At dawn the next day, the dragons departed.
Etta had been as good as her word. We had worked through the night, taking on supplies and making all ready to catch the first tide. I do not think the dragons gave warning or farewell to anyone. They rose from the ground and our crow circled below, cawing unhappily as they rose higher and higher into the sky in slow circles over Divvytown before departing to the south and east. As I dropped my eyes, I saw that Vivacia was in full sail below them. Brashen strode past me on the deck and I pointed her out to him.
‘Word came late last night. Vivacia was determined to go to Others’ Island with the dragons, to see what has transpired there. And afterward, perhaps she will follow them to Clerres.’
I stared after them, wondering what that meant for my mission until Brashen slapped me on the back. ‘The ale-casks will not stow themselves,’ he pointed out, and I moved to where Clef was putting hands onto a hoist.
Not long after, the Prince of the Pirate Isles came alongside in a small boat. Sorcor was at the oars, pulling hard and well for a man of his years. Two ornate trunks and a canvas seaman’s bag rode in the centre of the boat. Kennitsson perched in the bow, with the plumes of his hat nodding in the wind. A youngster, finely attired, sat on one of the trunks.
Clef spotted them and strode purposefully toward the captains’ stateroom. A moment later, both Althea and Brashen appeared. Althea’s mouth was taut and her eyes narrowed like an angry cat. Brashen looked relaxed and in command.
Kennitsson ascended the ladder first, followed by the youngster. Sorcor joined us on the deck. Two of Etta’s sailors clambered over the side to bring the trunks aboard. As Kennitsson looked around, Sorcor spoke. ‘Well,’ he said heavily. ‘Here we are.’
‘Paragon Ludluck! To me, young man, to me!’ cried the ship. Without a word or a glance at Althea or Brashen, Kennitsson walked towards the figurehead. Over his shoulder he called to the youngster, ‘Barla, see to my things! Arrange my stateroom as I like it. Be lively about it.’
Sorcor watched him go, and a blush reddened the old pirate’s cheeks. Without looking at Brashen or Althea, he said quietly, ‘I’d like to come with you.’
‘We’ve already enough captains on this vessel,’ Brashen replied, trying to soften his decision with humour. ‘If you’re aboard, not only Kennitsson but every sailor you’ve offered us will look to you before following an order from me or Althea.’
