(closed thread. Enjoy the read!)

Must run....must run....can't go back...

Ayrowa Kathan's legs were moving as fast as they could carry her, the soldier's long red waves streaming as the breeze of her movement had caught the hood of her cloak and tossed it back. When the sound of her pursuer's feet grew louder, she darted through a crowd of people and turned abruptly to shove a fairly burly individual backward a couple of steps. He let out a grunt and stumbled, backing directly into the man on her tail. Sorry.

Weaving through the streets of Ebou Dar and among the crowd occupying them, she turned sharply and headed down an alley that moved diagonally, so she could try losing the man for good. She was now near the water; if worse came to worse, she could leap into the waves near the docks and hide beneath the walkway. However, the smell of the air was bad enough here--she really did not want to try the water if it didn't come to that.

Skirting around the nearest building, she found a number of barrels sitting near its back entrance. Placing herself between a couple, Ayrowa leaned against the building to catch her breath and think.

Why in the bloody Light did I tell them I would come here of all places??! I knew it would be overrun with soldiers. I tried to tell Lyvain, but he insisted that I might find Ludoc here. She fought the urge to sigh loudly in frustration. "If I did find him, he'd be a prisoner, and I'd have gotten myself recaptured in the bargain," she muttered to herself.

Here upon orders of the head of the Drin, the morat'raken was here without her animal, brought here with no shortage of goading by Matthias Kurda'an, and one of those disturbing things the men called Gateways. She would never get used to such a thing--it was hard enough at times to feel secure around men would could touch the One Power. She had gone in search of the Asha'man when he hadn't returned to their inn, the Shining Waters, by the appointed hour. He'd told her to come looking for him in Mol Hara Square should he not return, and as reluctant as she'd been to go out on her own, Ayrowa was dreading the idea of ending up separated from Matthias in a city that was now more or less run by the very people she was seeking to avoid.

Holding her breath, the soldier cleared her mind and focused on what she thought was the voice of the man that had been pursuing her. While she was having a hard time placing him in her memory, he very clearly recognized her. And Ayrowa's reputation--the one perpetrated by the cowardly Atros, at least--apparently preceded her.

There's no use in trying to talk to him. He named me 'traitor'...there's no reasoning with someone who's already formed a clear opinion of me as being in the wrong. She looked around cautiously, hearing the sound of voices moving closer. It was him. Ayrowa could hear him describing her. Light, where to go??! The water was too far away, now, to move towards it without being spotted as the men made their way down the alley she'd used herself. Noting that the barrel on her right seemed to be empty, she peered into it, judging its size. Quietly, she slid her swords from her back and settled them into the bottom, climbing into it as she snatched up the lid and fitted it on snugly. Unless they plan on sorting through 30 barrels, I shouldn't be seen.

Holding her breath as the voices echoed loudly around her from within the barrel, making them mostly unintelligible, she waited for her surroundings to quiet. Just as she was about to move the lid, a different voice with a clear Seanchan accent called out directions. Ayrowa almost cried aloud, barely catching herself as the barrel started to move.

With credentials that created a list as long as his arm, it was no wonder the Trizidad Shipping Company had hired him. The owner, known simply as The Captain, had even surprised Dazron Finek by setting his wages at more than he was asking. It was a good thing that a few of those recommendations were actually real.

Coppery hair that was close cropped with just enough length to wave in the breeze that blew off the ocean. The same colored hair covered his jaw and chin but was meticulously tended to and disguised a long face. Beneath his feet, the dock creaked and groaned, shifting ever so slightly with the pounding of the waves against its moorings. His personal effects were stowed in a black sack that hung from a string down the middle of his back. The thick hemp rope that tied it close was gripped firmly in one calloused hand. While Dazron had not always been the seafaring type, he had always seemed to find the labor-intensive job.

At least this time he was more likely to get swept overboard by a wave during a storm than shot by some featherly frumped noble. Dazon smiled. Nope. This time he had only one goal in mind.

His pale gray eyes took in the dock, scanning it for his intended ship, The Hearty Fools, finding it quickly. He paused before continuing down the dock as a man caught his attention. The man’s hair was blond but smattered with white streaks indicating that the man was pushing past his prime and was pulled back at his nape. Dazon could not see his face, the man was facing the ship. Still, his shoulders were wide and his hips were narrow, indicating that this man had not let himself go, and perhaps was not afraid of a little hard work.

Dazon’s smile changed a few chilling degrees. “The Captain’s son. Long lost at sea at that. It is a miracle then,” he said to no one other than himself. There was more than one story going around Ebou Dar about Justen Trizidad’s return. Fourteen years after both sons were reputed to have died in a shipwreck, one returned, well as the day he had left, if just a little older. There were whispers as well that he brought back with him powers. These were harsher whispers, more frightened whispers of highly superstitious townspeople who held fear in their heart for individuals who held more powers than they did. More unnatural powers.

He looked the Trizidad’s clothes up and down but he seemed plain clothed to Dazon, the browns and tans with a beige shirt seemed perfectly natural for a seafaring voyage. While it was strange that the father had appointed him captain of The Hearty Fool after not knowing his son for over a baker’s dozen worth of years, not to mention what happened the last time he was allowed to captain a ship, it was a bit of a surprise.

Maybe the name of the ship had something to do with it. Dazon Finek laughed and continued down the dock. Perhaps what had taken place all those years ago was the reason the ship’s captain stood on the dock off to the side of the gangplank, his hand on hips, staring up at the ship he was about to take control of. Manning up, some might call it. He glanced at the captain’s face as he walked up the gangplank, having already discarded the idea of interrupting him.

~*~*~*~*~

Justen Trizidad drew in a deep breath, enjoying the smells and sounds of the busy docks. He relaxed, well, as much as he could relax with excitement buzzing through his veins. The reunion with his family had gone better than he could have ever imagined. The past two weeks had been a warm and fuzzy blur. They had been a family again. His mother had made him all of his favorite childhood foods and they had talked and laughed and joked as a family. And The Captain had only knocked him unconscious once, when he had first strolled up and knocked on the door.

Rubbed his jaw. It still ached, but at least the bruise was gone. He had a hard time explaining to his family why his dark haired brother Jeroff had not also made the journey, until he described Nivenh’Mia.

Much of the time he had spent telling The Captain and his wife about the adventures and some of the people he and Jeroff had come across in their travels. Fourteen years was a lot of excitement to cram into two weeks, even when he skipped some of the more inappropriate or…hard to explain tales. How on earth could he explain Dara Gia and Gia Daei when he did not fully understand them himself? Knowing his parents and their uneasiness of those with power, he certainly could not tell them that the entire island of Gia Daei had been made by Aes Sedais and Asha’man, their powers warped for use of the Dark Ones purpose, it would only add to the suspicion of the people he had become, and the woman he was married to.

He focused a lot on Jeroff, then, the brother who had not been born with the powers that his brother had, but had still managed to have quite an exciting life, in no small part thanks to the woman he had fallen in love with, a mercenary named Nivenh’Mia. Since they had never met her, he could not describe her enough. Beautiful, smart, and recently pregnant and recently having helped repel an attack by the Children of Light, there were also things about Nivenh’Mia that he could not go in to. Like how he had once been bonded to her, or how she had once stabbed Jeroff and strode off, leaving him for dead.

Justen sighed and scratched a few of the white hairs at his temple. He had also gone light on his worries for Jeroff and Nivenh’Mia’s future together. His parents were happy enough that Jeroff had finally settled down with one woman, after watching him wench through the bars of Ebou Dar in their youth. Being out of the city, out of their hometown, certainly had changed the brothers, for better or for worse.

Two weeks had been an eternity as he had done the dance and gotten to know his parents again. And yet it had not been nearly enough. Already staying as long as he had he was risking being late for the ball in Tanchico. Any more wasted time or delays and he might miss it completely. It had been his hope to get there early, to speak to his sister-in-law and brother individually before regrettable things occurred between the couple, but his road from Tar Valon had not gone as smoothly as he would have liked.

He gave The Hearty Fool’s four masts a grin as he turned and made his way up the gangplank behind a pair of his crew who were carrying one of the wine barrels- their cargo- to its destination in their cargo bay. Given a halfway decent wind, he should make it to Tanchico quick enough to not only be early for the festivities, but to do some shopping around for business before hand. She was a newer vessel, and he had already seen some of the improvements in her hull design from those he had inspected as a child and teen.

He rested his forearms on the railing, watching supplies being loaded from a loftier perch. They were quick about it, that was for certain. Justen was pleased at that. Whether it was soldiers or sailors, when you had your marching orders and everyone had a task to perform, it was never good to have men uninspired to do what was expected of them.

“Captain? Trizidad?”

While asked in a question, it took Justen several seconds to remember that whoever it was speaking was referring to him. Chuckling, he straightened to face the man and was not surprised to find his first mate standing before him. The man saluted and Justen stuck out his hand for a proper shake. “Dazon Finek. I am to be your first mate on this voyage.”

“Master Finek...”

“Finek is fine, sir.”

“…You come with some remarkable recommendations from several other fleets. I recognize several of them as friend fleets of my fathers,” his lip twitched, “and some of the companies he considers enemies.”

Finek shrugged. “When you go from ship to ship as much as I have, sir, you tend to look for openings and destinations, not so much loyalties. It did not stop me from getting hired by the Trizidad Shipping Company.”

Justen laughed. He liked the man’s honesty. They were exchanging a bit more by way of conversation, just two men of nearly equal standing weighing the other, when there was a blink of light from the dock. Both men looked down.

“Ah, that must be our passenger cargo, one Lady Aietu. And her manservant, Dorain.”

Justen blinked and realized that the flash had come from a large metal pendant handing from between the woman’s breasts. The fabric of her dress was rich. Black in color, it was accented with strips and sashes of dark sky blue. The neckline of her dress was borderline indecent. Her skin was dark, as if tanned, but still she carried a parasol the color of the blue accents in the crook of one arm.

But worse were her eyes. She looked up at the Trizidad, meeting his gaze squarely, apparently oblivious of how her stop in the middle of the deck had caused traffic to slow to a stop around her. Her dark black eyes twinkled with a knowing, that she knew something that he did not. Their gaze broke as she turned to make her way up the plank, her manservant guiding her each step.

Justen’s brow furrowed. While her face was vaguely familiar, who she was did not immediately jump to mind. He needed more time to think about it, he did not want to insult her by having met her and not remember who she was properly. “I must go. There must be something I should be doing,” he told as much as asked his first mate, since obviously he could be doing something in his quarters, but it too was escaping his mind. Light she was making him nervous.

Finek gave him an odd look. “You should greet the lady, would be most proper, sir.”

Justen sighed and stopped where he was, straightening and clasping his hands before him as he waited for her to approach. She took her time about it, striking conversation with several seamen as well as admiring several things before finally making her way before him. She smiled as if she knew exactly what she was doing- keeping him- and gave her parasol a twirl. “Gentlemen,” her gaze went from one to the other before returning to Justen. “Captain Trizidad?”

Justen took a step forward and bowed, “At your service, ma’am.” When he straightened he certainly did not like the hungry look in her eye. “When you are ready, Master Finek will show you to your room.” Justen certainly had no idea where the human cargo was supposed to go. He felt a little embarrassed about that, but what he did not know they did not need to know.

Her dark eyes remained on him speculatively. “I like the scenery here for the time being, thank you. Though if you so wish,” her eyes turned to Finek. In Justen’s opinion the light of hunger seemed to go from her eyes, “you may take my manservant to our quarters alone with our things.”

Finek bowed. “Yes ma’am.” He left, and the woman’s manservant obediently followed.

Lady Aietu watched them until they disappeared below before turning back to Justen. She eyed him with that knowing smile until he felt obligated to squirm. “I fear I am at a loss, Lady Aietu, because you stare at me as if you know me but I fear my mind has not made the connection.”

She was silent for a moment, and then she smiled, somewhat unpleasantly by the Trizidad’s standards, “I must apologize, Captain. I fear it is how I tend to smile at all underlings.” She paused, as if waiting for him to react. He felt a muscle twitch in his jaw at the cut, but managed to smile blithely. “Well I will try to remain above your position, your Ladyship,” he replied. He needed to get out of here before he got himself in trouble, “You will have to excuse me. I have things to see to that make sure the boat will not tip over and toss your pompous ass overboard.” He gave her a brief salute before stalking quickly away. He was pretty sure it was not his imagination that he heard her laugh carried to him on the wind.

~*~*~*~*~

Shortly thereafter, they set sail. Finek knocked at the door to head shortly before they weighed anchor and they made their way deck side. “You know you cannot ignore Lady Aietu the entire trip. You may have to dine together,” his first mate said, having noted the tension between the two.

“Aye,” Justen agreed sourly. He added under his breath, “But I can pretend that I do not have a higher standing than her. That way she will not want to keep my company.”

She was there, her parasol twirling occasionally, along with the crew, even though the crew gave the Lady a wide berth as they waved to their family and loved ones below. She stayed at the rail, watching the port as it shrunk and eventually was swallowed up in a graying mist.

Justen watched her for a time. While she unnerved him, he still had the feeling he had met her before but the where still eluded him. There was something in her eyes… to him it spoke of cruelty. He shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself away from the railing. It could just be her standing, her expectations of having all of her needs met in a prompt and polite order. He had no reason to be kind to her if she was not kind in return. If she did not like his methods or hospitality, he would show her another mode of transportation- their row boat. He was most certain they would not need it. He had safeguarded them for the trip.

But he had other things to do than worry about their human cargo. Two of those things were getting to know his crew by name, and getting to know his ship. Justen could do both of these things at once and he threw himself into the activity with a gusto.

It was almost fun getting to know his crew by name. They seemed surprised yet happy that he took the time to greet each man individually while at his assigned task. Now and then Justen saw Finek watching him and even more rarely he caught sight of Lady Aietu topside, flirting with the crew who appealed to her. It made him dislike her all the more, after the way she had tried to treat him. He decided not to think on it. She was cargo, simple as that.

By dinnertime he had gotten to most of the men and had memorized many of them. He did not want to forget anyone, nor did he want to introduce himself to someone he had already, so he quietly spread the word that anyone he had not greeted today should find him and introduce themselves at some point during the evening. He had also decided to eat with his men. There was no reason to cloister himself off in his quarters or in his head.

The ships cook had just appeared with the first steaming part of the meal when Lady Aietu's manservant appeared. The man was hideous, Justen deduced now that his deformities were not overshadowed by the psychotic look in his mistress's dark eyes. His back had a thick knot at the nape of his neck, causing him to lean forward. He kept his arms close to his body, his hands under his chin. It was safe to guess that he was blind in his left eye- the whole thing was white and must have drained constantly by the stain beneath that eye. His nose was bulbous and his lips like two uncooked sausages. His lips parted when he spoke, and sometimes drooled, revealing uneven and impossibly crooked teeth.

But that was neither here nor there. The man might be a diplomatic prince, and that would make him a world above his mistress. The next few minutes would be the tell. Justen watched warily from his seat among the crew, neither at the head nor the foot of the table so it took the man a moment to spot the captain among the plainclothes. When he spotted Justen he made a face and hobbled about the table, avoiding the laughing and joking crew as they relaxed after a hard day of work. It was obvious the manservant did not want to be touched. That did not bode well.

"How are you this eve, won't you join us?" Justen issued the test with brevity, gesturing to a nearby chair. Even if he had obligations to Lady Aietu, his refusal would speak volumes. "Mister..."

"Dole. My lady does not require your companionship this eve and prefers to eat alone tonight." He cast the men around Justen a sour glance. "I recommend, however, that you inquest upon her intensions before rubbing elbows so closely with the rest of your crew. She might deem that you require a bath before bathing in her presence in that case."

Having amusement and anger course through you in equal parts is an odd feeling. Justen just sat mute for several seconds while he tried to decide if he wanted to punch the man in his ugly face, or fall backward in his chair laughing. Since neither won the race and the man was waiting for his answer, Justen saluted the man instead, saying, "I will take that into consideration."

Dole must have taken the Trizidad seriously because he nodded once before shuffling away. Justen watched the man's retreating backside but resisted bursting into laughter until the door to the cabin shut behind the man. Wiping his tears from his eyes and scratching his forehead, Justen admitted to himself that he might have a problem.

“Hey Captain!" one of his men shouted from the head of the long table that seated the almost twenty crewmembers. It took Justen a moment to remember the man's name, but he recalled it and replied to the query. Kaiten asked his question, "Can we open a keg? Korvat packed an extra couple of barrels, being the generous scoundrel he is.” Several of the men around the table laughed and raised their mugs to the generous local vineyard.

Justen winced. One of the extra was for his wife, after she dropped the child. He had thought it a marvelous coincidence to have the extra. But perhaps with her disobedience she did not deserve it. The Greghberry Wine from the Korvat Vineyard was her favorite. It was certainly not Justen’s favorite, but it would get one tipsy all the same. “Alright then!” he called and cheers went up from his men. It would be more expensive to buy it retail but he would do it. They must have set a couple of barrels closer to the mess hall in anticipation because two men left and came back within seconds, toting the barrel. Another man produced the tap and men lifted their mugs, unceremoniously dumping out the water onto the floor, and made ready for a long night of revelry, “Cheers!”

The barrel was set down and rolled into place. A mallet was used to insert the tap. The laughter stopped like a rogue wave when nothing dripped out of the tap into the first waiting mug.

“Korvat gypped us!” Dierk had been one of the men to help carry the barrel in, and had expected one of the first mug full. Murmurs of dissent began to fly from his crew's lips. He glanced at his first mate but the man was no immediate help. Justen did not know what was wrong with the barrel, but he knew if he did not do something soon they would turn the ship around and riot at the vineyard.

So far this trip was not panning out to be the happy voyages he remembered from his youth. If Jeroff were here acting as captain as well, as they had done on their maiden voyage as co-captains upon The Albatross, he wondered what side his brother would take and if he too would become quickly hot headed.

With a sigh, Captain Trizidad pushed himself to his feet, raising his hands and his voice for attention. “Before you incite a riot- and remember, this ship will not survive a fire- let’s investigate. Move aside please.” By that time he had reached the barrel. Dierk moved aside and Justen knelt. He rapped his knuckle upon the hard wood. He frowned at the mostly hollow echo that came back. He tried a few more spots and finally came to the conclusion, “Well, there is something in there.”

“Treasure?!”

Justen couldn't help but chuckle. Someone had been reading the same adventure stories he had as a lad. “Not likely. Let’s get it open.”

There was a scramble for a pry-bar and the seal was quickly broken. The lid popped off and was carted off to the side by helpful hands. Fabric, dark and course, was the first thing his hand encountered. And it was wet. His hand in the lantern light was red and he winced. That was not a good start. Carefully he pushed the fabric aside, knowing already by the twist of his gut that there was a man within the wrappings. But he was wrong.

He drew in a breath as the soft cheek and feminine cut of the jaw was revealed. Long black eye lashes concealed her eyes. What little of her hair he uncovered was wavy and wet.

"It’s not a treasure it’s a woman," he said softly.

There was silence for all of two seconds. Then Dierks spoke up, "I'll have a drink of that!"

~Justen Trizidad, captain, Asha’man, bonded to Mir’iam a’Del Nor

Slowly, Ayrowa Kathan came back to her senses, feeling first as though everything were dizzyingly swaying while her head pulsed. She groaned and put a hand to her head, feeling a bump and the crusty feeling of dried blood as it flaked off and stuck to her fingers. Ugghhhh....my head. Where am I? She fluttered her eyes open and focused on the blank ceiling above her, hoping it would settle the floaty feeling, but it did not. Easing herself up onto her elbows, she saw the reason why when her azure gaze surveyed the room she was currently in. Sailing implements of all sorts rested upon a table nearby, some clinking against one another softly. She had ended up on a boat, but to where? Trying to ponder it while sitting up was making her head throb even worse than before.

Sinking back down onto the soft bed, she took a quick look at what she was wearing. It was not her usual clothes; only a crisp white button-up shirt covered her down to her mid-thighs, and other than the remnants of the blood that had flaked onto her hand, she looked clean. There was no doubt that she had not been clean whenever she'd come out of that barrel. All she remembered before waking up here was that Seanchan voice, and then the barrel had started to move and roll. And then it hit her that she was in a much more dire situation than that of a runaway soldier in Ebou Dar.

I'm on a boat. Headed back. The Tower of Ravens, and all of its dark promises, awaited.

She sat up quickly despite the sharp pain in her head, muttering to herself. "No, no, no...my parents! What will they think? I doubt I will even see them before I am..." Panic seized her as she heard sounds from outside the boat's quarters. There were two things that the morat'raken feared above all else: one being recaptured by Atros Riman, and the other, being sent back to Seanchan to bring shame upon her family by being questioned and put to death. Sensing that she was progressing rapidly towards the possibility of the latter, she leapt from the bed, looking around frantically for a weapon of some sort. Her swords, which had been placed in the barrel, were nowhere to be seen. So she picked up a telescope and stretched it out, thinking she could strike someone with it. No...that won't do me any good...I need something that would be dangerous if used the right way...so that I can get to a small lifeboat and paddle away, shoving whoever I need to use to do so into the water to make a faster getaway.

Her gaze fell upon a long wooden compass, each end sharpened to a fine, slender point. One end was dusted with dark powder to mark lines upon a map. Folded closed, it would make a decent weapon with not just one, but two sharp ends if pressed to the right place. Pressing herself back against the wall on the opposite side of the room from the bed, she waited for the sound of someone entering, trying to map out her plan in her mind to pass the time.

The faint sound of a man's singing voice broke into the morat'raken's thoughts. She did not have to hear the words to recognize the tune that described a prowling lopar. It was an old song, one that many Seanchan parents sang to their children, even those families whose stations were far beneath that of people who owned the protective animal. The muscles in her body tensed, and she adjusted her grasp on the makeshift weapon as the door swung open, the words sung clear and true, in the accent Ayrowa had always heard them. She felt the man approaching rather than seeing him, and sure enough, he turned to regard the bed first. The movement gave her just enough time to come at him from the opposite direction, placing the points at his neck, the sensation enough to put him at an abrupt halt.

"I'm not going back there. So we're going for a walk, you and I," coolly explained the soldier as she peered up at the golden-haired man, her gritted teeth the only outward sign of her nervousness. "You're going to help me get on the lifeboat, and I'll paddle myself back to wherever the nearest land is. You can take your barrels and whatever else is on this Light-forsaken vessel and return them to Seanchan."

"Wot's art? Good, you're up." An almost teasing, yet sarcastic air coated the words, spoken carefully, as most men would utter anything with a weapon at their neck.

"Wait. Say something else." Why would he sound like that when singing, but not when speaking?

He raised a brow at her request, but still looked quite disquieted at the pressure of the point upon his neck. "I was hoping to save the lifeboat for Lady Aietu and her poor disposition. But you make a fine case. Do you mind, perhaps," he added, squirming a little. "I have your clothes."

Ayrowa's puzzled blue eyes studied him warily. "Why...were you singing that song? And where are we headed?"

"It's a ditty from my childhood. it doesnt sound right sung any other way."

She eased the weapon back slightly. "You..you're not taking me back to Seanchan?"

"It's not on the itinerary....and I found no 'Hello if found, please return to Seanchan' anywhere on the barrel I found you in." He kicked out his foot, crossing it over the other as he crossed his ankle. "I can turn if you would like to dress. If I'm uncouth, you still hold possession of my compass. Be careful with that please, it is a childhood toy of my youth. It is sentimental."

Ayrowa pressed her lips together thoughtfully as she backed the compass away from his neck and eased her grip upon his collar. It did not seem that he meant her harm. If the compass was his, then he was the captain. She had been placed in his quarters. While no longer uneasy about her body--one could not hold to such propriety long among the Drin in the Waste with their sweat tents--she felt distinctly uneasy about undressing in his room with him there.

"I would rather dress with you outside."

"You could change outside, seeing this is my quarters and that is the new shirt my Mom purchased for me. You are welcome that I thought you to wear it." There was something of a jest in his words, as if he couldn't pass up the joke at her expense that she had walked into by making such a statement. He handed her the neatly folded, clean clothes that she had been wearing, and then turned on his heel to face the porthole, adding, "The crew are quite interested in you."

"I am Justen Trizidad, by the way, Captain of this vessel until we get to our destination. I patched you up, so you are welcome. Do not worry, I did not ogle you. I am happily married. I would have asked Lady Aietu to undress you, but I believe she would have seen it below her station," he explained while Ayrowa tossed her shirt aside and stepped into her brown breeches, working on tying them when his next words brought her to a halt.

"Our destination is Tanchico, our goal is a cargo drop, mainly barrels of wine and what I will call diplomatic relationships with family.”

"I can't go there!" Ayrowa cried out, dismayed, her words tumbling out before she could catch herself. "It's as dangerous for me as Ebou Dar ever was!" Hurriedly, her fingers worked to tie the breeches closed, but her hands trembled slightly, while he made a move as if to turn around, but realized she was still dressing.

“I am sorry, I need to be there. But I have carrier pigeons on board and we can alert people to your rescue. Once we get to port, we’ll put you on the fastest pony home, or to another port. I promise. In the mean time, relax, if you can, and enjoy yourself, if you can. Some people are not seagoing creatures...”

Her explanation came out in a precarious string of words as her feet set to pacing. "You....you don't understand. I was taken to Ebou Dar with a...partner of mine. We used a...Gateway. I can't get back there myself." With a sick feeling in her stomach she added, "And we came from...the Waste." Ayrowa did not like revealing all this, but she was at the mercy of those upon the vessel. There was nothing for her to do except be as truthful as she had to.

"I do not like to utilize Gateways myself, hence the haste to Tanchico." He paused thoughtfully. "I do not know you, past that you seem to wield a mean compass...so at this time I cannot see myself making promises I might not be able to keep." He studied her, his eyes nearly unreadable. "But if you are trouble, you are welcomed to hijack the rowboat, as I've said."

The soldier sighed, throwing her hands in the air before her, then running one hand through her hair in troubled fashion. "I don't know what to do, then. I will either be caught, or be able to keep hiding from....the Army."

Justen went back and forth between singing the words out loud and humming the melody as he walked, the woman’s laundered clothes folded in his hands before him. It was amazing all the memories that were surfacing, songs he had half forgotten and childhood stories his parents had told their children returned to him.

He had tended to the woman’s clothes himself, and her wounds as well. While it was in his power to utilize Healing, he was hesitant to do so. Most of the men upon the ship were from Ebou Dar, and the Trizidad had not been completely oblivious of their hushed tones after it somehow got out exactly what he was.

Still expecting their unexpected guest to be sleeping peacefully, he lowered his voice as he neared his quarters. It seemed like the safest place for the strange battered woman. While he trusted his crew he did not know well enough their intensions around a half- naked unconscious woman.

Turning the bar to open the door, he stepped in, careful not to drop his load. He was surprised to find the bed empty and even more so when in the next split second he found himself pressed roughly against the wall. More alarming was the sharp point poking into his jugular. He viewed the bright blue eyes burning into his, and the desperation there. He also saw his childhood compass, given to him by his father, and left in Ebou Dar during his last trip upon The Albatross and reclaimed upon his recent return, as the tool being used to threaten his purpose. Childhood toy though it was, in the right hands it could kill.

And apparently it was in the right hand. He was used to tough women, like Nivenh’Mia and his wife, women that took a lickin and kept on tickin. But he had not expected to find one in the barrel. While washing the shirt, pants and cloak, he had mused at what sort of woman he had found. The clothes definitely indicated someone who did not care for fripperies, so he was not expecting some fluff and foo like Lady Aietu, but he had not been expecting the need to defend himself.

It made him curious at the force the smaller woman was able to control, even after her beating by the barrel. He decided diplomacy was the order of the day, and while her tones spoke her desperation, he kept his voice free from mockery as much as possible, focusing on the humor in the situation. Justen was good at that. Jeroff was better, and he simply played What Would Jeroff Trizidad Say?

He skipped the part in that game where Jeroff would have totally admired the woman’s legs and the way her pert breasts pushed against the crisp white shirt their mother had gotten for him and presented to him as a gift just the day before. Already she had managed to stain it, but Justen was not that attached to it, gift as it was. It was too gaudy for his taste, something he might wear with the Asha’man cape he had stored in his trunk of possessions, deep at the bottom.

But her legs. Now they were what Jeroff would have focused on. Long and sleek and well muscled, he had seen a bit of them while cleaning her, but he had kept his eyes on her toes, a safe place as any. Her arms too, were sleek and well muscled, but Jeroff would not have thought of that past the danger to his jugular.

He was glad when she removed the weapon from his neck, and even more so when she took the close and retreated to dress. That she wanted to travel into the Waste explained some of the reason why she was so hard. Most of it was not a friendly area.

That she was traveling with someone that could utilize a Gateway was interesting. There were only certain people who had the ability to manipulate those. His mind instinctively went to an Aes Sedai or an Asha’man, but he did not want to presume that it was an agent of the Light that she kept company with.

His mind recalled Te’Keira, and her bondmate Mad Jack Haddar. She had been turned from the Dark by another, but being bonded to Mad who would never have considered willingly turn, or being bonded to someone who was, her path had been a precarious one.

It did not settle him to hear that the Army was also looking for her. Which army? There were several that came to mind. Ebou Dar was crawling the Ever Victorious Army soldiers, and that was a largest likelihood right there, with her fear of his beloved Ebou Dar.

That she was wanted by them made him a little nervous, but only inasmuch that she might be a darkfriend and since she was on his ship, he would have to dispose of her. Everyone made mistakes, but being friends or being lenient with a darkfriend always seemed to come back and bite him in the backside. Justen was not worried when he faced his growing years, but frankly, he was getting too old to do that song and dance. It was more dangerous to his resolution than when his lovely wife danced the sa’sara for him.

And still, even if she was something that dangerous, he felt hesitant to try and end her in any way. He had just saved her and patched her up. And had done a decent job at doing so, if he did say so himself.

He had found out a lot about the woman in the short time he had been in the room with her. Justen was nothing if not logical and levelheaded, slow to decisions. This seemed like one of those times when going elsewhere where he could think in peace would work in his favor. She was nearly dressed. He did not know when the last time she had eaten was, but his guess was the barrel did not have its own cook. That should give him some time to think things through.

However, if her timeline was different than his, "If you are going for the rowboat it'd be best to start rowing on a full stomach" He paused, his hand on the thick doorjamb. There were pirates in this ocean, his father had warned Justen of him when he had agreed to captain The Hearty Fool. While Justen did not have worries for the ship he captained being overrun and taken over by Seachan pirates, the dingy might not fare quite so well.

He shrugged inwardly. It would be her choice, he was not going to take it away from her, her original request. "Whether you were right and wrong with whatever got you in trouble, you're not a prisoner here. But I wouldn’t put your head deck side until we have some more things hammered out." He flashed her a grin, “Since you are not a prisoner, if you choose to go topside before then, that's your choice."

Justen gave her a small bow and turned, shutting the cabin door quietly behind him. She had some thinking to do as well.


~Justen Trizidad of Ebou Dar, captain, Asha'man, bonded to Mir'iam a'Del Nor of the Brown Ajah

Ayrowa stared off into space for a few moments after the door clicked shut. Perhaps her situation wasn't so bad after all...for now. What she would do when they reached Tanchico remained to be seen, however. Being on a ship was not bothersome for the soldier. Everyone had come over to Hawkwing's lands in that manner. And water had surrounded the lands from whence she came on two sides; the city of Imfaral, near the Towers of Midnight, was a port city. She had always particularly liked flying the raken over the waters, preferring gliding over the waves rather than sailing upon them.

But now, so long as she rode the seas, it seemed that this captain would see her safe, the soldier thought as she folded one of her legs beneath herself to sit on the bed. People that meant you harm did not go out of their way to clean you up and bring you fresh clothes when you were hurt. Good fortune had seemed to find her at odd times since that fateful day that she and Ludoc had gone flying together, the last time that she would ever consider herself part of the Ever Victorious Army. She had met the Traveling People, Aes Sedai, Asha'man, and Aiel--more types of intriguing people than many storytellers could ever hope to encounter. What bothered her now, as much as the trouble it was going to be to move about Tanchico without being recognized, was the fact that she had again become separated from the man she was traveling with.

Matthias Kurda'an was either in trouble himself, or was probably scouring Ebou Dar to find her, knowing him as she did. And unless she found an Asha'man who was familiar with Ebou Dar or with Rhuidean--the latter a particularly unlikely proposition--she was not going to be rejoining the Drin anytime soon. Sending a pigeon, as the captain had suggested, would have worked had she not currently been part of a quietly-moving group that seeked to avoid notice. Trying to contact him might only put him in further peril.

Well, seeing as I seem to be stuck in here for the time being, I might as well see what's lying around the Captain's Quarters, mused the morat'raken. She looked over his nautical instruments, but the only one she felt might be of any use to her was the telescope. He seemed quite attached to the compass, though. Feeling through the sleeve of the white shirt for the bracelet she had been gifted with as a girl, she was relieved to find the circlet of linked swords still there. Ayrowa was rather attached to it as well, and thus could relate. We only have one set of parents, after all. At least this captain could still visit his.

Other than the instruments, there was little to sift through to pass the time. Though most garments were neatly folded, there were clothes here and there--this was a man's room after all. A table with two chairs, and a couple of heavy chests for clothing were all that filled the remaining space. A smaller, decorated box with a secure, heavy latch rested on a ledge near the table. Ayrowa waited to listen for approaching footsteps or more singing before wriggling it open. Books! There were several meticulously-cared for tomes stacked within, some clearly read more often than others. A couple of the titles, The Travels of Jain Farstrider and To Sail Beyond the Sunset, were familiar to her. Others, such as The Flame, The Blade and the Heart, were not. One book seemed to be about the constellations--an obvious interest for someone who enjoyed sailing. Though soldiers did not have much time for leisure reading, she knew how, and enjoyed it considerably, especially in her younger days before the Corenne began, often stretching out in an open field near her home with a book on a lazy afternoon with Ludoc or one of the other friendly morat'raken for company.

In between two of the books, she found a thinner book that was full of sketches that appeared to be made by a younger man's hand. Folded between the pages was a map that had clearly been drawn out years ago. Seeing these tokens of an older time, and of varied interests, mingled in with the ordinary things she'd found in the captain's room put him in a new light. A loud thump, likely the sound of things shifting in the hold, startled Ayrowa a bit, and she quickly returned everything to its rightful place, even taking a few moments to brush off and remake the bed. Deciding she rather liked the shirt that had been put on her earlier, she left it on for the time being. With a sigh of resignation to deal with whatever came of this voyage, she settled into a chair at the table rather than mussing the bed she had just made, and put her own blouse over the chair behind her.

It was not long before the door creaked, signaling the captain's return. Justen, he had said he was called. Yet, ever the soldier, she felt that she'd be compelled to call him by his title when speaking to him. Even before he entered, she rose, and stepped closer to the doorway, smelling the delightful scent of a long-awaited meal. Her mouth watered so much that she did not bother speaking this time, and the captain chose to use a mere gesture to direct her to sit back down. It was all the invitation she needed before digging into the delicious breakfast placed before her.

Justen had enough time to think things over in his head as he idly studied the maps on the table, not really seeing them. Given time to think by himself, he had come to several conclusions.

The first of which was that he was starving and it was time to break his night’s fasting. Leaving his head, he headed for the galley. Tioken, the ships cook, gave him two plates piled high with scrambled cheesy eggs and sausage links. He thanked the man and made his way back to his cabin.

He knocked this time, and when the door swung open, he proceeded in, still wary of an attack. Well, an attack almost came, but it was for the food he carried than harm against his person. He was glad that she had decided not to go topside without him, he still had questions for her and he really was not sure how the crew would react to her.

He gestured to the small table in the room and carried the meal there. She sat quickly, her eyes ravenous. He was glad her fear was not clouding her appetite and told her so.

He watched her eat for several seconds even though his stomach twisted jealously. It too wanted to be fed. He picked up his own fork and dug in, bringing a large steaming pile of food to his lips.

“Captain Trizidad.”

The words were sharp enough that he dropped his fork. He groaned inwardly at Dole’s appearance. His back was turned to him and Justen craned around in his seat and viewed the man.

“Yes Master Dole? What can I help you with this morning?” And don’t you knock? He smiled amiably.

“My Lady wishes for you to break your fast with her this morning.” The manservant crossed the room and picked up Justen’s plate, moved to the nearest port window, opened it, and tossed the meal out. “Will that be a problem?”

Justen vibrated with anger. Dole stared at him and seemed not to notice. Justen shoved his rage down and smiled. “Of course not. I will be there anon.”

“My Lady does not like to be kept waiting,” Dole turned and was gone.

Justen sighed. He smiled apologetically at his guest. “I must go. I apologize. We will continue this conversation later. There is room in the rowboat for three, at least. Think about it.”

He calmed himself down as he stroke purposely to the Lady’s quarters. Part of him wanted to tell him that she, and her Light forsaken manservant, could jump over the side of the ship as far as he cared. But that would not be terribly diplomatic. As a representative of the Black Tower, and the White Tower, for his wife, he practiced diplomacy religiously. It did not matter if Lady Aietu did not know he was an Asha’man.

The closed door to her quarters loomed before him. He stopped, swinging his arms viciously a few times to knock out the last bit of rage from his fingertips before raising his fist to the door and rapped on the door. He cupped his hands before him and waited for his admittance to be granted. When it was given, he opened the door.

She looked him up and down as soon as he entered. “Are you clean? You do not look as if you have bathed today.”

“I am clean enough for your purposes.”

She took a moment to look him slowly up and down from her high seated chair, pausing her gaze at the juncture of his thighs for just long enough and with enough intensity that he nearly reached up and put his hand in front of himself. He restrained and her eyes eventually rose to his chest and finally to his face. “And what purpose would that be?”

Justen forced a grin. “Companionship during breakfast, of course.”

“Ah, of course.” Lady Aietu batted her eyelashes. She gestured with one gloved hand to the chair opposite of her. “Come then, sit. The help has gone to fetch our meal. He should be back by this evening.” She gave a small laugh as if finding what she said to be funny. When Justen did not laugh, she gave him a strange look. “Ugh,” she reached into her lap and pulled out a black silk handkerchief and held it over her mouth.

Curious actions, Justen thought as he kept his face politely blank. “What would you like to talk about, ma’am?”

She waved her hand delicately, ignoring his inquiry, “You have not bathed today. Light! You smell so…commoner!”

Justen Trizidad worked his jaw and kept his fingers entwined before him. Finally he smiled, “Perhaps you would rather dine with my first mate, Dazron Finek. I hear he comes highly recommended.”

She waved her hand at him dismissively. “You may stay, today, since you are already here and breakfast is near. But I expect you to carry yourself better after today.”

Justen pursed his lips as she angled her head away. One good thing about her rude manners, it kept her mouth from speaking. He held back a new barb that came to his mind, deciding he liked the silence better. He made a face, which she missed, when he remembered his earlier sentiment about liking the life at sea because one did not have to remain as pomp and primp and civilized. He rested his fists upon his lap.

Finally Dole returned, carrying with him two trays of the same food that he had impertinently thrown out the porthole. With a clumsy flourish, the manservant set the food on the table. Justen’s stomach growled and the Trizidad remembered that he had not eaten a full meal the night before- he had been busy tending to the woman, whose name he still had not caught. They had left him a platter on his table, but the little amount of Healing he had utilized had taken away much of his appetite. The steaming plate loomed near and he reached for his fork eagerly.

The parasol came out of nowhere and hit his wrist with enough force to knock the fork from his grasp. “Ow!” he glared at the Lady, smiling calmly and twirling her weapon.

“Not so fast my stallion captain,” she smiled, her eyes dancing mischievously. “Get my special bag.”

Justen blinked. She was staring right at him when he said it, he thought she was speaking to him. But Dole lept into action, running to one corner of the Lady’s apartment and retrieving a rich leather bag. With a flourish the hobbling man set the bag on the bed. He went to a chest next and pulled out what looked to be an old horse blanket. He set it out next to the black leather bag.

Justen rubbed his throbbing wrist and eyed his fork. It had slid across the floor and was almost all the way to the wall. He considered fetching it but did not want to be hit again. So he waited.

Finally he looked up to find both of them staring at him. He blinked. “What?”

Lady Aietu smiled and gestured to the bed. “We are waiting for you. Have a seat. Dole will…make you presentable.”

Justen gave his steaming meal a forlorn look before sighing quietly and rising to his feet. Dole quickly fetched the basin of water from the dresser even as Justen sunk down on the horse blanket. His fingers played with the pompom decoration at its side idly, waiting as patiently as he could with his stomach's making loud acrobatics in his midsection. He straightened his spine when Lady Aietu rose from her chair and moved to the black bag Dole had fetched. She cast him a small smile and began riffing though its contents, which clinked together merrily with her search. Dole sat on the bed next to Justen and held out his hand. Justen stared, confused. The manservant waved his hand impatiently and Justen cautiously laid his hand on Dole's.

Instantly Dole went to work, producing a hard wire brush he went to work scrubbing viciously at the Trizidad's hands, backs and palms until Justen was quite sure he was going to begin bleeding. He grit his teeth and stared at the top of Dole's head. It was almost more than he could stand. He opened his mouth to say something. Abruptly Dole ceased his administrations and dropped the hand. It fell to Justen's lap. Dole scowled and quickly retrieved the damp hand and held it midair. Getting the idea, Justen dutifully the hand in the air. He glanced at Lady Aietu and she smiled at him once again.

Dole moved to Justen's other side and began treating his hand with the same roughness as the other. Justen took a few of the first minutes before the real pain started to look sadly at his very red and raw hand. When Dole hit a nerve, he yalped and lept to his feet shaking his head. "That is enough! I will not sit through any more. I am clean enough!"

Lady Aietu frowned and straightened and approached him, her gloved hands raised. "We are nearly done," she explained consolingly. Then more forcefully, "Sit!" she pointed to the horse blanket.

Justen eyed the blanket angrily. He did not want to. He wanted to eat. He was sick of this woman's cruel games.

But if it was almost over.

He wanted to throw diplomacy out the window and tell these two to jump in the ocean and catch the next cargo ship.

Justen sighed and unfisted his hands at his side and returned to his seat. Lady Aietu smiled warmly at him and returned to the bag. She made a small exclamation when she found whatever it was she was looking for. She brought out a thin bottle with a round top. Justen did not have time to close his eyes before the storm erupted around him, throwing him into a coughing fit. The exotic perfume overwhelmed his senses and burned his eyes. Alarmed, he waved his arms and leapt to his feet.

This torture was not worth breakfast.

"I have captain-y things to do!" he explained and fled the room.

Light forsaken womenfolk!

Justen was still sputtering and coughing as he ran on deck. His eyes burned atrociously. He ran for the side of the ship. He would have gladly leapt into the ocean to make the torture stop.

But there was no need. As he reached the rail the ocean leapt up. A rogue wave washed over the side of the ship. It licked him quickly, drenching him from head to toe, before collapsing at his feet.

Sputtering and spitting out seawater, Justen gave his head a firm shake. The tie in his hair had been knocked out and washed overboard. His shoulder length hair dripped in sorry sections. He turned….

To find several of his crew staring at him, their mouths formed into several surprised o’s. His first mate was there as well, his shock equal to the crew’s. Finek was the first to speak.

“Captain…that is just bad luck being in the wrong place and the wrong time for that wave… you are soaked.”

Justen coughed again and grinned behind his hand as he wiped some of the briny water from his face. At least Finek had not commented that he smelled like a flowery boutique. Some of the stench must have been washed away, though it was still the only thing his nostrils could make out. So he nodded and even managed to frown at his bad luck of being drenched in the middle of sunny skies, thinking as he agreed with them verbally, that it was even luckier they had not caught a whiff of him seconds ago. To the opinion of his stomach, bad luck was facing two perfectly good meals and being denied each.

“That is a sound assessment,” he replied lightheartedly, playing an emotion he really did not feel. He gave his wet sleeve a snap, sending drops of water flying. “I am going to go change.” He quickly strode to the hatch before they could think longer on their wet captain. It was indeed strange for the Trizidad to appear almost out of nowhere, get to the railing and be thoroughly doused. He was sure if they thought on it longer they would remember some of the stories they had heard about him.

He worked his jaw angrily at more than just himself.

Footsteps hastened after him and he paused. Finek appeared, stopping short when he saw the captain stop. “Captain, there are matters deck side that require your presence.”

Justen heard no real urgency in his second in command’s voice and nodded wearily, already leaning further down the hall. “I will be there shortly. It will not take me long to change.” He did not wait for Finek’s response, but since he heard no more from behind him he assumed whatever was on the first mate’s mind it was not pressing.

The door to his cabin was closed and he knocked twice and paused before opening the door. His unexpected guest looked him up and down and her eyes widened slightly at his state. He smiled widely even as his hair swung back and forth with his movements. “Hello again. I am finding myself in need of a change of clothes and my things are still here. I suppose I should relocate to another compartment but there had not been time yet.”

He looked at the door. Still not knowing who she was or much of her story other than the tick-points she had given him so far, he did not want her to leave the cabin without him. Justen felt that she was his responsibility. And given that he was in charge of the ship, she probably was.

He smiled again when he turned to face her, turning away from the polished glass that hung on the wall. Her hand fell away from her wound. He knew what she had found, unless she had stumbled and made it worse. He inquired and was given a positive response, for which he was glad. She eyed his soaked attire and the question was there in her eyes. He really did not want to explain himself at this point so he smiled disarmingly, almost sheepishly, and requested, “I am going to ask you to give me the same respect I gave you when you were dressing. Do you mind? I will make quick work of it and then we can turn deck side, if is what you wish.”

She made a small gesture and he smiled thankfully before she turned her back on him. He looked around the room for the best place to rest his wet behind so he could better take off his boots. His best option was one of the chairs at the table and he sat heavily. He worked diligently at his left boot for several long seconds, grunting when the leather seemed to stick to his skin.

She appeared before him and dropped to a practiced crouch before him. He braced his forearms on the arms of the chair as she expertly wiggled them off. It was on the tip of his tongue to make a joke about needing a cabin boy, but he did not know her well enough to make that quip. He did not want her to take offense so he remained silent. She made quick work of it and before he knew it, he was looking at his toes wiggling in their socks. He nodded his thanks, as much thankful at the help as he was that she had not mentioned that he smelled like a bloody flower garden.

She returned to where she had been standing with her back to him. Justen tossed the rest of his clothes aside, angry at the faint smell that still lingered on them. He had not missed the twitch of her nose when she had helped him remove his boots. He tossed them onto the backs of one of the chairs he had almost broken his fast at earlier this morning. When he was down to his smallclothes, he hesitated, eyeing her straight back cautiously. There was no sense in putting on dry clothes if they got wet again right away.

He stripped them as well and quickly turned to his chest of drawers. Even with her back to him he felt the thrum of extra blood pulse through him as he reddened with embarrassment. He had not been alone, naked, in the same room other than his wife for…a long time. Luckily he knew what extra set he was aiming for and exactly where they were. Finding the soft peach colored shirt first, he slipped it on, then turned his attention to finding his extra pair of smallclothes and britches.

Finding them he set them on the top of the chest. Deciding now was as good a time as any, he opened the lines of conversation, “Is there something you prefer to call yourself? Ma’am denotes and age neither of us has met yet,” he glanced over his shoulder to see if she had caught the mirth in his voice. She still had her back politely to him and he took the split second to run his gaze from her wavy red hair that fell far down her back, breaking just before the waistline of her pants, revealing a broken white line before the fawn colored britches started. His gaze fell on her posterior, his sight lingering there but his mind on another very attractive woman whose choice of clothes clung to every sensuous, muscular curve of her body.

He colored when he realized and turned his gaze quickly away. He never would have stared at Nivenh’Mia that way, she would have prickled him with her daggers if he had. Justen smiled at that, realizing just how much he was looking forward to seeing his sister-in-law before continuing, “There is already one on board who calls herself lady, so I hope that is not the case with you.”

She'd shift as if she feels like he's looking at her and say, "I am Ayrowa. I am a morat'raken...From your song, you must know what that is.”

He shrugged then realized she could not see it. He grunted and placed the last button in place. “I know it more by books and reputation and rumor than by actual acquaintance.” He moved to the bowl of fruit he kept in his quarters, ravenous. He bit into the crisp apple loudly.

Correctly assuming if he was eating that he was done dressing, she slowly turned to him, her blue eyes focusing on him, a determined glint in their depths.

Justen offered part of the apple, was rejected, and he chewed on the information he was given. There was more to the story, there always was. He ran his free hand through his hair thoughtfully. It was quickly drying and becoming coarse with the ingredients from the sea.

"They'll be curious enough how a woman found her way into a wine barrel and ended up on the boat. I can't say I’m not curious myself, I like a good story and I think you have a couple to tell. But let's skip to the important one of the generic tale of how you ended up on The Hearty Fools and we can be on our way for now. Give me a voucher for your behavior. I already have one royal pain upon this ship, I truly do not need more trouble."

She paused as if considering her next words carefully. "I was being pursued by a man that wouldn't leave me be, and I hid in the barrel. Which ended up, as luck would have it, on your boat." The explanation was indeed brief and it only brought more questions to his mind. "And as long as I can escape notice when we arrive in Tanchico, I will be no trouble to you."

He thought this over for several minutes, it was obvious questions swirled behind the green eyes, but he accepted her answer at face value. He would show her the rowboat if it still occurred to her at some point to make her premature escape from the ship. In truth, he liked her disposition, she seemed nice enough, even if she were in trouble of some kind. He would much rather spend time picking through her many layers than indulge Lady Aietu with another meal. A smile broke over his lips as he gestured to the door. "Shall we?"

It seemed that Ayrowa's short and sweet explanation for how she'd ended up on Justen's boat was enough. It was clear in his manner, and through the lingering silence, that he had more questions, but he appeared content to keep them to himself for now. There would be time to be completely honest with him--if she had to be. It was clear that while the captain might be cautious with her, that he would treat her with respect.

"Shall we?" He waved a hand towards the door to motion her out first, his lips curving upward in a smile that the morat'raken returned before an uneasy thought passed through her mind, darkening her features as she took hold of the doorhandle.

"Wait. I'm not so sure we should use my real name. Just in case."

The captain pressed his lips together a moment in thought. "Well then, what shall I call you to introduce you to the crew?"

Ayrowa considered her options. She could make up a name, but then would she recall it? She could use her mother's name, but the idea made her feel shameful. I'll just use...

"My middle name. It's Lerine. Yes, that will do." It was part of her given name, after all.

She turned the handle and stepped out into the brilliant sun, hearing a couple of calls from the sailors aboard, taking notice that she had finally emerged. The seas were not too rough on this day, though Ayrowa was glad that she had a good sense of balance. It had been quite some time since she had found herself on a sailing vessel, particularly one this size.

"Looks like a beautiful day, Captain," she commented, shading a hand to dart a look up at him.

Justen nodded, his face solemn as he studied the reaction of the crew to her appearance. He glanced over a prim lady standing on board, her blue parasol protecting her white skin from the sun. Even with the sun in her eyes, Ayrowa noted how his eyes darkened momentarily, until his gaze moved on. "Apparently there are rogue waves," Justen said, the side of his lip twitching suspiciously.

Ayrowa caught the twitch of his lips, almost as if he wanted to laugh, and had to catch herself from doing the same as she recalled him looking a bit like a drowned rat when he'd returned earlier. "I saw that. So, anyone on the boat I should perhaps avoid?"

The captain looked thoughful. "You have your name changed," he told her, keeping his voice low, "so if there are any Seanchan sailors on board you should be safe. I am guessing the compass wasn't a fluke, so in that way you're likely to be safe... I would avoid anyone you do not get along with of course." His gaze seemed to drift of its own accord towards the well-dressed woman before he added, "but I will let you determine that on your own."

The fair-skinned woman carrying the parasol seemed to catch the sound of his voice and turned, making her way towards him, just as a red-haired man with neatly-trimmed facial hair scurried forward. It looked almost as if there would be a race of sorts.

"...but if you're going to avoid anyone as if they were the plague...." added the captain, directing the notion towards these two with a smile.

"Lady Aietu," Justen said, giving the woman a proper bow. Ayrowa did not; there was no love lost for anyone of the Blood in her world, whether they were Seanchan or from these lands.

"Captain. I missed you during breakfast."

"I missed breakfast too." The sly wording made Ayrowa press her lips together to keep from laughing.

This woman known as Lady Aietu frowned, the action marring her pursed lips. "There you go smelling like a commoner again." She gave the flier a pointed look. "And traveling with one too...."

It was the worthless manner in which she had spoken the word 'commoner' that bothered Ayrowa further, making her very inclined to associate her with the noble that she'd had the most contact with--Riman Atros. And he was not the type of man that anyone would want to be associated with.

"This must be the royal baggage," she said softly to the captain, leaning over so that he would hear, but she would not be bothered too much if the snooty bit of fluff did overhear.

The eyeroll that followed told Ayrowa that her words hit their mark. "But Master Finek has been showing me around the ship," she finally continued. "Perhaps you are right and he is the better man, better civilized and more useful for my purposes."

Ayrowa could not help but speak up in Justen's defense, though she was quite sure he did not need her to. "The captain is quite kind and civilized, from my limited experience." What she had really wanted to say was that civilization was evident in one's behavior, but kept that to herself for now. Barely.

"Very limited..."

The captain spoke up. "Ah. I am glad you found a suitable replacement. I would not want your witty chat to go unused for the duration of the trip." He finished by baring his teeth in a smile. "You'll have to excuse me then, my first mate has things that need my attention."

Again, Ayrowa nearly snorted in laughter at the reference to the woman's 'witty chat.' Once the amusement wore off, though, she began to feel a nearly immediate dislike for the prissy thing protecting her delicate self from the sunlight. Ayrowa's deep blue eyes studied her openly, while the noblewoman finally gazed back in return, wrinkling her nose, and pressing a bag to her nose. The sea breezes carried the overpowering scent of flowers to the Seanchan as she realized the implication.

"So, how is it that someone who smells a good deal better than everyone else on this boat ends up as part of the cargo?" Her sarcasm seemed to be lost on the other woman, as she clearly did not understand being referred to as cargo. Puzzlement appeared first, followed by a muted, sly look.

"At least i know i have enough class to pay for my boarding and did not need to smuggle myself on board and avail myself to the captain's needs to keep from being thrown overboard. He told me all about you over breakfast." She gave an amused wink and turned to walk away.

She....she's saying....how dare she! Ayrowa was torn between growling aloud at the sheer impudence, and tackling the little flower right then and there to knock some sense into her noble head. Instead, she swallowed both reactions and settling for growling on the inside, chuckling outwardly. After all, there hadn't been anything for the man to tell--he'd hardly heard her speak at that point, and had only been gone for a few minutes. She doubted the captain had even been able to have much breakfast. If he'd had to endure that disgusting flowery smell, he would have wanted to sick up and lose all of it.

A string of swear words poured forth from nearby, prompting Ayrowa to turn her attention away from glaring at the woman's back. Footsteps sounded beside her as a man trodded down some steps to stand beside her.

"I knew he weren't gonna be happy 'bout that," muttered a voice in the same kind of local accent that the soldier had heard throughout her brief stay in Ebou Dar.

"About what?" Ayrowa questioned with a slight touch of her drawl, wishing she could have managed to hide it after all this time in Hawkwing's lands. She stood on slight tiptoe to see what was happening, but all she could glimpse was a lot of angry gesturing on the Captain's part.

"The rowboat's gone."

"Gone?" Well, there goes that plan...good thing I didn't need it to save my own hide....

"Yes, and curse me if'n I know about the first thing about what happened to 't," he went on, with the soldier only half listening. "Dun suppose we need it, Cap'n Trizidad is capable and I do think the rest of this lot knows what they're about."

While she continued watching the captain interact with his first mate, Ayrowa was suddenly aware that the sailor's eyes were on her and had been for more than just a second or two. When she turned to regard him, the motion seemed to prompt him to continue his conversation, as he leaned back at his ease, fully aware that he would be considered attractive by most. Of course, most were not the Seanchan morat'raken.

"So, you're the lady that was pulled from the barrel. You dun look too bad off to me." Something about his dark-eyed, penetrating gaze made her want to squirm slightly. "Name's Anton Coreval. You may call me however you like."

"You may call me Lerine," replied Ayrowa, suddenly wishing she hadn't attracted this one's attention.

"Well, I do be the man who tried to tap that barrel you were in. I believe we migh' have somethin' to talk about later...." He raised a well-muscled arm to run a hand over his short, dark curls.

"What's that?" She wished she didn't have to ask, but he was just going to stand there and leer at her until she did...

He grinned widely and smoothed the bright, Altaran-styled vest he wore over his otherwise bare chest. "The finder's fee. You're lucky I selected that barrel, y'know."

Ayrowa eyed him squarely, looking perturbed. Is he really trying what I think he's trying? "Hmm. Well, I'm not so sure about that."

"What do ya mean, my lady Lerine?"

"It's just Lerine. I am no puffed-up lady like that one." She tossed a thumb in the direction the noblewoman had gone. "And since the captain himself took care of me once I was found, I suppose I owe him any sort of finder's fee. And he hasn't asked anything of the sort." She crossed her arms.

"But he's wedded, y'know."

He may be married, Ayrowa pondered, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't too hurt by the fact that he had to change my clothes. Or that he had to look at my backside earlier. He is a man, after all. It goes with the territory.

"Good, then there should be no problems with people making assumptions around here."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "But I--"

Ayrowa cut him off by very pointedly removing his hand to let it drop back down to his side, her eyes fiery. "If I see that I will need them, I'll be asking for my twin swords back from the captain. Be glad that you aren't getting to see me use them right now."

As she swiftly moved away from the bold Altaran, she caught sight of dark eyes peering at them coldly from beneath the parasol.

Justen glanced back at Ayrowa as he followed Master Finek and his brow furrowed softly when the morat'raken continued to speak with Lady Aietu after he had walked away. He had not really expected her to follow him, it was obvious that she could handle herself, even in the Lady’s presence. He did not want to encourage their fraternizing, however, and made a mental note to entreat Ayrowa to leave the viper alone.

He really did not need the two women getting into a fist fight upon the ship. He had no doubt that Ayrowa would win that fight in the short run. But Lady Aietu, if her dress were any indication, came from wealth and power. When the wealthy put it in their mind to ruin someone, they very often succeeded. Justen did not want his first time back in to the position of captain start off the downfall of the Trizidad Shipping Company.

“I have already asked the men,” Master Finek said, drawing Justen’s attention, “and their story is uniform; no one saw anything. Or heard anything,” he added.

Justen nodded, not knowing what the man was talking about. He felt as if he had stepped into the middle of a conversation. He could not recall missing anything. Justen liked nouns. He liked them even more when people used them. He was just about to make this revelation known to his first mate when they came to a stop at the railing.

The large wooden boat that had been hanging by a pulley system near the side of the boat, a system that made either lowering the boat over the side or, in the case of a severe storm, further onto the boat so it would not crack against The Hearty Fools’s side. Justen blinked, not believing what he was seeing. All that remained were a few tattered tail of the rope that hung it in place. It was foolish, he knew even as he slammed his fists up the railing, following the smooth flow of the boat down to the hull, down to the ocean churning below, the white froth bubbling up where the two met. He really was not expecting to see the missing dingy, but he also had not been prepared to not find it swaying gently where it ought to be.

He looked back up at the thick rope. There was no way it could have come unraveled by itself, it occurred to him. The rope was as thick as his wrist.

He leapt upon the railing to inspect the rope more closely. His suspicions were confirmed. The uneven marks from a knife greeted him. He issued a long string of obscenities, some of them made up, even as he jumped back to deck. There was a quick flurry of movement as the crew scurried back to work.

Feeling eyes staring at the back of his head, he turned and found Lady Aietu staring at him. He found his scowl deepen several dark shades even as the woman graced him with a small smile before she took Dole’s arm and retreated below deck.

“Well there goes that daydream,” he muttered to himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The remains of the rig for the lifeboat was taken down and stored, there was no point in having them flap tackily in the breeze. They would need a whole new pulley rig before another boat could be hung there again anyway. Wanting something productive to do, he helped the crew he assigned to take the pulleys down.

After that, and the system was stored, he found other things to keep himself busy with throughout the day. Either supervising, watching his crew go about their tasks, or helping them with repairs kept him happily from Lady Aietu and at a distance from Ayrowa. He saw both of them several times during the day, but was too preoccupied with what he had thrown himself into to stop and converse.

He strangely only felt like he was neglecting one of the two ladies. Lady Aietu seemed perfectly capable of flirting with the crew on her own that he almost got the feeling she waited until his gaze was drawn to her before her crystalline laughter filled the air, too loud and too forced to fool the Trizidad.

Ayrowa seemed to entertain herself well enough. He saw her speaking with a few of the crew, and help with a couple of the tasks when it suited her. She disappeared below deck a few times as well. He was not sure whether or not he trusted her, but he could not think of anything she could get into that he would regret. She might find her weapons, or the ones he had found in the barrel, if she looked hard enough, but sort of hoped that whoever she was, that she would recognize his cloak and that it would give her pause until he figured her out a bit more.

He saw her emerge from below deck several times and each time she paused and looked about. For him or for some other danger that might be lurking top deck in the face of his crew, Justen was not sure. There was never any guilt on her face, so either she was not getting into anything she ought not be, or she did not consider whatever she was doing to be guilt-worthy.

By late afternoon he was starving, the apple he had eaten earlier was done sustaining himself. He considered getting another from his quarters, given that Cook was not yet done with the evening meal, but threw himself more into his work. He was immensely relieved when the meal was ready to be served and the bulk of the crew retreated below to eat. Justen flagged Master Finek for his attention and asked his first mate to bring Justen’s portion to the head so he could work on the maps and captain’s log in peace.

He did not add so he could eat his meal in peace. When Finek brought the tray of roast beef and potatoes, Justen thanked the man, closed the door, and locked it soundly. He picked up one of the steaming potatoes from the plate and at it even as he crossed to the desk, clearing a spot upon its papered surface with the back of his hand.

Much of the plate had been consumed when there was a knock at the door. Justen froze into silence. There was another knock, to which he remained the same. Whoever it was took the message and moved away. Justen breathed a sigh of relief and finished his meal at a languished pace, now that the worst of his hunger was satiated.

As the light waned and he remained at his desk, looking over papers that were meant both for himself as well as for the Trizidad line, he light the lamp overhead, filling the cabin with a pleasant yellow glow. Some of the papers were written in the Captain’s own handwriting and he paid particular attention to these. Not because his father’s words were more important than the others or asked for more of Justen’s time, but because Justen felt close to his father once again with each word.

Finally he set the last letter aside, letting it fall to the polished surface of the desk. He sighed and looked to his left. A smile slid over his lips. He reached out and drew the two bound books of pages close. One was simply a sketchbook, most of its pages blank. He had picked it up at The Bookworm. He had been surprised that old Mel Ruster still ran the place. It was another comfort from his childhood returned to him, this dusty and musty and beautiful shop of books and pages and supplies.

Justen opened the sketchbook and looked at a few of the pictures within, drawings of his mother and his father and their home in Ebou Dar, drawn by his own hand. There were artists better than he, but looking at them now it brought their beloved faces back from his memory. He scratched his neck thoughtfully as he looked at them, making a promise once again to himself that not another fourteen years would pass before he saw them again.

He sighed and closed the sketchbook. He would be back. He would help Nivenh’Mia, if she so wished to enter in the venture, set up a shipping office in Tanchico, maybe hire an accountant that was wiser in the business than both of them combined, and honest, before leaving. But he needed to deal with his wife. Not harshly, he could not blame her for traveling to her sister-in-law’s ball, but he could blame her for doing it when she was as bilious around the stomach, and beautifully so, ready to pop with their first child. He had hoped that the gaidin they had agreed for her would have talked her out of the fools journey, but he supposed Mir’iam a’Del Nor could be bullheaded and convincing when she put her mind to it.

He looked toward the head of the table and his gaze caught on a black stick of charcoal chalk and the captain of The Hearty Fools smiled. It was the perfect medium to use on the sketchbook this night. grabbing them both, and retrieving the eye patch from the drawer to his left, he rose and left the sanctuary of the captain’s head.

"I do hope Coreval wasn't being a nuisance," came an insistent voice from behind her after Ayrowa had stalked away from the overly-friendly sailor. She turned to regard its source, a neatly-groomed man with reddish-hair, shorter than Justen. "I'm Dazon Finek," he continued, giving her a polite nod of his head. "First mate to Captain Trizidad."

"My name is Lerine." The half-truth floated more easily off her lips than she'd thought it would.

"Any idea how you ended up here among us, Miss Lerine?" The question wasn't entirely unexpected, but she was hoping she wouldn't have had to answer it yet. He began to stroll as he waited for her answer.

"Well, I was being chased after a man who was harassing me in the street. I hid there, thinking he would grow tired of looking for me and move on. As it turned out, the barrel I selected was headed to this boat." Not entirely untrue. It was going to bother her later, describing what had taken place in this way, but for now....she was fine with it. It was what had to be done. "And," she added, "no need to be so formal. Just call me Lerine."

"An empty barrel, one you just happened to be in, is sealed and rolled onto this ship?" His voice was tinged with incredulity. "Curious. Ah well, I suppose stranger things have happened..."

"I suppose I am fortunate that your men were in the mood to celebrate."

"Certainly. Well, make yourself at home here, and let me know if you need anything. Lerine." WIth that, he strolled away, shouting directions to one of the deckhands.

For a while, Ayrowa simply took in the sights and sounds of a day on the water. The sun sparkled off the water in the distance, and from time to time a dolphin could be spotted trailing along in the ship's wake. There was something to be said for escaping her troubles by sailing away from them, whether by air or sea, though they were certain to all come rushing back sooner or later, preferably not until they were within sight of land.

It took much less time for her to get her sea legs back, now that she was outside of the captain's quarters and could see the skyline and the waves. To her eye, they were moving along rather swiftly; she did not recall going this fast when she'd made the crossing, but there were morat'raken and caged raken upon that vessel, the Soreis'miere. Perhaps the difference in weight was the reason. Ayrowa knew a few terms for the parts of the ship, and could understand some of the directions that were called out to its crew. A person could not be on a sailing craft for so long without picking up a few things.

The soldier made her way around the ship, acquainting herself with it a bit, and trying to file away names. She was usually good with details, but so many names at once would confound most anyone. Ayrowa found that one of the men, Sinbryl, had a pup with him, and she passed a good while making friends with the long-eared little fellow as he bounded around the deck, sticking his nose into everything. It gave her a good excuse to follow behind and to look around for her missing weapons, as well. She saw the captain in passing, and meant to ask him about them, but he was busy giving direction and working right alongside the crew. His estimable behavior was not a surprise, after the kind way he had treated her.

Though she did want her weapons back, it seemed that so long as she kept in mind that she was currently going by Lerine, she would be safe enough in the captain's presence or his quarters. It simply felt odd not having the twin swords strapped to her back. And she hoped that no one--other than the captain--had gotten a very good look at her dagger. Only those who were part of the Army had been gifted with the raven-marked blades, though no one would have seen the mark unless they pulled the knife from its sheath. Since it had probably still been on her person when she was found, it seemed unlikely that it had been scrutinized. After all, most everyone--even nobles--carried a dagger these days. The fact that she had one would not be that much of a surprise, or of any special interest.

As the day wore on, she began to feel more at home on the vessel. In her wanderings, she had a look at the captain's maps, and the pigeons, eager to be released for a journey home, cooing in their cages, content. The big-eyed puppy sought her out and gave her a friendly bark, as she followed it to look at a gull that had landed on the ship's rail. "So, you're a bird dog, are you?" she chuckled, bending down to rub the pup's soft ears.

"Enjoying yourself at sea, Lerine?"

The soldier turned about to find Finek considering her.

"Yes, I must say that I am," she admitted. "It does help that there are a few animals on board to distract me; they usually set me at ease." The pup let out a yip as if he had to get his two marks in as well.

"Is there anything that you would like? A snack perhaps? We have a barrel of apples below deck, and I thought I'd offer you one."

It was then that Ayrowa realized that she was still quite hungry; she'd been saddened later, realizing that the captain's uneaten breakfast had been tossed through the porthole, because she would have gladly eaten it as well, rather than see it thrown in the ocean. The plate she'd devoured had been empty before she knew it. Happy to have a bite to eat before the sun met the horizon, she nodded, taking one, and eagerly bit into the juicy orb, settling herself upon a ledge near the main mast. A passing crewman pointed out a whale spout in the distance, and Ayrowa shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand as she watched it arch its back and disappear into the murky blue depths, rising again some distance away.

The time seemed to pass by easily on the water; before the soldier knew it, the sun was lighting the water afire, and hungry sailors were beginning to discuss their rumbling stomachs. Heh. They should try being stuffed into a barrel for the better part of a day. When it was time to dine, Dazon Finek sought her out and proceeded to regale her with tales of various oddities he had seen in his time on the water, including the day that a shark had leapt--or had been tossed by a wave--clear out of the water and landed on deck, with all of the crew staring on in disbelief, and no one wanting to touch the thing to remove it. The stories went on throughout the meal, and by the end of it she realized that the captain was not among them. Roaming about a bit, the Seanchan finally thought to look for him in the room where she had spied the maps earlier. But after knocking twice, with no answer, she decided that their paths might cross later, once the stars were out. After seeing that book on constellations mixed in with Justen's things, Ayrowa felt certain that he would be out enjoying the clear night sky soon enough.