Ironically, Calnan found his diplomatic training most useful while enduring forcible instruction in navigation.
He was already learned in navigation itself, for he had found it the most interesting applications of mathematics. And although not quick at numbers, Calnan worked well once he understood the process. Master Pearlle's thorough instruction quickly both refreshed his memory and tried his patience.
Calnan's face showed merely polite attentiveness, and only one who knew him well could see the strain in the lines around his mouth. His eyes gazed steadily on Pearlle - a little too steadily, as though their owner wasn't always thinking about what they saw. At times their expression was definitely more glazed than interested.
To keep himself from fleeing, or even nodding off, Calnan occupied his mind by seeing how much he could observe without using his eyes. The most obvious thing was the pitched combat of the searing sun and the cool sea breeze. He felt the alternate heat and freshness whip through his old homespun shirt, faded from deep to light blue by years of southern sun.
Amid the seemingly chaotic bustle of crewmen, sails, rigging and whatnot, Calnan's ears were caught by a clear snigger from the bow. Turning ever so slightly, his peripheral vision caught a familiar figure - no, two familiar figures. Their faces, only vague pale spots at this distance, were turned toward him. Then one jerked and growled something in disgust. Calnan let his mouth twitch just a little as Pearlle, demonstrating thefine art of the sextant for the umpteenth time, gazed at the heavens. Maybe he was bored, but at least he wasn't turning his finger into a pincushion for blunt needle-ends.
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