Sean sighed mentally as his mother’s lecture began to wind down.
"...And don’t ye even think o' putting a toe on one o’ those ships!" she finished, giving him a stern glare.
"Yes, Mother," he said automatically. "Can I go now?"
With a sigh of dissapproval, she nodded reluctantly. “Go on, Sean, an’ be careful!” But her last words were to empty air; Sean was gone, with only the swinging door to show he’d been there.
“‘Ey, Capt’n Shotar!” Sean shouted, grinning at the older man. From where he stood on the pier, all he could see of his father’s old friend was the man’s back, but the Captain’s analog was unmistakeable.
“Ahoy, matey!” Shotar called back, turning and grinning down from the deck of his ship. “‘Appy birthday, I hear!” His orangutan ‘log lept from the rigging above his head to scramble across the pier, bearing a package. Mavrik ceremoniously handed Sean his burden, then winked cheerily and dashed back to his human.
*Mavrik says it’s from some jungle tribe - a totem amulet that’s supposed to let you connect more deeply with your analog,* Gavia said as the oilpaper fell away.
“Wow!” Sean grinned, holding up the gift. Suspended from a thick leather cord was a miniature seagull, beautifully carved from some kind of bone. “Looks jus’ like ye, Gavia!” Hanging it around his neck, he shouted up to Shotar. “Thank’ee, Capt’n!”
“Ye can thank me by helpin’ unload the rest of the cargo!” the Captain told him, waving at several stacks of crates lining the deck.
*Your mother said not to go on the ships,* Gavia reminded him as he dashed up the plank. *And Padfoot told me to remind you.*
^Padfoot can go stew, nosy cat that he is,^ Sean scoffed. ^And it’s not like Captain Shotar is gonna sail off with me or anything.^ Gavia gave a mental snort, but remained otherwise silent.
Greeting various sailors and dockworkers as he passed them, Sean set to work on hauling crates down to the dock.
Sean had been working for nearly a full sun-mark when he first spotted the girl. She was wandering about the docks, staring in fascination at the all the activity around her. ^What do you make of that, Gavia?^
*Hmm. Just some rich girl or young noble curious about the “lower classes”, I’d wager,* the seagull muttered. *Look at those clothes, the way she walks - she’s staying closer to the more respectable-looking sailors, but she’s not talking to them. Smart enough, then - but she doesn’t belong down here.*
Sean had to agree. She had no idea how to act around the sea-toughened, tattooed sailors, who clearly made her nervous. More than one was cursing, too, because she’d unknowingly wandered into their path. And only the fierce glare of the falcon on her shoulder kept some of the more unsavory denizens of the docks from advancing on this tempting target.
“Look out, boy!” a sailor shouted, bringing Sean out of his contemplations with a start. “‘Elp or get out o’ the way, but don jus’ stand there an’ look dumb!” Sean jumped aside, then dashed to grab another crate from the deck of Captain Marcy’s ship. The harder he worked, the more he earned for his mother, after all.
Suddenly, a tremendous cracking sound split the air. Sean’s head snapped up, and he stared in horror as a huge crate broke free of the rope-and-pulley arrangement being used to move it. Sailors and dockworkers scattered for cover. Below the tumbling crate, the well-dressed girl he’d been watching earlier stared up in shock, not quite comprehending the danger she was in.
The crate crashed to the deck, then slid through the railing and sailed through the air. Sean nearly tripped over his own feet, dashing across the rapidly tilting deck and vaulting the railing. Stumbling as he landed, he roughly grabbed the girl’s arm and dragged her back as quickly as he could. As he fell back, pulling her down on top of him, the crate landed, bounced, and split open inches from his feet, sending piles of fabric over everyone in the vicinity.
*Sean!* Gavia shrieked. *Sean, answer me!*
Clawing through a thick pile of crimson velvet, Sean replied, fighting back nervous laughter. ^I’m fine, Gavia. Buried in velvet, but otherwise fine.^
Throwing off the last of the velvet, he looked down at the smaller girl. She was shaking violently, clearly terrified by her close call. “‘t’s all right,” he told her. “Ye okay?”
She nodded, looking up at him nervously. “‘M fine,” she said in a small voice. “Thank’ee fer savin’ me, mister....”
“Sean,” he said with a smile. “‘M Sean. Who're ye?"
"Anneka," she said carefully. "Thank'ee, mister Sean."
"S'not mister," he corrected. "Ye cain't be mor'n a year 'r two younger than me."
Anneka stared up at him, aghast. "But father says it's only proper to be respectful of ev'ryone older'n me," she protested in a soft voice.
Sean started to laugh; he couldn't help it. "'e meant grown-ups an' fancy lord's sons an' such, pr'lly," he chuckled. "Not dock-boys like me."
The girl shrank back a bit from his laughter, and he realized with surprise that she was scared of him.
*You are a bit bigger than her, even if you're only a little older,* Gavia pointed out.
^Uh... right.^ Standing, Sean pulled Anneka to her feet. "Ye shouldn't stay 'round 'ere," he counseled her. "Ye saw yerself jus' how dang'rous 't can be."
Blushing, Anneka dropped her gaze to the ground. "'M lost," she murmured. "Ne'er been down 'ere 'fore...."
"Oh, jus' great," Sean muttered. "Le'me guess - ye need som'ne t' take ye back?"
She seemed to shrink into herself just a little. "Yes...."
"C'mon, then," he sighed. "Can ye get yerself 'ome from the rich wharf - where all the big fancy sailin' ships 're?"
She nodded. "I think so...."
"Let's go.... An' I 'ope Mother don't 'ave a fit, when she finds where I been wanderin'," he mumbles, tugging Anneka along. Might as well talk a bit, so I don't look like I'm trying to steal her or something.... "So, why'd ye come down t' the docks in the firs' place, Ann'ka?" he began.
"An' the ships wi' lots o' rowers, those 're galleys," Sean was explaining as he and Anneka passed yet another big, fancy pleasure boat. "They got a bad rep, 'cause slav'rs use 'em a lot. Ye need lots o' rowers for 'em. Now these 'ere little ones, the fancies we're passin'? They're called yachts. Rich people use 'em, but they're no good on 'igh seas - one good blow 'ould send 'em right t' the bott'm."
Anneka raised a hand. "'M not lost anymore," she declared. "I can get 'ome from 'ere."
Sean groaned dramatically. "A'ready? But I thought ye said ye wanted t' 'ear 'bout Capt'n Ahab an' his ghost ship! We ne'er got t' that!"
The girl giggled. "Well, if ye hadn' been takin' so long t' explain what a gallon was-"
"Galleon!" he corrected. "And if ye don't know, the story's only 'alf as fun!" Grinning, he winked at her. "Ye'll jus' 'ave t' come back an' 'ear it another time, right?"
"Yes," Anneka agreed, giggling. "An' I can tell ye 'bout my pony! Ye didn't give me a chance t'day!"
Sean nodded solemnly. "That'll be the firs' thing next time, then," he promised. "Uh-oh - lookit the sky. I got t' go, or Mother 'll string me up by my fing'rnails!" Rewarded by Anneka's giggle, he turned and started away.
^See, Gavia? She wasn't as bad as you thought!^
*She did loosen up after the first few sea stories,* Gavia said, unwilling to entirely admit she'd been wrong.
^ Of course she did - that's why she came down there in the first place, to hear that kind of thing,^ Sean replied promptly. ^And come now, I heard you chatting it up with her analog.... I like her,^ he added. ^I can't wait to talk to her again! But let's visit her up here, why don't we, instead of dragging her down to our end of the docks?^
Gavia's mental groan left him laughing all the way back to the harbor district.