Pieter bent his head to pack his pipe, thinking about the tight knot in his chest and what it meant.  His hands were wet with spray as he carefully struck the match he'd won off Wheel in a card game. Uban sat across from him, babbling. Relief and accusation and wonder wrapped in one. "You went into this meeting blind because I cannot prepare you for what lurks beneath the waters. I have not met a tenth of what dwells below. I have heard legends and I have seen things, and everything I have seen defies legend. I can arrange some precautions, but I cannot [i]prepare[/i] you." There was venom in his voice. "Because I cannot pretend that you can be truly prepared." He reached behind himself, withdrew a hidden brace of pistols. Set them heavily down between them. He looked squarely at the youth as he drew from his pipe. Exhaled. "I couldn't counsel you when the turtle had arrived. Speaking in such a way before them is dangerous." Adjusting himself so that he lay flat on the board, he said, "Well boy. You met your first turtle. The one we spoke to was middle aged, perhaps 500 years old. They're an old race. They like to be left alone, but they'll be polite if you bring gifts. They're wise, and will answer your questions if the gift- or sacrifice- is big enough." He fell silent and looked to where the Borealis should be. "What you did, when you sang. That was dangerous. It worked, so don't forget it. But that was an unneeded risk." He chuckled, "If you don't have any secrets boy, don't worry. They'll come along soon enough." 

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Hanna descended to her cabin, muttering to herself as she considered the tasks ahead. 

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Wheel passed Hanna as she descended the stairs. Grabbing her by the arm, he spun her to him. "What do you know about blood magic?"