Uban couldn't take his eyes off the thing. Was it proper to call the turtle 'thing'? Probably not--definitely not. It was too majestic, too...BIG. He could see his own reflection in one of its dark eyes, though it didn't seem to study him much, not like he was. Uban was staring. Open mouthed, eyes wide, practically unmoving except for tossing barrels over at Pieter's wordless command. He tried not to, but each time the turtle took a barrel and popped it, crushed it, he couldn't help but see himself in the barrel's place. Except if that were him, it wouldn't be rum sliding down its throat. He surpassed a shiver and hauled over another barrel. How had this creature, this monolith been in the ocean the whole time and he'd never even heard of it? At least he'd heard about mermaids before. But this...this... Suddenly he had a new appreciation for priesthood and, most of all, Pieter. He took his eyes off the turtle just long enough to admire the older man as he stood in the bobbing, rocking boat, the wind in his hair. Uban was certain then that he'd never see his mentor the same way ever again. He had also noticed a pattern--to summon mermaids, Pieter had offered rum. The turtle was no different, and he wondered if all the mysterious creatures of the sea bartered like this for rum. Maybe some were partial to whiskey or wine. He thought about all this but didn't open his mouth to ask any question or say anything. He wouldn't dare. The turtle slipped slowly beneath the water with a gurgling, churning water around it and he realized he'd been holding his breath as Pieter took a sigh of his own. Wow. That was an experience and he knew Rohaan would enjoy hearing the story. Maybe Hana would too. As Pieter gave his final call to the creature, Uban reached out for the oars again, preparing to head back to the-- [I]What?[/I] At first, Uban didn't comprehend what the turtle was saying. [I]Me? Does he mean me?[/I] As if there were any on that boat besides the two men. He looked at Pieter for some kind of assurance and then back at the turtle and was immediately lost in its gaze. The one eye fixed on him, and if he thought the creature was intimidating before, he was wrong. Dead wrong. Was this planned? Had Pieter set this up? He tried to look back at Pieter but he couldn't look away. The eye consumed him. He felt the sheer weight of it bearing down on him, hot like the summer sun and weighty like a smith's hammer. And he couldn't look away. [I]Do something, Uban. Say something. FUCKING DO SOMETHING UBAN.[/I] Did he even have breath anymore? Was he even certain he was alive? No. He felt lost, outside his own body for a span of horrible, electric seconds. If his stomach sunk any lower it'd go through the boat. [I]Don't get us killed. Don't get us killed. Please, by sun and stars don't get us killed, Uban.[/I] But then he found he was able to take in a breath and, as he did so, his gut instinct started to take over. True to form, more trusty and reliable than frost in winter or an obedient sheepdog, Uban grinned. Truthfully, he was wasted as a farmer and should have been born into a troupe of performers, because the performing instinct was strong in him. Whether it stemmed from a desire to hide his own insecurities, came from a result of years of playing and singing in crowded taverns, or because he'd always played the peacemaker between his asshole father and his siblings, Uban could always be counted on to at least pretend to make light of a terrible situation. With that signature smile on his face, Uban gave a quick "Um..." and cleared his throat as he dropped the oars and let them rest in their binding rings. And that was all the terror he showed to the creature, though Pieter could read him better. "A secret of mine? Right. Okay." He racked his brain. Secret of mine? He had no secrets, or nothing interesting anyway. He didn't even have much in the way of unique experiences he could rely on for uncommon information. He'd been a simple farmer's son. And then a murderer. Then a poor bastard with no future until Berlin made him a pirate. He thought about things only he knew and only thought of his lightning. As he pondered this, he let a ball of it form writhing and blue in his palm, sitting there as harmlessly as a stone until he clenched his fist and it extinguished with a crack. No, that was just a show, not some piece of knowledge. Uban thought of Rohaan and wished the boy were there so he could exhibit him for the creature (maybe it hadn't seen a shifter before...?) but he realized that would just be more of the same. A show. Knowledge...secrets...He was entirely the wrong person to ask. Uban thought of Hana and wished she were there. He remembered their talk on the beach about magic and all the things that she knew that he didn't. She had plenty of knowledge, plenty of secrets, he was sure. Damn, he wished she were there. And then it came to him. It was a weak idea, not something he would act on in any confidence but it was all he had. His hazel green eyes had gone a bit gold now after summoning his lightning; he finally was able to break his gaze away from the turtle to look back up at Pieter for a second. In those gold eyes was an apology, for he had no idea if this would satisfy the creature or insult it. But it was all he had. So, closing his eyes, he began softly to sing. [I]William Taylor was a brisk young sailor full of heart and full of play until he did his mind uncover to a youthful lady gay Four and twenty Yonin sailors met him on the king's highway as he went for to be married pressed he was and sent away Folla-diddle-um fol-a-day-ry diddero folla-diddle-um fol-a day-ry-day A sailor's clothing she put on and went board a man-o-war her pretty little fingers long and slender they were smeared with pitch and tar On that ship there was a battle she amongst the rest did fight The wind blew off her silver buttons her breasts were bared all snowy white Folla-diddle-um fol-a-day-ry diddero folla-diddle-um fol-a day-ry-day When the captain did discover he said, "fair maid! what brought you here?" "Sir, I'm seeking William Taylor pressed he was by you last year." "If you rise up in the morning ear-ly at the break of day there you'll spy young William Taylor walking with his lady gay. Folla-diddle-um fol-a-day-ry diddero folla-diddle-um fol-a day-ry-day She rose early in the morning ear-ly at the break of day Here she spied young William Taylor walking with his lady gay She procured a pair of pistols on the ground where she did stand there she shot poor William Taylor and the lady at his right hand Folla-diddle-um fol-a-day-ry diddero folla-diddle-um fol-a day-ry-day[/I] His voice grew louder as he sang and his final note carried on the wind above the slop of water against the boat. As always, he had a good voice. It was strong in volume but pleasant in tone, and the tune of the old song itself was catchy. Uban guessed that, if it pleased the great turtle at all, it would be humming the tune to itself for a few days. At least, that's what he did when he first heard it. Uban didn't speak. He didn't want to ruin the effect of his last note ringing over the water, but he also had no idea if he could manage to say anything intelligent or worthwhile, so he opted not to altogether. He simply gave one look up to his mentor, and then back to the massive, deadly, powerful, fickle creature that had all of its attention on him. Right. He could do that. Right? -- Berlin gave Hana one last soft, subtle smile before turning and, taking a telescoping spyglass from his vest pocket, scanned the horizon for his priest and apprentice. They were far out, and he could barely make out some kind of dark something on the surface of the water that was probably the little boat. And another dark shape. Easily the size of the boat itself, though he could discern no more from it than that at such a distance. He did not see the flapping of oars or waving of arms that might indicate something horrible was happening, so he decided not to send Rohaan out to investigate. Even so, he silently mouthed a very short prayer of safety to lady Tevira. He turned to watch the boy's progress in his lessons with Wheel and, with an expression that was half smile and half wince, he said to Hana, "Got some kind of tonic or salve for bruises and sore muscles? He's gonna need it." Berlin was half joking, though he didn't doubt that if she did have such a thing, it would be welcomed. Berlin knew that training of any sort meant pain and exhaustion, and Wheel was as good a teacher as any for not being soft on the lad. Perhaps them training together would be good after all. -- The exercises were grueling. They were not the most intense thing he'd ever done, but the repetition of them made his muscles burn and they lacked any kind of mental stimulation. Which meant he was bored, exhausted, and sore and his patience was waning fast. Still, Rohaan was determined to stick it out. Maybe that was the only thing that kept him going--stupid, bull-headed pride. He did not groan, he did not whine. As troublesome as the lad could be, at least no one could ever accuse him of whining. But he began to slow and fumble as his ten-year-old muscles simply gave up without his consent, until finally after dropping the sword twice, he dropped the shield, too. He did attempt to pick them both back up, but the muscles in his arms wouldn't listen to him anymore and his hands were shaking. Rohaan looked down at his own limp arms, and then back up at Wheel. In his unnaturally blue eyes was a deep conflict in which half of his mind, the logical part, felt the condition of his limbs and knew he was spent. The other half hated himself for it. Some part of him remembered then what they were doing, what their current purpose was and where they were going. Who they were going to meet on the sea. And, unbidden, he remembered his own brush with Barizians two years ago. Remembered the dark hold where he was kept like a sack of grain--worse than livestock. Remembered the weakness in his muscles and the pain in his limbs...not unlike now. Rohaan didn't want to feel that way again. Helpless. Hopeless. Weak. Feeling it now and realizing with a stab of anxiety that it was possible for him to be like this during a battle against his most hated enemy, the fight left Rohaan like a candle's light robbed by a cold wind. Feeling some subconscious drive to run and hide, Rohaan unconsciously took a small step back. "Are they gonna kill me?" He asked. He was dead serious. Real fear was in his eyes and his body language began to scream 'feral'. Withdrawn. Tense. "Do I even have a chance? You know how they fight. I...don't remember. Just guns. I remember guns." And he'd learned about those since. He'd gotten stronger. Older. Smarter. But would that be enough?