The Gleaming Eye slid through the waters of the Depthless Sea, its sails billowing as a breeze swept in from the northwest. The shoreline of Vutana and the towering Darkwood lay far to the west, visible only as a smudge on the horizon, while to the south and east, nothing but endless water stretched before us. Long waves curled the surface of the water, bobbing the Eye like a cork and rocking us back and forth relentlessly. My stomach protested, but the gumleaf extract Viora gave us kept the breakfast of hard biscuits and salted fish under control, at least. Sadly, Renica couldn’t say the same.

The door to our cabin burst open as the woman staggered swiftly to the rail away from the wind. She bent over it, retching noisily for the third time that morning as what little food she still had in her stomach came surging back up. I stood back a bit, making sure no bits sprayed on me, and looked around to see if we were being watched. Noting the sailors all engrossed in their duties, with no one within earshot, I reached out and patted her back consolingly as she heaved and groaned.

“This – is torture,” she gasped when her stomach seemed to have settled. “Why – can’t we take – the roads?”

“Because this is much faster,” I replied simply.

“Will it matter if I die on the way?” she grumbled, standing erect and clutching the rail. Her tanned face gleamed pale white, the dark circles beneath her eyes proclaiming how little sleep she’d gotten last night.

“You won’t die,” I assured her with a grin. “You might wish you did, though.” I handed her my water flask. “Here, sip from this. Don’t…”

“Don’t gulp it, I remember,” she groaned, lifting up the flask and pouring a tiny bit into her mouth. She grimaced as she swallowed. “It’s not like it stays down, anyway.”

“It’ll stay down longer if you sip it, and the longer you can keep it in you, the less dehydrated you’ll get.”

She snorted. “You sound like the Sorvaraji,” she pointed out.

“And you usually listened to her, so listen to me.” I smacked her gently on the arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it soon.”

“Or I’ll die,” she countered.

“Either way, you won’t feel sick anymore.” She held up the waterskin, but I shook my head. “Take it with you and go lay down again. Let your body adjust.”

She sighed as she turned and staggered back toward our shared cabin, her steps unsteady on the rolling deck. Technically, we could have had our own cabins, but we stayed together for two reasons. First, it fit the role I played: it implied that my attractive Huntmaster was also my bedwarmer, something that I imagined most nobles would happily do. Second, it provided us both with a measure of security. The crew might try to break into my cabin in the middle of the night to rob me or Renica’s for – less savory reasons, but they weren’t likely to brave both of us plus Vikarik.

I looked out at the water, feeling the morning sun on my face and the cool breeze on my back. The water provided me a sense of serenity I hadn’t really felt in this world, as if my troubles and problems were worlds away and I was beyond their reach. I’d been on boats before, but those had been motorboats, powered by gasoline engines. They were loud, smelly, and fast. The galleon was quiet, the only sounds the booming of the sails, the muttered voices and occasional shouts of the sailors, the creaking of the timbers beneath me, and the splash of the waves slapping the hull. The coastline in the distance slid slowly by, moving slower than I could sprint, and the gentle rocking motion lulled me – but not so much that I missed the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

I looked over my shoulder and saw the blonde-haired Captain Karol walking toward me, his hands behind his back, moving easily across the rocking deck. He saw me looking at him and smiled, walking over to stand beside me, just out of easy weapon’s reach. He leaned his elbows on the rail, his golden coat flapping around his legs in the breeze, and stared into the distance with a smile.

“A fine morning to start a voyage,” he observed.

“It seems nice enough,” I agreed. “I don’t know why it’s good for a voyage, though.”

“The wind’s fresh enough to carry us at a fair pace but not so stiff as to drive us before it,” the captain replied, gesturing toward the horizon. “And the Sun’s risen clear and bright, with no sign of clouds or storms.”

“Isn’t the wind coming from the west, though?” I asked, looking at the opposite horizon. “It seems that the weather out that way is more important.”

“Well, yes, it is,” he laughed. “But a storm to the east will send waves crashing against Vutana’s shores – and it seems that your fair Huntmaster doesn’t quite have her sea legs, yet.”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I understand that it takes a day or so to adjust for some. Either way, it really isn’t my concern.”

The captain nodded. “It’s true, it can take a day or two for some to adapt to the sea. By the time we reach the capital, she’ll be walking like a regular sailor.”

“If you say so,” I shrugged again. “It isn’t much bothering me.”

“It does seem that way,” the man agreed. He stood in silence for a few moments, then turned to face me. “That sword you carry. Was last night the first time you’ve ever used it against another omeni?”

I hesitated, considering the best way to answer, then decided on the truth. It was easier than making up a lie, after all, and it fit the persona I portrayed. “Yes, it was,” I admitted. “I purchased it a few days ago as – insurance, I suppose you could say.”

“Insurance?” the man repeated. “Against what?”

“Against the reason I needed to leave Panja,” I said vaguely. I patted the uncocked pistol on my right hip. “I have this for the same reason – although I’m much better with it than the sword.”

“You’d almost have to be,” the man chuckled. My face darkened, but he shook his head. “My apologies, that came out differently than I intended.” He turned back toward the shoreline. “The trip to Mihabag will take five days, and for a passenger, those days can be long – and boring. However, if you’d like, I could teach you how to use that weapon – at least enough to keep from almost dropping it – which would make the time pass a bit more swiftly.”

I stared at the man, noting the long, slim blade attached to his own hip. “And what would you want in return for that sort of instruction?”

“Well, at the end of a voyage, it’s often customary to tip a captain for a fine voyage,” he said easily. “If you could see your way to adding a few silvers as a token of appreciation, that would certainly be welcome.”

“That depends entirely on the quality of the instruction,” I replied firmly. “For all I know, you’re little better with that than I am.”

The captain shifted, drawing his blade with a hiss of steel and a whisper of movement. The point darted toward me, and without thinking, I leaned aside, snatching up the dagger at my hip with my left hand and using it to parry the blow while drawing and cocking my pistol with my right hand. The captain froze as I leveled the barrel at his chest and stepped back with a startled expression and a chuckle.

“Well, you have the right instincts, if nothing else,” he said, lowering his sword to the deck. “You parried well with your dagger, and you went for your pistol rather than a sword you barely know how to use. You’ve had some training, then, I take it?”

“Yes,” I nodded, uncocking the pistol and slipping the knife back into its sheath. “Only with short blades and firearms, though.”

“Well, I’ll tell you right up front. You’re not going to learn much in five days. I can teach you how to hold the blade, how to stand and move, and how to parry and thrust, but even if you practice constantly the entire voyage, you’ll still be little more than competent with it. And nothing replaces using it in true battle.”

“I understand,” I said. “So, how do we do this?”

“Follow me to the forecastle,” he instructed, turning toward the front of the ship. “Watch your step around the sheets.”

“The sheets?” I repeated, looking up at the sails.

“The ropes laying on the deck,” he explained. “Never step into a loop of one, just in case the sail breaks free. It’ll take your foot with it.”

“I’ll be careful,” I noted, watching my step as we made our way from the back of the ship, where the cabins were, to the front. The deck there was quieter than then middle or rear part of the ship, with only a few crew members manning the ropes – or sheets, I guessed – and one standing at the very front of the ship, peering into the water.

Karol guided me to an open space near the mast jutting from the deck. “First, let’s work on how to hold your blade,” he said. “Go ahead and draw your sword.” I did, and he shook his head.

“You’re holding it like a stick,” he said in disapproval. “Or a club.” He reached out and took my hand. “Here, slide your first finger over the quillon, like this. Relax your grip a bit.” He nodded. “Better. If you hold the hilt too tightly, you’ll wear yourself out, and someone can disarm you much more easily. Now, on to your feet…”

We spent the next hour with him instructing me in the most basic of basics. I’d never really used a light sword like a rapier before – I’d never had a need to, in all honesty – and I didn’t realize just how different it was from a knife or an axe. When you’re fighting with a knife, you want your feet wide, your body facing your opponent so you can use your off hand to block or grapple, and to keep your weapon moving constantly. It’s not hard to take a still knife out of someone’s hand, after all.

With the rapier, I needed to stand with my feet more or less in line, presenting my side to my opponent to minimize the available parts of me they could target and how far my parries had to extend. Most of my movements were forward and backward, rather than side to side the way I’d move with a knife or axe, and I moved the blade as little as possible to keep it in line for the next attack. The weapon was all about finesse and control, which was fine, as I had plenty of both.

Eventually, the captain hung a six-inch square piece of cloth about chest height from some ropes and set me to practice stabbing it over and over while he went back to his duties on the ship. He stopped by every so often to correct my form and stance – “That’s an overthrust, you’ll never recover before your enemy stabs you…”, “Too close, you don’t have enough power…”, “Watch your back foot, it’s slipping out of line…”. At first, every movement felt clumsy and awkward. I kept gripping the sword too tightly or moving it too much, spastically instead of fluidly. My feet slid out of line as I moved, twisting my body and exposing my chest and stomach to attack. I thrust too hard, my lunge carrying me too close to my target and keeping me from recovering quickly. I hit the flapping piece of cloth more often than not, but most of the time, the blade simply pushed it aside instead of actually piercing it.

At some point, though, everything seemed to click in my mind. My grip loosened, and the sword felt a bit more natural in my palm. My weight settled onto my back foot, allowing my front one to slide more easily. My arm and shoulder relaxed, letting the blade float more easily to the sides and slip forward in a thrust instead of jumping out at my target. The rapier’s point caught the rippling cloth and pierced it smoothly, sliding a few inches in before I slipped it back out without losing my balance. I noticed Karol still walking by, but he no longer stopped as often to correct me, instead watching me in silence most of the time.

I finally stopped, my arm aching, and my face dripping sweat. My fairly high Vigor stat allowed me to keep going most of the morning, but I’d been using muscles in ways they weren’t accustomed, and they needed time to acclimate. I walked over to an open water barrel, dipped a cup, and drank deeply and greedily. As I did, I pulled up the notification Sara had waiting for me.

Skill Gained: Weapon Focus (Light Swords)

Rank: Neophyte 3

Benefits: +1% attack and damage per skill rank

Special: This skill applies to all light, thrusting swords such as rapiers, epees, and sabers.

That explained why everything suddenly just made sense for me. I assumed that the moment everything clicked was when I got the skill, and I wondered how that worked. Obviously, Sara couldn’t just give me skills – I had to at least learn the basics for them – but just as obviously, she could take that little bit of knowledge and turn it into a more instinctive understanding.

“That’s basically correct, John,” she agreed in my thoughts.

“Why can’t you just download a skill into my brain, Matrix-style?” I asked her curiously. “Isn’t there some universal database of skills you can pull from?”

She appeared before me, seeming to float just beyond the railing, her face smiling as she laughed. “I’m afraid not,” she replied ruefully. “If there were, I’d happily make you a Guru at everything you need to do your job, trust me.”

“So, how does it work? I know a couple hours of drills aren’t enough for me to start developing muscle memory. They say it takes ten thousand hours of training to truly master something, but it takes at least a couple hundred to become competent at it.”

“Actually, thanks to your stats, that’s not the case for you,” she disagreed. “How quickly you learn skills is governed by your stats, primarily Intuition and Skill, although Prowess plays a large part with weapons training. Your Skill is about 50% higher than it was back when you entered the Nexus, and your Intuition has more than doubled since that time. You’re going to naturally pick up skills faster because of that.

“However, you’re right: two hours of practice wouldn’t be enough for most people to get even a feel for the skill in question. Fortunately, once you have enough basic knowledge, I can expend a little energy to imprint that knowledge deeper into your brain and nervous system, making the skill more intuitive and instinctive. In this case, once your muscles felt how to move the right way enough times, I captured that feeling and impressed it on your mind and body, making it something you just know, now. It’s basically simulating what you’d do with months or years of drills.”

“That’s handy,” I admitted. “What about knowledge skills like Astronomy, though?”

“For those, I cheat a bit,” she admitted. “A lot of that is universal knowledge that I possessed already and simply gave you. The rest is extrapolations from what you’ve learned, seen, or heard. I can usually process that sort of information faster and in greater depth than an organic mind, so I share my conclusions with you to boost your skill.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment. “That’s not meant as an insult, though. I’m just designed to…”

I shook my head, and she fell silent. “I’m not insulted. Back on Earth, we had plenty of computers that could calculate millions of times faster than a person, so the idea that you can process faster than I can isn’t something new for me. I used computers to do all sorts of things in a tiny fraction of the time I could do them myself.” I snorted. “Besides, I’m not going to argue with results. You keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll be happy.”

“Well, that was interesting.” I looked back over my shoulder to see Captain Karol watching me closely, his eyes narrow and his gaze searching.

“What was?” I asked, even though I felt pretty certain I knew what he meant.

“You took to those drills – somewhat faster than I anticipated,” the captain replied, his voice easy but his face suspicious. “Almost as if you’d done them before.”

I shrugged, forcing myself to remain nonchalant. “They weren’t that difficult, once I understood what you wanted me to do. There’s not much challenge in stabbing a piece of cloth over and over again, after all.”

“Unless that cloth is moving in a fair breeze and you’re standing on a moving deck,” he countered.

“Perhaps I’m just a natural with the sword,” I replied haughtily.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “Or perhaps you’re pretending to be lousy with a blade when you’re actually highly trained.”

I chuckled at that. “And what would be the purpose of that? I’d have nothing to gain from you and your crew thinking I was less skilled than I am, and a great deal to lose if you turned out to be unreliable. Plus, why would I then show you my skill, instead of continuing my ruse?”

“Fair points,” the captain nodded after several moments. “Perhaps you simply are a natural with the blade, good sir. Maybe this afternoon we can learn more.” He shook his head. “In the meantime, the Highsun meal is ready. I came to ask you if you and your companion would like to join me in my cabin.”

“I’ll see if she’s feeling up to it. I’d rather not have her ruin all our meals if her stomach’s not settled.”

The captain grinned. “We can agree on that, for certain. I’ll have my cabin boy wait outside your cabin to guide you.”

Before returning to my cabin, I walked to the rail and stared out at the water, my mind racing. The captain’s offer seemed reasonable enough – but I had no real reason to trust the man or any food and drink he gave me. I needed to find a reason to beg off eating with him or the crew for pretty much the entire voyage, and I couldn’t really think of a good one.

“There might be another option,” Sara said quietly in my thoughts.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Well, one of the spells in the Sorvaraji’s book was a purification spell, designed to remove toxins and disease from food and water. She cast it at every meal as part of her blessing, in fact.”

I sighed. “Too bad the Vanator destroyed her book, then.”

Sara laughed. “You read the entire book, John. I remember it. I think we can recreate the spell – but probably not before the Highsun meal.”

I nodded. I could get out of one meal, and if we could make a spell that would render the others safe, then I wouldn’t have to worry about the rest. “Probably best if we work on it in our cabin, though,” I thought wryly.

“Probably, yes.”

When I returned to the cabin, I found Renica resting on the bed, one arm draped across her face to keep out the sunlight streaming in the window. “How are you?” I asked, suppressing a grin.

“Well, I don’t feel like I’m going to die anymore,” she sighed. “I finally managed to keep that water down, and with the Sorvaraji’s medicine, my stomach is – okay.” She grimaced. “What time is it?”

“It’s Highsun,” I replied. “The crew is taking their meal, and the captain invited us to join him in his cabin.”

“I’d have to pretend I’m your servant, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll just take my meal in here – or eat with the crew.” She made a face. “Why couldn’t you have made me your sister instead of your servant?”

“Because then you’d have to act like a snooty, arrogant noble,” I pointed out. “I thought you might have more trouble talking down to people than pretending to be a humble servant. Otherwise, I would have made you my younger sister and Viora our aunt.”

“You’re probably right,” Renica admitted. “Even so, the less I have to pretend, the better we’ll all be. I might spend time with the crew when I can.”

“That’s fine.” I hesitated. “Just make sure Vikarik’s always with you. You’re an attractive woman on a ship full of men, after all.”

She snorted. “As if I didn’t feel their thoughts the moment we came aboard, Ionat. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Good. It’s probably also better if you just eat in the cabin from our supplies the whole trip, just in case.”

“In case of what?” she asked.

“In case the good captain has some idea of drugging us both and robbing us – or worse,” I replied.

“Then why are you going to eat with him?” she protested.

“I’m not. I’m going to tell him that you got sick in here, the smell ruined my appetite, and that I’m making you clean it up. In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can work out a spell I saw in the Sorvaraji’s book about purifying food.”

“Do you really think you can do that?” she asked curiously.

I shrugged. “It’s worked so far. If I can’t, though, we’ll both be taking all our meals in this cabin – and I’d better come up with a great excuse for doing that.”

“Why not just tell them that we’re busy doing…other things?” Renica suggested.

I looked at her for a moment in quiet surprise, then laughed. “That would work, wouldn’t it? If I told the captain that my family frowned on it, and this was my only chance to be with you away from prying eyes, it would explain why I’m spending so much time in the cabin. I’m surprised you came up with that, though.”

She grinned at me archly. “Just because I haven’t done it doesn’t mean I don’t think about it, Ionat,” she said a little wickedly. “I could tell you about a fantasy I used to have about Serghei, if you’d like…”

“I’d probably better tell the cabin boy I won’t be joining the captain,” I cut her off, turning to the door as she laughed merrily. I ignored the sound, but it made me smile. She hadn’t laughed much since Borava died, and part of me worried about her growing bloodlust and shift in personality. Hearing her laugh was something of a relief, though. Renica wasn’t okay – there was no way she could be okay, not after what she’d seen – but she wasn’t broken, either.

At least that made one of us, I thought with a sigh as I opened the door.