Excerpt from BARD: Owner of the Gemstone:
He sits at the end of a dock observing all the anchored ships in the sea. Large birds with bulky beaks nearly as long as their bodies glide by, briefly blocking his view of the moon. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of waves pushing the sides of ships against the dock.
In the morning, he sees sailors boarding ships to hoist cargo onto the decks.
On the dock, a man with a hook for a hand is telling sailors what cargo to take up the boarding plank. The sailors all wear white cotton shirts and black capris. At the stern of the ship, in gold letters, is the word ABIS.
A burly man stands on a raised deck at the bow of the ship. He’s wearing a black tricorne hat, a white silk shirt, and blue capris with a gold stripe down the side of each pantleg. Bran hears him yell something down to the man with the hooked hand.
Bran walks up to the man with the hooked hand and asks, “How do I get to the Emperor’s land?”
The man doesn’t bother looking at Bran as he replies, “You can pay your arm and leg for a ride on a passenger ship and have a comfortable ride, or you can pay a little less for a ride and spend the next week in a stinking hold.” He turns away from Bran and starts shouting more commands to the sailors.
“How much for a ride on your ship?” Bran asks.
“Only way you’re gonna get a ride on this ship is if the captain says you can, and that means working on it.”
“I’m a Bard,” Bran says, sticking his scarred left forearm in front of the man.
“I don’t need no whimsical singing man on board.” The man with hooked hand turns away from him.
“I’m also a blacksmith’s son,” Bran quickly adds.
The man with the hooked hand turns around. He stares at Bran with a hollow, unshaven face. “You’re a big lad for a Bard. Usually, they’re thin or fat with no strength. Come on up the plank to the deck, and speak to the captain.”
Bran hurries up the thin horizontal boards that make up the plank.
“Captain,” the man with the hooked hand shouts up to the man on the forecastle deck. “This man’s looking to work on the ABIS for a ride.”
“Let’s see your hands,” the captain says in a curt tone that reminds him of Master Kadar.
Bran supinates his hands.
The captain grabs a hold of his wrists. “You got calluses. So be it. I’m Captain Sherald, you will call me sir. Go over there and help those men carry up that cargo.”
Bran gives a slight bow. He puts down his lute, backpack, and rapier where he can keep an eye on them. Then helps one of the sailors carry up a long wooden crate.
The day goes by in a haze. Occasionally, he thinks of Sheen, and wonders if he should go back. He is alone here but that feels almost soothing. However, the hard work eases his memories of Peter and Jordon.
Some of the sailors he works with let out a barrage of curses. Others sing songs to give them energy; songs Bran has never heard before. He listens for awhile to learn the words before joining in.
In the late afternoon the captain calls out for the men to take a break. Bowls of soup that smell of potatoes, carrots, and lentils are passed around along with thick slices of bread. Bran is so hot he takes off his shirt and ties it around his waist. He sees one of the other sailors staring at his left arm.
“You’re a Bard?” the sailor asks.
“Let’s hear a song,” another shouts out.
Bran pulls out his lute. He tunes it, and is about to sing when he thinks it would be better if Sheen was here. “This is called Mermaids. A fairy-tale about ladies who live in the sea that my father often sings.”
“Ain’t no fairy-tale,” one of the sailors says.
Bran frowns at the man; however, he doesn’t ask what the sailor means, and sings:
Get the anchor up!
Unroll the masts!
We’re off to sail!
Where the Lady’s of the sea, roam!
Did you see their long green hair, flowing in the waves?
Did you see, their legs were tails?
Did you see, the aquamarine of their eyes, staring up from the sea?
Hold your ears
Hold your minds
For the Lady’s of the sea have siren voices
When the song is finished, one of the sailors says, “Don’t know about the siren voices.”
“It’s just a song,” Bran replies.
Captain Sherald orders them to bring the cargo down into the hold. Some of the sailors use a crane that is permanently attached to the ship’s deck to lower the cargo. Bran and the sailors guide the cargo onto bronze rollers used to move the cargo boxes into the hold.
The sky is getting dark when the captain calls for them to halt. As the captain inspect the hold, Bran sees him glancing at a clay tablet. The captain speaks with the man with the hooked hand then departs for the forecastle.
“It’s time to set sail!” Shouts out the man with the hooked hand.
Caedar Writing & Artwork 