Kelton stood steady as the wave lifted the bow of the ship, then set the vessel back down in a lazy relentless way. He enjoyed the view of the horizon, water then sky, and little else marring the image beyond the light brushstrokes of white foam on the crest of distance waves. The enjoyment was lengthening between the knottings of his stomach. He found it easier not to fight the feeling and compliantly expel into the waves. Normality returned for a time, and he could once again appreciate the grandness.

"You must drink," the captain said.

Kelton turned from the beautiful sea to face the man. "I have been, from time to time. I think it is the last day of my churning belly. The times between have stretched longer." One of the crew was climbing down from the rigging, eyeing the captain as if he had the plague. They didn't look at Kelton at all. The trip was not to their liking. Kelton sensed they would happily throw him overboard to rid them of further duty.

"Then eat. I do not wish you feeble," the captain leaned close, his voice lowering. "And you do not wish it either. The crew does not care for mystery voyages, finding them unlucky things."

"Then this sickness is a good thing," Kelton said. The Nagada in him insisted on finding advantage in the worst of positions. "I do not sleep well, which leaves me wary at night." The door to his cabin was barred, but the wood thin.

"Or you can declare the final port," the captain suggested.

"I will do so when necessary," Kelton said. "You know the first leg, and knowing the other would not help in achieving the first."

"It would quell dissent."

"Or grow it," Kelton said. The captain had argued the point before, being bothered by the lack of knowledge as well. Kelton thought it wise not to submit the destination until they were closer, when turning about would seem wasteful. They would see it as better to get him off the ship sooner. "Mayhap, I could clear a portion of the deck, captain. Create room for a bit of movement to clear my head and untangle my insides."

"Aye. I will have the barrels moved aft, and you can have space from here to the mainsail. You may prance about all you wish while the weather holds." He barked orders, and the crew did as he asked, albeit in a lackadaisical way as they knew it was Kelton's desire.

Kelton centered himself in the space, adjusting his mind to the area made available. It was small but adequate. His stomach rolled on a wave, and he fought back the false sickness. It settled as he removed his cloak, folded it, and placed it at the edge of the area. He decided to use his past pain to advantage, removing his sheathes and shirt. Withdrawing spiders-bite, he returned to the center. There was a gasp from one of the crew as Kelton began to dance with his blades. Shared-wind filled his mind, feet adjusting to the undulating ship, arms moving as if a thousand warriors were at his side. His original intent became lost in the glorious movements. Each action flowing into the other, speed increasing as his blades began to create their song as they sliced through the air. He marked the similarity between his efforts and that of the ocean itself. An eternal, unstoppable force that would never give way. All other things must join the flow, or be whittled away by it. Kelton closed his eyes and increased the tempo, enjoying his way through the power.

When Kelton stopped, he realized the exercise had strengthened his stomach. It was as if his insides now dared the ocean to roll them around. The fearlessness of the Nagada had imbued his guts with determination, as it had his mind. He smiled at the joy of it and opened his eyes. Before him, the crew had gathered as expected, their eyes filled with curiosity and some fear.

"How do you breathe?" The big man asked as his palm ran along his chest in the same location as Kelton's scars. It was the same man whose belly Kelton cut in the tavern.

"Same as you," Kelton said, lowering his blades. "We protect what we care for, and take our pains doing so. And if we live, we are made stronger by it and breathe easy." He relaxed his stance, letting the wind out of his shoulders. "You are named Marko, are you not?"

"Aye."

"Would you throw a chair at one such as me again?" Kelton asked.

"Nay," Marko replied. "I would use it as a shield and force it forward to slow your blades." Kelton smiled, for the man thought of past failures as Kelton did. Some men repeat mistakes, and some run from past failures, others adjust tactics and strive for victory. Marko saw defeats as lessons.

"And my blades would disassemble that chair, and I would worry what advantage that time had given you." The others of the crew were still examining Kelton's brutalized skin. Marko's eyes had risen to meet Kelton's. There was no love in them, but respect had replaced some of the lingering hatred. "You are a large man, and I would prefer to keep you a blades length away."

"It is best we create no reason to test such a thing," Marko said. He turned with Kelton's admission of worry giving him some strength, and returned to whatever duties he had. The others gave small nods and resumed their tasks as well.

"What did such a thing to you?" the captain asked after the crew departed.

"A beast," Kelton replied as he resheathed his swords. "A creature that was not where it should be, much as myself." He looked down at his healed skin. "It has more effect on others than myself now."

"Much as those designs that run up your side. Fear has bought you time, and my will buys more." The captain pursed his lips and shook his head. "But know that they watched friends fall to your sword. That you now swing two and move like the wind, will only stall them. You chose a poor vessel for passage. It is best you disembark sooner than later."

Kelton donned his tunic while the captain lectured. He fit his sheathes back over his shoulders as he digested the words. He doubted the crew's ability to succeed in any attempt at revenge. The real risk was his inability to sail the ship alone. The captain, for some reason, leaned neutral in the argument. Maybe he thought the crew could succeed, or perhaps a captain could sail the ship alone. Either way, it was best to avoid bringing such grievances to fruition.

"I wish duties," Kelton said. He decided it was best to leave his cloak off. The display of his blades could deter foolishness. "Captain Sebastian had me pulling lines and sharing time on the mast. My eyes are adequate for spotting."

The captain chuckled. "If you scrub a bit as well, mayhap, they will see benefit in not cutting your throat."

"Aye," Kelton said. "If it stalls their hand, then it is worth my efforts." He shrugged. "And it will make the voyage less tedious." And may prove more beneficial. - less time to think about motion. Shared-wind proved that tasks could settle the stomach.

Kelton awoke, his mind grasping at a dream that faded before it filled his waking memory. The feeling of desire was embedded in whatever his sleeping thoughts created. It was upsetting that he couldn't hold on to it and at least enjoy it beyond the moment. Juno, most like. Dreams of her were valuable, deserved of conscious consideration.

It was still dark. The bulk of the crew still bedded as Kelton sat up. Two were on duty, one pacing the foredeck, another idle by the wheel. Kelton stalled in a half yawn as it came to him. It was kludgy, yet the knowing was returning. He smiled, not realizing how much he missed the cursed skill—the cause of so many problems, yet a comfort amid non-friends.

Kelton gathered spiders-bite, which lay in easy reach, and dressed to see the sunrise. He was feeling whole again and meant to enjoy the new day. If the near past was any guide, it was going to be another beautiful day of warm sun and smooth sailing.

"I could spare you, Marko," Kelton said as he approached the wheel.

"Nay," Marko said but did so without his usual grimace. "It is a fine morning to be topping the waves. Spare me when we fight storms." There was a glimmer on the horizon, the sun softly announcing its pending arrival.

"Calm," Kelton stated as he looked out at the waters. An obvious observation, but worth mentioning as a point of conversation. Though they had experienced little bad weather, the seas had been busier the day prior. Now, the ship barely swelled as it cut its path.

"And quiet a moment ago," Marko said.

"Ahh, I have disturbed your calm." Kelton started to walk away. There was little space on a ship and he could understand Marko desiring some space. Until he arrived in Aragonia, he needed Marco and his companions to be as placid as the day's sea.

"Aye, but not undesired."

Kelton turned back, confused. Conversations with the crew were a rare thing, usually not more than a word or two. Here, he already had an exchange of multiple words.

"Why do we sail back to that cursed place?" Marko said. "Its rocks ruined your last ship, and capturing you poisoned the voyage." This time there was a grimace, most likely formed by unwelcome memories. "Do you wish this ship to share the same fate?"

"Nay," Kelton said, shaking his head. He sat on a barrel and tried to look unthreatening, or at least unprepared for a battle. "I seek what was left behind. A gamble if you must know."

"Something of great value?"

Kelton thought on it a bit, and Marko let him. The man was patient, or perhaps the calm seas had slowed his passions. To tell these men what he sought was a dangerous idea. Then again, seeking it under the waves was also a risk. The ship could easily sail away while he searched, the crew and captain uninterested in his quarry, preferring him dead and gone. Much would come out when the next destination was disclosed. Better to expose some, and let greed swing it in his favor. And if the risk could be lowered, all the better.

"Aye, of great value," Kelton said. "And I will see some of it go to the crew, and more to the one who brings it up from the seafloor."

"Fear we will leave you?" Marko smiled. There was both humor and greed in the curl of his lips.

"Aye," Kelton said with a lightness that continued the humor. "Trust is a hard thing."

"A costly thing," Marko corrected. "If we arrive on a day such as this, I would take a swim. What would I earn to fish it out for you."

"It is a heavy thing," Kelton warned.

"Can a rope bind it?"

"Aye."

"Then the weight matters not," Marko said. "Again, what is the fee for such a task."

"I have never put coin to such a task," Kelton said. "It is you who would get wet. What value do you put on it?"

"There are rocks to miss, and waves that will steer me wrong," Marko said. "It is a risky thing, yet," smiling again, "this thing must have great value. I think three gold to pull it up, and one gold if it can not be found."

"Four gold if you pull it up," Kelton said. "And a copper if you fail. I'll not have you dipping your toe and claiming good coin."

Marko laughed. It was a deep sound that the open-air embraced. "Agreed. It will make me look all the harder. You shall have what you seek, and I shall have my gold."

"And I will make sure the ship awaits your return," Kelton said.

"That is not a worry," Marko said. "They are my brothers. It is the value of what you seek that will interest them more."

"And you?"

"Aye, though, I would not chance to relieve you of such a thing without my chair." Marko laughed, though his eyes held something else. Kelton chuckled at the jest, as one would with a friend. Marko, he was sure, was not a friend.

Kelton leaned over the railing and watched Marko dive down for the third time. The captain had used the same maneuver as they had the day they attacked Sebastian's ship. They dropped anchor and used the prevailing winds to drift backward, toward the bearded rock. There was still a partial skeleton of the destroyed ship, its scorched girders standing strong against water and boulders. A good sign, Kelton thought.

The sea was once again awaking, the gentle days abating with an increase in the winds. Another day and the task might become impossible if it wasn't already. Greed would not slow Marko, and for that, Kelton was thankful.

Two ropes were tied to the man, one around his waist, the other looped about the first. The second meant to be secured to Kelton's treasure. On his first return from the depths, Marko had called out that it was a short trip to the bottom, though sight was greatly hindered. His love of coin drove him to begin a thorough search, starting at what Kelton believed to be where Sebastian had dropped the anchor tied cache of coin, if memory and girders were not false, and if it had not drifted or shattered apart on the way down. For all Kelton knew, the chest was weak and had been eaten away by waves, its contents becoming one with the seafloor.

The waves began to attack the bearded rock with more force, no longer rolling around it, instead, slapping at it. It wasn't the violence Kelton remembered from his first experience, but he thought it would hinder his attempts at swimming. Marko wasn't deterred. His last rising was only for a breath, returning to the depths immediately. Kelton hoped it was a good sign. When he broke water again, his smile was a better sign.

The crew began to haul Marko up at his signal. He held onto both ropes, the end of the second rope now below the water. The cache was not coming up without him.

"It was half-buried, then it was not," Marko sputtered as he climbed over the railing. "The waves are moving soot back and forth down there." He shook his head, sending cold droplets flying from his hair. "I was blind to it sometimes. A hard task, worth more coin than you offered."

"It was not an offer," Kelton said. "It was agreed upon as payment for a task done, and I have yet to acquire my prize."

"Mayhap, I should drop the line into the sea and let you fetch it," Marko said as he took the rope from the others in the crew and held it over the rail. They didn't seem to have a problem with the idea, and the snickers indicated whose side they supported.

"Drop the line, and you will only find yourself wet again," the captain said. It was not spoken in jest. He approached Marko. "I have never known your word to be worth so little, Marko. Are we to stop trusting it?" The words were more heated than Kelton expected from the captain.

"My word to...him?" Marko asked as if Kelton was unworthy of honesty. Kelton stepped back, not in fear but to create room. The crew's shared opinion of the situation was visibly deteriorating.

"Your words to all," the captain said. "Though not the riches of a slave run, are we not paid?" He looked around at the crew. "Is it not an easy sail, no crying mouths or foul hold to clean. Has not the All-Father made the days fair and smooth?"

There was a weak chorus of agreement. Kelton could see Marko beginning to bend, not for Kelton but for his companions. They thought as a single entity, each a brother of the other. If one spat into the wind, the others would follow suit and suffer together.

"Four gold then," Marko grumbled and moved to railing. His forearms bulged as he began pulling on the line. Kelton relaxed as others lent Marko a hand. Moments later, the anchor was hoisted over the railing held by Marko and another. A few dirty gray clams had attached themselves to the cache between the worn ropes that still bound it to the anchor.

"Your prize," Marko said, and without warning dropped it cache-first to the deck. The weight of the anchor burst the side of the box, spilling some of Sebastian's fee out in a leaf-like pattern. Greed grew in the eyes of the men, their captain's words forgotten. Shared glances were all the discussion they needed, and Kelton heard it well. Spiders-bite found free air.

"The coin you see is precious to me," Kelton said. "There is one I seek who requires it. Lay a hand upon it, and I will see it as if you held a blade to her throat." His blades began moving in slow motion, never committing to a fixed position. He could feel the crew's intent, the knowing growing within him.

"Do you fools remember when he had but a single blade?" the captain shouted. Kelton was surprised by his support. It was much stronger than he had expected. Of course, he had expected no help, so it was easily greater. "Now he swings two as if he had no favorite hand. You will find no profit in the grave."

"We are needed to sail," one of the crew, a scrawny fellow, named Finni, who stood well behind the others. Kelton smiled at their lack of awareness.

"He has shared your duties," the captain argued. "Did you think him kind in such a thing? Mayhap, foolish?" He moved toward Kelton, separating himself from his men. "You have taught him what he needs to catch the air on this ship. Not all, but enough for a slow slog to the next port." The captain wasn't as blind as Kelton had first thought. The captain pointed at the broken cache. "And he has coin enough to secure more hands."

"Would they sail blind?" Marko asked. "I think not. It is a cursed thing, a ship with no destination." All eyes turned to Kelton. He saw agreement with Marko in them.

"I return from whence I came," Kelton said. "You will rid yourself of me there and return to your ways."

"And where does that be?" Marko insisted.

"Aragonia."

Only two of the crew reacted, as did the captain who stepped back from Kelton. "The Dark Isle?" the captain verified. The rest of the men registered the better-known name with shocked faces. "You risk my flag two times over."

"He will doom us all," Marko incited.

"Nay," Kelton said. "You need not bring me to port. I will set myself adrift as you near land." He was speaking to the captain, not wanting to lose the man's choice of side. "After which, you may do as you will." He shrugged. "Or make port and report me if you wish indemnification. It will matter not by then."

"They do not tolerate visits," Marko said. "Only the captain leaves the ship." Those words meant they had been there before. Not a complete surprise to Kelton, but he knew of no slaves in Aragonia. Well, not collared ones, at least.

"It is said ship and crew have been lost to violations," Finni added.

"It is not your violation if I leap over the side," Kelton said. "In the darkness, none will know. Fill your sails and be away." He smiled and dropped his blades to his side. "And worry no more of me."

"You are from that place," Marko said as the realization of Kelton's words grew on his face, mixed with some fear. Kelton found it useful.

"Aye. It is where I was birthed. A demon among demons." A Nadaga among Brothers, Kelton thought humorously.

"It is his coin," Finni said, no longer hiding behind the others and stepping forward. "I say we sail with all haste and be rid of him." A chorus of ayes responded, including one from Marko.

"How many days, Captain?" Kelton asked.

"To the southern tip - ten in the least, if the winds hold."

Kelton looked toward the crew. "Two gold to each man if it is done in ten." It will be ten long days, and even longer nights. He doubted the crew's opinion of him, or their greed had changed much. He would prefer spiders-bite to remain unblemished by their bone and blood, an uneven battle that would not make for a good story.