The chilled night breeze from the open window cooled the sweat on Killian's chest as he let out a satisfied sigh and turned to lie on his back. Leaning over to the night stand, he poured the nearly emptied pitcher of wine he had purchased downstairs into a couple of flagons. The woolen blankets shifted beside him as Abigail moved her hand to stroke his chest. She could feel his heartbeat begin to settle behind the warmth of his skin. He gingerly wrapped an arm behind her naked shoulders, delicately feeling the softness of her supple skin beneath his calloused fingers. He handed her a goblet, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
"You are to leave this place tomorrow as well then?" Killian asked after a time.
"Yes." Abigail responded in a whisper in between sips. "I'll be grateful to be rid of this place at last, though I'm certain the stench of it will follow me the rest of my life."
She chuckled warmly in a way Killian couldn't help but admire. He glanced over at the tangle of curls that framed her face, her hair smelling of a mix of goats milk and lillimar - a flower that bloomed with the coming of the tides.
"I take it that blustering fool from last night is your passage out?" He asked.
She nodded in assent. "Dreggar works aboard a prison ship out of Ashgate Cove as its second in command, Shacklesail is the name."
Killian scoffed, he'd figured a man of Dreggar's demeanor would be involved in such work just by the sight of him alone. "And you are content to be stuck aboard in such company?"
Abigail sighed, motioning her fingers in tiny circles along his chest. "It is either I leave with him or not at all. My father's stature sank with his ship, and as he can no longer leave Flotsam town, he married me off where he could to give me a chance elsewhere in the Isles."
"Your father organized your betrothal?" Killian asked, astonished. Such a thing was not unheard of in the Dracticos Isles, but was rare outside of families with large enough fortunes to run entire trading empires.
"With the intention that it will last, but I will see that it is not so." Abigail explained with determined finality. "I'll start fresh as soon as we set down in some town of repute." She moved her hand then, and the room was filled with nothing but rhythmic breathing and the distant sound of lapping waves. "What of you?" She finally asked.
The question caught Killian off-guard, and he half chuckled in his reply as he set down the cup he had drained. "What of me?" he said. "Come dawn I'm sailing out aboard that Animaerisian Cog headed north till I can trade for a ride to a small island known as Grimstone Outpost." He said, jabbing a thumb towards the window. "From there, I will gain passage with the first vessel headed to the lands of Skjarandell."
"And what about after?"
Killian was confused.
"When you've gone and learned all that you have to learn, what will you do?"
He pushed a tangle of brown hair that had come untied out of his eyes as he sat up a bit. "Well…I will continue to entertain of course - throughout the isles and elsewhere - and set my legacy as the greatest minstrel of the Dracticos Isles, human lands, and all lands beyond."
She peered at him with wide and inquiring eyes, half of her face masked by a nest of blanket and pillow. "You said you had begun your journey in Caportos, do you have any family awaiting you there?"
Killian stared up to the ceiling, as if searching for memories long since thought of. "My elder brother Branwick captains a fleet for the Goldwind Trading Company - a position inherited from our father. He and I haven't been all that close since the loss of our parents."
"I'm sorry." Abigail apologized as if she had struck a nerve, to which Killian simply shrugged. "If I may ask, what happened to your parents?" she pressed.
"I have hardly a memory of our mother, as she left shortly after my birth. It was difficult on our father, but I know Branwick took things harder…I believe all of us wished to seek our own freedoms from that house from then on. Our father was…" Killian paused to find the right words "lost to us, shortly after my seventeenth roat, just before I left for Pyanari. I've really no family to return to." He said nonchalantly, as if the thoughts were far from his mind.
"I've always thought in the Dracticos, water is thicker than blood," spoke Abigail
"How do you mean?" poised Killian.
"Most of men's days here are spent at sea, travelling one land to the next. Kith and kin are the same for us whose families are split apart."
Killian thought about what had been said but spoke no words in return. Abigail shifted uncomfortably next to him, until at last the silence forced her to speak what had been on her mind.
"Do you think you would ever settle?"
"Settle?"
"With someone else, I mean."
Killian pondered the idea - it was one that had crossed his mind in the past.
"Perhaps someday," he started slowly, "if the right person were able to convince me, I wouldn't count it impossible."
Abigail gripped the blankets tightly in a sign of new hope. Her next words came out in a barely audible whisper.
"You could take me with you."
Killian blinked once, then twice at the proposition, smiling at the girl's shyness. The idea of settling down someday had at one point crossed his mind, and Abigail had been a kind and alogether attractive companion in terms of what Flotsam had to offer. Though an elopement with a married woman he had bedded in a dockside tavern was so inconsiderable he nearly laughed to himself. He was interally impressed, reminding himself of the effect he could have on women. Killian planned his next words carefully.
"Would that I could," he began, feining disappointment, "but I've barely scraped enough together to charter my own passage. Besides, where I am headed is no place for a young lady such as yourself."
Abigail pouted as she looked up to him, grasping his arm tightly. "Please," she begged, "I want to go with you. Flotsam is no place for any lady either, yet I leave it on the morrow aboard a floating prison wed to a man with a head as hard as his heart - near any fate is more preferable."
Killian frowned as he considered the proposition but quickly dismissed it, the hope of any saving fading from his bed partner's eyes. "It just isn't in the stars, I fear," said he, "But let us enjoy the company we can keep tonight before we each leave for our own voyages."
The bard's carefully trained charisma seemed to work its natural charm once again as Abigail's gloom gave way to a girlish giggle as she was pulled into an embrace that lasted until the weight of exhaustion nor blur of inebriation could be ignored. Flitting conciousness gave way to sleep in the earliest hours of morning.
…
Memories bubbled one by one, drop by drop, until not unlike a child's flipbook a coherent dream surfaced from the recesses of subconscious thought.
The path was rocky underfoot, with each pebble of the gravel path prickling the skin of his bare feet. Still he ran on at as fast a pace as could be managed, until stone turned to grass that gently ebbed into the slant of a hill. The boy hoisted the pail up to his chest, huffing and puffing in the morning chill as he carefully maneuvered down the slope so as to not spill the contents inside. One big step after another he made his way to the crudely crafted dock that he and his brothers had constructed behind the village. Pieced together with discarded lumber and whatever nails could be found offhand, it was hardly long enough for the dinghy that was roped to it. The boy had to watch each of his steps as the planks were so unevenly spaced that his foot could slip right into some of the gaps if he were not careful.
Clumsily he set down the pail, causing it to clatter in protest. He hurried to the very edge of the dock and fell to his hands and knees, gazing into the shimmering water below. Though it was not deep and the water clear as day, the ripples of broken waves and glimmering sunlight made it difficult to see. He found it necessary to squint in order to view the secrets of the sandy bottom.
"Killy!" Called a voice from just beyond the hill. The boy was too preoccupied watching the shining schools of minnows as they swam by. "Killian!" the voice called, louder now as its owner made her way onto the dock herself. She kneeled down beside the child with a sigh. "You know better than to run off to the shore by yourself," she scolded.
"But it's Luxarin, momma!" The child pouted. The gray of morning had finally taken on a warm hue as the sun was fully born from the horizon. "I wanted to bring the fish before they got here!"
The child gazed expectantly into his mothers face as the lines of worry faded with her submission. She knew how excited her son was for their weekly ritual. Crouching down beside the bucket as he shoved a pudgy hand into the chilly brine, she neatly folded the ruffles of her gown as padding for her knees and gazed expectantly out to sea. It was a number of minutes before any sign of their returning visitors could be spotted, but this was of no consequence to the boy, who giggled happily at the waves lapping on his hand. It was just a blip in the distance at first.
"Killy," she whispered.
The boy quieted down, slowly raising his head and looking to the horizon at her signal. "They're here!"
He scanned left and right and back again, looking for the slightest movement. "I don't see anything momma," he whispered impatiently.
Gingerly, she placed a hand on his shoulder and aligned his face with hers, pointing out just as the first movement ceased and a second, closer blip appeared.
"There," she said.
Two turned to three, then four, five, and six. Soon, there were just over a dozen furry brown heads peaking just over the surface. The child squealed with delight and quickly plunged his hand into the pail, retrieving a slippery herring from yesterday's catch.
"Careful now, try not to startle them." His mother warned. He held the fish in his hand with anticipation, eagerly abiding until their guests were closer to shore. Suddenly, just out of the corner of his eye, another curious head surfaced just a couple meters away. With his mother's approval, the boy tossed the fish with as much strength as he could muster. It had been just enough, and with a quick snap the seal had snatched the snack from the air and dove back beneath the surface. Now it was impossible for the boy to contain his glee, and it seemed the rest of the herd had recognized the source of their curiosity. More and more heads popped up ever closer in greeting, and were met just as quickly with a morsel from the laughing boy. It was sooner rather than later that the bucket was emptied of its contents.
"Aw, momma, don't we have any more?"
The boy whined as he spied how quickly the fish had disappeared. She gazed down at him with both admiration and amusement. A crescent of the marine mammals had formed around the dock, eager to see if anything was left for them.
"I'm afraid not, love," she replied, "Though there's always next nock, isn't there?"
Looking to the expectant seals dismally, he relented to his mother's words. He turned around, expecting to head back into the village, when his mother stopped him.
"Come and sit by me, Killy. There is something I'd like to show you."
Confused yet obedient, the child sat on his mother's lap at the edge of the pier, surrounded by their inquisitive audience. Slowly bending low to the water's edge, she guided his hand just above the surface.
"They should be ready now," she whispered excitedly.
Puzzlement turned to wonder for the young boy, as he felt the soft touch of a seal's fur as his hand caressed its back. The creature had lazily glided closer out of intrigue, and after feeling the child's hand, piqued its eyes up to peer at him closer. It tilted its head at him much like a confused puppy, and the boy was suddenly shocked to see scores of the genial creatures drifting over in their direction. He was completely taken in by what he beheld, as one after another came up and allowed him to pet them. A smaller seal - a pup from the looks of it - swam right up to the boy's hand and nuzzled it affectionately.
"It seems she likes you." His mother noticed as the seal pup seemed to bark its agreement. She adored seeing the radiant smile on her son's face. "They say these creatures are kind to travelers, so be sure to treat them with kindness in return."
"I can't wait till I can sail on the big ships with Papa and Al! Can I go with Papa on his next trip?"
His mother hesitated. "Maybe sometime soon my love, you aren't quite big enough yet."
Her son was pouting again. "But Brandy gets to go, and he's hardly bigger than me!"
She tousled his hair playfully with a laugh. "You will get your chance, each of your brothers had to wait their turn, and one day it will be yours too."
"I am gonna go out and see the dozen lands and be the best sailor in the Isles!" He clenched his little fists in determination as he was scooped up into the arms of his mother.
"I'm sure you will be quite the adventurer, my little pup. So eager to leave your poor momma behind."
By now the herd had realized there was no more food in store for them, and had begun to wander back out to sea.
"I'll always come back for you, momma!" said the boy. His mother chuckled as she held him close.
"It can be a lonely life out at sea, so always remember those who are close to you."
He closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder. "I will momma."
"It's time to go, Killy."
Killian opened his eyes facing the village. He was standing now - an adult man - and his mother had disappeared.
The clouds had just begun to roll in.