RodeHardAndPutAwayWetRode Hard and Put Away WetThe rest of the men dismount. After a few moments of speaking in their language, two women come to take Alex away with them. Caz says something in her ear, and she nods as she departs. With gestures and a sort of sign language, Cazaril, too departs the scene. "Now, then, Little Bird." Checheg says once Alex and Cazaril have departed. "Let us see about our bargain for horses. To be sealed in Seed and Coin." He points to the largest of the yurts nearby. A wicked look comes across his face, and then his hands reach to pick up Swan, with clear intent to carry her to the cloth and wood structure. Swan smiles to herself. Should could have easily picked Checheg up and carried /him/ over the threshold, but she suspects that the insult to his honor would outweigh the amusement factor. With a deft jump, she leaps into his hands and wraps her arm around his neck. As he walks, she lightly runs her fingers along his shoulder. "We'll need three horses, six if possible. Ones capable of handling most terrains," she says. "And at least two weeks of supplies. There's no telling how long we'll be in the bush." She leans in and lightly kisses his earlobe, "Is that possible?" Checheg responds slowly and carefully, his fingers touching Swan's skin with each word, each syllable of his accented thari. Checheg responds slowly and carefully, his fingers touching Swan's skin with each word, each syllable of his accented thari. "Six fine horses--all of our horses are able from the mountains to the plains to the southern jungles. Two weeks of supplies. A high cost for such a large purchase." "We have some cush and beads to swap," Swan whispers, stroking his hair. "I'm sure that even a butter and egg man like yourself knows the bulge one of our heaters could give you. I'm sure we can part with one and some shells. In addition to other. . ." She growls softly, nipping his lobe. "Compensations." "The Arden Forest," Swan says, nursing her gasper. "And from what I've glommed, he's my second cousin, I think. Yeah, a little hinky, I know. But love is a hinky thing to begin with. Makes you all jingle-brained. And that's why I faded on him. Needed some clarity before I had an ing-bing." She takes another drag, "Me? I'm better suited to doing the tango with a little bird like our 'Lex. A little fun. A little pleasure. And in the end no broken hearts when I dangle." Swan turns her head, cigarette glowing, "What about you, Caz? Wife and kids back home? Or are you a plain old bindlepunk like me?" "A point between those two extremes." Cazaril replies after a moment's hesitation. "I am betrothed to the daughter of one of the nobles in House Helgram. A back breeding you see, since my grandmother, High Lady Dara, originally came from there. I have to make it a good match from our end, and so as part of showing my strength and worthiness, I was sent to find the Lady Dara's daughter, and my cousin, Lord Jurt's daughter. Alex." "Perhaps" Cazaril says "returning with the both of them will allow the match with Miranda Helgram to go forward." He pauses a moment, looking wistful and then looks at Alex. "You mentioned Carl, of Arden Forest, a second cousin." he says. "There are tales of three who guard the Arden Forest, a father, son and daughter. Breeders of hounds that are the envy of many Houses in Chaos, and of a steed rode by the father that once trampled a land-drake." "Your Carl is the selfsame son?" Cazaril enquires. "Firearms!" Checheg growls enthusiastically. It is also clear that his enthusiasm for something else is matching Swan's rising desire. By this point he has carried Swan to a nest of blankets. The blankets turn out to be softer than their rough looking experience, as he lays her down upon them. "Time to start paying the costs, Little Bird." Checheg growls hungrily. The yurt is warm, and the horse rider is warmer, and most enthusiastic to start settling the bill. Still hot and bothered from her recent killing spree, Swan's inner fire grows from a smoldering ember into a roaring blaze. She grips Checheg's britches and pulls him down into their warm nest, nearly lifting him off his feet. With a fluid motion, she straddles him and clamps her hand around one of his wrists; her greedy mouth crushing his lips. Swan has never been a round heels and makes that clear to him as she begins to take what she wants. . . no, /needs/ from him. And right now she needs someone strong and raw and uninhibited. Someone she can kiss bloody. Someone that won't break. Swan falls upon Checheg like a predator and takes what is rightfully hers. Perhaps it is the side effect of creating the shadow, and this shadow of Julian's son. It is clear, though, that Swan has crafted well. Checheg is strong. Raw. Uninhibited. And Passionate as he responds in turn. And for at least one day and early evening, he is up to not breaking, even from the force of nature that is Swan... OOC: FTB? ;) FTB... Some time later, in the glow of fire and passion unleashed, Swan comes back to the here and now. Checheg sleeps lightly. For all of the endurance and strength built into him, he is in the end not an Amberite. And perhaps typical of a man, after a most enthusiastic meeting of unleashed need, he is taking a rest. Still, with the wariness of someone who rides the steppe, one eye is almost open, and his breathing is not deep. Outside, the sound of a distant howl of a wolf is the only sound that Swan hears on the wind. Swan sighs in frustration, her body still hungry for something she can't express. She lays in the darkness for a moment that stretches out for an eternity. Finally, the pent-up energy wins out and she carefully slides away from her lover. A ghost upon shadow, she crosses the yurt to her scattered clothing. She digs out a fresh pack of gaspers that hadn't been there this morning, but /had/ to be there now. One of Checheg's tunics serves as a nightgown as she steps out into the night. The chill is refreshing on her bare skin, awakening her senses. The only heat Swan requires comes from her gasper, the spicy smoke filling her throat and lungs with fire. She touches her belly, savoring the last flickers of Checheg's warmth inside her. And yet, she still wants more. But she does not know for what she yearns. Swan listens for the wolf, hoping to hear its voice again; for it had sounded like her own. The wolf howls again, almost on cue. As the echoes die down, a voice comes from behind Swan, not far away. Cazaril. "Who was he, Swan?" The Chaosian steps in view, illuminated only by Swan's cigarette, the stars and the moon. Swan's fingers twitch in instinctual response, a bluish light sparking around them as she begins to call her pistol. But she stops the Calling when she recognizes Caz's face, leaving her weapon in the yurt behind her. She puffs on her gasper, a nervous sigh escaping in a puff of blue smoke. "Forgive me. It would appear that your father or whoever is responsible for your education neglected to teach you the proper way to ward your mind. After an experience such as that..." He nods his head toward the yurt, "such an experience makes some things leak out from an unprotected mind. I'm not a fully trained Neuromancer by any means, however, its clear you were thinking about someone else." "I don't think dad expected me to live long enough to get past the brute force stage," Swan chuckles, "Not that I hide what I'm thinking anyway most times." "No." Cazaril says with a nod. She smiles faintly, "His name was Carl. He's a bit of a Jasper, but I was dizzy for him. Still am. But a trigger girl like me can't have feelings for anyone. Not part of job." "Too dangerous." She hopes she sounds convincing. Cazaril shakes his head. "Serpent's Blood, Swan. Even those Chaosian Houses which have strict breeding programmes and delineate matches on that basis cannot manage to completely quash the doings of the heart. In fact, some Houses consider it an impairment if you don't take a lover or two in addition to your breeding match." Swan listens without comment, staring out into the night sky. "So where and what is this Carl of yours?" Cazaril enquires. "I get the feeling that he's probably more than just another Shadow, unless he's from your birth veil, perhaps?" "The Arden Forest," Swan says, nursing her gasper. "And from what I've glommed, he's my second cousin, I think. Yeah, a little hinky, I know. But love is a hinky thing to begin with. Makes you all jingle-brained. And that's why I faded on him. Needed some clarity before I had an ing-bing." She takes another drag, "Me? I'm better suited to doing the tango with a little bird like our 'Lex. A little fun. A little pleasure. And in the end no broken hearts when I dangle." Swan turns her head, cigarette glowing, "What about you, Caz? Wife and kids back home? Or are you a plain old bindlepunk like me?" "A point between those two extremes." Cazaril replies after a moment's hesitation. "I am betrothed to the daughter of one of the nobles in House Helgram. A back breeding you see, since my grandmother, High Lady Dara, originally came from there. I have to make it a good match from our end, and so as part of showing my strength and worthiness, I was sent to find the Lady Dara's daughter, and my cousin, Lord Jurt's daughter. Alex." "Perhaps" Cazaril says "returning with the both of them will allow the match with Miranda Helgram to go forward." He pauses a moment, looking wistful and then looks at Swan. "You mentioned Carl, of Arden Forest, a second cousin." he says. "There are tales of three who guard the Arden Forest, a father, son and daughter. Breeders of hounds that are the envy of many Houses in Chaos, and of a steed rode by the father that once trampled a land-drake." "Your Carl is the selfsame son?" Cazaril enquires. "Not sure who the chippie is," Swan admits, "But the father's name is Julian. My uncle. And yeah, Carl is his kid." She takes a final drag on the gasper before crushing it beneath her heel. Cazaril curtly nods, once and regards Swan. She folds her arms together, "I knew I was in trouble the first time I met him. Got all weak in the knees. But it may have been the blood loss rather than me being twitter-pated. Heh." Swan manages a smile, "So, your love life hinges on us finding this tomato, huh? Well, I'm not cupid, but I'll do my best to make sure you're pitching woo soon enough." "It would improve my station within Sawall to please the Lady Dara, my father, and my Uncle by safely bringing the two to Chaos." he replies. "That would improve my ability to, as you say, pitch woo." "If I could also discover the fate of Huttner, and the rest of the party that set out with me from the Courts, it would draw additional honor and favor to me." he adds. "I do not know that your aid to a House of Chaos in this matter will carry any weight in the House of Amber." Cazaril has. "However, the favor and appreciation of your help, as we have agreed before, will be substantial, regardless of any additional boons that the Lady Dara, my Lord father, or Lord Jurt might give." "I think I'd fit in better with your Courts than at home," Swan admits. "I tend to rub people there the wrong way. Or rather, I rub the wrong people the right way." She shrugs with a wry smile. "We'll beat feet tomorrow morning, and see if we can reach this chippie before Saxon finishes his fire sale," she says. She stretches her back, the robe struggling to hide what little of her isn't obvious for all to see. "I've been thinking. This Huttner guy. Could might nabbed her already and just gone to ground?" "I helped train him myself." Cazaril says, with a note of obvious pride. "If he survived, he would have continued on to try and find Dara's daughter and tried to convince her of who and what he was. He would have then dealt with matters as they stood, possibly trying to bring her to the Courts, or getting prepared to deal with the Jesby's. Going to ground, as you say." "If we are unfortunate, Swan..." Caz continues. "Instead of believing his story, Esperance has instead killed Huttner. Dara fostered her in her father's shadow with the expectation that she would have her father's prodigious skills as well as her heritage through Dara from General Benedict, with a blade." A hiss escaped over Swan's teeth, "Benedict? That's one serious cat with a crazy pig-sticker fetish," Swan says, running her fingers through her hair. "Damn. That's not good news for us. You sure know how to pick them, Caz." Cazaril bows his head slightly. She rummages for another gasper, illuminating her face as she lights it. "Before she ventilates us, can you show her any proof that you're working on her mother's behalf?" "Yes" he says confidently. "I am certainly I can provide bona fides and proof that will satisfy Dara's daughter that we speak the truth. Indeed, if she has already encountered the Jesby's, that might be to our advantage to convince her of what I and Alex am. You might be harder to explain." He smiles slightly. "However, if the luck of the Serpent is with us, Huttner has already found her. In any event, we should move quickly, before the Jesby's do." Swan nods, "We'll beat feet at first light. We'll have horses and supplies, so I'm sure we can keep going without further complications. By the time we leave, you should decide if we should Hell-ride toward the bim or the dick. If they ain't together, we could be disappointed if we just focus on Huttner." She takes a calming drag and blows out a smoke ring. "Our primary objective is Darasdottir." Caz replies. "We will focus on her, first." Swan nods, "I'll track her then. Between Saxon's lowdown and yours, I'm sure we'll nab her in a couple of days." "Well, I should go give our host one last round," she chuckles bawdily. "And you? Will your ankle's bread be rising in 9 months? The world will be hollow place without a couple extra Cazs running around conquering, magicking, and such." Her smile is genuinely playful, rather than mocking. Cazaril cocks his head toward Swan. "It would have perhaps been wiser, but more dishonest, to ensure that none of my conjugations would have any issue." he replies. "I have left myself at full fertility, and allowed the will of the Serpent to decide if my seed will be compatible with the women of this world." "It is entirely possible that one or two more chances will happen before dawn." he adds reflectively. Swan snorts. She sashays up to Caz and then guides his hands under her robe. Her nose wrinkles with amusement as she warms her nakedness against him. "You're so damned cute, Caz," she whispers. "And you don't even know it, do you?" Cazaril's look on his face is a complete one of not understanding, further emphasizing Swan's point. Semaphorically, however, her brief touch of him with her hands and body has ensured that he would be now equipped for one more round. She gently kisses his cheek and then slips away, waggling her fingers in goodbye. "Bright and early, stud. Toodles." "Until the morning." he agrees, and turns away. By the time Swan returns to the tent, Checheg is already awake, and most eager to get one more round to complete the trade... Swan falls upon him with renewed vigor, sealing the deal greedily. "Until the morning." he agrees, and turns away. By the time Swan returns to the tent, Checheg is already awake, and most eager to get one more round to complete the trade... Morning comes at a cock's crow, a clear clarion call from a fowl that certainly sounds like a strutting male chicken. Swan greets the morning with a happy stretch, a self-satisfied smile warming her features. Although her alarm clock shares the same name, its call is far more pleasant and certainly not avian in origin. She glances under the covers and pouts; apparently, it has crowed its last. Instead of bring it back to life, she reluctantly leaves her companion to dress for the coming day. It soon emerges that breakfast is done communally by Checheg's people, everyone eating together in an open area between the stalls, with mutton, stone-baked bread, and a big pot of some sort of tea that smells of butter and milk. Alex and Cazaril are found near one side of this large gathering. The former is nibbling at some bread and a bit of meat and waves Swan to approach. Swan can see that Cazaril's appetite is much more pronounced. Checheg slaps Swan on the back and leaves her with the two of them as he goes off to speak with an approaching pair of men. "Cuisine was not a high priority in your shadowshifting." Caz says. He looks over at Alex. "Once we're out of here with the horses, I'll take care of getting something more palatable." he offers. Swan grabs herself a cup of the tea and a greasy piece of mutton, adding some bread to her plate for good measure. "Well, it's not my stomach I usually think with," she says with a smirk. "Besides, no back o'bourke shadow can compare to the grub you'll find in the Beast. Not that we can breeze to grab some chow there. But later maybe. My treat." "Later" Alex says agreeably. Cazaril nods, once. She soaks up some grease with the bread. "Well, we're in good with the butter and egg man. He likes his new heaters and I left him grinning. Let me grab my morning smoke and we can book." "I'll go make sure the horses are prepared." Cazaril says, departing the scene and heading toward the stables. He is soon engaged with one of the traders, pointing at Swan and explaining matters. In the meantime, Alex smiles at Swan. "You made a shadow out of sex and violence, but I received neither while we're here. Just some boring prophecies I am supposed to not tell you about until we leave." Her face is not quite a pout, but rather a sly smile. "I suspect all three should wait, lest our hosts renege on the deal." Swan reaches over and squeezes Alex's hand. "You know you're my bird, right? I'll make it up to you when we get out of jasper-ville." She grins softly, squeezing Alex's hand again. She begins a skilled ballet between handling her gasper, tea, and food while talking. "So, I was chinning with Caz last night. And it got me to thinking about the future. Will you want me to stick around for awhile, after we nab this skirt and get the chance to cool our hogs? I know I'm a wrong number and all, so thought I'd better ask now. So there'll be no hard feelings later." Alex pauses a moment, as if trying to determine what Swan is saying. She finally grins and shakes her head. "It's a very long trip to Chaos, from what Caz has told me. By horse, train or any other method, there is no telling what we might run into. Cazaril would appreciate it if you stuck around, I'm sure." Alex pauses a moment and looks at the ground. "And I would...miss you if you decided to take off for somewhere else." Alex admits, shyly. Swan smiles and reaches out for Alex's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Thanks, kid," she says. "That means a lot to an old chippie like me. I gotta admit that I've kinda gotten dizzy for you over these last few days. Life would be boring without that smile and your love of high explosives around. So, consider me your lucky charm." She kisses Alex on the cheek before getting up. "Alright, let's go find our fellow bindle punk and drift. It's been nearly 48 hours since we laid waste to the world and I'm getting twitchy." "I thought last night would have cooled your jets for a while." Alex says with a grin as they start to head in the direction Caz headed in. Swan slips her arm around Alex's waist, "Doll, when it comes to murder, there isn't enough rumpy-pumpy in the world to cool my jets." As they walk, Swan glances over at Alex, "Seriously though, 'Lex. This Saxon guy is going to be gunning for me. I'd be slightly distressed if you got ventilated because of me." Alex shakes her head. "You'd be surprised what I was doing when Cazaril found me. I had managed to blow my way from my home shadow to another one, and had hooked up with an anti-government faction in a huge city, an arcology they called it. I was their demolitions expert." Alex grins widely. "My little soup-cook," Swan chuckles, intrigued by Alex's background. "The government made some deal with some weird aliens housed in human sized pepperpots, who were blasting all and sundry when we stumbled across them. If Caz and I can deal with those blaster-armed aliens, this Saxon Jesby is not going to worry either of us." "And don't forget the Door People. *They* aren't going to stop gunning for us, either." Alex adds. She stops, and points as Cazaril comes out, with the aid of a couple of grooms,. leading a quintet of small, sturdy looking horses loaded with saddlebags. "Door people, pepperpots, and flaming chaosians… oh my," Swan smirks. "Life is never going to be dull with you two." She pats Alex on the back, "Well, let's go cause some trouble, eh?" "Let's" Alex grins widely. She walks over to the horses, "Hey Caz. These look rate. Which of these stinking beasts looks like it won't give me the Broderick, you think?" "They are all supposed to be of even temperament, from what I've been told." Cazaril explains. The men who have helped lead out the horses scatter back to their duties, leaving the horses. Their colors range from a coal black to a very light brown in color. "I can't pronounce their names,either." Cazaril adds. "I think we're going to have to just rename them, or call them by numbers." He pats the horses starting with the black and ending with the light brown. "Yek, do, se, chahar, and panj." "Ladies choice, first." Cazaril says. "Which one I ride doesn't matter. We have two spares in any event, so there is plenty of variety." Swan walks around the horses, sizing them up. She finally settles on the coal-black one and nimbly climbs up into the saddle. She rubs his muscled neck, "Alright Yek," she whispers in his ear. "You treat me rate and we'll get along famously." She tests out the horse's temperament with a quick ride around the paddock. The horse seems amenable to its foreign rider. Its not a docile horse, but after about 10 minutes of riding, Yek seems to have accepted Swan as his new rider. Similarly, Alex has picked the third horse (Se), a deep brown horse, and Caz has picked the fourth horse, (Chahar) a light to medium horse with a dark mane. "Alrighty then," she says, grinning. "I think this one will do. Are we ready to book?" "I am" Alex says enthusiastically. "Yes." Caz says. "We'll lead these other two, so we won't be able to ride quite as fast as we might like, but at least we'll not have to walk any more." "You're still doing the shifting, so you're on point, Swan." Caz adds. "Then let's dust," Swan says, turning Yek toward the open plains. Once they're a safe distance from the encampment, she begins Shifting. Rather than seeking a specific shadow, she draws from the lowdown on Dara's little bird she's gleaned from Caz and Saxon. She begins seeking the girl, allowing the Pattern to guide her toward her desire. Subtle changes to the plain begin to take form; a patch of purple flowers, a lonely juniper stretching up for the blue sky, a strange outcropping of rock. They fade behind the group, replaced by further changes to the environment. Swan wishes she could enjoy the ride more, but this Seeking feels more akin to a Hellride than most of her leisurely trips through Shadow. She remains silent and focused, ever mindful of the group behind her. Cazaril and Alex both seem to quickly realize the high stakes, or the concentration needed in order to find Dara's daughter in the midst of shadow. Keeping in mind all that she has been told, gleaned and intuited about her, Swan can begin her shadow shifting away from the steppe/semi desert of Checheg and the horses that they have now borrowed, and toward where Esperance is located. With Swan's focus on the environmental changes necessary, she sees the trouble when it rears its head. The weather turns warmer, although it remains mostly dry. The terrain keeps wanting to change, though, to water. Salt water. With several attempts, Swan always comes back to coastlines of various types. All roads seem to want to make Swan and her companions wet. Dara's daughter must be currently upon the sea. Swan has a few choices at this point to improve her situation. She can try and go for a place of desire, like she did before, winding up tangling with Saxon and company. Or, she can find naval transport. Or she can find the nearest point in that shadow on land to her quarry's current location. "Well, if this don't just wad my panties," Swan curses, pausing on a sea cliff to rethink her next move. The salt-laden air stings her eyes as watches the waves. "First horses. Then the ocean. I'm a city-girl, damn it!" "This frustrates." Cazaril says. "If it is any consolation, this would be more difficult without your skills for Alex and I." She idly rubs her horse's ear. "We need to find a rowboat," she says. "Then, we can catch your floating tomato on the Big Blue. Or we could shoot for their port. But that's risky. Chances are we won't be the only people waiting to give her hugs and kisses." "What do you think?" Alex asks Cazaril after a moment. The latter regards Swan and looks over the deep blue ocean. "I mislike the idea of going to another port." he finally says, with clear reluctance in his voice. "The last port we tried that in, we ran into Saxon Jesby and his men." "In addition." Cazaril says. "it is unlikely he would try and meet her in the middle of the ocean. Not *his* element. If it would be easier than finding one, Swan, I can bring a ship across for us." "Something bigger than a rowboat?" Alex says hopefully. "Something bigger than a rowboat." Cazaril says, deadpan and both look at Swan. "I'm sure I can grift us a rubber dingy somewhere," Swan smiles. "So, save your strength, Caz." "If you are certain." Cazaril says. She gives her horse a yank, "Onward and downward, Yek." Shifting is easier for her this time, now that she has something specific in mind and is already close to the ocean. As they ride along the cliff's edge, a wide pathway appears leading down toward the beach. The rocks change from crumbling white coccolith to wind-swept granite. Far below, the crashing ocean drifts through a spectrum of colors before settling into a brilliant cherry. Grey and pink clouds rolled in sky with impotent anger, unwilling—or unable—to soak the trio and their mounts. "Pretty." Alex says. Caz nods, looking alert. They reached a beach of basalt pillars and black sands. In the distance, a sloop had been tied to an old fishing pier, apparently docked for the approach of winter. "Will that do?" Swan asks. "It might be a little small for the horses..." Cazaril says. "A ship big enough for the horses would be too large to handle, wouldn't it?" Alex says, looking at Caz. "It would. I think the ship is fine. I have an idea about the horses, though." he says, and then looks at Swan. "If you will all dismount first, of course. Alex, you might help Swan with getting the boat ready." Alex dismounts and smiles hopefully to Swan. Swan nods, "Good. I would have found something with a crew, but then things could turn hinky later on. This should get us where were going without too much hassle." She dismounts and joins Alex over at the boat. "I'm no Abercrombie when it comes to boats, but Dad gave me the once over. Apparently, it's in my blood. Certainly not my stomach, though." She rubs Alex's back and laughs. After a brief glance at what Caz is up to with the horses, she walks out onto the dock. "I'll start with the rigging, if you check for holes." Cazaril seems to be lining up the horses in a neat line, and has begun walking around them, saying something in a low voice. Its barely above a murmur, and what Swan hears makes no intelligible sense to her. In the meantime, Alex steps into the boat. "Why would there be holes in the boat?" she asks, as she casts her eyes up, down and all around in an organized and efficient manner. "Is that kind of like the shadow where you found the horses, you aren't sure of some of the details of stuff that you find?" "My cousins are probably better at the shadow grift than I am," Swan says. "But Dad kept stringin' me when it came to that stuff. And Lorius, my Abercrombie cousin, and I didn't exactly. . . barber much when we were together. So, that's why most of my Walks have been nothing more than an endless trip for biscuits. Some day, it'll be silk each time. But until then, it's all rats and mice, so I don't take chances." She gives a big grin, "I got the pullin' lettuce outta my hat thing down pat though. What more do you need than berries, huh?" The rigging looks good. The boat could certainly use a bit of a paint job, and it might not quite suit her father's standards (or her Uncle Gerard's), but the ship seems that its suited for 3-5 people without much difficulty. The ship is ready to sail. "Sounds like I should meet this Lorius sometime." Alex says. "Or perhaps you might bug him for some more tutoring." Swan laughs, offering a wicked smile. "Oh, I'm sure he'd love to meet you too. He's a cute as a bug's ear. And a bit of a grifter. Great at cards. I adore him." She tests a section of rigging, "If Caz lets you after all is said and done, let's go hang in Amber. I'll intro the two of you." Just as Swan and Alex finish looking stuff over, thirty minutes in total, there is a brief creepy-crawly feeling from the direction of Caz. He stands alone, and the horses are gone. No, actually, as Swan looks, the horses have been replaced by five statuettes, each of them sized to fit easily within a palm. Cazaril starts picking up these statues, oblivious to everything else. Swan grins brightly as Caz approaches, "Now if that ain't just the cat's meow, Caz. Can you do that with people too? Mrmm. . . the possibilities of being pocket-sized." "Shouldn't we name the ship before we leave?" Alex suggests, watching Cazaril as she stands next to Swan. Swan scratches the fully formed scar on her arm. "How about, Skid Rogue?" she suggests. "Skid Rogue." Cazaril says, looking up as he takes the last figurine into his possession. "So it shall be named. As far as the Figurine Spell, it works best with willing targets, or targets that can be easily dominated." Cazaril explains. "It also has trouble working with Real targets. You, Alex or I would be difficult to manipulate in this manner because of our natures." "But not impossible?" Alex asks. "Not impossible." Cazaril says. He nods once to Swan. "If we are ready, let's get sailing and looking for Dara's daughter." Swan snorts lightly, pleased with this response. "You're deep well, Caz. Never dull," she says. "I do so like that in the jobbies I shoulder with. Someday you and me are sitting down and getting serious. But until then, let's catch your canary. And avoid drowning in the meantime." "Let us sail. It's not the tranquil waters of the Shaa Canal. but then we're not going to run into any Lessimans either." Cazaril says. Swan casts him a grin, "I'm going to pretend I know what you just said and agree." She lights up a gasper, the gears start still working in her head as she climbs onto the ship. She heads toward the wheel. Since she'll be shifting shadow, it only makes sense that she should be in charge of steering the ship. "We can cast off whenever you two are ready," she calls to her fellow pirates. "Arrr... shiver me limber!" "Arrr!" Alex shouts cheerfully, with a trill that suggests that if she hasn't met any real pirates, she is clearly conversant in pirate-speak from cinema or other media. "We're ready." Cazaril says, standing at the middle mast. "Let's sail. If you need anything, just shout out." he says. "I almost feel that I need to conjure eye patches and curved blades." Swan shakes her head with a laugh, "Aye, aye. If you handle that yard as well as you did your mast last night, we'll have smooth sailing for sure." Alex looks politely confused at the remark to Caz, but says nothing. Swan turns the boat away from the old dock and toward deeper waters. The wind catches the Skid Rogue's sails and gives them some speed. Swan closes her eyes against the first whoosh of sea-spray, tasting the salt upon her lips. In that instant, with the boat beneath her feet and her companions manning the rigging, she feels a connection to her father. The vast ocean ahead of them no longer fills her with trepidation, but with exhilaration. "No wonder he loves this," she mutters. Her mind focuses on their quarry, first altering the color of the ocean as the boat heads into open water. The passage goes easily. Its not Swan's native element, but perhaps there is something to being Caine's daughter, by blood if not by inclination. The waters change first, the ocean taking on a slightly darker hue. The salinity of the water changes, by scent, as Swan continues to refine her shadowshifting. Behind them, a breeze and then a moderate wind picks up, propelling the Skid Rogue on her way. It is about 8 hours of sail, with a pause for lunch, before Swan feels that they are in the correct shadow. At the very least, there is no more shifting that seems to bring her and the ship closer to the target. Five minutes later, Alex calls out cheerfully from the bow of the Skid Rogue. "I see a ship on the horizon!" The Skid Rogue appears to be headed right for the ship...and vice versa. "Aye, I see it," Swan calls. "Better hoist up a flag, 'Lex. I have some lacy unmentionables in my bindle bag you can use. That'll give them pause, I'll wager. They might think we're Jesby trigger men come for the girl, otherwise." Alex looks surprised, as if not quite deciding that Swan is serious. She finally heads for Swan's bag and pulls out a pair. She concentrates on aiming the Skid at the opposite vessel. "Caz, cut the sail a smidge, but keep her ready for a sharp turn. No sense in ramming them just yet." "All right." Caz says, getting to work on cutting the sail. "And can you use those creepy Logrus flippers of yours to snag that ship if I get you close enough?" "If you give me a minute's warning." Cazaril replies calmly. "I certainly can." Swan turns the wheel to adjust course, "Consider yourself warned, Caz. If they make a run, I want you ready. I trust your judgment." "All right." Cazaril says, starring from Alex to the approaching vessel with a hard face. With the flag set up by Alex, and the slowing of the ship, the collision with the ship is at the very least delayed, if not deferred. As the ships near though, Swan can see that the larger ship has slowly started to avoid the collision course, the Skid Rogue now as visible to this ship, as the other ship is to the Skid Rogue. "Hail the ship!" finally comes the call of someone at the prow, as the ships near close enough that shouts might be heard across the distance. "'Lex, take the wheel. Hold her steady," Swan says, heading for the bow. She gives the speaker a friendly wave before cupping her hands like a megaphone, "Hail! I'm the captain of the Skid Rogue. I'd like to speak with your captain if I might. Permission to come aboard?" The ship, under Alex's guidance, remains on course, slowed by the trimmed sail. "We are the White Maiden out of Riverside. A moment..." The figure disappears from the prow for a full minute, while two boys, midshipmen, watch the Skid Rogue and its crew. Finally the person returns to the prow. "Permission is granted, Captain. A rope ladder is being lowered on our port side. One person only." Backlinks |
