It had been a full twelve hours since he had returned aboard the Honest Christophe and he had not yet vomited. He hadn’t even fallen over — usually a regular occurrence in his first few hours on board. In fair breeze and clement weather he was even beginning to see the appeal of a life at sea. It was also nice to see the sun again. He hadn’t realised the effect the constant gloom in the Isles had had on his morale. For Soren, the most interesting thing was what he had learned about the Fount since coming on board. Berengarius had told him that the sea, or water in general, would cut off access to the Fount underneath. With whatever energy was created by and accumulated in the presence of the nine people around him, he found that he already felt far better than he had at any point on the island. He had only needed a few hours of sleep after arriving on the ship before wakening refreshed and he was not tormented by the shadowy memories of dreams that were so vivid at times they seemed real.
