Waterborne (Wanderlust 3)

And so it Goes...

It was a perfect day for sailing. A warm wind blew along the Navi River, gently pushing the Wanderlust back towards the open ocean. Thick, humid jungle lined both riverbanks, and it was only going to get hotter the further South they travelled.

The Wanderlust had been docked in Navire's capital city for a few weeks. Trading leftover goods from their Northern trip, and picking up new supplies for their journey down the Southern shore. But as always, it wasn't only business that had kept them in Navire. It had been the culture. The food, the language. Navire's great temple. And Navire, situated as it was on a huge lake, provided the perfect place to explore with their tiny cutter, the Waterborne.

But eventually it had been time to move on. Navire, although fascinating, was a country Tanden already knew plenty about from his studies back at the Order. He could already speak Navirian, and he already knew about many of their gods and traditions. And that meant that Tanden got bored. He constantly wanted new experiences and adventures, and after a few weeks, Navire wasn't new anymore.

So he stood at the helm, lazily steering the Wanderlust as the warm wind and current pushed the ship to the ocean. Since that didn't take much concentration, his mind wandered and flittered from one thought to the next. Where their next port would be—he had maps but didn't actually know much about the Southern shore. Which language he should learn next—Navirian would probably serve him well in the ports, but if they wanted to travel inland he would need to learn the local languages. That wasn't a concern. He had an innate skill for learning languages and could already speak five. The main problem was that he really had no plan for the next leg of their trip. And while he was always happy to adapt plans when needed, he liked to at least have an impression of a plan.

At least he didn't have to figure it out alone. Without really meaning to, Tanden's gaze had settled on Soren. His sensible first mate, his loving husband, his everything. Tanden could hardly understand how he had managed to get anything done before he had Soren's steady presence at his side. It was Soren who reined in Tanden's ideas and made them feasible. Soren who slowed Tanden down and made sure he didn't exhaust the crew. Soren who made sure Tanden ate when he got too caught up in something new to think about being hungry.

It was Soren who had seen through Tanden's usual act—the rich and worldly, friendly but aloof, lord turned ship captain. Soren had gotten to know Tanden. He knew when to argue and when to support. When to encourage and when to hold back. He was so good at knowing what Tanden needed, which was why he was excellent as both first mate and partner. And why Tanden loved him.

Almost as if he knew Tanden was thinking about him, Soren looked up, meeting his gaze through the rigging. Tanden waved him over. Soren finished tying off the line he was working on, and walked across the deck, exchanging words with a few of the crew as he passed by. He climbed up the steps to the quarter deck and settled beside Tanden, leaning back against the bulwark.

"Aye, Captain?"

Soren was a Crelan. He had light skin, tanned from working in the sun day after day, dark hair, and bright green eyes. Swirling Crelan waves tattoos in black and blue ran from his wrists, up his arms, over his shoulders and down his back. Tanden loved the tattoos, and he loved the way Soren spoke. His Crelan accent was usually mild and barely there, aside for a few key words. But when he got annoyed or flustered his accent came through even stronger. Sometimes Tanden poked on purpose, just to hear it.

In response to the question, Tanden shrugged. "I don't know. You were far away. I wanted you closer."

Soren crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. "You wanted me uselessly standing here?"

"We have more than enough crew to handle the sails for now," Tanden pointed out. It was true.

"Aye, but those new Navirian sailors need training."