enough.
***
In the morning, Gideon either sensed my bad mood and kept
his distance, or appreciated my silence and the reprieve from my plague of
questions. He mounted Gespenst with less discomfort than the day before and, to
accommodate his injuries, shifted between walking and riding in short spurts.
Both caused him pain if he stayed with any one activity too long. As much as I
dreaded the finality reaching Braddock represented, I looked forward to getting
there for his sake. A ship might cause him less grief than the jolt of
horseback riding or prolonged walking.
We entered the bustling port town of Braddock near noon and
Gideon pointed out a steamship he recognized. He told me the LaDonna’s crew and commission came from Espiritola, a country south of Galland known for
the spicy temperament of both its food and its people. The ship’s captain
certainly validated the stereotype. I presumed he was the captain because of
his important looking tri-corn hat, and also because he was the only
leather-skinned, dark haired man wearing a coat. He stood on the dock below us,
arguing in Espiritolish with a gentleman who had arrived before us. The captain’s
words rolled over his tongue like the waves rolling along the sides of the
boats.
Finally, after much yelling back and forth, the gentleman
shook the captain’s hand, handed him a heavy pouch, bowed, and departed. Then
Gideon and I took our turn with the captain.
“Captain Barilla,” the sailor declared with a mighty thump
to his chest.
To my surprise, Gideon replied in the captain’s own tongue.
His command of Espiritolish was further evidence of the many things I did not
know about my guardian. He was well educated and frighteningly lethal. Had my
father known, or had Gideon kept these skills to himself? What were his
secrets, and how would I ever convince him to tell me? Knowing I would get no
immediate answers, I turned my attention to my surroundings.
The small harbor exuded a distinctly fishy odor. Actually,
fish, sea weed, salt, and unwashed men combined into a cacophony of maritime
stench. It was all a bit thrilling. From what I had read in books back home,
the port at Pecia, in Galland, was almost three times the size of this one.
Braddock had slips enough for maybe four or five small ship-to-shore
vessels and, at that moment, the harbor gave port to two ocean-going crafts.
Three tall smoke stacks and a side paddlewheel accompanied LaDonna ’s
sails. She was the larger of the two ships anchored that day. My heart raced
and my breath shortened as I thought about boarding the hulking, steel
contraption. Try to think of it as adventure, instead of escape.
Captain Barilla’s raised voice recaptured my attention.
Gideon elevated his to match. I snickered at the notion that Barilla believed
he might intimidate my guardian. They yelled a bit more and shook hands, reflecting
what had happened with the previous transaction. Perhaps yelling in a foreign
language was standard protocol for booking passage on a ship.
Gideon gave Barilla a small purse of coins, and bent his
neck in a casual bow. Barilla bowed back, and Gideon took me by the elbow and
dragged me back to the horses. He removed our meager baggage and tossed them to
an awaiting ship hand. He didn’t let go of me when he grabbed our horses’ reins
and stalked off toward the central part of town.
“Gideon, stop, you’re hurting me.”
He dropped my elbow like a hot poker, but continued his
march up the sloped street leading away from the water. How did his injuries
withstand the abuse? He seemed not to notice, so I refrained from mentioning it
because his mood had turned even darker than usual.
“What were you and the captain yelling about?” I asked. He
ignored me and increased his pace. “Gideon, what’s the matter? Where are we
going?”
His head jerked around, but did not stop his quick strides,
and looked at me with a blackness I hadn’t seen for our entire journey, not
even the day before
***
In the morning, Gideon either sensed my bad mood and kept
his distance, or appreciated my silence and the reprieve from my plague of
questions. He mounted Gespenst with less discomfort than the day before and, to
accommodate his injuries, shifted between walking and riding in short spurts.
Both caused him pain if he stayed with any one activity too long. As much as I
dreaded the finality reaching Braddock represented, I looked forward to getting
there for his sake. A ship might cause him less grief than the jolt of
horseback riding or prolonged walking.
We entered the bustling port town of Braddock near noon and
Gideon pointed out a steamship he recognized. He told me the LaDonna’s crew and commission came from Espiritola, a country south of Galland known for
the spicy temperament of both its food and its people. The ship’s captain
certainly validated the stereotype. I presumed he was the captain because of
his important looking tri-corn hat, and also because he was the only
leather-skinned, dark haired man wearing a coat. He stood on the dock below us,
arguing in Espiritolish with a gentleman who had arrived before us. The captain’s
words rolled over his tongue like the waves rolling along the sides of the
boats.
Finally, after much yelling back and forth, the gentleman
shook the captain’s hand, handed him a heavy pouch, bowed, and departed. Then
Gideon and I took our turn with the captain.
“Captain Barilla,” the sailor declared with a mighty thump
to his chest.
To my surprise, Gideon replied in the captain’s own tongue.
His command of Espiritolish was further evidence of the many things I did not
know about my guardian. He was well educated and frighteningly lethal. Had my
father known, or had Gideon kept these skills to himself? What were his
secrets, and how would I ever convince him to tell me? Knowing I would get no
immediate answers, I turned my attention to my surroundings.
The small harbor exuded a distinctly fishy odor. Actually,
fish, sea weed, salt, and unwashed men combined into a cacophony of maritime
stench. It was all a bit thrilling. From what I had read in books back home,
the port at Pecia, in Galland, was almost three times the size of this one.
Braddock had slips enough for maybe four or five small ship-to-shore
vessels and, at that moment, the harbor gave port to two ocean-going crafts.
Three tall smoke stacks and a side paddlewheel accompanied LaDonna ’s
sails. She was the larger of the two ships anchored that day. My heart raced
and my breath shortened as I thought about boarding the hulking, steel
contraption. Try to think of it as adventure, instead of escape.
Captain Barilla’s raised voice recaptured my attention.
Gideon elevated his to match. I snickered at the notion that Barilla believed
he might intimidate my guardian. They yelled a bit more and shook hands, reflecting
what had happened with the previous transaction. Perhaps yelling in a foreign
language was standard protocol for booking passage on a ship.
Gideon gave Barilla a small purse of coins, and bent his
neck in a casual bow. Barilla bowed back, and Gideon took me by the elbow and
dragged me back to the horses. He removed our meager baggage and tossed them to
an awaiting ship hand. He didn’t let go of me when he grabbed our horses’ reins
and stalked off toward the central part of town.
“Gideon, stop, you’re hurting me.”
He dropped my elbow like a hot poker, but continued his
march up the sloped street leading away from the water. How did his injuries
withstand the abuse? He seemed not to notice, so I refrained from mentioning it
because his mood had turned even darker than usual.
“What were you and the captain yelling about?” I asked. He
ignored me and increased his pace. “Gideon, what’s the matter? Where are we
going?”
His head jerked around, but did not stop his quick strides,
and looked at me with a blackness I hadn’t seen for our entire journey, not
even the day before
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