest that Tangletooth's animosity towards Nora, while still present, was suppressed. She hadn't pegged the woman as the type to have the sense required to set aside grudges when the occasion called for it, but she supposed the woman wouldn't have survived as Captain for long without some capacity for reason.

  "A ship following us out of Port Agrith, y'said?" Nora prompted. She waved to Evie and Hurlish behind her. "C'mon, girls."

  "This is a discussion best had above, O'Gallison."

  "Aye. Lead the way."

  Tangletooth stomped back the way she'd come, sves shrinking away as she passed. Sara saw the fear in their eyes. She'd known she was going to kill Tangletooth, but the sve's expressions helped her feel firmer in the decision.

  When they were finally up on the deck, out of earshot of any sve, Tangletooth pointed to the rear, handing a spygss to Nora. Sara could just barely make out the silhouette of one of the fancy magical ships from Port Agrith, thin hull bancing atop the waves like a water spider.

  "Been following us like a hound, she has. Set off as soon as we did."

  "Raised some fgs, I presume?" Captain Nora asked Tangletooth, adjusting the spygss.

  "Aye. Cim they're peaceful, but runnin' a skeleton crew, which is why they're slow. Supposedly hugging the coast till the Apethen Rocks, then making for the east."

  "Skimmer like that, running without crew? Don't buy it. They carry coin enough to hire half of Agrith's sailors."

  "Which is why I didn't have you come up here alone, O'Gallison." Tangletooth turned to Sara and her companions. "Which of you are fighters?"

  Evie and Hurlish looked to Sara, unsure if they should reveal their skills, which wasn't something Sara had any idea about, so she looked to Captain Nora. The woman nodded subtly, unconcerned.

  "We all are," Sara answered. "What are you looking for?"

  "A few more hands ready to get dirty, need be. Gods only know what a magecraft keeps in store for minnows like us, but I'll want all hands on deck should things come to blows."

  Sara suddenly realized that she had no idea what ship-to-ship combat looked like in a world before cannons. There was a single ballista mounted in the center of the Crossed Glory's deck, but that wouldn't be enough to do substantial damage to a whole vessel. Would they be firing arrows at each other, or using the ship's ram, or trying to board?

  "That it, then? You're just letting us know to be ready?" Sara said, hoping to avoid revealing her ignorance.

  "Yes. Be ready, have your weapons on hand. If you hear a whistle, come up armed or don't come up at all."

  "Simple enough," Sara said. She reached under her shirt at the waist, drawing from her Bag of Holding Hurlish's massive hammer. With a huff of effort she passed it to the orc woman, then drew her own weapon out.

  Tangletooth's eyes grew every so slightly wide at the sight of the bck bde, the mark of an enchanted weapon. "You aren't just a fighter, are you, girl?"

  "Yep," Sara agreed. "I'm a damn good fighter." She nodded to her companions. "And they're better."

  Tangletooth gnced across their group and scowled, shaking her head. "Magic weapons on my ship. I ought to have whoever sold you a berth thrown off, then yourselves after 'em before you get any bright ideas."

  "Stupid move, that," Captain Nora piped up cheerily. "That magecraft'll gut your ship like a pig, leave the crew for shark chum. With us, you might just live."

  "Bah," Tangletooth spat. "Fine. But I got my eyes on you four, understand?"

  "Aye, aye, we understand," Captain Nora said, tossing Tangletooth her spygss. "Don't worry, we'll save your ship for ye, captain."

  Tangletooth's knuckles grew white around her spygss, teeth bared in a mockery of a smile. "Watch yourself, O'Gallison."

  "I thought ye were doing that for me, Tilisa?"

  There was a cracking sound from the spygss. Tangletooth spun on a heel, stomping away. The officer who'd been following her hung back for a moment.

  "Tilisa, you said?" He whispered to Nora in a thick, almost west-african accent.

  "Aye. Her name, which she doesn't seem fond of."

  The man smirked. "Can't imagine why. Means gentle flower." He tipped his hat to Nora, then the rest of them. "Appreciate your help, but hope it won't be necessary."

  "It will be, First Mate," Captain Nora said matter-of-factly. "Ain't no other reason a skimmer'd sail that slow. She's just waitin' till we're far enough from port."

  The man's expression grew dark. "All the same."

  With that, he retreated.

  "You mean that, Nora?" Hurlish asked, twirling her hammer. "Or were you just tryna rile him up, make things easier on us?"

  "Weren't lyin' to him, no. I expect they'll attack first thing in the morning, sailing in with the rain." Nora's lips split in a fierce grin. "But the middle of a stormy fight seems the perfect time for a Captain to slip and fall on her sword, wouldn't ye say?"