Rob Scott - The Larion Senators

When she finally reached their table, Brexan doled out the trenchers and the bread then carefully put the gravy bowl in the centre where everyone could reach it. Laughing to herself, she said, ‘Well, that was tricky. I’m glad you didn’t order the soup.’

‘This looks delicious,’ Captain Ford complimented her. ‘Did you make it?’

Brexan laughed out loud and covered her face with both hands as if embarrassed. ‘Sorry,’ she giggled, ‘but, ahem, no – you’d know it was mine if all the locals were lined up outside with buckets while women and children leaped to safety from the upstairs windows.’

He smiled back. ‘Please give my thanks to the cook, in that case.’

‘And bring three more beers,’ Marrin cut in.

‘You must be thirsty,’ Brexan said.

‘I am a lot of things.’ The inebriated sailor tried to guess her age; he figured she couldn’t be over two hundred Twinmoons, close enough to his own age for a sexual foray to be entirely acceptable.

Brexan glanced at Ford, who sighed and said, ‘We let him out of the basement from time to time; it seems like the humane thing to do.’

‘I understand,’ Brexan said. ‘I used to work with- well, a group of men, and-’ Realising her mistake, Brexan tried to back away from discussion of her time in the Malakasian Army, ‘Well, they were… You know-’ She decided to stop digging any further and hoped they’d put it down to shyness.

‘See that?’ Marrin was smug. ‘She’s speechless.’

Sera winced. ‘Please, if you know what’s best for you, run, run fast!’

‘Let me ask you something,’ Marrin said to Brexan, who nodded slowly.

Are you attached to any man right now? Are you married, or into anything serious?’

Brexan thought of Versen, and while she expected to feel sadness – memories of him usually brought on her depression – she surprised herself by smiling. ‘Yes, I suppose I am. Why?’

‘Excellent, truly.’ Marrin finished his beer. ‘Of course, I don’t want this to interfere with you bringing me drinks until my friend here is checking me for a heartbeat.’

‘I understand.’

‘Outstanding.’ Marrin thought for a moment, then asked, ‘When he’s not around, do you ever think about other men, you know, in that way?’

Brexan didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course I do – but not about you.’

‘Aha! See, I told you, Ford, you old- What was that?’ Marrin sat up ramrod-straight, looking as if he had been slapped.

‘I said, yes, but not about you, sorry.’

Sera laughed and clapped, spilling a bit of burning pipe tobacco into her lap. ‘You are without doubt the best scullery-maid in the whole of the Eastlands; I don’t doubt it. Please take the rest of the night off and stay here with us. Ford will pay you; just keep going like you’re going. This is better entertainment than we’d ever find in town.’

‘I’d love to, honestly,’ Brexan replied, ‘but Nedra is on her own tonight, and as you can see, we’re rather busy.’

‘You have truly glorious tits, my dear,’ Marrin said.

Captain Ford finally lost his temper and reached over and cuffed the young sailor hard around the head, but so enamoured was he that the boy didn’t appear to notice.

Brexan didn’t miss a step. ‘They’re all right, I suppose, although they do look much better when you’ve had more to drink. So let me get those beers, before I have to drag you out back and smack the piss out of you.’

Ford and Sera nearly collapsed with hysterical laughter as Marrin watched the fiery young woman move towards the bar.

‘Do you think she’d marry me?’ he asked.

‘Well, now that you’ve made such an impression,’ Sera replied, ‘I don’t see how she could turn you down.’

‘Good,’ he said, ‘I’ll ask her when she comes back. We could stand the tides tomorrow; you two could be witnesses.’

‘Sadly, Marrin, I have other plans tomorrow,’ Ford said, deciding to ignore his paunch for the night and dive into the potatoes.

‘Work, work, work,’ Marrin said, ‘Captain, you ought to think about what I said.’

‘What? All that drivel about tits?’

Marrin raised a finger to make his point. ‘First, yes, of course, and second, you should never use the word drivel when talking about my advice on the opposite sex.’

Sera interrupted, ‘Marrin, you don’t have an opposite sex.’

‘No one likes you,’ he shot back, then to Ford, added, ‘that girl, our own tavern girl, right here in Orindale… think about it, Captain. I saw the way she was looking at you.’

‘Yes,’ Ford agreed, ‘like a fat old uncle here with his two unruly children.’

Marrin mumbled, ‘He has such little faith in my teachings. It’s sad, really.’

‘Eat your dinner, Marrin.’ Sera tapped out her pipe.

‘But he could have her, Sera,’ Marrin insisted. ‘You could, Captain.’

Ford looked at the bar where Brexan was delivering food and drink to Nella Barkson’s extended family. ‘Her?’ he said. ‘Somehow I doubt it, Marrin.’

The following morning, Captain Ford went down to breakfast alone. Not surprisingly, Marrin and Sera had decided to sleep in.

Brexan brought a flagon of hot tecan over to him. ‘Good morning. Bread and cheese?’

‘Please,’ Captain Ford said, then thought of his weight. No cheese, just a bit of fruit, if you have it. I’m away from home too much; I get to eating things I shouldn’t.’

‘You look healthy enough to me,’ Brexan said.

‘I’ve the poor lighting in here to thank for that! And good morning too, by the way. I’m sorry about my friend last night. When he drinks, he thinks he’s funny and we usually end up wiping the floor with him; it’s never pretty. He was rude, and I hope he apologises when he comes down.’ Ford kept his eyes locked on the girl’s; he was not about to get caught sneaking a look at her body.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Brexan said. ‘Working in a place like this, I hear it all. Is that your ship out on the flats?’

‘You’re asking because it’s low tide.’ He’d been captain of the Morning Star for almost half his life, and the old boat didn’t merit a second glance when afloat, but when listing dangerously to port on a mudflat, it made quite a conversation piece.

‘Well, I guess so, yes,’ Brexan flushed. ‘Do you always leave it like that?’

‘Nope,’ Ford inhaled the aroma then sipped his tecan, ‘just when I’m watching the Mareks. It doesn’t cost anything to anchor up here.’

Brexan looked out of the front window. The port gunwale was nearly resting on the mud; had the sails not been tightly reefed, they would have been stained the colour of mud by now. ‘I can’t imagine why.’

Ford laughed. ‘I guess you’re right. Who would pay for that? But when the tide comes in, she’ll be back on her feet, ready to go. She doesn’t draft much; she’s small, even for a brig-sloop. So we won’t even need to kedge off; there’s plenty of tide up here.’ He tried not to feel embarrassed at the condition of his ship, keel-naked in the mud. He was her captain; he knew what he was doing.

‘Where are you going next?’

‘Southport, if I can find anything to transport.’

Brexan’s brow furrowed. ‘You’re here without a cargo?’

‘No, we delivered a load of lumber to a builder in Strandson, but we didn’t have a return shipment. I decided to make the run on the off-chance we’d find something here. I know a few people; I’ll see if I can’t underbid someone. Like I said, she’s not very big, so we don’t get a lot of heavy commercial business, nothing from Malakasia is what I mean. Mostly, we make the run between Orindale and South-port; it’s not very exciting, but the scenery is good.’