Chapter One: The Boatman

Why won’t that fool just shut up? Noddak pulled the brim of his hat down as far as it would go, which was neither far enough to keep the cold salt spray out of his eyes, nor shield his ears from the incessant yammering of the idiot boatman, who had been blathering non-stop since they left Southport two and a half hours ago.

Noddak had been in Fellstone City when he’d received his orders to investigate a possible Royal sighting on Lone Island. Fellstone City was nine hundred miles to the east of Southport. Today was the thirty-first day of his journey.

The boatman, without so much as a pause in his incomprehensible monologue, adjusted the sails and the tiller, then scanned the gathering storm clouds. “Looks like it’s going to rain again, and pretty soon, too.”

Noddak didn’t reply; what was there to say? It’s not like he had any place to get out of the rain. This minuscule open boat had been the only boat at Southport. Not the only available boat—the only boat. It was maybe sixteen feet long and had no superstructure. If it rained again, Noddak was going to get soaked to the skin again. He wiped the salt spray from his face with his hand, then spat into the sea.

“Look!” the boatman called over the wind, three hours later. “Lone Island, straight ahead. This here will be Dolphin Bay.” As if on cue, dozens of bottle-nosed dolphins leaped high into the air, playing and cavorting near the bow of the small craft. Noddak watched them play, briefly, then turned his face away from the spray again.

“See? See the dolphins? That’s why they call this Dolphin Bay, because it’s a bay, and it has dolphins. Get the idea?”

Noddak’s fingers whitened as they tightened involuntarily on the handle of his sword. “Here’s an idea for you, Boatman. How about you shut your flapping mouth and drive the boat?”

The boatman glared at Noddak. “No need to be like that, sir. I was just sayin’.”

“Well, don’t. Just shut your face and steer.”

“All right, sir, just as you say.”

As they approached the harbor, the rising storm made their landing difficult. The boatman needed all his skills to bring the small craft to rest at the dock while the wayward gusts played havoc with the sail.

The very instant the boat was secure, Noddak scrambled onto the dock. “How much do I owe you?”

The boatman looked Noddak square in the eye and named a sum.

“What? That’s outrageous! It’s twice what we agreed on! Explain yourself! And make it short—I need to get out of this blasted rain!”

“Well, sir,” the boatman drawled, “it’s like this. You see, sir, back in Southport, I have a wife and two teenagers.”

“So? What’s that to me?”

“Well, sir, the older teenager, he’s a lad, sir. A fine, young, strapping lad. Going to be a boatman like his father someday.”

The muscles on Noddak’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth. His voice dangerously quiet, he prompted, “And?”

“The other is a girl, sir, just turned thirteen. She’s a bonnie lass, just like her mother was when first I met her.”

Noddak gestured impatiently for the boatman to continue.

“Yes, sir. Well, sir, then there’s my sweet Antalia. A fine wife she is, sir. Always has been. Soft-spoken and gentle, like. Never scolds, never nags, always has a kind word for me and the young ones.”

“Blast it, man! What does that have to do with your fee?”

“Well, sir, my children and my wife, they… they would never speak to me the way you’ve spoken to me this day. Never have, not once in all my life.”

Noddak slowly drew his sword from its scabbard far enough to reveal several inches of gleaming steel.

The boatman noticed and nodded. “Yes, sir. Well, sir, what I’m getting at—my wife and children don’t speak to me that way, and generally—generally, sir—I don’t permit anyone to speak to me that way. But, begging your pardon, sir, when I do, I charge extra for it.”

Noddak flushed red, then turned white, then red again. He drew his sword halfway, thought the better of it, then slammed it back into its scabbard. He counted out from his purse the full sum the boatman had named and flung it into the bottom of the boat, then turned and marched off.

“Thank you, sir, thank you most kindly,” the boatman called after him. He untied his craft and rowed toward the channel. “By the way, sir, don’t bother looking for me when you’re ready to go back to Southport. I won’t be available. I’ll be home with my sweet, loving family. Good riddance to you, sir.”

Insolent yokel! Noddak thought. As if I’d ever ride with him again, anyway! What was it about these country people that they couldn’t keep a civil tongue in their ignorant heads? Well. Let’s get on with our business. He turned and headed up the dock toward a sign that read “Lame Pelican Inn.” Perhaps these islanders will have better manners.

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