“She’s called ‘The Recovery’,” Stephandore explained as they walked along the docks with Orenda clinging to him fighting the urge to pass out. “And she’s been on the sea for nearly three centuries! Fresh coat of paint and a few repairs, and she’ll go for centuries more. There is value, you know, in old things.”

“Toli bought a stolen ship?” Orenda asked weakly, in an attempt to prove to them that she was listening rather than out of genuine interest.

“She’s a Urillian navy ship,” Adamareyn said, “That Steve stole when he deserted. That’s a fun story.”

“That’s interesting,” Orenda said and wondered whether or not it was true. She couldn’t actually see the ship through the water in her eyes and the pain in her body, but she may have been interested, had she not felt so poorly.

“They don’t sail this model anymore,” Stephendore continued as he led Orenda up the ramp onto the deck, and continued to speak, but she couldn’t hear him. She could no longer feel the comforting grip of the heat from the middle of the world under her feet. The water, she realized, must act as a barrier.

“I need something to hold onto!” She said in the middle of his sentence, “I can’t… can’t focus, can’t see very well. The world feels as if it’s moving.”

“It is,” Tolith explained, and she tried to focus on the sound of his voice, “It always moves because the water is moving under us. You get used to it.”

“I can’t wait,” Orenda stuck out one hand to try to feel for a wall or banister or anything, but there was nothing but air, “Because I hate this. This is awful. This is the nightmare scenario. How long does it take?”

“It shouldn’t take more than a day or two,” Adam said helpfully, “Then everything will be right as rain! I’m sure you’ll love sailing, when you get used to it.”

Orenda wished he would learn to read the room.

“Are there only three of you?” Orenda asked, “Can you sail a ship with so small a crew?”

“Don’t be silly,” Stephandore wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “I count four! Don’t they teach y’all to count at that fancy school?”

“I’m dying,” Orenda said as she clutched her stomach.

“Let me make you a nice cup of tea,” Tolith suggested, “In the galley.”

“And let me put you a little bit a’ of rum in it,” Stephandore added, “To settle ya nerves. I think a lot of it might be nerves.”

“It isn’t,” Orenda protested, “It’s the magic of the ocean. It vexes me. Also, I have an announcement to make- everyone gather round!” She paused and asked, “Have they gathered? My eyes aren’t working very well.”

“Yes, Rendy, we’re here,” Tolith sounded concerned.

“Very well,” Orenda spoke loudly, “I have never had occasion to learn the sport of swimming, and I believe that even if I had learned it intellectually, I would be unable to perform it physically. I think that, perhaps, fire elves are unable to swim, as a people. Therefore it is of the utmost importance that I avoid falling into the sea. I don’t see how I would survive it. I would appreciate it if everyone was aware of this and helped me avoid it, because I can’t see where the edges of the ship are, my stomach has descended into my intestines, and my legs cannot grow accustomed to the constant movement. I’ve never felt so useless in my life.”

“It’s ok, Rendy,” Tolith reached out a hand and cupped her face, “We’re gonna take care of you. But… if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to. There are places to run on land.”

“Don’t patronize me, Toli, I’m not a child,” she snapped.

“You’ll feel better once you get your sea legs,” he promised and Orenda did not believe him, “Right now you just need to sit down below deck and have a nice cup of tea.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“We’ll be down there once we’re far enough out,” Adamareyn promised, and added, “Babe, make the ginger tea. It’s a fire elemented plant. It may settle her stomach.”

“Now that right there, is a damn good idea,” Stephendore agreed, “Come along, little lady, we’ll get you sorted.”

Orenda clung to him and felt the atmosphere change as they walked into a room that echoed. Her blurred vision told her that it was darker here, and as they descended a narrow set of stairs she put out one hand to grab the wall.

“I don’t know how Captain Nochdifache does it,” Orenda huffed, “This is torture.”

“You said he might be your daddy?” Stephendore asked, “Anybody on the sea’s heard of him, the dread captain. They say that he sails with a crew of necromancers and clockwork men.”

“They say a lot of things,” Orenda said, “About a great many people. I hear so many different stories that almost none of them can be true. I’m sorry, I’ve been terribly rude to you. Who are you, again? I should have paid more attention, but I’m afraid I’ve been under a great deal of stress lately.”

“Name’s Steve,” he said as Orenda allowed Stephandore to lift her a little until she was sitting on what she thought was a bar stool.

“Lean forward a little bit,” he instructed, and she did, onto what must have been the bar, “There you go, little lady. I’ll pack ya a pipe too. It’ll help to settle ya stomach.”

“Thank you,” Orenda said, and her vision cleared a bit. Tolith had lit a fire, and as the heat filled the room her sickness began to dissipate enough for her to get her bearings. It did not go away completely, but it was pushed back to the peripherals.

She was in a small room with a brick stove, large washtub, and various other kitchen utensils against the wall, and a bar between that area and the door they can come through. There was an open archway beside the stove leading further into the ship, and Orenda thought from its design that the stove was not just for cooking, but also for heating. The heat would be sucked along that hall and into the depths of the ship. Tolith had put a kettle on a metal grate over the brick stove, and was humming a song Orenda had heard before, an old earth elven song that was played for children, as he took down a metal tin and opened it to let the scent of the dried leaves and herbs fill the small room.

“What is that song?” Orenda asked.

“It’s uh… when I was little, my mom… She didn’t want a nanny, you know, because she… distrusted anyone with me. I was apparently quite a sickly child,” Tolith explained, sounding embarrassed as he poured the concoction into a cup and set it on the bar.

Orenda made an affirmative humming sound and watched the liquid in her cup move with the motion of the ocean.

“It’s a little easier down here,” She said, “Which makes no sense because we’re closer to the sea. I think that perhaps it’s easier when I’m near a fire? Maybe I should start carrying a lantern about with me.”

“Maybe,” Tolith agreed.

As Orenda’s vision cleared she tried to focus more on Tolith’s soul, the way the magic flowed through him, the pattern it made as it moved. It seemed strangely familiar and novel all at once. Perhaps she had never looked closely at him before. She thought that perhaps she should have studied Lady Glenlen, the only time she had seen her. Life seemed, in retrospect, to be full of missed opportunities.

The ship lurched in a particularly hard way, and she clutched the cup in an attempt not to lose what little tea she had left.

“Well,” Tolith said, “We're officially out at sea. How are you feeling, Rendy? Is it helping at all?”

“This is a terrible place,” Orenda said, “I can't imagine anything good happens at sea. But I'm trying my best not to be contrary. I have a job to do.”

“Yes,” Tolith said, and had the tact and good manners not to bring up their contradictory goals, “Rendy... you do know about the plan, right? Back at the mage academy? That's why you left, isn't it? You know about the attack?”

“Yes,” She said to her teacup, “Or... I knew of it.”

“The sun is rising over the sea as we speak,” Tolith said, looking toward the doorway he had just come through, “And by sundown, if all goes as planned... I'll be an orphan.”

“Yes,” Orenda agreed.

“I'm sorry about my mother, Rendy,” He said, solemnly, “And... my cousin, Xandra.”

“Oh, that's right,” Orenda laughed at the ridiculousness of it, “You're part of the nobility. You're related to the empress. Tolith that's... that's insane. Edgelord Glenlen.”

“There will be no nobility at all, eventually,” He leaned over the counter, “That's the goal.”

“Here,” Stephendore handed the pipe to Orenda, “I better go up there and help Adam.”

She had nearly forgotten he was there, he had blended in so well and stayed so silent, and she wondered why he didn't put those talents to better use. He would make an amazing spy.

“I was up all night,” Tolith stretched his arms above his head, “And I imagine I'll be awakened when Ali scries you? Please? Let me know how everything went. But for now I must get some rest. Our goal is one that can come upon us at any time.”

“Right,” Orenda said, thinking he was taking his mother's death far more casually than he had his father's. She thought that there was a lot to unpack there. “Where will I be sleeping?”

“Dealer's choice,” he shrugged, “All our sleeping cabins are full. You can bunk with me or Adam and Steve.”