Kelton pulled the end of the rope around and weaved it through the twisted loop. Pulling on the end, it tightened, looking as good as the one Simbawla had used to demonstrate. Kelton smiled, and Simbawla slapped him on the back, his face showing pride in Kelton's accomplishment. It had only taken three tries.

The knot was an amazing one, able to hold a loop in place without sliding up or down the rope. Kelton could see it in his head, how each twist and turn reinforced the other making movement impossible without first loosening it.

"Kawathica," Simbawla said, pointing the knot.

"Kawathica," Kelton repeated. Then he remembered misinterpreting 'lichick,' which he thought meant taking a break. It turned out to be a term for taking a piss, or possibly any form of relieving one's self. The mistake brought laughter from the crew when he misused it. Kelton pointed at a different type of knot that was used to a secure the mast to the side of the ship.

Simbawla said, "Tinthica."

Kelton repeated the two names, pointing at each knot in turn. Simbawla nodded, verifying the meanings as Kelton had first guessed. Simbawla's language had an interesting pattern where the name for things was usually formed by adding specific to generic. 'Thica' had something to do with rope or knot. 'Kawa' and 'Tin' were added to the word to form the more specific meaning of an individual style of a knot. Kelton found the idea intriguing since if you knew the generic portion, the overall purpose of the word is understood while the full meaning could remain a mystery.

"Thica?" Kelton asked, quickly pointing to both knots. Simbawla smiled and nodded, again slapping Kelton on the back harder than necessary. Kelton made the assumption that it meant knot and not rope. The absolute meaning would become apparent in time. He had long given up trying for perfection without Captain Sebastian being present. It created more confusion than clarification.

Kelton practiced the knot a few more times, much to the joy of Simbawla. It wasn't long before he was sure he could tie it in the dark. It was the third knot he had been taught, and it was his favorite. It was the one Simbawla used to lash him to the ship three days ago. He was informed that it is frequently used in rough seas to keep a sailor aboard when they can barely stand. Kelton enjoyed the simplicity of it and how the force that would make a standard knot weaker, only makes the kawathica tighter and stronger.

The ship wasn't a large one, according to Sebastian. Kelton found it hard to imagine anything more substantial floating upon the sea. It had one sail, tall on a mast centered in the deck. He had been told of ships with three sails, some with even more. The way Sebastian described them was confusing. If the goal was to trap the wind, a sail behind another seemed useless, only catching the pittance missed by the first. The captain assured him it wasn't so, that the sails turned and grabbed their own share of the wind. There was so much Kelton wanted to see. So much he didn't understand. It was how all the parts worked together that interested him the most. The knots were a good start.

Kelton looked up when the door to the cabins below opened. At first, he thought it was one of the crew, but the figure was not masculine. The woman was as dark skinned as Simbawla, though possessing none of his bulk. A head shorter than Kelton, she carried herself as if she were a head taller. Her hair flowed in tiny black curls down the back of her cloak, draping past the center of her back. Their eyes met for a moment, Kelton noticing the soft structure of her face. A pretty visage, one that drew the eye. He smiled. She did not, looking away as if he wasn't present and continued to move to the stern, her hips shifting gracefully, unhindered by the sea's swells.

Simbawla whispered something. Kelton didn't understand a word but knew it was about her and spoken in such a way that it wouldn't reach her ears. Simbawla wasn't grinning so Kelton guessed the words held respect, not crudeness. Sebastian had told him about the only other passenger, though this was the first time he saw her. She preferred to be left alone. She was on her travels, Sebastian had said. A right of passage for one of her kind.

"You learn quickly," Captain Sebastian said, pointing at the knot. It startled Kelton, who tried to remember if he had felt Sebastian coming. He felt him well enough now that the Captain was next to him and verified by his eyes. Now, he wasn't sure if he felt the woman before the door opened. Concentrating, he sensed the crew and the woman. It was fuzzier like he had to squint inside to feel them. The city overwhelmed his sense, and the sea weakened it. It was becoming unreliable. Rolic did say distance hindered it, maybe this was the beginning. He wondered if he would miss it.

"Simbawla is a good teacher," Kelton said, holding up the knot. He gave his teacher a respectful nod. The captain and Simbawala traded a few words that made Simbawala smile.

"For a young lord, you are brighter than he expected," Sebastian translated.

"I am not..."

"It pleases him to teach his betters," Sebastian interrupted Kelton's denial. "Think of it as payment for the lessons. You play the lord, and he imagines he is wiser in the ways of the world." Kelton couldn't deny Simbawala's happiness, it was all over his face.

"I believe he is wiser in the ways of the world," Kelton admitted. Sebastian laughed and traded more words with Simbawla. Soon they were both chuckling at Kelton's expense. It didn't feel insulting. There was a warmth to it that Kelton enjoyed. Brothers of the sea.

"You will eat a full ration today," Sebastian warned.

"I think it will stay down," Kelton said. "My insides are settling, the sickness isn't as bothersome and passes quickly when it does show."

"Good. Another day or so, and you'll forget all about leaning over the side," Sebastian said. Kelton didn't believe the forgetting part. There were still pains in his stomach muscles from the retching. The memories of contemplating jumping overboard would never fade.

The woman returned from the stern, moving past the three men without acknowledgment. There was a proudness in her steps as if to say the crew was no more important than the wood she walked upon. She moved toward the bow, again ignoring the rolling of the ship.

"What is her name?" Kelton asked.

"I could not repeat it," Sebastian replied. "It is long and contains sounds that twist the tongue. We settled on the first part, 'Yanda' for convenience. Her people take ancestors names and add them to their own. It halts when they reach an ancestor who was disgraced. In her case, the line has a long prideful history. Too long to remember."

"She is not one of Simbawla 's people?" Kelton asked. Sebastian and Simbawla had a quick conversation that led to more smirks and unintelligible humor.

"There are many peoples dark of skin, Kelton. Simbawl's people are from a land well north of Yanda's, separated by a sea as large as the one we sail now." Sebastian grinned. "Also, men are not held in high regard in Yanda's land."

"Why is that?"

"The women rule there. Not everything is known about it. They trade well enough, but few have traveled inland. The men we see loading and unloading are like sheep. There is a fear of becoming one of them, so no one explores. It is an arid land, barren of most things desired by men, so they are left as they are."

"If it is as you say, why does Yanda sail with you? Do they not have their own ships?"

"She is on her travels. Seeing what the world is like outside of Sorinnia, as her land is called. I suspect they look at men ruling most of the world and run home with a resolve to strengthen what they have. They have few ships and none captained by men. Sailing on one of them would show less of what they desire to see."

"She wishes to see, yet she spends her time below?" Kelton said.

"We are unknown to her," the Captain shrugged. Kelton thought on it. Like him, she must harbor a fear of the different. At least he was a man among men. Yanda could find no commonality to her past to smooth her travels. He had never thought on lands ruled by women. She must think lands ruled by men equally odd. Argonia was ruled by men and poorly done. Good or bad, women could hardly do worse. He found the idea intriguing.

"Will she speak with me?" Kelton asked.

"Nay," Sebastian replied. "You know none of her words and she knows an equal amount of yours. I can not help you in this. It is best for all if I do not remind her that I am the captain. She has paid well for her passage, and I mean it to be a calm one."

"Were you not paid well for me?"

Sebastian laughed. "For one who claims no title, you play lord well. Aye, you have paid more than a hundred travelers, and your desires are important to me." His smile faded. "As long as those desires do not upset the ship. She desires privacy and shall have it from me and my men." There was an inherent fairness in the captain, something Kelton could appreciate. The ship was his world, and he ruled it like Joycelyn ruled her family. Strong only when need be. No amount of coin would make him alter his ethos.

"And if I were to go forward and stand near where she is now?"

"The deck is to be shared," Sebastian replied. "It is a small ship, so be wary of insult. Below deck, you will respect her space as all respect yours."

"It is more than fair," Kelton said. He handed the knotted rope Simbawla, stood and headed toward the nose of the ship.

Yanda stood at the railing, as far forward as one could be without touching it. The bow lifted and fell with each swell, her hands never seeking the rail. She rode each wave without overcompensating or shifting her feet. Her eyes were forward absorbing the horizon that the ship never seemed to reach. Kelton smiled, assuming she found the vastness as impressive as he did.

"My lady," Kelton said as he sidled up next to her. Yanda's eyes snapped to his. Her hand moved with a swiftness he hadn't expected, pulling her cloak backward to reveal a sheathed blade at her hip. Her hand wrapped around the pommel and pulled the blade out far enough for its surface to glint in the sun. It was the movement of a warrior. Kelton took a step away from Yanda, not retreating, but creating more space.

"My lady," Kelton repeated, bowing his head slightly. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared out at the horizon. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a swift smile crease her lips. The blade settled back into its sheath, and her cloak was allowed to flow forward, once again covering the threat.

"It's beautiful," Kelton said, his eyes never leaving the horizon. The world was a much larger place than he had imagined only a few days ago. Yanda looked at him, then back at the water. A small nod graced her head. If Sebastian was correct, she didn't understand a word, but she understood the meaning. Kelton wanted to talk to her, to find out about Sorinnia and the story behind a long name. He shifted his foot back to steady himself as the bow crashed down a massive wave. He had to unclasp his hands to hold his balance. Yanda snickered, her poise unaffected by the swell. Kelton gave up and grasped the railing.

Yanda turned toward Kelton and spoke softly as she drew her finger from her ear to chin. The words lost on him, though he knew she was speaking of his scar when she pointed at his cheek. He covered his mark with his palm, having forgotten it was there. Of course, it would be the first thing she would notice. Yanda bowed her head ever so slightly and walked off the bow leaving Kelton to wonder on her words.

=====

"I think that's what she said," Kelton told Sebastian after repeating Yanda's words as best as he could. The captain pondered and had Kelton repeat them again.

"It is hard to guess the meaning, some of what you say makes no sense. It is something about a warrior mark on a child or baby, but that is silly. Are you sure you heard it right?"

"She was speaking of my scar," Kelton said, his smile growing. It was a jab at his inability to keep his balance. Warrior mark? She was giving his scar more than it's due.

"I do not wish to be rude and intrude on your person, but I too wonder on your scar."

"It was not earned in battle," Kelton said as he traced it with his fingers. It would be there for life, dulling over time yet never disappearing. "It was done in haste." Sebastian's eyebrows raised in curiosity. Kelton sighed. "I did it to myself, let's leave it at that." He wasn't sure how much the captain knew of his plight and decided it wasn't wise to fully trust anyone. Rolic taught him that.

"Your reasons are yours to keep," Sebastian said. "It is prominent and deserves a good story. Mayhap, you could devise one that will please the ladies."

"It was a demon," Kelton said, attempting to duplicate Gossamer's persona. "His claw tore into my face as I pulled a helpless babe from his arms before he could consume it."

Sebastian laughed. "I did not know you were a storyteller."

"At best, an apprentice. I traveled with a master once." Kelton looked out at the sea remembering calmer times. He still considered Gossamer and the woods as his home. It all seemed so small now.

"The world knows little of your land," Sebastian said. "It is called the Dark Isle to most who sail there. Your past is safe with me, but it is best to hold it private elsewhere."

"There must be others from Argonia." Kelton was sure that Rolic had traveled.

Sebastian shook his head. "None that I know of. The land's secrets are protected by many flags. When I purchase and hoist my flag, I will protect them as well."

"It is not the first time I've heard of these flags. I don't understand them."

"You can not own the sea," Sebastian said, sweeping his hand toward the horizon. "But you can own a ship." He knocked on the railing. "I sail without a flag, which marks me as a nation of one. No laws, save my own." He pursed his lips, then let out a deep breath. "It also means I am without backing. A tiny nation, such as mine, is easily gobbled by those who do not recognize it." He shrugged. "Which is everyone."

"And a flag gives you a larger nation?"

"Aye. My ship becomes part of a kingdom. With it comes protection, or at least the threat of retaliation. To attack a flagged ship is to declare war on the flag's nation." Sebastian sighed. "It does have its problems as well. In a war, the flagged ship must come to the kingdom's aid. The kingdom's laws replace my own, and some things must be done in each port. I will trade log entries with other ships of the same flags so that we can watch over each other, like a family."

"It does not seem a bad trade if the wars are far between."

"Aye, and the richest cargos are only trusted to flagged ships," Sebastian said, then smiled. "Though you are the most lucrative I've ever moved."

"Does Argonia have such flags?"

"Nay. The Dark Isle is protected by all flags. I have met no one who knows why, but it is the one thing all lands agree upon. None, even warring kingdoms, have dared to change that." Sebastian scratched chin. "I thought one such as you would know why?"

"I don't even know where the coin for my passage came from," Kelton admitted. "The idea of special knots, people black of skin, and flags are all new to me. I fear you know more of my land than I do."

"I know nothing of its secrets," Sebastian said, shaking his head. "The Dark Isle is well named."