Berlin gave a short not. "Good. Finish up your grub and get back to your posts, and there'll be rum in store for the lot of you tonight. You all performed well." Despite Rohaan's injury, he was proud of them. They all knew their jobs and did them well, each one specialized for his task. It's why he picked them. That, and he tended to find the sorts of people no one else would take. Pieter was an exception, as he was a worthy seaman and a veteran that any ship would take. But they'd been friends for ages and Berlin was ecstatic when he'd gotten his own ship and found that Pieter was willing to follow him. Uban had the misfortune of both being green-handed and branded with the mark of a former prisoner. Exceptions could be made for lawless men skilled at sea and willing to follow orders, but a complete landlubber and a criminal was a tall order. Not for Berlin though. And Rohaan was a desperate case. Berlin knew that his story would end in one of two ways: either he'd die of starvation, or would spend his life in slavery. Nobody, not even the saltiest pirate of the sea, would take him. Shifters were a liability, wild things that could not be controlled and their violent spirit could never be quenched. But not to Berlin.

After delivering some food to Rohaan and cleaning up after the meal, Uban positioned himself up in the crow's nest. Since he knew the wind was favorable and not much work needed to be done in the rigging, he brought his lute and his notes and voice carried on the wind from aloft.

[I]"Fare thee well my own true love
there were many fare thee wells
I am bound for the open sea
A place that I know quite well

Fare thee well my own true love
when I return, united we will be
it's not the leaving this here shore that grieves me
but my darling when I think of thee.

Oh the ship is in the harbor, love
and you know I can't remain.
Oh I know that it will be a long, long time
before I see you again.

So fare thee well my own true love
when I return, united we will be
It's not the leaving of this here shore that grieves me
but my darling when I think of thee.

I am bound for a jolly pirate ship
the Borealis is her name
And her captain's name it is Berlin
And they say that she's a floating hell!

So fare thee well my own true love
when I return, united we will be
It's not the leaving of this here shore that grieves me
but my darling wh--"[/I]

There was a sour note and his playing paused, punctuated by a quick "Damn!" But in true form, he continued on. Uban always loved that song. It made him think of Delorah. He wondered to himself if she was married now--probably--or if she still thought of him--probably not. And he held some tiny seed of hope that he'd see her again, and he'd have a chance to explain what had happened so many years ago. She'd take him in her arms and welcome him home.

Or not. But he liked to imagine so anyway. Not that he could imagine going back to farm work after life at sea under Berlin's command. 


The night came and went in peaceful quiet, the only sound besides Uban's gentle strumming was the hiss of waves and the creak of timber as the ship softly rocked. By morning, land was not yet visible but gulls were--a good sign that they were getting closer. Unlike the night before, Rohaan had not attempted to come to the galley for breakfast and instead Berlin found him sleeping hard--enough that the boy barely woke when Berlin changed out his bandages. The wound itself was warm and a little puffy, which made him worry. He knew that rum, the only thing they had that was close to cleansing (and that was a long shot) wouldn't do any more good than it had and that he just needed to wait it out.

The boy did not improve. They made good time getting into the harbor of Telor, a typical bustling port city, and for that Berlin was glad. The wind had picked up more than the day before, and by nightfall they made it to shore. Berlin was a quiet mountain of anxiety as he paced the deck upon their approach. Rohaan's condition had declined fast, faster than Berlin would have thought possible, and the boy was sweating, shivering, and somewhat delirious. When he was awake, he spoke only in Vokurian, but not clearly enough for even Berlin to understand much. He needed attention, and more than Berlin could give him.

The captain approached Pieter. "I've got to find someone to help the lad or he might not make it. The wound's festered. Assuming I can even find someone willing to help a silverblood...if we find trouble, I don't want anyone else to get involved if we can help it. Take charge for me, will you? See to it our supplies are restocked and the ship is in good order. I'll do my best to keep the dock officials quiet about our anchorage here, but if it comes to it, bribe anyone you have to. You know what to do if that doesn't work." Berlin clapped a hand on his thin shoulder. He trusted the old man implicitly to take care of business in his absence. He was a good man, steady, experienced, and sharp. 

Berlin went below and wrapped Rohaan in his little black cloak, pulling the hood over his face. If he wanted to avoid trouble, he had to be sure nobody would see his blood soaked bandages or his bright eyes, which were usually closed now anyway, thank goodness. He hoisted him on his back, earning a groan from the kid. Rohaan's head rested on his big shoulder, feeling dizzy. 

They moored the ship and a man with a parchment and a bit of charcoal approached Berlin, glancing a little suspiciously at him and the vessel. But Berlin smiled warmly in that way of his and took the man's hand, shaking it heartily. However, he did not let go. "Good evening, good evening. Do me a favor, lad,  you don't need to record my vessel. It's better you don't. And if anyone asks, we're a merchant ship, eh?"
The man just sort of stood there, blinked, and then nodded numbly. "Okay."
Berlin's smile spread, eyes glinting. "Good lad." And then he handed over a few gold coins, which the man accepted in pleasant surprise. "If you find us on our way out and things go well, there's more where that came from." 
The man smiled a bit. "Thankee sir!" And turned away like nothing strange had gone on between them. 

Berlin looked over at his crew, particularly the younger two. "Behave," he warned. "I better not find any of you in the stocks tomorrow morning." And then he was gone, striding quickly through the masses of people clustered around the docks with a sweating Rohaan on his back. There were several places within sight that Berlin suspected would be able to provide some help, but he needed to find a place that WOULD. In theory he could force someone to, but he'd have to be touching them during the whole visit and he wasn't sure how he'd manage that well. What he needed was someone he could charm and bribe. After asking around the wharf for a physician who wasn't set on asking questions, and one who had experience with strange, magical troubles, Berlin found himself at an unassuming door. Unassuming was good.

Unsure if this woman he was told of was asleep this time of night or not, Berlin rapped hard on the wooden door with his broad knuckles, knocking until it opened. When he did, he gave his trademark smile and said, "Evenin'. I was told you're handy with healing. Especially when it requires something...perhaps more than medicine. My friend here needs some help, and I'll pay if you can give him some. I'll pay you even more if you don't ask too many questions." Berlin took a leather purse from his belt and held it out to her. It looked heavy. And then, with some of the worry showing through in his stormy eyes, Berlin added, "Please."