Chương 24

The rest of the morning passed without incident, with Ken reappearing a few hours later in a much better mood. He ate a quiet lunch with Ciri and Hannah before each of them busied themselves with whatever tasks they could to stay occupied: Noah began writing down stories for Cael, Ciri consumed several more books, Hannah piloted the boat, and Ken reviewed the incriminating materials they'd brought so he could make a stronger argument once they reached Crownspire.

To preserve the peace, they each pointedly avoided saying anything about the earlier morning, sticking to safer topics when they spoke—like the weather or the scenery.

"Alright," Noah announced as he finished writing the last line of the first story.

"I need to stretch." He stood and walked from one end of the deck to the other several times, alternating between watching the coastline on one side and the endless ocean on the other. When he tired of that, he began to inspect the boat's mechanisms, leaning over the stern to squint at the rudder through the waves. In his mind he began to piece together a model of how everything worked, only to belatedly notice that Hannah was speaking to him.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," he said.

"What were you saying?"

"I was asking what you're doing with my boat." He turned to see that she had a light sheen of sweat on her face—one that somehow made her even more attractive, not less.

"Just trying to figure out how it works, really," he replied.

"Why?" He shrugged.

"It's in my nature. I build things."

"Oh? Like what?" she asked.

"Lots of things. Back in the village I helped Bryn make her workshop more productive, figured out how to haul stone down from the mountains faster, and even built a way to harness wind power—sort of like your sail does, but using it differently." She furrowed her brow.

"Hard to believe. Did you bring any of these things with you? I'd like to see." He hesitated for a moment before pointing to his bag.

"See that mechanism strapped to the side of my bag? I used it to kill a Corrupted from ten meters away. Put a bolt—sort of like a small spear—right between its eyes." She raised one eyebrow.

"You killed a Corrupted?"

"Yeah. Two, actually—but one of them I had help with." Hannah's eyes looked him up and down, as if seeing him in a new light.

"Maybe you're not so bad after all, traveller."

"I've got a name, you know. It's Noah," he reminded her. Biting her lip playfully for a moment, she shook her head, causing her mess of blue-white hair to shimmer in the light.

"I only use people's names when they do something that impresses me."

"You use Ken's name," he pointed out.

"Yes, I do." She nodded.

"How'd he impress you?"

"That's between him and me," she responded.

"I see how it is." Noah nodded.

"Alright. You want me to impress you?"

"You can try." Noah glanced back and forth from the mast to the half-meter-long wooden beam she was gripping before speaking again.

"That thing you've got in your hand steers the ship, right?"

"Not very impressive, traveller," she teased.

"It's called a tiller, and yes, it does."

"Gimme a minute, I've never worked on a boat and I'm just getting warmed up," he said, rubbing his hands together as he moved behind Hannah and glanced over the stern again.

"You move it in different directions, which moves the ship."

"Still not winning me over here." Noah watched her move it before furrowing his brow.

"How hard is it to steer?"

"You're not piloting my boat, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not. I'm asking because it looks like you're putting a lot of effort into it."

"I am. Ship like this doesn't come with a wheel like a fancy Fae navy vessel," she said as the ship responded to her touch, moving a few beats later.

"Got an oar, some scrap wood, and some rope? I've got an idea." With a bemused smile, she nodded.

"Why not? Belowdecks. You'll find some. Take the wood from one of the crates you brought in." He grabbed his knife from his pack before disappearing down the hatch. A few minutes later, he re-emerged with all three items in hand and crossed to the stern, setting them beside the tiller. Hannah watched as he crouched and studied the joint where the tiller met the rudder post, nudging it side to side. The wood shifted slightly before the rudder followed. He frowned, narrowing his eyes. There it is, he thought.

He set to work, carving thin, angled wedges from the scrap wood. One by one, he pressed them into the gaps around the joint, driving them in with the butt of his knife until the play disappeared.

"Move," he said, not looking up. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! She arched a brow but stepped aside. He hauled the oar into place alongside the tiller, lining it up carefully before lashing it tight. The rope crossed in a firm X-pattern, once above, once below, each pass pulled taut before he tied it off with a series of quick, practiced knots. When he was done, he gave the extension a testing push. The tiller shifted—smooth, immediate. No delay.

No slack. He stepped back, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips, and gestured toward it.

"There we go."

"I don't get it," Hannah said, shaking her head as she took the tiller once more.

"It's longer," Noah said.

"So?" Blinking in surprise for a moment, he put his hands on Hannah's shoulders and guided her toward the end of the oar.

"Steer from there." She pulled the extended tiller hard, causing the entire boat to suddenly oversteer. Ciri and Ken stood in alarm as Hannah corrected it, bringing them back to a steady equilibrium. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the tiller, then Noah.

"…That's lighter. And more responsive."

"Yeah. You're not fighting it anymore," he said.

"How did you know what to do? You said you haven't worked on a boat before."

"Longer levers make it easier to move everything, and slack is the enemy of effort. I fixed both problems." He smiled at the amazed look on her face.

"Next time we're at a port we can pick up a few things to make the fixes more permanent. Maybe add some leather to that handle to make it easier on your hands, and some grease to the connections to make sure it moves smoothly."

"Don't get used to me saying this," she said before pausing.

"… but that's good work. Noah." For a moment he stood there grinning like an idiot at her use of his name. He watched her blue-white hair flutter in the breeze, the way her grey-blue eyes moved back and forth between him and the upgrades he'd made to her ship, and the way her smile grew slightly every time she made a small adjustment to their course. After a full thirty seconds he realized he was staring and turned away, moving back toward Ciri and Ken.

Despite his feelings for Ciri, he couldn't help but acknowledge his attraction to the half-Fae captain. In many ways she was the polar opposite of his girlfriend, but somehow no less attractive. As he sat, he cast a final furtive glance at Hannah only to see her pop two more buttons of her sweaty shirt open and lean her head back, shaking it while running her hands through her hair. The sight caused a good amount of the blood in his body to run south. Thankfully for him, Ken intervened before things got awkward.

"Are you still interested in learning some combat runes?"

"Yeah," Noah nodded, eager for the distraction.

"I am."

"Where would you like to start?" He'll definitely know the spells Ciri's mom used, Noah thought to himself as Ken pulled a pencil and notebook from his bag. But what else would he know? What would a Fae assassin know how to…oh. His train of thought stopped as he realized the first spell he wanted to ask about.

"When we were fighting against the griffon, Ciri used a camouflage spell. Any chance you know that one?"

"That's…not exactly what I had in mind when I suggested combat magic," Ken said, tilting his head side to side.

"So you don't?" Noah pressed.

"That's not what I said," Ken replied before sketching on the paper.

"There. It looks like this. I'll show it to you after we review some more combat-oriented magic."

"How about one for that fireball you used in the camp? I feel like that'd be useful in combat." Ken looked at Ciri.

"You'll need to be comfortable casting this, you know. If he's going to be your scribe, you should know how to use all the spells in his repertoire. Is that going to be an issue?" Her eyes stopped moving across the page for a few long moments before she closed it.

"I can make an attempt," she said in a soft voice.

"An attempt isn't good enough if your lives are at stake," Ken admonished her. Seeing that she was clearly sensitive about the topic, Noah chose his words carefully.

"Does this have to do with what you said when we were under attack by the griffon? Something about not being good at combat magic?"

"Yes." I see what this is now. An attempt by a father to get his daughter to learn spells that will protect her. Noah thought to himself before replying.

"Can I ask why?" She flicked the corner of her book's cover several times before speaking.

"When I attempt to create a fireball, I have difficulty visualizing the continuous transformation of energy across multiple states simultaneously. It is…imprecise. In my past experiments with combat magic, the spell often comes out unfocused and ineffective."

"That's because you're thinking too much about it!" Hannah called, having overheard them.

"You need to feel it! Watch!" She let go of the tiller and slipped a hand into her vest before pulling out a thin notebook seemingly from nowhere. Noah's eyes went wide as she tore out a page and pressed her hand against it, causing it to disintegrate. A golden rune floated in the air and a chime sounded before a gust of wind buffeted the ship from behind, causing the sails to billow and groan as they picked up speed. Noah shook his head at the casual display of power.

"Seems like a waste of a spell, no?"

"I've got lots of wind spells in my cabin," Hannah explained coolly as she slipped the notebook back into her vest.

"Besides, I want to get to Tarn's Reach by sundown!" Shrugging, Noah turned back to Ciri.

"Did that help at all?"

"No," she replied, fiddling with one of the rings on her finger.

"I'm afraid I can't help much," Ken said when Noah looked at him.

"Every conduit has their own visualization process that works for them."

"But it does work for her," Noah countered.

"For some spells better than others, yes." Ciri clarified.

"Like the language translation spell," Noah said slowly, the gears in his mind turning.

"Or the spell that repels wildlife."

"Yes." She nodded. Noah looked at Ken.

"Do you know any spells that scare someone off, like the wildlife one? Ideally something that works on humans and Fae too."

"No." Frustrated, Noah turned to Ciri.

"How about the grimoire we recovered from the camp near Rookhaven? I know you've been studying it. Anything combat-oriented in there?" She nodded.

"Potentially. There is a spell that generates a shield of pure magic around the caster, protecting them from harm."

"You need offensive spells." Ken reminded her.

"There are some offensive spells as well," she recalled.

"Including one that blinds the target with rage so that they attack the closest target – ally or hostile."

"That could be useful. It could also backfire." Noah replied before he saw a look cross Ken's face.

"You've got an idea."

"Yes. A spell I have not written in a very long time," he said before looking down. He drew a set a rune on the page, his hand moving surely despite his initial hesitation. When he was finished, he stared at it for a few seconds, inspecting his own handiwork. Grunting in satisfaction, he handed the notebook to Noah.

"What does it do?" Noah asked.

"It overloads the mind. Most will fall to their knees as their thoughts turn against them." Ciri went very still, her eyes fixed on the rune.

"I am much more comfortable with the idea of casting that spell," she interrupted him. He blinked in surprise.

"You are?"

"Yes. While I have never cast it before, I believe it far easier for me to visualize what you have described."

"Easier than a ball of fire?" Noah questioned.

"Far more so. I empathize with this spell far more."

"Empathize?" Noah repeated before the lightbulb in his brain flicked on.

"Are you saying—" He paused, studying her.

"That it feels familiar?"

"My thoughts do not always resolve clearly," Ciri said, locking eyes with him.

"Ah." Noah replied, realizing that she wanted him to drop the issue.

"Okay then. Show me how you drew this again?"