welcome. He stayed for hours on her balcony, watching the stately dance of constellations as they spun slowly overhead. It struck him that there had always been other worlds surrounding him, just outside his reach, unexpected and unseen. They were opening to him now. Sarah was opening them. They spoke long intothe night, their voices joining in easy laughter and lively debate. For the first time, Gabriel shared his opinions and ideas. They discussed the philosophers, Voltaire and Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau. They discussed composers, Haydn, and the prodigious Mozart, and Sarah discovered, much to her delight, that Gabriel was as talented with violin and guitar as he was with the piano.
Gabriel felt intoxicated, as if he’d stepped through some fairy-tale mirror into an enchanted world. He knew he was in love with her, deeply, sweetly, madly in love. His world had been dark and colorless before she’d come into his life, devoid of any strong emotion, except hatred, despair, or fear. She’d opened his eyes to wonder, had welcomed him into her home as warmly as she did her brothers, or Davey. She filled his every waking thought and his heated-longing dreams, keeping the nightmares at bay and giving him a reason to welcome sleep, rather than dread it. He was always respectful, careful never to jeopardize the bond growing between them, and he was truly happy for the first time in his life.
The next few months went by in a blur of activity. His days were spent under Davey’s tutelage. A hard taskmaster, Davey insisted that Gabriel learn his way about the ship, sending him aloft, clambering up the shrouds with the topsmen over a hundred and fifty feet above the deck until he was at ease skylarking in the rigging. He learned how to set, reef, and furl asail, edging out along the swaying yardarms with only footropes for support, each roll of the ship whirling him about in dizzying circles.
Balancing on heaving deck and narrow rail, he practiced with short sword, cutlass, rapier, and a curved sword Davey called a
katana
. The long weeks of strenuous physical activity hardened and honed his body, sculpting him into an engine of muscle and sinew and fluid grace. His early experiences had taught him to distrust his body, to distance himself from it, divorcing mind and sensation. Now, his training with Davey forced him to meld mind and body—focused, present, and aware. As his training continued, he became more comfortable and at ease within himself. He enjoyed the gentle ache that drugged his arms and legs after a long session. He enjoyed the way his body responded and moved, as quick as thought, and he found himself running, jumping, and climbing, for the sheer joy of it.
The focus that had allowed him to survive his disastrous childhood, now helped him to be one with his weapon, as Davey taught him to channel his anger and passion into the blade in a living, breathing dance of beauty, steel, and death. A natural athlete and thirsty to learn, he poured himself into the rhythm of sea and ship and sword, until they were an extension of himself, as natural to him as breathing. He exulted in it, and despite his late start, he soon excelled.
Gabriel was as susceptible to Davey’s roguishcharm as were Sarah and Ross. He valued the man’s opinion, understood what Davey expected of him, and found himself able to fit in with the assorted collection of misfits and eccentrics that made up Davey’s crew, in a way that eluded him in other settings. He knew he excelled at the things Davey taught him, and the man’s irreverent good humor and world-weary cynicism struck a chord that resonated deeply within. Davey was enough of the outlaw that Gabriel felt comfortable, on occasion, sharing some small part of his past. Davey greeted these revelations with humor at times, but never shock.
His relationship with Davey was far easier and more relaxed than the one he had with Ross, who had undertaken to instruct him in estate matters, and matters
Gabriel felt intoxicated, as if he’d stepped through some fairy-tale mirror into an enchanted world. He knew he was in love with her, deeply, sweetly, madly in love. His world had been dark and colorless before she’d come into his life, devoid of any strong emotion, except hatred, despair, or fear. She’d opened his eyes to wonder, had welcomed him into her home as warmly as she did her brothers, or Davey. She filled his every waking thought and his heated-longing dreams, keeping the nightmares at bay and giving him a reason to welcome sleep, rather than dread it. He was always respectful, careful never to jeopardize the bond growing between them, and he was truly happy for the first time in his life.
The next few months went by in a blur of activity. His days were spent under Davey’s tutelage. A hard taskmaster, Davey insisted that Gabriel learn his way about the ship, sending him aloft, clambering up the shrouds with the topsmen over a hundred and fifty feet above the deck until he was at ease skylarking in the rigging. He learned how to set, reef, and furl asail, edging out along the swaying yardarms with only footropes for support, each roll of the ship whirling him about in dizzying circles.
Balancing on heaving deck and narrow rail, he practiced with short sword, cutlass, rapier, and a curved sword Davey called a
katana
. The long weeks of strenuous physical activity hardened and honed his body, sculpting him into an engine of muscle and sinew and fluid grace. His early experiences had taught him to distrust his body, to distance himself from it, divorcing mind and sensation. Now, his training with Davey forced him to meld mind and body—focused, present, and aware. As his training continued, he became more comfortable and at ease within himself. He enjoyed the gentle ache that drugged his arms and legs after a long session. He enjoyed the way his body responded and moved, as quick as thought, and he found himself running, jumping, and climbing, for the sheer joy of it.
The focus that had allowed him to survive his disastrous childhood, now helped him to be one with his weapon, as Davey taught him to channel his anger and passion into the blade in a living, breathing dance of beauty, steel, and death. A natural athlete and thirsty to learn, he poured himself into the rhythm of sea and ship and sword, until they were an extension of himself, as natural to him as breathing. He exulted in it, and despite his late start, he soon excelled.
Gabriel was as susceptible to Davey’s roguishcharm as were Sarah and Ross. He valued the man’s opinion, understood what Davey expected of him, and found himself able to fit in with the assorted collection of misfits and eccentrics that made up Davey’s crew, in a way that eluded him in other settings. He knew he excelled at the things Davey taught him, and the man’s irreverent good humor and world-weary cynicism struck a chord that resonated deeply within. Davey was enough of the outlaw that Gabriel felt comfortable, on occasion, sharing some small part of his past. Davey greeted these revelations with humor at times, but never shock.
His relationship with Davey was far easier and more relaxed than the one he had with Ross, who had undertaken to instruct him in estate matters, and matters
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