"That could be useful," Faalken chuckled.

"Just trying to be more than a paperweight, Faalken," Sarraya told him. Tarrin could sense the underlying need to make amends in her voice, one of her ways for atoning for what she did. Tarrin could accept that. Sarraya had started off on the wrong foot, but she was steadily working herself back into the good graces of those around her. Just like Camara Tal and Phandebrass, Tarrin rather liked the little sprite. She had gotten on his nerves, but he'd felt that way about nearly all his friends here and there. It was part of his nature. He still didn't trust her, though. He pulled on the bowstring tentatively, feeling its familiar pull, a pull that felt much weaker now that he was so much stronger. He extended a claw and put its cutting edges right on the bowstring and tried to sever it, but true to her word, the bowstring would not cut.

"Thanks," Tarrin said, nearly involuntarily. "It'd feel weird using some other bow."

"You're welcome, Tarrin," she replied.

"Well, I guess you can practice the bow while I teach you," Camara Tal said after a moment.

"I'll conjure you some arrows, Tarrin," Sarraya promised. "They won't have steel heads, but I can weight the front of them to simulate that. That way you'll have an unlimited supply."

"I guess that would work," Tarrin said, but he privately worried that being exposed to both Camara Tal and Sarraya may be too much for his nerves. Especially since they didn't seem to get along with each other. Well, scratching them up a bit would convince them to be civil in his presence, and he wasn't going to give up on learning how to accept them.

He'd have to wait and see.

GoTo: Title EoF

Chapter 19

It felt strange to hold his bow again.

Tarrin stood at the bow of the ship in human form, holding the bow in his hands and letting his mind wander over memories of what seemed to him to be long ago. Back when he was human. He would range through the Frontier with his bow in search of deer, going alot further than he was supposed to go. It was a very good bow, made by his father's careful hands, and with a pull so strong that not many men could draw it, and fewer could hold it pulled for very long. That draw was customized for his strength, at least back then, giving the bow power. His father's careful craftmanship had ensured the bow had deadly accuracy, depending only on the condition of the arrow used with it. He had owned the bow for only a year before leaving Aldreth. He had given his old bow to Jenna, which had been made for him when he was fifteen, and his father had made him a new bow, a much larger one more suited for his size and strength. Jenna still hadn't grown into his old bow, and now that she could use Sorcery, he doubted she ever would use it. A pity, it was a very good bow.

The pain of holding the human shape gnawing at him, he pulled the string back and sighted down an imaginary arrow shaft. It felt lighter to him now, easier. His human form was human, but because he was Were, his human shape was stronger than it had been before being turned. Not a whole lot, but it was enough for him to feel the difference in pulling the bow. Of course, compared to his inhuman strength he enjoyed in his natural form, he felt like a little kitten. Just pulling back the bow flooded him with memories of lessons from his father, memories of bucks he'd had in his sights, memories of how to shoot his bow with proper aim. The memories were enough to drown out the pain and the nagging unease he felt with the Amazon and the Faerie so close to him. Camara Tal sat on a short barrel, whittling knife still worrying at a piece of wood, as Sarraya hovered in the air with her wings buzzing just beside her. The two of them were quiet, for a change. All that morning, they had been sniping at each other. Camara Tal didn't like Sarraya, and Sarraya wasn't too fond of Camara Tal. Their fighting had upset him, upset him so much that he didn't want to practice the bow. It was nearly enough to make him abandon them to their arguing. They'd settled into an uneasy silence now, probably because they'd run out of bad things to say to each other.

He looked out over the expanse of ocean, feeling very relieved. They had left the Tears that morning, and had not been challenged by anyone else. Odds were that the pirates they let go had warned everyone else that trying to attack the garish ship was suicide. The average pirate was just like any mercenary or hireling. They were interested in getting as much as they could with as little danger as possible. A little deckfight was normal in the pirating business, and it was something the average pirate would risk for some booty. But a pirate would not tangle with a ship that carried a pack of dangerous magic-users. That was just too much risk for only the chance of some booty. The raw power they were carrying was as much a security blanket as the fact that their ship was so distinguishable. They wouldn't even be attacked by accident. Only a blind man could mistake Renoit's ship for some other.

Sometimes Tarrin thought he could learn to love the ghastly pink ship.

Free of the Tears, the performers had gone back to their practicing. Allia helped one of the acrobats learn a new move near the stern, and Dar was practicing his Illusions near the mainmast, conjuring up portait-like Illusions of people and landscapes. The strongmen and jugglers were taking their turn as the ship's sailors, handling the sails and rigging to catch the erratic wind as it wavered from the southwest to the northwest. Faalken was with Dolanna on the steering deck, with Renoit. He knew Dolanna was watching him. She knew he was having trouble with Camara Tal and Sarraya, and he bet that she wanted to see what he would do when he was exposed to both of them at the same time.

"Alright, here's an arrow," Sarraya piped, holding her hands out from her tiny body. A wooden arrow simply appeared in front of her, with gray fletching and a wooden head, and it clattered to the deck. "Tell me what you think."

Tarrin picked it up and inspected it. It was straight and rugged, but its balance was off. "It's too front-heavy," he replied. "A steel head doesn't weigh that much."

"How much lighter?"

Tarrin measured the arrow and set his finger under the effective centerpoint of the arrow's center of gravity. "It should be balanced at this point," he said, holding the arrow up for her to see that point, some fingers forward of the shaft's middle. When he removed his steadying hand, the arrow sagged at the front until it began sliding off his finger.

"I love it when I have visual aid," Sarraya grinned. She pointed at the arrow in his hand, and it simply disappeared. A second later, a new one was in its place. "How's that?"

Tarrin weighed it, and nodded. "Perfect."

"Well, you can't be shooting down the ship's deck, for obvious reasons," Sarraya said. "I thought I'd make a small target made of light for you off the rail, and let you shoot into the sea instead."

"That's a pretty good idea," he agreed. "Can you control the light?"

Sarraya nodded. "I know you'll be shooting into a crosswind. At least if we do this from the side. We could go up to the bow, or up on the steering deck instead."

"The bow would be better. Tailwinds don't affect an arrow's flight as much as a headwind."

"Why is that?" the sprite asked curiously.

"A tailwind pushes the arrow ahead," Camara Tal answered for him. "A headwind slows it down. Shooting into a headwind means you have to raise the bow and fire at a trajectory. That's not easy to calculate."

"I didn't ask you," Sarraya said shortly.

"You didn't not ask me either."

"Hmph," Sarraya snorted, flitting away from the Amazon.

"Pardon my opinion, but you look strange like that," Camara Tal told him, pointing at his human form.