Uban, as always, gave a smile but this one was less sincere and merry than his usual. Instead it showed both apprehension and an embarrassment that he hadn’t considered they weren’t alone. It was almost a sheepish cringe. Not that he wasn’t eager, just understandably nervous after his last encounter with mystical beings. It had struck him hard and he would not forget it.
“Are we...visiting mermaids again? Or uh...something else?” And before Pieter could answer he seemed to know in the pit of his stomach which it was. He felt both a chill and a wild thrill. There was so much of this world he had not known before, but he would know it now, bit by bit. No matter how nervous he was, he was unflappably curious.

—

Berlin shrugged. “I mean, if you can enchant my hip flask to never be empty...” he chuckled a little. “Anything you could do towards preventing holes being blasted  in my beautiful ship would be appreciated, if that’s something you can do. Or...” and suddenly Berlin began to chuckle darkly, and though he tried to master himself as he spoke, he never fully did. “Or you could give Rheoaan a bath.” This was obviously some good joke he found very amusing.  “He’ll get in just fine with a little cajoling. The lad likes water. And if you bark at him he’ll scrub well enough. The trouble comes with getting him [i]out.[/i] And not even I can save you if you have the gall to try and comb his hair.” His look was severe, but there was a glimmer in his eyes.  “Once, when the lad wasn’t yet nine and knew about a quarter of the Carisian that he does now, Uban was supposed to keep watch one night. And during his watch he decided he would get himself drunk, and as a punishment I sent him to try and bathe the little devil.” He laughed. “He never did it again.”

Berlin leaned against the rail and glanced at Rohaan and Wheel and, seeing that both of their body language read as amicable, he turned his gaze out to the horizon, enjoying the morning sun on his face. “But all jokes aside, I’m pleased with your work, Hanabaptiste. You’ve been a real asset in your short time here and I’m amazed I haven’t picked up a mage sooner. But I’ve got to ask you…we’re coming up on a true battle. It’s gonna get hot, and I would never throw you in the midst of it if you weren’t ready for it, or against your will. So tell me, where are you most suited? At the very least I would like you to be prepared to aid if any one of us catches a wound. Uban and Rheoaan in particular, I worry about. Pieter mans the guns  and thus has some cover if he needs it, and trying to injure Wheel is like trying to injure a mountain.  I would like you to be prepared—whatever that means for you—to do some healing or wound-tending when its said and done. And if that’s all you’re comfortable with, I am satisfied. But…” a curious gleam showed in his gray eyes. “Do you have any skills in combat? How was training with Uban?”

Berlin liked to know his crew, perhaps better than most captains ever bothered to either for lack of time or to maintain a feeling of higher rank—a philosophy Berlin did not believe in much. Men march further for friends than orders, he learned. And beyond a personal interest, he, like the rest of them, were curious about what she could do, and how her skills fitted in with others like Uban’s.

—

Rohaan huffed, rolling his eyes. “Well last time you said I could shift AND fight like a human, so I asked!” But he didn’t argue. He liked the challenge and only wanted to know what the rules of this game were.  Wheel had tossed him a knife and he looked down at it, admiring its shape and the craft of it, even though it was old, used, and not anything of note—a good practice blade. He touched its edge curiously but carefully as he listened to Wheel’s story of the man with the axe. He’d never used an axe for a fight before—only for chopping wood back home. Distantly, he wondered what it would be like to fight with one. Rohaan bit back a  comment about their previous argument about archery and instead hatched a dark, impish idea in his brain. 

The boy shifted his weight to one foot in a relaxed, carefree stance, focusing still on the shape of the blade. “The pits?” He asked, glancing up at his teacher. He was eager to hear more of Wheel’s past, as the man was pretty close about it and he guessed it had to be interesting. But he had other intentions. “What pits? Tell me! Tell me!”  Rohaan did not expect to get an actual answer, but he waited for the moment that Wheel began to answer and in the middle of that answer, Rohaan leapt forward and slashed at Wheel’s legs with a cry of, “HHYYAAH!” And then recoiled back, his stance ready and his eyes alight.  The fight had begun, and he was determined to show his teacher that his previous lesson had stuck.