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Journey to the Father

Espérance's plans go well in hand. A note to the Duchess regarding what she learned from Huttner is responded with a note in turn, ensuring Espérance that the prisoner will not be released, and will be carefully watched. Final details on the ship and its itinerary are delivered, and with that, packing and preparations for a journey by ship can be managed.

By far the most time-consuming part of Espérance's preparations turns out to be finding homes for her plants. Since she doesn't know when (or even if) she'll return, she's unwilling to make Judith keep her room open indefinitely. To the friends and acquaintances she hands them off to, she makes it known that she'll be out of the city for a while and needs them taken care of. The recipients' inevitable inquiries she answers with minimal information; depending on the speaker, she half-humorously claims a "secret mission" or simply gives them a cool stare and points out that swordsmen don't normally speak of such things.

Espérance does get some curious inquiries, starting with Judith but also extending to everyone in Espérance's social circle to whom she donates the plants, as well as others she runs into over the next couple of days.

With that taken care of, Espérance's remaining possessions -- mostly clothes, weapons, and a very few keepsakes -- all fit into one moderately-sized chest. She spends a couple of coins to hire a man to carry it down to the docks for her, not because she couldn't heft it herself but to keep up appearances ... and so as not to be encumbered in case of attack. Besides, fellows like Benny are always in the market for odd jobs and a little extra cash.

Hugo seems eager and excited on the morning of the departure. The trip down to the docks is similar to the trip to the visit to Huttner, complete with the unusual fog as she approaches the river.

Still, the lines of The White Maiden are clearly visible as Espérance and Hugo approach. Standing on the dock awaiting them, with a backpack of some sort slung on his shoulders, is Huttner.

He gives a bow and then a wave once he comes in sight. He waits for the two to approach and then speaks.

"Good morning, Mistress Espérance. I would have boarded and seen to our room, but without bonafides..." he shrugs "they wouldn't let me on board. Not even when I mentioned your name," Huttner adds.

"That's just as well," says Espérance. "Better they should be too cautious than too careless. Set it down here, Benny, thanks. Here's a little extra for your trouble." She slips several coins into the porter's hand, then turns back to Huttner as Benny moves away. "Come to that, if you always carry a fog around with you, friend Huttner--" She waves a hand through the misty air. "--I can see why any seaman might be leery of letting you aboard."

Redness splashes briefly across Huttner's cheeks.

"I keep forgetting that." He closes his eyes briefly. A half minute of this odd ritual, and the fog starts appreciably lifting. Huttner opens his eyes and shakes his head in a rueful gesture.

"I mentioned that I have ancestry in House Euphrates, yes?" Huttner says.

Espérance nods.

"Not all of the bloodlines in Chaos are pureblood Chaosian."

"There is much Marid blood in House Euphrates and I express some of those traits, unconsciously," Huttner explains. As he speaks, the fog continues to lighten, the fog improving moment by moment. "'Marid'?" queries Espérance. "And can you also do that consciously?" "A Marid, Mistress is a type of Elemental--a being who has a connection and an affinity for one of the classical elements, fire, water, air and earth. Marids, in the particular, are a type of Water Elemental."

"To answer your second question...Yes." Huttner says. "I can do it consciously if I so wish." He gives a slight grazing nod of the head. "And I did, when I journeyed to your home to meet you."

"I remember," says Espérance. Her grey eyes crinkle a bit at the corners as she adds, "Though perhaps you didn't quite allow for the effects on slate paving stones." The redness seen a few moments ago briefly returns to Huttner's cheeks. He nods, once. "A more cunning person than I might suggest that I did it on purpose, so as to reduce your suspicion and hostility by seeming clumsy and harmless."

"In truth." Huttner continues. "I simply misjudged the paving stones. In other circumstances there are...abilities I might have accessed. However, a display of such talents in front of your door would have surprised you into a possibly hostile response. Even if you possess them in a latent fashion."

Espérance flicks an eyebrow, but only comments, "Not to mention the rest of the neighborhood. Not drawing attention to oneself is good strategy in Riverside, usually."

"Shall we now board the ship?" Huttner adds.

"Yes, let's." Espérance hefts her trunk. "We'll have plenty of time to continue this conversation when we're under way." She strides confidently toward the White Maiden.

Huttner nods, and follows Espérance to the gangway of the White Maiden. At the top of the gangway, aboard the ship, a blond haired man, muscular, crosses his arms and watches Espérance and Huttner approach. His eyes flicker from the swordswoman, to Huttner, and then back again. His expression relaxes slightly.

"Forgive me, Miss St. Vier." the man says. "I had no proof that your man here was in fact aligned with you. Can't be too careful, here or in any other port for that matter. Her Ladyship described you perfectly to me, but didn't say anything about *him*."

"That's all right," says Espérance. "Careful is good. This is Huttner; he's to be my traveling companion and guide. Her Grace hasn't met him, so she wouldn't have been able to describe him," she explains, "though I did mention him to her. She'll have described Hugo, though, I trust?" She smiles slightly at the big dog.

"Her Ladyship mentioned that you would be accompanied by a hound." the man agrees. He glances at Hugo, then Huttner again and finally Espérance.

Espérance looks at Hugo also, to find out how he's reacting to all this. She knows he can swim, but she's never taken him on a ship before.

Hugo is calmly looking around, with a slightly wary feel to his body language, especially his tail.

"I'm Pridus Hayswain." he adds. "First Mate of the White Maiden. Come aboard." He gives a wave. "Thank you, Mister Hayswain." Espérance heads up the gangplank, a motion of her head encouraging Huttner and Hugo to follow.

"How long before we sail?" she asks the mate. Huttner and Hugo follow Espérance aboard, a few sailors busy on the deck of the White Maiden as Pridus steps aside to allow the trio room to move about. Huttner's eyes roam over the ship as Pridus answers Espérance.

"You were the last of our expected cargo, as it so happens. I will inform the Captain that you have boarded, and we will likely leave within a bell, or two at the most."

"Good," says Espérance. Her mouth quirks wryly. "I hate long goodbyes."

"Samuel!" Pridus calls one of the younger men hefting a coil of rope. "Get Miss St. Vier, her companion and her dog settled."

The young man drops his rope and runs over, making a sketchy salute in the direction of Pridus, Espérance and Huttner.

"Samuel," Espérance acknowledges him. "Just show me where to put my trunk, and that will be settled enough for me." "You've been given one of the small rooms in the Forecastle. We don't carry many passengers, but the two of you have two of the three rooms we have for the purpose." Samuel says, talking as he gestures for Espérance and Huttner to follow him toward the front of the ship. Hugo trots next to his Mistress, his wariness less noticeable.

"In runs where we just get cargo, the crew throws dice to see who gets to spend a trip in the rooms rather than the bunks." Samuel adds brightly. "I'm lucky at *that*"

"Are you now," Espérance says dryly.

He stops at the front of the ship, with three doors. The first is marked with a wheel. "That's the Captain's berth. This one." he points to a door, painted blue, with a porthole next to it. "is yours, Miss St. Vier. Your man gets the one with the green door we just passed."

Espérance glances over at Huttner. "Is that all right with you, Huttner?"

"I could be put in a truly tiny berth, and yet still count myself a king of infinite space." Huttner responds with a smile.

"It will do."

"Are you sure you don't need anything else?" Samuel asks, with almost a puppy dog look. And then there is a cunning gleam in his eye. "Helping passengers out is easier work than some on the White Maiden." "I'm sure," says Espérance. "I don't think we need anything more right now, though. Mister Hayswain told me we'll be casting off soon, and I expect that to mean 'All hands on deck, and passengers keep out of the way.'

"Once we're under way, though, I wouldn't mind a tour of the ship," she offers the boy. "Yes, Mistress." Samuel agrees. "We're not a large ship, but one you will get to know on your journey, for certain."

Meanwhile she opens the blue-painted door and has a look inside. Huttner opens his own door and steps inside as Espérance does the same, with the addition of Hugo following her in and sniffing around.

Espérance's quarters are not very large, and she has to bend her head to get over the smallish, low door frame to step inside. The wood is painted blue like the door. The room is spartan; there is a writing/eating table and a chair, a hammock with two pillows slung against the opposite wall. A small dresser completes the furniture. All of the furniture, the observant swordswoman will notice, is tightly lashed and held in place.

A small doorway leads to what looks like a privy.

Aside from the porthole and door, there are no other visible entrances or exits. There is not enough room, really, for her to do a regimen of exercises.

This is no more than Espérance expected, however. One of the things she'll be keeping an eye out for, she thinks, when Samuel gives her the promised tour of the ship, is a space on deck where she can do her exercises. If she can also recruit a sparring partner or two out of the crew, so much the better.

She sets down her trunk in an unoccupied corner of the room, then starts inspecting the drawers of the dresser to eyeball how much room she has in it.

Hugo places himself in a free spot in the small room, and watches Espérance with a thump of the tail as she inspects the furniture. The dresser looks like it would fit the majority of the clothes in her trunk. Perhaps all of them if she is willing to squeeze them all into the modest sized drawers.

Espérance doesn't think she'll need everything she brought on shipboard, however. She opens the trunk and starts transferring a selection of clothing to the dresser -- mostly sturdy, everyday wear that will stand up to sweat and salt water.

A sharp rap at the door causes Hugo to turn toward it alertly.

"It's Huttner." the emissary from her mother calls.

"Come in," Espérance calls back.

The head of the sandy haired man pokes in carefully after the door opens. He inches inside, closing the door behind him and leaning against it as he regards Espérance and Hugo.

"Just checking on you, milady." Huttner explains. "Your quarters seem marginally larger than mine." he says. "Much like the berth I had on my own river journey up here to Riverside." He wrinkles his nose as he glances in the direction of the privy. Espérance does not smell much of anything, herself, from where she stands. "I'm just as glad to have the porthole," Espérance remarks.

"Not a proper boat by the standards of those which ply the Shaa Canal in the regions near to the Courts." Huttner adds. "Perhaps, if our course holds true, you'll get to see the Canal for yourself." he adds.

"Perhaps," she acknowledges. "But if this one gets us to Aveshq, that's good enough for me."

Huttner gives a nod. "A journey of a thousand li begins with a single step." he says in an agreeable tone.

The loud calls of officers and crew alike, a bark by Hugo, and a sudden slewing motion of the ship suggest that the White Maiden is setting off at last. Huttner keeps his feet securely planted.

"Much better than wet flagstones." he says confidently.

"I'm sure," says Espérance. "Shall we go out on deck and bid farewell to the city?" Despite not wanting to draw attention to her departure, or her professed dislike of long goodbyes, Espérance is disinclined to leave her birthplace without a backward glance. "Yes." Huttner says, turning and opening the door, holding for Espérance to follow him. Too, Hugo needs no prompting for the chance to get out of the little room, and back onto the deck of the ship. He is right on Espérance's heels.

The dock that the boat was tied to is already past as the ship starts to make its way into the center of the river for its turn south and away.

"Bow, stern or midsection?" Huttner asks.

"Wherever we'll be least in the way of the crew," replies Espérance, meanwhile glancing around to try to determine where this would be.

Huttner glances about at Espérance's words. However, its obvious to her what the choice would be. The midsection is occupied by most of the crew doing their tasks, and to reach the stern of the ship would require going through the midsection and getting in their way. The bow of the ship is less occupied, and its close at hand. It doesn't provide a easy view back at the city, however, it allows for Espérance, Huttner and Hugo a chance to see the parts of the city downstream from the docks easily.

"Bow, then?" Huttner says.

"Bow it is," replies Espérance, heading in that direction. "Let's see where we're going as well as where we've been."

She moves nimbly, avoiding crewmembers, ship's tackle, and other impedimenta with ease.

Once at the bow, she stands facing the city, her expression thoughtful.

Huttner stands next to Espérance, silent, respectful and giving the swordswoman her space and time to contemplate the passing scene of the city to which she was born. And from which, now, she is leaving at long last.

There is the soft panting of Hugo and the soft thump of his tail against a coil of rope as he, too, watches the passing scene of the city. The daily lives of those living and spending time next to the river is laid out like a tableau for all three of them to watch. One elderly man gives a wave of departing to the ship as it catches his eye.

And then, as the White Maiden reaches the edge of the city, two figures come out onto a jetty sticking into the river. Jeers, calls and shouts from the men are directed at the ship, and at the swordswoman in particular.

The men are masked,and masked and garbed in a similar manner to those who attacked the Duchess. They raise their fists ineffectually with wordless shouts in her direction.

Beside her, Espérance can hear the growl of Hugo. Her sense of body language allows her to peripherally see that Huttner has subtly taken a more defensive, martial stance.

One of Espérance's hands goes to the sword at her hip. With the other, she sweeps the wide-brimmed hat from her head and gives the hecklers a flourishing bow, as if responding to an accolade. The hat's white plume flutters in the breeze as she restores it to her head. There is an indefinable glint in her grey eyes.

"I suppose I could respond more crudely," she murmurs to Huttner, "but why stoop to their level? Can you make out anything they're saying, Huttner?"

Huttner holds up a finger and nods. He leans toward the bow. As he does so, out of the corner of her eye, Espérance sees Huttner's ears...change their form. Its subtle and likely no one will notice unless they come up next to him, but the ears become more bat-like in shape, with fluted tips. Huttner's body language shows his intent listening to the words. As the bow now reaches a point directly across from the men, Huttner turns to Espérance.

"Much of what they are saying are jeers and insults to you and a reference to your mother as a female dog." Huttner says. "There are also threats that they will find you and hunt you down 'wherever you run'."

"Good of them to inform us," Espérance says dryly. Meanwhile she studies the men across from her -- mainly their form and body language -- so as to be able to recognize them again. "Seems a bit obvious, however. Are they decoys, do you think? From what you were saying about House Jesby, I'd expect them to be more subtle than that."

The body language of the two men are similar to the attackers on that day. Not exactly, but fairly close in bearing and style. The little details jump out at her.

"They usually are," Huttner agrees. "However, they were speaking in a dialect you might not be familiar with. And, it must be said, thwarting their plans might let their mask slip somewhat." Espérance shakes her head. "Bad judgment." In her mind's ear she hears Venturus saying, =Anger is enemy of sword.= Huttner gives a nod at Espérance's admonition.

Her gaze now focuses beyond the jeering men to anyone who might be in the streets beyond them ... and those people's reactions to them. The White Maiden continues to slip by as Espérance, Hugo and Huttner continue to watch the two men. The no nonsense denizens of Riverside do not let the men go unmolested forever. In fact, there are obvious jeers and negative reactions from the longshoremen, the dockworkers and the other toughs of the docks.

After a few moments of watching (and clearly listening), Huttner laughs as the two men retreat and leave the area of the docks completely.

"For fear of burning your ears, Mistress Espérance, I dare not repeat what verbal abuse your fellow citizens of Riverside inflicted upon the pair." Huttner says. "It would seem that they take pride in the River and those who travel upon it." Espérance laughs. "Oh, them I understood ... and I've heard worse, though not lately. There's no one can curse quite like a Riversider, especially if he's a longshoreman." She waves her hat in salute to the dockworkers before setting it back on her head.

Leaning on the rail, she says to Huttner, "I don't suppose it would be too difficult for them to find out the White Maiden's itinerary. It won't be a secret. We should lose no time in doing the same. I don't know if we're making port anywhere else before we arrive in Aveshq." She casts her eye over the crew to see if anyone looks to be idle at the moment. As it so happens, Espérance seems to be in luck. As she looks over the crew for the first time in a few minutes, with the thought of finding someone idle, there does appear to be a couple of midshipmen who are less than fully productive. While some are handling sails, and carrying things about and keeping up the ship in general, the two lean and tall youthful sailors are sneaking a moment of ease.

The lighter haired of the two elbows his shorter, darker haired compatriot as he becomes aware of Espérance's study of them. The latter gives Espérance a smile missing a tooth or two.

Espérance meets eyes with the two of them and gives a little jerk of the head to invite them over to where she, Huttner, and Hugo are standing.

The two midshipmen look at Espérance, then furrow their eyebrows at Huttner, and give Hugo a glance. Finally, the darker haired one shrugs, claps his hand on his compatriot's shoulders and they saunter over.

"Fair morning, boys," she greets them. "I'm Espérance St. Vier, this is Huttner, and this is Hugo. Since we're going to be shipmates, I'd like to know how long a voyage we can look forward to, and if there'll be any stops between here and Panaji."

She favors the midshipmen with a smile that's ever so slightly predatory. "I'm also wondering who are the best swords among the crew. I like a good workout every now and then..."

"Do you?" the dark haired one responds This here is Christoffer, and I'm Magnus. Aside from the Captain, whose reputated to be very good with his..." the smile returns "sword, if you want a workout with a blade, you want Hamzah."Magnus points over to a wiry, dark skinned man talking with Pridus further down the ship. "He aint much to look at, but I've seen him swing a sword like you wouldn't believe. Got a weird, curved sword, too. He's from one of the rajahdoms in the northwest of Aveshq."

Espérance nods appreciatively, sizing up the man they've pointed out. "Probably a different style. Good." If the midshipmen's assessment is valid, she might be able to learn something from Hamzah.

"Might have to lay a wager if you two really go at it." Christoffer puts in. "No offense, but you'd have to be really good to beat him."

"It wouldn't be a challenge, otherwise," Espérance replies with the arch of an eyebrow. "I'll hope to be able to give him a contest, at the very least."

Magnus and Chrisoffer look at each other and share a conspiratorial smile.

"To answer your other question." Magnus continues, turning back to the Swordswoman.

"It's 40 days on a good run from Riverside to Panaji, counting the couple of port stops we'll make. We'll get to all know each other quite a bit, Miss St. Vier, never fear."

Hugo doesn't growl, but he subtly moves closer to Espérance."And find out everything we need to know about each other's habits, I'm sure," answers Espérance. Her tone is pleasant, her stance unthreatening, but there is nothing in her expression or body language that looks at all like an invitation.

Huttner crosses his arms.

"Certainly." Magnus says confidently, regarding Espérance. "Plenty of time for that..." He cuts off his words. Even though he has not turned around, Magnus and Christoffer are seemingly aware that the first mate, Pridus, has finished his conversation with Hamzah and is now heading in the direction of Espérance, Huttner, Hugo and the two midshipmen.

"Looks like it's back to work for you boys," Espérance says to Magnus and Christoffer, a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

There is a sheepish look on both young men as Pridus arrives.

"All well, Mister Hayswain?" she hails Pridus. "These two have been answering some questions for me, but I hadn't got round to asking them yet which ports we'll be stopping at on the way to Panaji."

"Ah." Pridus says. "And here I was worried these two were slackening off their work and trying to talk you into one of their games of chance or one of their little wagers. Yes?" he looks at Magnus.

"Miss St Vier was just asking us questions, just as she said, Mister Hayswain. Honest." Magnus says.

"Right. Back to work for the two of you. Off now." he scolds, the two men managing a tip of their head to Espérance before leaving her, Huttner and Hugo alone with Pridus. "We have a few standard ports of call between here and Panaji." Pridus says, turning back toward Espérance. "Niejwein,at the mouth of the River, of course. I'd imagine that you might have even gone there."

"I have." Huttner observes.

Espérance nods. "A few times, on business," she affirms. Once it was on the Duchess's behalf, she recalls.

Pridus gives a nod. "You know it then. Old, feudal city. Lots of noble customers too."

"Then its a lot of open ocean before we reach the Jaleh Straits. Tricky currents in there, but its the shortest route by far." Pridus continues. "We'll stop at Akhiqar there at their head, and then possibly at Tarragona at the far end of them before our last open swing of ocean all the way to Panaji."

"So we'll have a relatively short leg before the first long stretch of sea," Espérance muses. She glances over at Huttner and wonders if he's thinking the same thing she is: that if the Jesby want to catch them before they make the open sea, Niejwein might be their best bet.

Huttner has a thoughtful look on his face, a calculating mein as he listens to Pridus' geography lesson."I was also asking your midshipmen, there, about sparring partners," she tells Pridus. "They recommended this man Hamzah. I'll go ahead and ask you what would be the best times and places for practice." "Hamzah." Pridus gives a smile. "It figures that they would suggest *him*. If they were hoping for a boxing match between your man here and Vagenas as an undercard, I'd not be any more surprised." Espérance glances over at Huttner. "Do you box?" she asks him interestedly. "Box?" Huttner has a quizzical look on his face. Pridus regards Huttner with slight suspicion, raising his hands in balled fists.

"Oh, *box*" he says, looking at Espérance. "No...the form of martial arts I have learned are different. I will show you them, later, perhaps." Huttner offers.

Pridus shakes his head and resumes his explanation. "Aside from the usual emergencies and unexpected situations, the pattern of work on a sailing ship is at regular times. I allow Hamzah the time for both his rituals for his deity and for his own practice time. You can spar with him during the time he sets aside for the latter, near sunset." "If that's agreeable to him, it is to me, too," says Espérance.

"I'll introduce you now, if you like." Pridus offers. "That would be very kind of you. I assume he speaks our language?"

"He does." Pridus turns in his direction. "Hamzah. Come here." The dark skinned man comes over.

"Ji Haa?, Mister Pridus." he asks in an lyrical, almost musical tone of voice.

"Hamzah. This is Espérance and her man Huttner. They are our passengers on board for our journey. Espérance has a mutual talent and interest as you do, in the lore of swordplay. I will leave the three of you to speak further, I have business to attend to." "Miss St Vier. Mister Huttner." Pridus gives an amicable nod as he heads off.

"Namaste." Hamzah says to Espérance as he executes a short bow to her and Huttner.

"Greetings, Hamzah." Espérance returns the bow in her own fashion. "As Mister Hayswain says, the sword is my profession, and I seek a sparring partner for the voyage. Your crew mates speak highly of your skill with a blade."

Hamzah shakes his head slightly."I have heard much of the Swordsmen of the City of Riverside, and its sister cities, whose blades shine, albeit not as brightly as they." Hamzah says. His voice takes on the tone of slight self-depreciation and he gives a slight bow of his head. "I hardly think that I, a poor graduate of the Jaheera School at which I studied can match the skills of a Mas...ah, Mistress of Blades from Riverside.

"Perhaps." he looks at Huttner. "the skills of your bondsman might be equal to mine."

Huttner looks surprised at this and smiles slightly but says nothing. "It's up to Huttner whether he'd like to spar with you or not," says Espérance. Huttner slightly shakes his head., and Hamzah focuses on Espérance.

"The honor would entirely be mine, Miss St. Vier." Hamzah continues, "In the Will of Al-Rahim, it would be an honor if you would deign to spar with me during our voyage." "For my part, I would consider it a privilege to study the skills of the Jaheera School," Espérance replies. She has been paying as much, if not more attention to Hamzah's body language than to his actual speech. And it is that observation that is the interesting thing. Despite Hamzah's protestations of a lack of skill, its clear that he has spent years in martial positions and poses. The way he carries himself shows an intimate knowledge of a sense of space and tactics on the ship . The slight glancing look of his eyes. The stance he effects. The casual but prepared placement of arms and hands. Espérance would need to spar to truly rate him, but the fact that he has been trained is not lost on her discerning eye.

And the subtle shift and movement Hamzah has affected since the conversation has moved to a proposal of sparring shows subtle eagerness and interest. He *wants* to cross blades with Espérance, that is clear.

And having observed him, Espérance is no less eager. An experienced swordsman from a foreign school, trained in unfamiliar tactics and techniques, holds the promise of giving her a good workout and teaching her new things -- both of which have been increasingly difficult to come by in Riverside.

"Then..." Hamzah says, with a formal bow to Espérance. "Let us agree to arrange to meet with our blades at the bell before sunset.There will be no shortage of deck space at that time."

"Agreed," responds Espérance. "I shall look forward to it."

"Huttner-Ji. Espérance-Ji, Namaskar. Hamzah says. "I must now return to my duties."

"Till then, Hamzah-Ji," says Espérance, with an inclination of the head that serves as a farewell.

Huttner waits for Espérance to bow, and then joins her in the gesture.

For the rest of the day she'll explore the ship, noting almost subliminally the tactical aspects of the space, as well as scoping out observation posts that will be out of the way of the usual traffic patterns. These don't exclude the rigging.

A most productive way to spend a day.

Although the ship is not overly large, there are a surprisingly high number of tactical zones and areas for Espérance to explore, and judge and get a feel for. From the bow of the ship to its stern, and from the hold to the dizzing heights of the rigging, Espérance has an opportunity to roam the vessel. Samuel, as promised, is happy to show Espérance the nooks and crannies of the White Maiden.

She only espies a glimpse of the captain once, through a porthole as she passes by his cabin. Most of the business of the ship seems to be conducted through Pridus, who frequently goes in and out of it, conveying orders, commands and requests.

Espérance thinks this is rather curious and wonders why the captain is commanding by proxy, as it were. She doesn't ask about it directly (yet), but she'll keep an ear out among the sailors and see if she can pick up any scuttlebutt as to the cause.

Espérance does notice that most of the crew do avoid passing near to the Captain's cabin. Pridus is one of only two people who she sees, today anyway, enter it. The other, as it so happens, is Samuel.

Espérance gets a chance to have a midday meal with Huttner and Samuel. Its a simple meal of slightly stale bread and a very thick mead-like beverage. Samuel explains that dinner fare is better, especially for officers, crew and passengers.

Espérance waves this off. "Food is food. When you've been a Riverside brat, you don't end up picky." She goes fairly easy on the mead, though.

It also occurs to her, however, that the captain may emerge for the evening meal, and she decides to wait at least until then to try to find out more about him.

In the afternoon, Espérance finds a spot or two to watch the doings of the crew and the business of the ship while staying out of the way. Most prominently--by climbing on top of the fo'c's'le itself. With a flat top, except for rough weather, it seems to be a stable place for the swordswoman to watch matters without getting in the way.

Also, she likes it up there.

Finally, though as the hour before sunset nears, Hamzah comes out onto the deck, carrying his weapon almost reverently. Sailors have cleared the area around him as Hamzah finds a spot and draws his blade, going through a series of slow, careful motions.

The blade that he employs is definitely far removed from Espérance's usual experience. The blade looks to be 20 inches long, and mostly straight from the tip to a point several inches before the pommel, whereupon it turns wavy. The pommel's crossguard is asymmetrical, and itself is laced with gold and lapis lazuli.

(OOC: Basically its a Filipino Kalis)

Espérance studies it and is already calculating what effect its characteristics might have as she emerges from her cabin. That wavy part of the blade, for instance, would probably be more effective than a straight section for snagging an opponent's blade.

Espérance does notice after a bit of study that the wavy part of the blade would be very useful if he were to try to disarm an opponent, or turn aside the blade in various types of responses.

Hamzah continues his slow, mesmerizing warm up and exercise with his weapon, as some of the less active sailors watch. Hugo sits on his haunches, next to Huttner. Pridus, and Samuel stand nearby as well. Other sailors have also slowly congregated to watch the proceedings. Magnus and Christoffer are in the center of a knot of these.

Espérance also begins warm-up exercises, stretching, practice moves, shadow-fencing. Her sword is a heavy rapier with a basket hilt. Hamzah finally draws his warm up exercises to a close, only now seeming to notice his sparring partner. He gives a bow to her, managing a sweep of his sword in the process that seems to be an accent on his greeting.

"Namaste, Espérance-Ji. I will be pleased to practice my blade against yours when you are ready." he says. It's not lost on Espérance that he has likely watched her almost as much as she has observed him. The swordsman's eyes travel and study the blade that she employs.

"At your pleasure, Hamzah-Ji," replies Espérance. "In Riverside, we salute a worthy opponent thus." She performs the customary flourish with her blade, then grins slightly. "That's assuming we bother with the preliminaries."

She then raises her sword to the en garde position.

Hamzah replicates Espérance's gesture with his sword, and then raises his sword in turn.

"Let us begin." he says simply.

And then he advances. There is cheering, jeering and a general low level of sounds and murmurs from the assembled viewers as Hamzah approaches Espérance. His approach is slow and methodical, much like his workout exercises, taking his time to come within range of a clash of blades.Time enough that Espérance has a moment or two to refine or define an opening strategy of her own.

Espérance suspects that Hamzah can move much faster if he really wants to, and decides to see if she can make him do so. She launches an aggressive attack, not recklessly, but quick and hard enough to drive her opponent back if he isn't nimble enough. At the same time she's keeping half an eye out for the wavy portion of his blade; the rest of her attention is focused on reading his body language for clues to his upcoming moves.

Hamzah's response to Espérance is a quick and rapid ramping-up of his speed and reactions. As heartbeats pass and she drives at Hamzah to push him back, his sword moves go from the slow sweeping motions to more nimble inflections of his wrist and his blade.

The style that Espérance deduces is similar, but faster, than the warm ups that she originally saw. Sweeping motions of his blade, now with faster turns of his blade, wrist and arm Hamzah's footwork is not orthodox, with sliding and braking motions mixed in with the more usual steps and beats.

At the height of Espérance's first attack, Hamzah moves to try and stem the tide, first by means of using that wavy portion of the blade to contest Espérance's attack. Espérance sees it coming, to an extent, but countering it and remaining on the offense will require revealing more of her ability than she's shown up to this point.

Not wanting to escalate to that level just yet, and also wanting to see what Hamzah looks like on the offensive, Espérance contents herself with countering her opponent's move and then dropping back into defense mode. Meanwhile another part of her mind is analyzing Hamzah's footwork, its possible advantages and disadvantages.

Hamzah seems more than willing to take the offensive, launching into a series of quick responses with his wavy blade. His attacks seem to rely on, as Espérance plays defense, much more on speed and momentum than brute strength.

One other thing Espérance notices is an affectation which clearly reveals the origins and use of this blade in real combat. As Espérance dances out of range, the way that Hamzah holds his offhand is revealing. Espérance has seen this before, in dueling with swordsmen who typically do real fighting with a sword and an offhand weapon like a dagger or a sword-breaker. It's clear Hamzah is used to having a second weapon, too, or, perhaps, something like a fighting gauntlet. He's clearly primarily a two handed fighter.

As far as his footwork, Espérance sees that the style would work best on predictable surfaces. A smooth surface, a sandy ring, a flat plane give Hamzah a clear mobility advantage. On more broken terrain, though, Espérance cannot see how Hamzah could reliably maintain this sort of motion without risk of ankle or leg injury.

Having observed these things, Espérance begins once more to take the offensive, pressing her attack with force. She is also on the lookout for openings in Hamzah's defense caused by his unconscious expectation of an off-hand weapon. Hamzah is a good enough swordsman to anticipate Espérance's change to the offensive. And in point of fact, he very nearly nicks her in her sudden switchover to the offense. Once she is on the attack, though, with force and strength, he starts a slow retreat, showing more and more of his skill as she pushes ahead.

Around them, Huttner, Hugo and the sailors continue to watch, rapt.

And then she sees it, if she wants to take it. Without the offhand weapon to ward him, there is a vulnerability to Hamzah's style sans the offhand weapon. In one of the beats of his steps backward, there is a momentary window that recurs again and again on his right wrist to shoulder. Espérance can see that it would be well defended by his offhand weapon. Without it...a swordswoman could take advantage of the opening. Its not a big opening, it would take some skill to hit.

Skill that, as it so happens, Espérance definitely has.

At the next opening, she takes it. Not strongly enough to damage Hamzah -- this is just a sparring bout, after all, and he's a crewmate, not an enemy -- but enough for him to feel it and understand his vulnerability. Espérance is able to get a noticeable scratch on Hamzah's forearm, on the offhand weapon hand, on the next opening. She saw that he instinctively raised his hand as the sword flashed, as if to ward off a blade faster than his own with something else, only to find that he had nothing else to block the wound.

A red line runs a couple of inches. It's a small wound, but its not one that he can ignore.

The gasps and calls from the viewers, too, briefly fill the air.

Hamzah continues the bout, with the cut, for a few more minutes. His style turns a little more defensive, a little less open. This gives Espérance more of a workout on the offensive.

A decent sheen of sweat is both on Espérance and on Hamzah when he steps back and raises his sword to signal that he is done with the bout. And then he bows to her.

Espérance also steps back, and salutes Hamzah with a flourish of her blade before mopping the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. Then she asks the man, in an unmistakable "talking shop" tone: "So, what sort of weapon do you usually use for the off hand?"

As a preliminary answer, Hamzah gives a nod for Espérance to join him as he walks away from the center of the ship and toward the bow.

Espérance sheathes her sword, then moves to Hamzah's side, pacing him.

"You are very good, Espérance-Ji, to notice the deficiency in my style. I DO tend to use a weapon in my left hand." Hamzah raises the hand, which has stopped its bleeding at the moment. "The Jaheera school teaches the use of a War Fan in the offhand to parry attacks. And sometimes to provide a secondary attack in certain combinations."

Espérance raises an eyebrow. "A 'War Fan'? I would be interested to see that," she tells Hamzah.

"If you are interested, then I would be happy to display it to you." he says with a nod. His semi-serpentine sword is now sheathed.

Hamzah pauses and then continues. "My typical sparring partners are not skilled enough to cause me to need one in spars."

"Do the sword wielders of Riverside use aught but a single blade?"

"Some of us train in different styles," replies Espérance, "but the traditional swordsman's duel is fought with a single blade. Then again, even a professional swordsman won't always find himself fighting traditional duels. It pays to be versatile."

"If I were bold, I might guess." Hamzah ventures, indicating for Espérance to follow him toward the crew quarters "that you have fought more than these traditional duels that you speak of."

Espérance follows Hamzah's lead. In answer to his remark, one corner of her mouth quirks up and she says, "You would be right." Hamzah leads Espérance into the hold of the ship and forward. He passes by the smaller crew spaces in favor of the larger one held by the higher ranked crew members.

His personal space, which seems to be his alone, is tiny even by the standards of the cabin Espérance herself has. He moves to a trunk, and opens it. He pulls out a long, polished iron object that looks a bit like a club, with a cord at its end. Hamzah takes it in his offhanmd, and steps back from Espérance. With a flick of his wrist, the fan expands from its narrow club like appearance to a fully extended metal fan.

"There is a martial art." Hamzah explains "for those who fight solely with the war fan. However, I prefer to fight with both a sword and this, to ward off blows and missiles."

With another flick of the wrist he closes it, removes it from his wrist and offers it to Espérance for inspection.

Espérance takes the object with a word of thanks, and gives it a thorough examination. She hefts it, testing its weight and balance, opens and closes it a few times, carefully fingers the edges. The object, to her touch, is as much a work of art as his blade, or hers. It bears the mark of long, patient craftsmanship and is surprisingly light given its composition.

=Impressive,= thinks Espérance.

"I would very much like to see a demonstration," she tells Hamzah, "though I don't imagine we'll have time this evening." "Perhaps another night." Hamzah agrees with a bow of his head. He gestures for Espérance to return the object, and he places it back in the chest, along with his blade. "For now, I must return to my duties. And you, I imagine, must present yourself for dinner, for the hour of such approaches."

Espérance returns the war fan and watches Hamzah put it away.

"That is so," she answers him."I look forward to our future spars, Espérance-Ji." Hamzah adds. "As do I. Tell me, Hamzah," says Espérance as they head back to the common areas of the ship, "what do you folk do of an evening to amuse yourselves?" Hamzah considers this for a moment or two, allowing her to go ahead of him as they approach the ladder back to the deck of the ship. He finally clears his throat and answers.

"That depends on the sailor, Espérance-Ji." Hamzah says. "Many like to play games of chance with dice or cards; there is a game almost every night. Those skilled with their hands carve in wood or ivory or bone, and take extreme pride in their craftsmanship. The more educated amongst the crew, such as the officers, have books to read and educated discourse together."

"And there is always the wheel of stars and planets to watch at night." Hamzah adds, gesturing for her to go up the ladder.

As she climbs the ladder, Espérance asks over her shoulder, "Do you have any music?" "Yes, Espérance-Ji." Hamzah agrees as he follows her up the ladder to the deck. "A few of the officers and crew have musical instruments. Mostly stringed instruments, although there are a few flutes and piccolos. It is my misfortune, however, that a treasured instrument of mine own was lost in an accident over the side of the ship some time ago."

"I refuse to believe." Hamzah adds with a smile, looking up at Espérance, "that it was an intentional act on the part of Mister Pridus".

Espérance gives a commiserating cluck of her tongue. "Everyone's a critic," she observes dryly. "Well, perhaps I'll have my flute out tonight and see what Mister Pridus makes of that."

Hamzah gives a nod and a small smile.

Back on deck, she glances around to locate Huttner and Hugo, as well as seeing what the crew is doing.

Back on the deck of the ship, the crew is busy with the chores of keeping the ship sailing, even as the sky darkens into a deep twilight. Espérance can see sailors checking lines, working sails, cleaning decks, and walking along the edges of the ship checking on various things.

Hamzah gives a bow of the head to Espérance once again, and heads off to the rigging, and begins a slow, careful climb upward.

Off-center from the deck where Hamzah and Espérance sparred, a large sandbox contains a fire over which a pair of crewmen are cooking food, presumably for the rest of the crew.

As it so happens Hugo and Huttner are close by this scene, the former thumping his tail once as Espérance comes into view. Huttner gives a nod and waits for her to come within conversational range.

Espérance strolls over in their direction. She pauses beside Hugo and scratches behind the big dog's ears.

Hugo looks up at Espérance affectionately.

"Congratulations." Huttner says with a nod. "Your mother would be pleased with the display of your skill thus far."

"Mm. I have to assume she's something of a judge, since she picked out Father," says Espérance.

"Her Highness was trained by the late Duke Borel, considered one of the best duelists in the Courts in the last century." Huttner says.

Espérance makes no comment, but files away this fact for future reference.

"Pridus informed me not long ago that we are expected in the wardroom for dinner soon." Huttner then adds. Espérance glances around. "I wonder if we'll see the Captain. Do we dress?" she quips. "I think that we do dress." Huttner replies. "From what Pridus told me, the officers do dress for dinner, and guests generally follow suit."

"It is a shame." Huttner adds in a lower voice "that I have not the rank to have assayed the Logrus. Obtaining finer clothes would have been simple." he says with a touch of self-reproach.

"Well, if they expect to see me in a gown, they're out of luck," remarks Espérance.

Huttner smiles slightly.

"I didn't pack one. I can manage a few ruffles and flourishes, though." She glances up at the sky. "How much time do we have?"

"About half of a bell" Huttner replies. "Which would be something a little more than a half hour back in the City, if I understand how time units on board ship here work." he says. "Not overly long."

"Is there anything I can do to assist you in your preparations?" Huttner asks. He turns to look in the direction of their quarters but waits for Espérance to lead.

"No thank you, I'll be fine," Espérance assures him as she leads the way to the cabins.

Inside her cabin, with the door shut, she strips off her sweaty outfit, washes up quickly, dons a crisp ruffled shirt and embroidered vest, and combs out and rebraids her hair. She also changes out her belt dagger for one with a fancier sheath before buckling on her sword again. She gives her plumed hat a few whacks to beat the dust out of it and sets it on her head. Thus arrayed, Espérance emerges from her cabin and looks around.

Huttner stands a few meters away from the entrance to her cabin, at the edge of the deck. He's dressed much better than the tradesman clothes he first met Espérance in. He is dressed in a formal shirt of white, with black pants. The latter are accented in silver, and he is wearing a tie against the black shirt which also effects the same black and silver color pattern.

He too has a short blade, midway between a dagger and a long sword in length, buckled on. The belt that he wears has a silver buckle, with a design on it of a crenelated wall. He appraises Espérance as she looks about and then spots him.

Espérance looks at Huttner a bit quizzically. She's never seen a tie before, lace cravats being the closest equivalent in Riverside fashions.

"This is the style where you come from?" she asks him. "It IS an accepted style for men in House Sawall." Huttner replies.

"Unless it were an Abandonment with shape changing expected." Huttner adds, giving a small bow of the head. "I am certain that your dress would suit the standards that your Mother would expect in her daughter in a social function in the House." "I'm glad to hear they don't insist on skirts," Espérance says dryly.

"Shall we proceed to dinner?" Huttner asks. At his side, Hugo thumps his tail. "Let's. Have you found out where the wardroom is yet?" Espérance asks him. She signals Hugo to accompany them, remarking with a grin, "Maybe I should have found a bow for Hugo." "I have. It's next to the quarters of our mysterious Captain." Huttner says, leading the way. Hugo falls into step alongside Espérance as Huttner leads them across the decks of the ship, and then to the far side, along the side of the sterncastle, stopping at a door, and knocking on it.

"Come in" comes the sound of one voice raised among several. Huttner opens the door, but does not enter. Instead in the voice of a herald, he speaks into the room.

"May I present the lady Espérance St Vier of the City of Riverside."

A voice, different, a voice of authority, responds. "Enter, Miss St. Vier of Riverside." Next to her, Espérance can sense that Hugo tenses just slightly.

Responding to Hugo's tension, Espérance goes on the alert as she steps into the room, and quickly scans those within it, while being careful not to look directly at any light source.

The wardroom inside is the largest interior space, aside from the cargo hold, that Espérance has seen on the ship. As it is, it's still a little cramped compared, to, say the Duchess Tremontaine's larger rooms or even Espérance's apartment. A long table runs parallel to the line of the door, two men are seated at it, the third, whose back is to a porthole, is standing and the source of the voice.

This standing man wears a smart uniform, with a salt and grey beard and piercing eyes. (Casting call: F Murray Abraham). From her view through the porthole earlier, Espérance is certain that this is the mysteriously secluded Captain. Hugo is still tense, and there is something vaguely disquieting about the figure, an aura of power and strength and something else.

The remaining, seated, men, who start to rise as Espérance enters, are the first mate, Pridus, and another gentleman whom Espérance has not yet been introduced to. With a bald head, he wears a dark formal outfit which is clearly not a naval uniform. His coloration seems slightly reminiscent of Hamzah's.

"You must be our paying passenger." the standing man says, stepping out from behind the table. He walks with a straight cane topped with a silver head and a metal bit that clicks as he walks with it toward Espérance. "My name is Captain Clarion. I believe you met my first mate..." he gestures to Pridus. He then gestures to the balding man. "This is Doctor Altair." The bald man bobs his head.

The captain offers Espérance his hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Clarion," replies Espérance, taking his hand in a firm, brief clasp.

The clasp in turn is firm, although Espérance releases before the Captain clearly is willing to.

"Good evening, Mister Hayswain, Doctor. Have you been introduced to my traveling companion, Huttner?"

The doctor quietly nods again but says nothing. Pridus tips a finger from his forehead to Espérance. "Milady." he says with a smile.

She does not turn as she introduces Huttner, since Hugo's reaction makes her disinclined to turn her back on the three men. Otherwise, her outward poise is unimpaired.

"I've met your companion, of course, and given report of him to the Captain, and to the Doctor." Pridus begins, and then stops suddenly. He glances at the Doctor and the Captain; the latter gives him a severe look which passes with the speed of a fall gale.

=Didn't they want us to know we were being reported on?= wonders Espérance.

Huttner fills in the awkwardness with a bow. "I am pleased to meet the Captain of the White Maiden, and the Ship's doctor." he says modestly. This seems to break the tension, and the Captain steps back and glances at Espérance.

"Please, be seated, the both of you. There is no seat, however for your hound." he says with a laughing tone. "We may be able to manage a bone, however."

This only makes Hugo relax a fraction. He's still tense and uncomfortable.

"I think he'll be more pleased with a bone than a chair," Espérance quips back, then adds, "You don't mind his company, I take it?" She moves toward an empty chair, noting where they're placed. Her instincts remain on the alert; subliminally she has begun to tabulate every object in the room, light sources, entrances and exits, placement and body language of all its occupants. At the same time her own body language and facial expression betray nothing but the customary catlike grace and self-possession of a swordswoman. "Both cats and hounds are welcome aboard the White Maiden." Captain Clarion says smoothly. He waits for Espérance to take a seat before he sits, himself. Pridus and the doctor follow suit. Huttner for his part takes an empty chair, close to Espérance.

Hugo stays close to Espérance.

"It's very kind of you," says Espérance. She sits, and lets one hand come to rest on Hugo's ruff. She knows from previous experience that sometimes she can get a clearer idea of what's bothering Hugo if she's touching him.

As far as the room, its a lousy tactical location if a fight were to break out. There is only one other door besides the one she entered, and there are a relative lack of objects that might be used in a melee of any kind.

Out of that other door, young Samuel appears. He gives a bob of the head to everyone in the room. He gives a slightly longer nod to Espérance.

"Samuel," she greets him, returning his nod.

"Ah, good." The Captain says as he regards the midshipmen. "Please tell the cook that we are all here and that soup can be served. Oh, and do bring the white wine for us."

"Yessir." Samuel manages, and he gives Espérance one last look before ducking out of the door.

"We delayed our repast a bit to make sure that you would not miss it." The Captain says, turning to Espérance. "Although we'll have a chance to get to know each other before and between courses, no doubt."

"No doubt," Espérance agrees. "I'm sorry if I kept you waiting. Life on shipboard is new to me, though I must say I've been favorably impressed so far."

As Espérance runs her fingers through Hugo's coat, she does get a sense of what, or in more specific terms, who is upsetting him so much. She gets the impression that the Captain, and to a lesser extent his mysterious Doctor Altair, are setting him off. He doesn't and didn't have this reaction to the First Mate, or Samuel, either. These two strangers though, have unnerved or upset Hugo in a palpable way.

"We are own world here, away from ports and shores." Captain Clarion replies evenly. "I am pleased it has favorably impressed you thus far.

Samuel returns quickly with a bottle of wine, and glasses, stemside up on a tray. He starts pouring glasses as Captain Clarion continues.

"Although its very early in our trip, and there will be plenty of time to find out such things, I do admit to curiosity as to the nature of your trip. Your patroness was rather close-mouthed on the subject.

"The soup, remember, oh, and a bone for a hound." Clarion instructs Samuel before turning back to Espérance. Espérance allows herself a slight smile. "I can imagine that she would be, seeing that it's in a manner family business. Have you heard of the Mad Duke?" she asks the Captain. Captain Clarion takes a sip of the wine, and considers this. "I have found, milady, that all nobles are mad. There is a touch of madness in any who would assert that someone is qualified to rule a people, or a polity, or a land solely on the basis that your mother or father did."

Huttner coughs slightly.

"In any event." The Captain continues. "I do not believe I am familiar with this soi-disant Mad Duke."

"Do enlighten us." the Doctor adds.

"'Soi-disant' is a peculiarly appropriate term, as it happens," muses Espérance, "for although I don't believe he gave himself the soubriquet, from anything I've ever heard, he reveled in it... and did his best to live up to it." She looks up at Captain Clarion. "And oddly enough, from what Her Grace says, I think he might agree with your political opinions."

"Well, then this Mad Duke might be a fellow that I would like." Clarion says. "Perhaps," responds Espérance, "though it might be a mistake to assume the converse without trying the experiment." "Perhaps." the Captain allows.

There is a knock, and then Samuel comes in carrying a platter. He begins setting down bowls of some sort of milk-based chowder in front of everyone. He also puts a basket filled with slices of a dark bread at the center of the table.

Lastly, he offers Espérance a bone, a cow femur in fact. "For your hound." he says, and after a nod from the Captain, withdraws. Espérance passes the bone to Hugo, then helps herself to a slice of the bread. Hugo responds with the sounds of mastication as he takes to the bone and apparently finds favor with it. The bread is warm and strongly favored of rye and wheat. "I believe you were going to continue telling us of this Duke and your family business" Doctor Altair prompts Espérance.

"Since the Duke is my patroness's family and not mine, I don't know that I was," Espérance disclaims. "Particularly since most of my knowledge is second-hand."

"Ah, I see." the Captain says, taking a sip of his soup. "You are journeying to meet him, however. I mistook your reference to family business to meaning that he was of your family as well as the Duchess."

Altair gives a nod. Pridus concentrates on dunking a piece of bread into his soup. Huttner watches and seems to feign sampling the soup.

"The Captain and I wondered." the Doctor continues. "Just what sort of passenger we have. Not that we expect you to tell us if you really are a secret daughter of Her Grace Duchess Tremontaine who fights on her behalf incognito and undeclared as her daughter." Espérance laughs. "That would be anomalous to say the least, seeing that the Duchess is the younger of the two of us. Quite a neat trick." "Is she really?" The Captain considers this for a few moments, dunking some of the bread into the soup and eating it. Her response seems to have quieted the Captain for the moment, as well as his Doctor, but the looks they give her now and again are speculative and curious as if the swordswoman were a completely different species.

Espérance wonders, in turn, where they've been getting their information. No Riversider would have entertained such a notion. She picks up her spoon and starts in on the chowder.

The chowder is good, with a surprisingly strong flavor.

"There are good reasons." Huttner says sotto voce to Espérance, "why you look a little younger to some than you actually are."

"Well..." the Captain says, apparently not hearing Huttner's comment. "Perhaps another subject of conversation. I believe we're to have our main course yet. And it is not even fish."

"Perhaps the doctor would be good enough to tell me something about Aveshq," suggests Espérance. "Am I right in believing, Doctor, that like Hamzah, you originally came from there?"

There is a deliberate hesitation on the Doctor's part. Espérance notices a certain tension in his body when she mentions Hamzah. Doctor Altair looks at the Captain, who gives a nod. Huttner watches this interaction with intense interest, although Pridus seems to be of the mind to shut up and not get involved.

Hugo has stopped chewing his bone.Espérance lets her unoccupied hand fall, as if idly, onto the dog's ruff. The thought also passes through her mind that she may, later on, ask Hamzah a form of the same question.

"Aveshq is an ancient land." the Doctor begins, setting his spoon down. "There are ruins of the glories of old kingdoms and city states that stretch back several millennia. There are cities in Aveshq so old, Miss St. Vier, in fact, that they were busy polities when Riverside wasn't even a collection of mud huts." There is a clear pride and gleam in Doctor Altair's voice now. The Captain is watching the Doctor intently, too.

"The weather is warm, tropical, with beautiful beaches in many colored sands, deadly jungles, and bordering our land to the northwest, a large and deadly desert. To the north and northeast are the greatest mountains, as far as I am aware, in all of the world. So all travelers to our land have had to dare the long sea journey, or cross those mountains and deserts."

"Aveshq is also known as the land of a million Gods." Doctor Altair begins. "There is ostensibly one system of belief, but our pantheon is syncretic, and consists of innumerable deities. About the only believers not welcome in our land are those who strictly believe their deity exists and none other."

"Does that answer your questions. Or did you want something more specific?" Altair asks. "Am I likely to have language difficulties, when I arrive there?" Espérance asks him. "I shall probably have to search for the man, or at least ask after him." "The language of the City-States is well known throughout the world." Doctor Altair replies after a moment. "It is spoken across the sea in Akhiqar, for instance, although they have a language of their own. Similarly your language is spoken in the ports in Aveshq. If you should venture too far away from them..." the Doctor shrugs. "you may find it difficult to communicate."

"A guide or a translator may be advisable." Captain Clarion points out with a smile crossing his face. "It would be such a shame, Miss St. Vier, if your business in Aveshq, after our journey, should fail for lack of language."

"I may well need an interpreter," says Espérance, "but that shouldn't be difficult to arrange. How about customs, and courtesies? Are there particular actions I should avoid?"

"I would not advise you to travel alone, although I believe you have that already covered." Doctor Altair replies, taking a sip of the remainder of his soup from the bowl and then nodding to Huttner. "Customs and courtesies vary from region to region, but there are a few, shall we say, universal truths."

"Universal truths?" Huttner says skeptically.

"Such as that a man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife," Espérance murmurs under her breath, with a smile.

Huttner gives a nod, hearing Espérance's murmur.

In the meantime, the bowls of soup are being cleared. The smell of a roast chicken wafts from the door that Samuel is wandering in and out of. Pridus doesn't quite lean out of his seat at the smell, but its clear his attention is as much on that as the conversation between Espérance and Doctor Altair.

"Yes" Doctor Altair says.

"Accept hospitality in the spirit that it is given, especially from the poor."

"However, Espérance-Ji" he uses the form with a note of experiment, watching Espérance for her reaction "bringing a small gift if you are going to visit a home for the first time is good form. Also, offering a prayer to a household god, there will be a shrine in every home and every shack, is a sign of tolerant respect. You should also do the same when visiting a new village or city; make a visit to the local temple and give an offering. Do not wear black unless you are mourning a death--it is considered trying to attract the attention of the Guardian of Bone and Ivory."

"The Guardian of Bone and Ivory?" queries Espérance. Having previously heard the honorific from Hamzah, she does not question it. "One of the Goddesses of Death and the transition between incarnations." Altair replies. "The door between life and death is depicted in art and literature as the Gate of Bone and Ivory, and the Guardian of Bone and Ivory has that Gate in her portfolio. To wear black is to suggest that you are connected to her. If you are not mourning a loss, Espérance-Ji, then to wear black is to suggest you wish to meet her personally."

Espérance looks thoughtful. "I see." Privately she wonders if someone of her profession would already be connected with the keeper of that particular gate. Certainly she has sent enough people through it.

"I would counsel you, too" Doctor Altair continues "to be kind in rejecting any offers of marriage or concubinage you might receive." Altair adds with a smile. "An exotic looking woman like you will draw interest of potentates, princes, and others of power. Angering them with a too-gruff decline would be...unfortunate for you."

"Yes, yes it would." The Captain echoes the Doctor's words as he watches Espérance.

The swordswoman nods, though she can't help chuckling inwardly at this unexpected corroboration of her earlier words. "Riversiders generally learn how to say 'no' politely ... as well as the other way," she says. "Especially when someone with power or money is doing the asking." "Indeed." Doctor Altair says. "And there are many who use such wealth as a license and a tool, especially in Aveshq."

"So there are at home," says Espérance.

Doctor Altair nods and continues "They may not care that you are a Riversider. Or they might care that you would look *exotic* to them."

"They would care if they saw her skill with a blade." Huttner puts in, as Samuel returns, with the cart, carrying the main course, a pair of roast chickens.

"Some people find that stimulating," Espérance murmurs. She's known a few in her time.

"Possibly." Altair concedes. In the background, Samuel has placed the chickens on the table and begun quartering them, offering portions to all of the diners.

"Food and drink!" Altair exclaims, suddenly. "One piece of advice to give you, Espérance-Ji. Beware of overly spiced or exotic food while in my homeland. The spices used can often be too powerful for the uninitiated and result in some gastric distress. You might also prefer to consume some milk with every meal. Or, if you are offered it, Cha-yen."

"I have what's known as a 'cast-iron stomach' normally," says Espérance, as she takes a quarter of a chicken on her plate, "but I'll keep your advice in mind, Doctor. What is Cha-yen?"

"A cast iron stomach." Doctor Altair looks at Espérance speculatively. He pauses a moment, takes a bit of his quarter chicken and once he is finished it, responds.

"You must try it if it is offered to you, Espérance-Ji." Doctor Altair replies. In her peripheral vision, she can see the Captain nod enthusiastically, and even Pridus gives a nod. "We do not have the ingredients here for it, some are too highly perishable to be good aboard ship. Cha-yen is a cool drink, made of tea, ice, sugar, spices, and cream, that the wealthy traditionally serve with spicy food."

Doctor Altair takes another, more enthusiastic bite of his chicken.

"It sounds to me worth trying with or without spicy food," Espérance says appreciatively. "But yes, I can see how you might have difficulty keeping cream fresh in the course of a voyage, unless you brought along a cow."

The Captain chuckles. "Indeed. The cow might not appreciate a sea voyage. Calves are about as large the livestock that I would bring on board a ship."

"You might manage a goat, I suppose," Espérance muses, "but goat's milk doesn't have quite the same taste."

"Except when its made into Kumiss." Pridus opines. The Captain makes a moue of disgust and shakes his head, firmly, to close the topic.

While neatly cutting up her chicken, she palms a morsel of it and passes it under the table to Hugo.

The next few minutes is quiet in the dinner room as the Captain, Doctor, First Mate, Huttner, and thanks to Espérance, Hugo, all join her in devouring the food before them. Huttner seems to be the only one who has noticed Hugo's gift of food, the rest of the diners are intent on their main course.

Their styles of eating range from overly civilized, in the case of her guide, to masticating, in the case of Pridus. The Captain eats his in a manner similar to Espérance, cutting it up neatly.

It's not until his piece of chicken is mostly bones and marrow that the Captain breaks the sound of eating with his voice again.

"Delicious."

"So, tell us, Espérance" Captain Clarion continues. "We have our traditions, of course, but I'm curious. After a meal such as this, say in Lady Tremontaine's estate, what would be the order of the evening?"

Espérance chuckles. "Why, the ladies would retire to the drawing room, while the gentlemen passed around a decanter of port and discussed politics. But of course the numbers of ladies and gentlemen would have been at least roughly even in the first place," she points out.

"I see." Captain Clarion replies with a smile. "And we here have only one lady on board, save for the Maiden itself. That's the real reason, Miss St. Vier, that women are often unwelcome aboard ships. All good ships are female you see, and like women, can be very jealous of a rival."

"One hopes that the gold that will rebuild and refit her will keep the Maiden from treating *you* too poorly." he adds.

"Oh, I think she and I could come to an understanding in any case," says Espérance thoughtfully. "We're both professionals, after all."

"If you should be able to communicate with the White Maiden in some esoteric fashion." Captain Clarion answers "do so out of the sight of the more superstitious amongst my crew, agreed?" he says, widely grinning.

"They won't even know I'm doing it," Espérance assures him, with an answering twinkle.

Dessert is plain and simple, when young Samuel brings it out. It is simply halves of orange, dusted with some sort of powdered sugar. The Captain takes a pulpy bite, as do the others.

Pridus leans toward Espérance. "There is a disease amongst those who take long trips by sea. A horrible malady, which saps at ones strength and health. Eating fruits such as these seems to keep that disease at bay. You may wish to give some to your hound, as well."

"If I can get him to eat it," Espérance says doubtfully. Though she's occasionally seen him eat grass, like most dogs, he's never seemed enthusiastic about fruit.

Huttner smells his piece suspiciously before taking a bite.

Espérance scoops out and eats several sections before experimentally offering one to Hugo.

Hugo seems as about as enthusiastic about eating the food as Huttner is, but he finally nibbles the piece. His reaction, though, suggests that any more would most definitely not be welcome.

This being more or less the reaction she expected, Espérance doesn't try to coax him to eat any more.

And so it goes. Once the plates of everyone else are cleared (Huttner's with extreme reluctance), the Captain rises.

"And that, our dear guest, is the custom of dinner on board ship. I trust it was not too onerous, and I look forward to our subsequent meals." His eyes glint as he regards Espérance. "Very much so."

Hugo does not growl, but Espérance can sense his tension rise again.

Taking their cue that dinner is over, the Doctor, and the first mate rise as well. Awkwardly, Huttner rises next.

Espérance rises smoothly and bows to her host. "It's been a pleasure, Captain," she says politely. "However, I know that you and your officers have duties more vital to all of us than merely entertaining a passenger, so I won't tempt you to sit up late rather than getting your rest. May I bid you all a very good night?"

"There will be further opportunities for social interaction." the Captain says with a smile. "Certainly when we reach the sea and our sailing is less constricted by the dangers of the river. Good Night to you, Miss St. Vier. And to you, Huttner." he adds in an afterthought to Huttner.

"Good Night to the both of you." Doctor Altair adds, staring at Espérance for an extra moment before looking away.

Hugo rises to his four legs and subtly places himself between Espérance and the rest of the cabin as Pridus strides past her to open the door to let her, Huttner and Hugo out.

The look Huttner gives Espérance suggests that he would dearly like to talk--out of earshot of the Captain and the Doctor.

Once out on deck, Espérance remarks to Huttner, "I could use a trifle of exercise before bed. Since there isn't much of anywhere to walk to, would you fancy a climb?" She cocks an eye toward the perch in the rigging that she scouted out earlier. It's been her experience that any conference that you don't want overheard should be held where you can see people coming, rather than behind closed doors with keyholes in them. "I may not be a scion of House Wererathe." Huttner replies. "However, while I may not be able to clamber with their speed and agility, I think you will find me relatively able of such a feat. In addition, such a climb would be a welcome capstone to our evening victuals."

"I thought so," comments Espérance.

Huttner looks at the climb up to the rigging. "Ladies first, of course." he says with a nod. Loyally, Hugo takes a seat, watchful position at the base.

Not at all hampered by the sword slung at her hip, Espérance nimbly climbs up the rigging to the favored spot, from which she can get a good view of both the deck and the surrounding water. She settles herself in to her perch and waits for Huttner to follow.

Huttner is a capable but somewhat slower climber than Espérance as she has a chance to assess his skills from the perch she reaches well ahead of him. She can see at a couple of points he considers what would be an impossible reach, only to shake his head and try a less difficult route and grab to achieve his goals.

Finally, though, he reaches the high position that Espérance has managed, giving a nod as he finds a space next to her. Below, if one risks the vertigo, she and Huttner can see the crew busily at work. Straight ahead is the river bank and the lands that front the river, small villages and rolling hills. The cliffs that mark the channel just at the mouth of the river are still unseen, ahead.

Espérance contemplates the scatter of lights that is all that can be seen of the dwellings of men; the banks themselves and the lands beyond are dark humps against the night sky.

"Few are going to dare come up here." Huttner says. "And if there are espionage flavored magics in this shadow of yours, they would be hard pressed to tell what we speak of, only the fact that we are doing so."

"That's more or less what I was thinking," says Espérance, though magic is not something she normally considers.

"Now," she continues, in a voice pitched to carry to Huttner and not much farther. "I could tell something bothered you about that little dinner, and Hugo, too. What was it in your case?"

"I didn't perform any aetheric or esoteric spells." Huttner says. "I simply let my senses guide me. And that Captain, and his Doctor felt wrong to me, Lady Espérance. Its hard to describe to you because you are not yet a traveler between veils and shadows."

"The two of them felt like, to me, that they didn't quite fit in this shadow."

Espérance's eyebrows go up. "Like you?" she queries. "Or for that matter, considering what you've told me already, like me? That might explain -- or at least be another reason for all that concentrated interest. Besides my being the only woman on board at present."

"Yes" Huttner agrees. "I was reluctant to actually use anything esoteric. It would have tipped my hand. This shadow is not known for wide esoteric use."

"As evidenced by the fact that I know what you're talking about mostly by guess," Espérance says wryly. "But if they are what you're thinking, I suppose they might be able to detect that sort of thing.

"On the other hand, that could explain some of those odd gaps in their knowledge -- like the Duchess's age, for instance."

Huttner nods.

"Hugo's discomfort might have been similarly based, or perhaps something else." Huttner continues. "Even if you were unaware of his true nature, you know your companion far better than I."

"Usually when Hugo reacts like that, it's to danger," says Espérance. "Or perhaps I should say, to hostile intent. But the way he was acting tonight..." She pauses, then continues thoughtfully, "I'd say it was somewhere in between the way he reacted to you when you first showed up -- he was intensely interested but didn't seem worried -- and the way he warned me, say, about those riders who attacked the Duchess's party on May Day. The ones who would seem to have been from House Jesby.

"So perhaps what Hugo thinks about Captain Clarion and the Doctor is that they are potentially dangerous, but he's not sure if they're dangerous to me?"

"Possibly so." Huttner agrees, bracing himself to look somewhat straight down in the direction of Hugo.

"There are many forms of danger, and many ways a man can be dangerous. To one physically, emotionally, spiritually, or even to one's virtue."

Espérance snorts faintly at the mention of virtue, though she certainly noticed the two men's own (somewhat oblique) commentary on the subject. "All we need to know, now, is to be on our guard throughout this trip."

Huttner pauses. "More than we already were, anyway, thanks to that fracas at the docks."

"Yes, that really was bad tactics," says Espérance. Then her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Unless, of course, it was misdirection...."

"It is possible to overthink these things." Huttner says after a moment. "And wheels can spin within wheels. This entire operation certainly has not gone according to plan. If it had, Lord Cazaril and myself should have arrived together at your doorstep, possibly with the daughter of Lord Jurt already in tow."

"It would have been much simpler than what we have." Huttner says.

"No plan survives contact with the enemy," says Espérance philosophically. "No matter how good your information is, usually. Still, it might not be a bad idea to do some discreet questioning of the crew about their captain and ship's doctor. Having met them, I think we have a right to be curious now." "Carefully, and well chosen targets." Huttner confirms, looking back up at Espérance. "Find the crew members not so loyal as to rat on us, the ones who question the Captain and his pet doctor.""Perhaps your sparring partner." Huttner suggests. "Can not a conversation be had discreetly during a clash of blades and steel?" "Sometimes," says Espérance, "though if we gather the kind of crowd we did last time, I don't know how discreet we'd be able to be. But Hamzah is a good choice, since he and Doctor Altair supposedly share a homeland. And if they don't ... he'd be in a better position to know that." "My oblique point to the jot." Huttner agrees with a smile "He would know if the Doctor is more than he appears." "Or at least, if he's really a compatriot or not!" says Espérance. Huttner nods.

"Magnus and Christoffer might also be forthcoming," she muses. "The midshipmen." Huttner says with a nod. "Such boys are ubiquitous on sailing ships, and equally ignored. They may have seen things, noticed things that they have no one to confess to."

"Samuel probably knows more than he lets on, but it's clear that his berth is a soft one, and he might be very reluctant to share what he knows." Huttner adds. Espérance nods. "We'll keep an eye on him," she decides. "There may be a way to come at him once we know him better. Anyone else?"

"These ships are small worlds unto themselves." Huttner says. "I think that you, we, need to pick our targets, a small number and carefully. I think we have the major possibilities covered, and a few days in which to do it before it becomes really needful to know their agendas and we have a good chance to jump ship. Such as Niejwein at the outlet of the river."

"Although as long as we're -on- the river and not out at sea, swimming is always a possibility," Espérance points out. "I think you said you had an affinity for water...? But only in case of emergency. And you're right, once we sail from Niejwein, we'll no longer have that option."

"I do have an affinity for water." Huttner responds with a smile. "The both of us swimming for endless leagues in the middle of the ocean would be pushing that affinity, however."

"And of course if the Captain or his doctor try something in the meantime, all bets are off." he finishes.

"Naturally." With an unconscious, habitual motion, Espérance loosens her sword in its scabbard, even while she observes, "And if they =do= try something -- something inimical -- it'll be good to have made friends. Tomorrow night, I'm bringing out my flute."

"Your...flute?" Huttner asks quizzically. "Is this some sort of euphemism that I am unaware, or have you been trained as a musician of some sort?"

"I wouldn't call it formal training," disclaims Espérance. "But I can play well enough for a May Day dance, or an off-hours gathering of sailors."

Enlightenment crosses Huttner's face and his eyes briefly glow from a mild, brief light from within them.

"I see." Huttner says. "You are an amateur." He nods thoughtfully. "Playing a music instrument is perilously close, though, to the classic lines of an education in the Courts. Your mother will be pleased at exhibiting the discipline necessary to play one, even if not to overly high standards."

"Discipline in one field translates pretty well to another," comments Espérance. "Besides, I like music myself."

Huttner smiles slightly. "You sound like a true Sawall with the statement on discipline. Or a Hendrake. No surprise, given the ancestry of your Lady Mother."

"I look forward to hearing the differences between your music and the musical forms of the Courts." Huttner pauses and then adds."Shall we return to that small world below now?"

"Yes, I think we can do that," says Espérance. She motions to Huttner to go first, since he's sitting below her.

Huttner nods, and descends carefully down the rigging ahead of her, proceeding carefully until he reaches the deck, standing aside and waiting for the swordswoman to descend as well.

Espérance descends lithely from the rigging and drops to the deck almost noiselessly -- by habit more than anything else. She ruffles Hugo's neck fur while she casts a quick, assessing glance about the ship.

Hugo, appreciative of the attention, shows no signs of agitation or anything that suggests that he has detected anything amiss with the crew or officers.

The ship is now lit by lanterns, the third watch now going about their duties.

All is otherwise quiet on the White Maiden.

"Heigh-ho!" says Espérance. "I'm for bed!"

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