voice & action, 35th metal

[godsays]

[ voice ]

There are... a lot of people.

[ Zane sounds tense; this is his request for help. How does one navigate crowds like this, which he's never seen before, except in situations of violence? How does he take this? ]

[ action ]

[ He tends to lurk and watch, too hesitant to participate. At least someone's made him dress the part; he carries himself enough like a nobleman, still, that waistcoat and trousers look natural on him. He is a young, well-off man, in appearance; just, quiet, and more likely to watch than participate. ]

Comments

u r perfect

[godsays]

[ He watches; it is almost a shocking readjustment to see Bush in his own true element. The man is so cheerful that Zane had never thought there was anything wrong. He was off-balance because of the newness of everything on the Barge, of course, but besides that...

No. This is where he's supposed to be.

Zane steps up next to him, watches him. His eyes are intent, but he is quiet, listening. ]

Then I made myself sad researching the height of the masts IDK

[shakenandlimp]

[Bush uses this little vessel to paint a picture of the big ships he has lived on since the age of fourteen-- instead of this small mast with its triangular sail, three huge masts made of massive beams, barely thinner than the tree-trunks they had been once the bark was removed, and three sets of sails-- four on the mainmast, with the royals.] Square rigged sails, not a triangle like this-- and instead of this little boom, a yard that might be a hundred feet long, for the mainsail of a ship of the line.

And this thing has a draught of eighteen or twenty feet-- that is from the waterline to the keel-- a ship of the line would have about thirty, and that much freeboard, and two or three decks above water.

[He frames this imaginary ship of the line with his hands, far out in the lake.] She'd have a crew more'n 800; closer to 850 if the captain had his way, for every man is needed when you get into battle or hard seas.

It is cramped, worse for the men than the officers and not very comfortable for most of the officers either but-- but there's an order, a routine. The ship's bells every half an hour to count off the watches. A home-- for months away at sea, beating up and down, sometimes weeks-- months-- out of the sight of land. Admiral Cornwallis had not been ashore for three years, when he hauled down his flag.

[His words fail him. The dreadful, harsh, stinking world of a ship is his world, more than the luxurious barge and this future he is visiting ever will be. And he misses it all so powerfully.]

[godsays]

Eight hundred.

[ That kind of crowding - outside of a skaa's slums - even for a skaa's slums. Zane has never been so crowded, even when his meals were watery broth and old, withered vegetables boiled too long. ]

How do you fit them? And supplies, too.

[shakenandlimp]

We fit'm. It is twenty-two inches between hammocks-- though a full forty-four, with one watch on deck. And two tiers of'm. You get used to packing in-- I have had worse. Eight men, sleeping in a cabin six foot square and five foot high, and she rolled-! I'm glad that was only a week.

It is not impossible because half the crew is awake at any time, awake and working.

You have seen my cabin? It is pretty fanciful, it is twice the size of a real captain's cabin. That is enough room for an admiral! Lord the barge is so open and clear, and fresh water to wash in, it still makes me a little nervous.

[godsays]

I've thought about designing another, for me. It's just the room my father gave me, when he moved to control his Dominance. When I became his Mistborn.

[ He says this a little abstractly, gazing at the horizon of Lake Michigan. It's like an ocean; it's endless. He hasn't seen expanses like this very often. ]

It's a little different because of Dani. Because I've moved things.

Wouldn't you rather it be open?

[shakenandlimp]

It is nice, it is very nice-- but it ain't like a ship should be.

The smell and the motion are all wrong.

[godsays]

It isn't home, you mean.

[shakenandlimp]

Yes. I know I shouldn't dwell on it-- no sense pining over it when I can't go home.

Look at me mooning like a lady ashore, I promised to show you splicing and haven't put a rope in your hand yet.

[godsays]

I like it. I like seeing what you can do - your Allomancy.

[shakenandlimp]

[He smiles again-- if it is forced at first he knows that it will become real just from smiling, soon enough.]

It ain't real magic. But it's what a sailor can do.

Here, let me get some line and show you a knot or two-! You will be able to bend and hitch like a seaman in half an hour.

[godsays]

Allomancy's not magic either. But it's the same thing: you're more connected to the world than most people are. Look how you read the water and the sky.

[shakenandlimp]

[Bush cannot imagine not being able to do so. In a rare moment of insight, he realizes that it must be the same with Allomancy.]

You put things so neatly sometimes.

Let's heave to, I will show you the cabin of the ship, and where all the canvas and cordage is stowed.

To heave to-- it is to put the ship's bow into the wind, so she don't travel, and we can put down this sea anchor-- it is just a scoop, that drags her along, see-- and that will mean we don't go to leeward if a breeze comes up.

[He does so neatly, and their motion slows and stills. He offers Zane down into the cabin, there to positively swamp him with all the nautical knowledge he'll take.]

[godsays]

[ The realization is written large and plain on Bush's features, and it can't help but make Zane smile. Almost laugh, but not quite; he wonders if it might be taken the wrong way.

He follows Bush into the cabin. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[There is a chart of the lakes there-- Bush points it out, enthusing about the size of them (altogether, perhaps half the size of the Baltic, he thinks), and then remembers himself to offer refreshment, beer or bread and cheese.]

You see, we sailors are dreadful hosts. We've no manners at all. [He looks a little sheepish, even though he's joking.]

[godsays]

[ He's about to refuse, and then he pauses. ] ...is it important for a guest to accept, where you come from?

[ Cultural sensitivity??? ]

[shakenandlimp]

[He's a little surprised at the question, though at least he understands exactly why, after a moment's thought. Zane knows some but not all, and he's trying, bless him.] Not if you ain't hungry. If this was my real cabin and I had something better to offer you, I'd be a bit stung I think. But we are just friends, here. It is not formal, you don't have to worry about that.

[godsays]

Then you don't have to worry about not offering soon enough.

You already offered - this. Sailing.

[shakenandlimp]

It ain't quite the same-! [At least to his mind. He feels his responsibilities more keenly than he feels his entitlements. You can always be sure of the first more than the second, in the navy.]

I am pleased to have you aboard. It's good to be out on the water, but better with company, particularly a friend. And I know how it can be in crowds. Ships are crowded, but bless me you get to know everyone faster than you think until you're bored of the same old stories. In cities, there's so many strangers.

[godsays]

In the Final Empire, skaa didn't... jostle like this. They were withdrawn. They never looked up at a noble's face. This is better, but it's also dizzying.

So what I mean to say is thank you. This is a reward to me, as it is.

[shakenandlimp]

I am glad to do it.

It is a treat for me, too. Like going home. These streets aren't mind, but wind is wind and canvas is canvas, no matter what they've done with steam. [He says that with disapproval.] I have seen a steam navy, when we all had daemons. It wasn't a patch on a real navy.

[godsays]

[ He touches the boat, the lines of wood. ] Why is this better?

[ A real, if somewhat ignorant and offensive, question. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[Even a Mistborn is a landlubber and Bush forgives him for it open heartedly.]

Why, because of seamanship. What'll the discipline of the ship come to if the hands don't have to man the sails? What'll set good captains apart from bad-- even a French captain could manage a sea crossing if he could simply bull ahead under steam instead of making the best of the wind.

And they are so ugly, so dreadful ugly. No clean lines, all sooty and squat like a milkpail with iron cladding.

[godsays]

So it's better because it takes more work.

[ Somewhat bemused. That's really the opposite of what progress is supposed to be. ]

[shakenandlimp]

More skill. Better discipline. [More work. Bush is suspicious of simply charging across the sea, of the apparent idleness it'd induce in the crew. It is the sort of thing Hornblower would like, though, he suspects. ]

Bunch of complicated and new-fangled nonsense, if you ask me. [He doesn't quite sniff his disapproval, but he scowls a bit.]