He was cold.

Tanden came to suddenly, heart racing in panic. He was underwater. Clear, cold water. He pushed off of the hard ground, swimming for the sunlight he could see filtering through the water above him.

Only to be stopped short.

Tanden felt something catch around his ankle. He tried to kick it off, momentarily letting panic overcome his thoughts. Then a moment of clarity. He stretched his hands down to free his ankle, expecting to find a weed or tangled root.

Instead he found a metal cuff.

In his shock, Tanden inhaled. But instead of icy cold water, his lungs filled with air.

It was enough to clear his panic. Tanden took another deep breath of air and a feeling of detached calm flowed through him. He gave the metal cuff another unurgent tug. When nothing happened, Tanden's eyes found the chain the cuff was attached to and followed it to a bed. It was his own bed. Tanden waved his arms to spin in the clear water, realizing for the first time that he was in a small wooden room.

The instant he recognized it as his Captain's Quarters, the water rushed from the room. It poured out the shattered window and burned doorway so suddenly that Tanden fell. Unfortunately, he missed the bed and landed on the floor, his cuffed ankle awkwardly held up above him.

"Fuck." He growled, pushing himself up as best he could. He ended up sitting facing the bed, with his right ankle propped up on the soggy mattress.

"You thought this would be fun."

"I never thought drowning would be—" Tanden voice caught in his throat. He wanted to turn around, just as much as he didn't. He wasn't sure what he would see. The panic came back, but he tried to force it aside and turned, slowly.

Soren sat on the desk chair, idly twirling the cuff's key around one finger. He looked just as he had that night, hastily dressed, unarmed and unable to defend himself, and whole. He was whole. His dark hair ruffled from sleep, green eyes watching Tanden, reading Tanden as easily as if he were a book. Relief flooded through Tanden.

"I thought you... I was worried you'd look like..." he swallowed. "You're dead."

Soren shrugged one shoulder. "Well."

Tanden pulled himself onto the bed and sat. Moving drew his attention back to the cuff, which reminded him of Soren's first words. "I thought what would be fun?"

"This." Soren's hand stilled. The key swung around his hand one more time before dropping into his palm. "Chaining me to the bed. It was fun."

"It was." Tanden nodded slowly. "So... what is this? You'll unchain me, and then take me off to the afterlife? Any one in particular? And why this scene, anyway?"

The corners of Soren's lips rose in a smirk. "Do you ever stop thinking?"

"I've been trying very hard to stop thinking." Tanden rubbed his hand over his eyes. "You can't possibly imagine how hard it's been. But finally, maybe I'll be able to stop." He dropped his hand and looked up, meeting Soren's beautiful, understanding eyes. "I don't mind dying. I wish I'd managed to get Jale and Kuiva somewhere safe first, though. And I wish I'd managed to kill Toliver."

"Hmm."

"And I wish you would say something," Tanden muttered. "You're being very evasive."

"I'm probably doing that on purpose." Soren's fingers toyed with the key. "You're not ready to die yet."

"What?" Tanden waved his arms at the room around them. "What is this then, if I'm not ready to die?"

"I don't know." Soren stood and crossed to the bed. Tanden reached for him. Soren fingers met his, but instead of grabbing hold, Soren only put the key in his hand before taking a step backwards. "We're in your head, aren't we?"

The key was cold as his fingers clenched around it. Tanden's panic came back full force. "No, Soren. Please. I don't—" The flickering light of flames drew his gaze towards the door. Soren looked too.

"It's time to go." Soren started to walk towards the door.

"No." Forgetting the cuff, Tanden tried to stand. He barely caught himself before falling to the floor. "Soren, mate, please. Take me with you. I'm ready. Soren!" He fumbled with the key and unlocked the cuff, tears and now smoke blurring his vision. As soon as the cuff snapped open, Tanden ripped it from his ankle and stood just in time to see Soren step through the doorway. Tanden ran after him.

"Soren, wait! I—" Instinct took over and he ducked just in time as a sword swung over his head.

"You're not supposed to get angry during a fight."

Tanden sprung to his feet. His right hand clenched tightly around the pommel of a sword. Tanden dragged his gaze from the cobblestones at his feet and looked at his brother. Tandar stood just a few steps away, holding his own sword in right hand. Tandar barely looked winded, despite the hot sun beating down on them and the training armour he was wearing. Despite Tanden's own exhaustion, which implied that they had been at this fight for quite awhile.

But no, that wasn't right. Tanden shook his head. "Where's Soren?"

Tandar shrugged. "No idea, little brother. Not here."

With a scoff, Tanden tossed his sword to the ground. "Not here? What the fuck does that mean? Where are we?"

"You're not supposed to—"

"I am angry!" Tanden shouted. "And we're not fighting, so it doesn't matter. Where are we?"

Tandar used his sword to gesture. "West Draulin," he said dryly.

"That's not—"

"You're used to being the smartest person in the room," Tandar said, "and now you want answers to questions you can't ask. I can understand why that would be frustrating. Where are we?" He shrugged. "It doesn't matter, does it? Soren isn't here, either way."

For a moment Tanden stood still, trying to make sense of what Tandar had said and what it could have meant. But so much depended on a single, important fact, and it was the very one he couldn't get an answer for. "I don't know if this is real."

Tandar was beside him suddenly, but he hadn't actually walked closer. "I'm sorry." He lay a hand on Tanden's shoulder.

Tanden's anger fizzled out. He turned and wrapped his arms around Tandar's shoulders. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to manage it. Tandar wrapped his huge arms around Tanden's back.

In a hazy, dreamlike way, Tanden had no idea how long he cried while hugging his brother. There was little point in trying to understand what was happening, when he wasn't sure it was even real. But real or not, hugging Tandar was comforting.

Sometime later, Tandar let go and pushed him back a step. "Does the tattoo still bother you?"

Tanden wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand. "What tattoo?" He asked, before remembered that they were, sort of, replaying a scene.

"You need to pick up your sword."

"What?" Tanden asked. That hadn't happened before. In reality, when Tandar had asked about the tattoo, their duel had been over. "Why?"

"You're not ready to give up yet."

Tanden blinked. It was Tandar who had spoken, but an echo of Soren's similar sentence melded with Tandar's words. And then his brother was gone, and someone else was standing in his place.

Toliver, grin in place, a cutlass casually resting on his shoulder. His nautical jacket fluttered in a non-existent wind.

Tanden swore again as he ducked to pick up his sword. Instead of retrieving it from a cobbled courtyard, he picked it up from the deck of a ship. Tanden could feel the rolling sway of waves as he stood. What had once been a dueling sword transformed into a cutlass as he held it up.

"And how are you feeling, Captain Tanden?" Toliver asked, his voice unconcerned and confident.

"This gives me some clarity, I suppose." Tanden twirled his cutlass at his side. "If any of this was real, it would mean that you're dead. But you're not. Yet."

"Yet?"

"Yet," Tanden agreed. "I'm not done yet." He stepped forward, swinging the cutlass. But before it could connect, the ship went dark. Everything went dark.

***

Darkness gave way to hazy colours.

Tanden tried to blink. All at once his vision cleared, and he was looking at a pair of woman. One was instantly recognizable, even though her appearance had shifted once again. Her skin was black and charred. The green shawl, which he had assumed was made of seaweed, was tattered, the edges drifting back and forth gently as if she was underwater.

The second woman had light blue skin and long dark hair. Water flowed over her, running through her hair, dripping from her eyelashes and fingertips. She looked familiar, but Tanden couldn't quite place her.

Tanden opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He tried to sit up, but his arms were sluggish and slow. He barely managed to push himself up before flopping back down in exhaustion.

The women were talking too quietly for him to hear, but they looked over when he moved. For a moment, they silently stared at him and he silently stared back. Unable to speak, unable to do anything but watch as the Wanderlust's figurehead gracefully stood and walked towards him.

She knelt. Her dry, charred fingers stroked his cheek. "Rest. You're not ready to wake up yet."

Tanden's eyelids felt heavy. She was right. So he let them close.

Just before darkness overcame him again, he realized she had been speaking in Tallenese.

***

Tanden opened his eyes blearily. He blinked a few times to clear them, and slowly took in the room around him. There was a wooden roof above him, and wooden walls around him. He could hear gently lapping waves but couldn't feel the swaying of a ship. It was a familiar place. Gingerly, he tried to sit up. Pain shot through his left side and he groaned, but pushed through it so he could sit upright. Whatever vision was about to start, he didn't want to be lying down for it.

But he forgot all about visions when a woven curtain was pushed aside, and Jale stepped through. She froze, the bowl she was holding fell from her hand and splashed broth all over the floor and her feet.

Tanden licked his dry lips. "Jale?" His voice croaked. "Is this real?"

Jale moved so quickly it didn't seem like it could possible be real, but suddenly her arms were around him, and she was speaking so quickly in Tallenese that he couldn't keep up. It was musical enough that he guessed it was probably a prayer. Then she squeezed him just a bit too hard, and he inhaled sharply.

"Oh! Your ribs!" She was still speaking in Tallenese, but at a normal, conversational pace. "I'm sorry. They're broken. But that's all, somehow, you just..." She trailed off, eyes wide. "They think you're blessed."

Tanden's mind wasn't working quite as quickly as usual, and it took a moment for his mental translating to catch up with her words. In Teltish he replied. "Who? Where are we?"

"Attob," Jale said. "I'm glad I remembered the name, or who knows what would have happened."

"Attob?" Tanden repeated slowly. Then, as it suddenly came back to him. "Moatt? What happened?"

Jale took a deep breath. "You fell over the Attinabi waterfall, Tanden. There was a family visiting for a blessing, and they pulled you out. By the time Kuiva and I climbed down, they were doing some sort of ceremony over you. Part of it... well, they tattooed your face."

He became suddenly aware of an itchy sensation underneath his left eye. "Oh."

"It looks nice, I think."

"I'm not that vain."

"Yes, you are." Jale teased gently. "But after we found you, and some very difficult back and forth with no ability to understand each other, I remembered Queb's name and Attob. So the family brought us here. This is Queb's house. We've been here for a few days, and I wasn't sure if you were going to wake up. And I can't understand anybody, but they keep calling you something. Oh, what's the word..." She hesitated. "Attiabwa? Do you know what that means?"

Tanden nodded. He understood the word well enough, and the best Teltish translation almost made him laugh.

"Waterborne."