The sea and winds were restless. Every now and then, the rocking of the ship threatened to throw Vyncent to his knees. This was his first time on the sea, and he often turned green even when the seas were calm, much to the amusement of the Cazayan crewmen. They were friendly to him, he concluded, believing they were laughing with him and not at him. At least I had the courage to set foot on the ship, Vyncent silently defended himself, that is a small victory. Though he knew much greater victories were necessary in the future, of course.
As he approached the captain's door, the ship swayed, as if a whale had hit it. Vyncent yelped and grabbed hold of the doorknob to keep himself from being thrown against the wall. Apparently, the captain had heard him.
He shouted something in Cazayan. When Vyncent made himself known from behind the wood, Captain Jihn Xu spoke the speech common in his homeland of Virtera.
"Vyncent," the captain bellowed, "is that you? Come in, my boy."
"Yes, sir." Vyncent opened the door, trying to look surefooted and confident.
The fat, old captain laughed at his awkwardness but beckoned him over for a drink. "Come," he said, "come, come."
Vyncent took a seat on a divan made of the finest materials. Vyncent thought he was soiling such a piece of furniture with his half-peasant bottom, but the captain didn't seem to care. The captain had no cups, so he offered him a bottle of Goldermilk, a common, expensive drink popular amongst Cazayan merchants and noblemen.
Vyncent took a swig and almost coughed it up, its strength burning as it went down; the fermented milk's kick was surprisingly strong, something watered-down ales didn't prepare him for.
The captain laughed again. "What is wrong, half-prince? Too strong?"
"A little," conceded Vyncent.
"Ah," uttered the captain as he took the bottle back and gulped the remaining amount in the bottle, "such things you will need to warm you in horrid times like this. Must be hard, yes? Your home being torn apart as we sail through this demon's storm?"
"Yes, sir," said Vyncent, frowning, "you know I am very grateful for what you've done for me."
The captain shrugged as he opened another bottle of Goldermilk and packed a pipe with blue and yellow leaves. "Anything for the half-prince. And enough with the sir. We are friends, are we not? Call me Xu, or Dragoneater." He slapped his potbelly and guffawed when he mentioned the latter. "Your father, Vandal. He made me a lot of money at the Tourney at Sessina." Captain Xu made a look of disgust. "Terrible ugly city, with terrible people. But when he hit the bullseye three times in a row … " Captain Xu smiled at the memory, lighting his pipe with a small burning piece of wood. "He made me even richer. To think I almost skipped over that cesspool!"
Vyncent didn't know how to feel about his father. His mother and his uncle, Renford, always argued about him. The danger he brought to the family, how they would feel their wrath knowing they were users of the old arts, were just a few of the things uncle Renford would bring up.
But now they were all dead. His mother, his father, uncle Renford … all gone. Even that red woman, Vyncent gritted his teeth at the memory. He remembered how she laughed when she kicked mother off the log and watched her kick. Grandfather had held him tightly, no matter how hard he fought against his grasp. Don't look, Vynny, grandfather had said, sobbing, don't look. I'm here for you, but don't look. He dare not have shouted mother, otherwise, the red woman would have known who he was and hang him beside her. Concerned for Vyncent's safety, his grandparents had him moved to a village far to the south where his mother's cousins lived.
The only thing he regretted when he heard of princess Ladnavia Snowvale's death is that he wasn't the one to fill her full of arrows.
"Hmmm." The captain stroked his long beard, cinched with a golden band. "Looks like the worst of the storm is over."
Outside a cracked, round window, Vyncent could see the slivers of blue behind the clouds. He could also see the port. Vyncent silently rejoiced, knowing his sea-faring was over for now. He went to go gather his things. In his sack were a few traveling clothes. On his shoulder, he slung his long gun: a fancy thing it was not; its barrels were starting to rust and the edges of dark brown wood were starting to chip. He kept a horn half-full of black powder, as well as five bullets. Like his father, he had a liking for firearms. Blay the blacksmith had made it for him before he left the village. Something for Nettie's boy, he had told him as he mussed up his hair and handed it to him.
When the ship was docked, He walked himself down the plank. Captain Xu, after speaking to a few of the ship's crewmembers, went before him to say his goodbyes. And collect his pay.
"Good luck, my boy," the captain said as he counted his silvers, "if you ever need anything, just call upon the Dragoneater." Before he turned and left, he gave him a little black sack about the size of half his fist and a simple wooden pipe. "A little something for when the winds blow too hard. You won't find a better breed on this end of the earth, I promise you." Vyncent opened it and saw it was the same blue and yellow leaves he was smoking. Sweet Ilecks, Vyncent knew, or the Lonely Lover's Spice. Upon smoking it, one would gain such grand pleasure. Under its effect, some say, if you fell asleep, you would dream of being in the arms of the one you most desire. But such pleasure came at a great cost; the body and mind demanded more and more once its corruption had rooted itself within.
Perhaps he would sell the spice, though it was a gift. Only if times get rough, he told himself, surely he wouldn't offend the captain's kindness.
With the Dragoneater's ship gone from the port, rather quicker than Vyncent had thought, he was alone in Lesser Vior, a strange, sordid, old city where he was told a distant relative of the exorciser lived.1225Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKyTVk0yLUb
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