... ^^ Kahnyafet DeSoto ^^

— Zara —

My moodiness did not go unnoticed, I didn't think, amongst the twelve apprentices I had brought along to train them on operating on foreign soil.

They felt the tension, as I climbed the rigging after I had brusquely informed the Mage passengers that the trip would only last another few days, after a rather quick crossing to the French coast, and now along the coast.

Finally, one of the braver ones approached me, nimbly climbing into the crows nest. "Why are you angry at the mages?" He asked bluntly.

"Because they are treating us like we're mercenaries. We can be hired, yes, but only a few would afford it, and with our ability to refuse contracts, no one would ever attempt to hire us to do something against the Codex." I growled.

He raised an eyebrow. "And what is it they want us to do, that's against the Codex?"

"We're going to help a foreign power regain his Keep, Shem. What do you think?" I asked, turning it into a training exercise reflexively.

He sat on the wooden rail of the nest. "Hmm... well, so long as we don't sell any state secrets, we're not guilty of non-licensed international espionage..." he murmured.

"Oh?" I said politely, not giving any indication either way.

He sighed. "The only thing I can think of is that we would be assisting a foreign country regain use of a powerful individual... but also removing four of their best, so perhaps that would balance itself out."

I sighed. "True... but think patriotically."

"I'm from Scotland, Zara. I am always thinking patriotically." He smirked.

I raised an eyebrow and casually pushed him over the edge of the nest.

He didn't scream, warning himself points, and after a few minutes laboriously crawled into the nest again.

"Are you quite done with your sarcasm?" I asked severely.

He nodded slowly. "Understood, Teacher."

"Good. Though I don't know if you're from Scotland. I'd think perhaps North Wales." I smiled.

His voice, deep for his age, roughened in annoyance at my having caught the lie, another test. "Close." He grudgingly admitted.

"But I also understand your point. Perhaps my patriotism is a weakness. Too much loyalty to something or someone, and your intentions become foggy. Point taken." I dismissed him with a click of my nails against the rail.

As he slipped down the riggings like smoke, I reared an elbow back, and gripped another apprentice about the throat as he clutched his nose, holding him above the open space with my arm-strength alone. "You're not entirely silent. Good, but slow." I critiqued, and let him go.

He flared out his arms and legs, prolonging his fall, and caught a rope, swinging around the mast four times, before another apprentice caught him to the rigging.

The captain growled at someone, and the rope was quickly fixed.

A few more of my apprentices came up the riggings, either to talk to me or simply to practice, something I encouraged.

When one of my apprentices misjudged a landing, and snapped her ankle, the captain sent a limber sailor up the rigging to me as the healer on board, my personal physician, got to work casually. "Cap'n wants you to order your chitlins to stop playing around, before more get hurt."

"They aren't chitlins, they're trainees. Apprentices. And this is good training for them. Shifting ground, slick handling, no safety lines. Very good training. Perhaps I'll take a group into a small gale to see how they do." I responded casually.

He blinked slowly. "You're serious?"

"Yes. One day, each of those trainees will be like me." I said simply.

His sun-kissed face paled significantly when three of the apprentices appeared around him silently. He nodded and clumsily clambered down the ropes, and then spoke to the captain.

He sighed, nearly audibly, and then shook his head when someone asked a question, firing back orders.

The sailors began to immediately treat the children like sailors, not passengers, and their trips into the riggings became more task-driven, not for fun.

I admired the Captain's adaptability, and decided to think seriously about having a child from him, to see if those traits carried over.

My gaze traveled down the deck, and met the Arrogant young mages, who was now simply staring at me.

I quirked an eyebrow. "Enjoying the view?"

He tilted his head, and though he was close to a hundred feet away, his voice sounded as a whisper in my ear. "Why do you hate mages?"

I blinked. "Why ever would you think I hated mages? I'm a Mage, you know?" I asked incredulously.

He smirked infuriatingly. "No, you're not. You're a Hedge-witch, capable of a couple tricks, but nothing real. Is that why you hate mages? Jealousy?" He seemed genuinely curious, despite his superior tone.

I gritted my teeth slowly, and measured my response with logic. "The Sight is hardly a Hedge-witch Power."

He stilled, and opened his mouth slowly to respond.

"So, mr. Know-it-all, just because I don't inject magic into my skin to control my power, doesn't mean I'm not a Mage. Have you tried sneaking around with glowing skin? No, I didn't think so. No, I don't hate mages." I said with a solid huff of disapproving air.

He snorted. "Even the Sight doesn't make you more than a petty Witch. You're not nearly talented or powerful enough to be called a Mage. So what's your real reason? Hmm? I still think jealousy the best option." He said haughtily.

"Rephrase, and then ask me again with the respect I deserve, or I'll dump you over the side, mission be damned." I growled deeply, the wood of the ship responding with a low, resonant growl, not unlike a battle-cry.

He froze, and I saw his soul brush against the ship, attempting to calm her, but only giving her a target, instead, and the groaning focused under his feet.

He gulped slowly, and then nodded. "I see. It would seem I misjudged you, Ms. Zara. I apologize for my rudeness. It's true that you will be helping me avenge my family, and I don't want to seem ungrateful. Perhaps we should discuss the matter at more length in a more private area?"

I chuckled. "Ooh, inviting a beautiful woman to your cabin? How bold..."

He blushed. "I assure you, my meaning was entirely honorable-... you're teasing me. Why?"

"Because I don't like your attitude. Most young mages I've met are more humble. Your 'I'm better than everyone and anyone' act is only making me begin to hate you." I said simply, and slid down a rope, keeping an eye on him.

"I am amongst the most powerful, and skilled, of all mages on this continent. I am the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. I am Seven Times as powerful as a Master Mage." He smirked.

I stood directly in front of him. "And they still managed to kill your family?"

I knew it was a horrendously cruel low blow, but if he didn't get humble, very quick, I was going to gut him for real, not just with a cruel barbed comment.

He wilted, visibly, and excused himself quietly, walking into the cabins.

I didn't let him escape, and instead followed him to his room, and locked the door behind me, spelling the room against sound swiftly.

He gazed at me, molten steel in his gaze. "I recognize my own fault in their deaths. I have no illusions that I could have done any different from what I did. But I would like you never to say that again."

"What? That your pride is misplaced? That boasting you're as powerful as seven Master Mages, when we're going to fight four who ousted you with no trouble at all, makes you a fucking idiot?" I asked sharply.

He flinched as each word struck him like a whip. "I'm aware that I failed-"

"No, I don't care about that. You failed, yes, but you're acting like you're the best Mage in the world, when four second-rate mages took over your Tower, and tortured and killed your sisters and mother. So it's time you stopped deluding yourself."

He clenched his eyes shut, and breathed deeply. "I don't understand. Deluding myself with what? I have the Raw Mana of Seven Master Mages."

"And do you know how to use it? Or is it a blunt instrument, because your pride won't let anyone teach you the basics?" I snapped.

His silence spoke volumes.

"Well then, your training begins now. If you're powerful, you need to learn how to make it a needle, not a club. My own power is equal to that of a First Daughter, on my bad days, and Fourth on my very best." I leaned back, having stolen his seat, forcing him to sit on the cot.

He gazed at me for a moment. "Why do you want to train me..." understanding dawned on his handsome features. "You want me to work for you, after this is over."

I smiled. "Bravo. And it'll help with this job." My left shoulder shrugged.

He sighed. "I understand. Part of my debt for asking of you a mission against your Codex?"

I froze, then spoke very softly, and deliberately. "Until you are my apprentice, such knowledge is not yours to have or share. Do you understand?" I asked, staring my coal-black eyes into his own silver/green,- which, on an off thought, I thought were quite splendid,- and waiting for him to respond as the ship again groaned.

He shivered. "Yes, I understand."

"Good. And no... this mission isn't against the rules." I replaced the word firmly, and he nodded, signifying he understood. "However, I don't like assisting a foreign Noble to regain power, which, seeing as your country is almost at war with my own over these trade disputes..." I shrugged helplessly.

He chuckled softly. "Ahh. True. So it's a patriotic dislike of the client, not the mission?"

I smiled at his phrasing. "Correct."

"Good... and my family is from the Southern Tahuran Desert of the Red Sea, not Iberia. The Tower Moves." He said simply.

I shivered. "I'm aware... and sometimes it takes the surrounding city with it."

He grinned widely, the prospect seeming to amuse him. "Yes, that's how Alexander solved the Reticlean Scroll, a library from China was taken with a Tower into Rome, on accident."

I grinned. "That's actually interesting, but I'm guessing it's a secret, and you just traded it for your knowledge of the Rules?"

He blushed. "Am I that easy to read?"

"Yes." I answered honestly, and watched his face and posture for his reaction, which was more resigned than haughty. Good.

He struggled with something, then dropped his face into his hands. "My Pride has always been a weak point of mine. I'm aware of it, but it's still there..."

"That is the way of emotions." I nodded.

He took a deep breath, and released it in a huff. "How does a certain, untrained Mage,- not me,- take an overabundance of magic, and form it into a needle?" He asked with a forced casual air, trying to compromise his pride and his thirst for knowledge.

"The Mage would have to learn to sew." I said just as casually.