It was dark by the time Brune knocked on my door. My hands were red and raw from knotting and unknotting the length of rope I kept looped around my waist.
"Decent," I called because I knew it would make him roll his eyes.
He opened the door, his bulk filling nearly the whole frame.
"We've been cleared by customs and the dock guards. The rest of the men have gone ashore for the night. No one should bat an eye at you if you leave now."
My heart leapt in my chest; I was glad for the gloom of my cabin so he couldn't see the color rise in my cheeks. "So, am I officially free to go?"
"Would you like me to put the manacles on you and walk you to the dock and set you free to make it feel real?" he grunted. He began to rummage in the deep pockets of his battered jacket.
"I think that would draw the eyes I'm so keen on avoiding," I said, standing up and sliding the rope through my belt loops.
Brune produced a rusted key and held it out to me. "Take this anyway. To remember all the good times we had together."
I took the key, little flakes of red rust fluttering to the floor. A lump lodged in my throat and I swallowed hard. Spinning the key through my fingers to distract myself, I put it away with a flourish. "Admit it, Brune, you're going to miss me."
He grunted again. "Like a nail through my foot I'll miss you."
"I knew it," I said with a grin.
He produced a small leather pouch from his other pocket and held it out. I took it on reflex, startled by its weight.
"A parting gift from me and the crew," he said before I could ask.
I hefted the bag in my hand skeptically. Most of the crew ignored me, one actively and vocally hated me, one was too terrified to look in my direction and perhaps one other I would pick to be my second in a fight and not feel like I had to watch my own back.
"Aye, mostly me," he amended after a moment. "To make sure you land on your feet when your boots hit the ground for the first time in seven years. Whether or not you get your land legs back after that is up to you."
I looked into Brune's pale blue eyes. "Thank you," I said. And I meant it.
"We leave the morning after tomorrow if you decide the land is no longer to your liking."
"The smell of real, hot food and sun-baked earth and horses and wind not saturated with salt and dead fish will be to my liking," I said, hoisting my rucksack onto my back.
"We'll see, blueblood."
I pursed my lips and brushed by him. The clomping of his boots created a double-echo of mine as I jogged up the stairs to the deck. I paused for a moment and looked at the muted glow of the lanterns lit at regular intervals along the dockyard. The scene blurred for a moment and I wasn't sure if it was my eyes adjusting to the light or a sudden glaze of tears. The city was nothing but shadows and stars as it sprawled up the hillsides. A breeze tugged my hair free of its knot and I took a deep breath, but all I could smell was salt laced with rotting fish leftover from the market.
"Be careful, Fayore. The city may have changed in the seven years since you've been gone," said Brune.
"Or it could be exactly the same," I said softly. I wondered which would be better. "Only one way to find out."
I held out my hand and Brune clasped it roughly with both of his.
"Farewell, Captain. Calm seas –"
YOU ARE READING
The Mage of Blue Elm
FantasySeven years ago, Fayore Dumont was banished from the adopted city she called home for wielding magic she didn't know she had. In her exile, she was forced to leave behind the only person she ever cared about, and the only person who ever cared about...