The Minstrel

The Smiling Storm

 The chilled night breeze from the open window cooled the sweat on Killian's chest as he let out a satisfied sigh and turned to lie on his back. Leaning over to the night stand, he poured the nearly emptied pitcher of wine he had purchased downstairs into a couple of flagons. The woolen blankets shifted beside him as Abigail moved her hand to stroke his chest. She could feel his heartbeat begin to settle behind the warmth of his skin. He gingerly wrapped an arm behind her naked shoulders, delicately feeling the softness of her supple skin beneath his calloused fingers. He handed her a goblet, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You are to leave this place tomorrow as well then?" Killian asked after a time.

"Yes." Abigail responded in a whisper in between sips. "I'll be grateful to be rid of this place at last, though I'm certain the stench of it will follow me the rest of my life."

She chuckled warmly in a way Killian couldn't help but admire. He glanced over at the tangle of curls that framed her face, her hair smelling of a mix of goats milk and lillimar - a flower that bloomed with the coming of the tides.

"I take it that blustering fool from last night is your passage out?" He asked.

She nodded in assent. "Dreggar works aboard a prison ship out of Ashgate Cove as its second in command, Shacklesail is the name."

Killian scoffed, he'd figured a man of Dreggar's demeanor would be involved in such work just by the sight of him alone. "And you are content to be stuck aboard in such company?"

Abigail sighed, motioning her fingers in tiny circles along his chest. "It is either I leave with him or not at all. My father's stature sank with his ship, and as he can no longer leave Flotsam town, he married me off where he could to give me a chance elsewhere in the Isles."

"Your father organized your betrothal?" Killian asked, astonished. Such a thing was not unheard of in the Dracticos Isles, but was rare outside of families with large enough fortunes to run entire trading empires.

"With the intention that it will last, but I will see that it is not so." Abigail explained with determined finality. "I'll start fresh as soon as we set down in some town of repute." She moved her hand then, and the room was filled with nothing but rhythmic breathing and the distant sound of lapping waves. "What of you?" She finally asked.

The question caught Killian off-guard, and he half chuckled in his reply as he set down the cup he had drained. "What of me?" he said. "Come dawn I'm sailing out aboard that Animaerisian Cog headed north till I can trade for a ride to a small island known as Grimstone Outpost." He said, jabbing a thumb towards the window. "From there, I will gain passage with the first vessel headed to the lands of Skjarandell."

"And what about after?"

Killian was confused.

"When you've gone and learned all that you have to learn, what will you do?"

He pushed a tangle of brown hair that had come untied out of his eyes as he sat up a bit. "Well...I will continue to entertain of course - throughout the isles and elsewhere - and set my legacy as the greatest minstrel of the Dracticos Isles, human lands, and all lands beyond."

She peered at him with wide and inquiring eyes, half of her face masked by a nest of blanket and pillow. "You said you had begun your journey in Caportos, do you have any family awaiting you there?"

Killian stared up to the ceiling, as if searching for memories long since thought of. "My elder brother Branwick captains a fleet for the Goldwind Trading Company - a position inherited from our father. He and I haven't been all that close since the loss of our parents."