York let go when prompted, which was fine. He had his fill. Glitter shimmered from his fingers now. "If you were, you'd be a Norwegian Forest Cat for certain." He shook the glitter off, knowing he was stuck with it now for months, if not years.

"Yeah, something about the ship literally at your command. The ropes would move at your bidding, tying up mutineers and prisoners when you moved your sword."

A pause. His interest was captured now. "Does your ship really shoot out fire?"