The wagon thumped its way onto wood, changing the ride from deep divots to the monotonous click-clack of wheels against planks. Kelton could hear waves lapping on hard surfaces and the call of seabirds.

"The Charmaigne is the small one moored at the end," The soldier said. "Been here more days than normal. Mostly, they want to deliver and leave in a days time since they aren't allowed to come on shore."

"Captains do," Fingers said.

"Aye, with permission. I guess to haggle with the likes of your employer." the soldier chuckled. "I think I'd fear the crew would take the ship while I was gone. The unflagged ones got no rules as I understand it."

"Mayhap, the captains are the only ones who know the way."

"Could be. Not sure how they find anything out there. No trees, or roads, or mountains to take your mark." The soldier took a deep breath. "I have thought on it time and again. Mayhap, it runs like rivers out there. You float along, only needing to know which one to be in."

"Like roads," Fingers said.

"Aye," the soldier agreed with excitement. "It is the only way that makes sense to me."

"There is much that is kept from us," Fingers said, his voice low. Kelton was sure he was testing the man. Trying to feel out the limits of his obedience to King and Brethren.

"Too much," the soldier whispered back. Fingers called to the horses, and the wagon began to slow. Kelton sensed the movement of two others nearing the side of the wagon as it came to a stop. Both Fingers and the soldier dismounted.

"These filled today?" a man asked. The words had a strange sound to them as if the speaker mouth and tongue were not in sync. It was understandable enough, though they flowed differently than usual.

"Aye, by these very hands," Fingers replied. "Two fresh, and five grogged."

"My agreement was for two and six."

"The cost of inspection," Fingers said.

"Not my cost."

"Aye, coin for what is delivered, that was the agreement," Fingers said. "Do you have more men? These aren't built for rolling." Kelton's heart skipped as he imagined his barrel being rolled. He was sure he'd lose his last meal, not to mention a lot of skin.

"Does he just watch?"

"Nay, I've got a back," the soldier said. Kelton felt him moving toward the back.

"Mayhap, it's best if you don't. Wouldn't look good for the King's Own to be seen hauling cargo," Fingers said quickly.

"A deed for a deed," the soldier said. "It is a simple thing for the man who offers to find work for my son." He moved to the back, and there was a scraping sound, wood being dragged against wood. The three others joined him, and with unified grunts, the wagon became lighter by one barrel.

Fingers had played his hand too well. Kelton knew there was a risk his barrel wouldn't feel like the others. Lighter and probably not sloshing about the same. Using his back and arms, Kelton pressed against the sides of the barrel to lock himself in place. His knees were beginning to ache in their cocked position. Still, he forced his feet as forward as they would go. He felt solid and immovable. He exhaled and relaxed. There was nothing he could do except wait for his barrels turn, then lock himself in place.

The men were panting and moving slowly when it became Kelton's barrel's turn. He pinned himself to the sides with all his strength, ignoring the pain it placed on his spine. They dragged the barrel to the back of the wagon, tilted it, then hefted it onto their shoulders. It was the worst position for Kelton, his body set at an angle that was halfway to the new bottom of the barrel. His right arm began to cramp as his weight tried to shift with natures pull toward the ground.

The men carried the barrel up an incline, shifting Kelton's weight toward his head. He had to snap his left hand to the ridge the upper seal sat upon to keep his weight from slipping. The heavy block Fingers had placed above the seal shifted, and the seal's tar was making it difficult for Kelton's hand to find a good hold. Kelton closed his eyes and concentrated on staying still as the water began to find new ways into his compartment, pooling at the seal just below his head.

The barrel was lowered roughly, as exhausted men were ought to do. Kelton's spine absorbed the shock, as the leaked water rushed down the sides and soaked his backside. He settled himself, retracting his sore arms. His knees ached and demanded to be straightened. Kelton closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to keep from groaning.

"This barrel is not right," the soldier said between deep breaths.

"It is fresh water, not grogged," Fingers said as if it were obvious and of no concern. After a short pause, there was a knocking on the wood that traveled down the side. The sound echoed in Kelton's ears.

"I am no fool," the soldier said. "And you are bold. This is the one you offered to open."

"They choose another."

"You used their mistrust," the soldier said, his voice lowered. "And now you use me."

"It is a barrel of freshwater," Fingers insisted.

"My son, he will have this job you speak of?"

"Aye. The wages will be more than fair," Fingers replied. Kelton held his breath, praying the man's desire for family outweighed his sense of duty.

"This freshwater, will it cause harm?"

"In truth, it is traveling to prevent harm. It is what freshwater does," Fingers answered cryptically. It was the truth as Kelton knew it as well. If he stayed, he would end up to killing to survive. The people around him would be forced to do the same. In the end, death would catch up to him and those he cared about. There was only harm in staying.

"We have the last barrel to load." This from the man Kelton assumed was the captain. There was a new urgency in his voice. "I can rouse others to move it before we sail."

"Nay," the soldier replied. "Though I assume we can roll this one."

"Aye," Fingers said. There was a bit of humor in the word. An unwritten agreement had been made with visual cues Kelton couldn't see. Kelton relaxed as best he could as they moved back to the wagon.

"The stars!" the soldier said as the last barrel was set upright after being rolled aboard. "How do you guide by them?"

"It is not a perfect thing," the captain said, continuing the conversation. "We have tools that measure them against the horizon, using that and our maps we know close enough where we are."

"The stars. I would never have thought of that," the soldier said. "Can I see the tools? What are maps?"

"He's said too much already," Fingers said. "He'll forfeit his right to berth here, or worse if word gets out."

"Aye. Next time you see me, I'll be the master of a flagged vessel," the captain said. "And I'll do nothing to risk that position."

"We risk as much by staying long," Fingers added. "I'll need the coin, Capitan." Kelton heard the clink of coins changing hands. "And the Goddess' share," Fingers continued. More coins moved about. "Good day to you, Captain." There was a light tap on Kelton's barrel before Fingers and the soldier moved off the ship. It was Fingers' goodbye.

The crew member who had been silent spoke words that Kelton didn't understand, and doubted he could repeat. It was guttural and sounded as if the speaker was short of air. The Captain responded in the same manner, if words they were. A conversation ensued, a back and forth that Kelton thought was, at best, organized gibberish. The last unintelligible babble came from the captain. The crew member ran off.

"He is rousing the crew, traveler," the captain whispered. "They know nothing of this, and it will remain so until we pass the breakwater. I will release you then." He moved off. Kelton wondered what a breakwater is and how long it would take to pass. The pain in his knees was growing, and his feet had become numb. He wasn't designed to be bent in such a shape. He tried to forget the discomfort and imagine what kind of device could break water. It must be a weapon of the Brethren, he decided.

There was a flurry of activity, crew emerging from below Kelton and running around the surface and some climbing high above his head. Words were shouted and repeated in the same guttural language he had heard before. Wood creaked and clashed amidst a sound like a giant bird's wings gaining the sky. The flapping weakened and the ground became less certain, a gentle shifting both lateral and vertical began to occur. It wasn't pronounced, yet there was no reference as to indicate when or in what direction it would occur. Kelton missed his eyes, confident that sight would quell his uneasiness.

Something changed on board. The crew's activity slowed, with some retreating below. The undulations of the ground began to achieve a pattern, one Kelton could predict. The lateral changes drained away, replaced by a defined vertical change that softly rolled the ground. Kelton removed the plug in the barrel and smell of the sea filled his nose. Nearly the scent of pickled vegetables. It brought back memories of traveling with Gossamer near the coast. Pleasant and yet not comforting at the same time. It was the unknown it portended that unnerved him.

It took longer than Kelton desired for the captain to return to the barrel. The top seal was removed, and the weight was lifted off the inner seal. A lot of effort was put into removing the last barrier to Kelton's escape. Water rained down on him when the seal finally gave up its grip on the barrel. The chuckles meant the crew found that part funny. Kelton found it cold. Faces looked down on him, their features flickering in a flame driven light. Night had long fallen. Kelton tried to rise, but his legs failed to cooperate. He sighed and reached his arms up.

Large hands grabbed Kelton's wrists. The skin was darker than any he had ever seen. He first thought it was burned, but the suppleness worked against the idea. The arms easily lifted Kelton upright, blood rushing painfully back to his lower extremities. He wobbled as he examined the dark face, as black as the arms that lifted him. If it weren't for the smile, he would have sworn it was a demon from one of Gossamer's tales. The man spoke, his guttural words a mystery to Kelton. The man laughed. Kelton smiled back attempting to be party to whatever the humor was.

"He says, all passengers should be packed this way," the captain translated. Kelton turned to look at a man whose skin was tanned half way between Kelton's and the black man who helped him from the barrel. A head of brown, tightly curled hair rolled into an equally curly beard cut short below the chin. His eyes had the crinkles of old age, though the rest of him looked much younger, maybe twice the age of Kelton. "Captain Sebastian, Sir. At your service." He shifted a heavy wet box he was holding, freeing up the hand he thrust out to Kelton.

"Kelton," Kelton replied, grasping the captain's wrist.

"Kelton...what?" the captain asked, releasing Kelton's wrist.

"Ahh, just Kelton."

"A secret then," The captain said. The black man helped Kelton climb out of the barrel.

"There is no secret to my name," Kelton said. He made it a point to grab the black man's arm as he climbed out. The skin felt like skin, no different than is own. It amazed him that it could be such a color.

"You are a lording or the son of a wealthy merchant." Sebastian waved off Kelton's attempt to argue. "It matters not who you are. Not to us anyway. You have paid well, and if you wish the secret to be kept, it will be done."

The ship lurched, rising quickly. Kelton grabbed the barrel in a panic. Sebastian laughed, swaying with the movement as if he were born to it. "We have passed the breakwater, and the seas are wide awake this night." Kelton steeled himself and let go of the barrel. He overcompensated with the movement and had to put a hand back to remain steady.

"What is this thing, this breakwater?" Kelton asked. There was a short conversation between the black crew member and the captain, the words flowing unintelligible past Kelton's ear. The black man laughed and moved off toward the front of the ship.

"He thinks you are not well witted," Sebastian said. "How could you not know of a breakwater?"

"There are many things I don't know," Kelton said defensively. "I am sure there are things you don't know. The reason I don't know is that you haven't told me." It irritated him that the captain could stand there and ignore the undulations of the ship. Kelton feared to let go of the barrel.

"I meant no offense, young sir," the captain said.

"Kelton!" Kelton demanded.

"On a ship, Kelton," the captain said, his voice lowering to a growl, "a captain is king. I respect my betters, but do not war with my words." Kelton was taken aback by the man's graveness. He was in a new place with new people. There would be much he didn't understand and getting angry about it was useless. There was no desire to be insulting.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Kelton said, dipping his head. "I'm not the important person you think I am. I have never been on a ship, and I don't know what a breakwater is." He pointed toward the front of the ship, where the black man had gone. "And I've never seen a man black of skin before. I don't even know where I'm going." Sebastian's head tilted, and his eyes narrowed as he considered Kelton's words.

"You are important to someone," Sebastian said. He pulled the wet box forward and opened the lid. Inside was row after row of gold coins, stacked atop another row below. I lifetime of money for a whole city. "And you are going wherever you desire."