EachstepArkennstrolledaway added more weight to Petran’s heart. Finally, he took two steps forward, then stopped. His responsibilities lay elsewhere—for now.
At least the coins might make life easier until Arkenn got on his feet.
Petran should have gone with his friend, save Da the trouble of leaving him behind, but no. Pirate Da might be, but Petran wouldn’t willingly part company. His father also made clear that Petran didn’t belong in this city.
Somehow, this wasn’t the last he’d see of Arkenn. Clear down in his soul, Petran felt a bond, a connection. One day the insistent pull would lead them back to each other.
Or so he believed, for thinking otherwise might be too much to bear. He rubbed the scar on his shoulder.
Not being on land much, especially not in a city of this size, Petran took his time returning to the ship. He wouldn’t be called on for watch until nightfall. Hopefully, Arkenn would have found a place to stay by then. Safe. He must be kept safe.
Petran wasn’t typically one for prayer, but he clutched his mother’s amulet. “Father, keep him under your protection,” he murmured. A shadow fell across his path. He jumped. Pickpockets wouldn’t take him unawares.
The figure all in brown had him backing away. A hood hid the person’s face, and not an inch of skin showed, even on this warm day. Gloves showed instead of hands.
“You’ve nothing to fear from me.” The man’s voice rumbled pleasantly.
Ah. A priest of the Father. Had the Father heard Petran’s prayer? “You’re a priest, right?”
“I am. I’m here to tell you that the Father heard your prayer. He will take care of your friend.”
Talk about fast! Petran had barely gotten the words out. “Th… thank you.”
“The Father doesn’t need words to know what’s on your heart,” the priest explained. So how had he known Petran’s question? “You’ll see him again, but now isn’t the time.”
Petran’s heart soared. “I will?”
“Yes, but only when the time is right.”
“When will that be?”
“You both have journeys to take first. Yours will be hard, but you won’t be alone. Keep heart. Stay strong. You’ll be exactly where you were meant to be.”
A shout came from behind. Petran looked away for a mere moment. When he turned back around, the priest was gone. He couldn’t have gotten far. Petran raced up the street and back down, but no priest.
How strange for the man to suddenly appear and disappear just as quickly. Mulling the words over in his mind didn’t help Petran figure out what the priest meant. In the end, he’d cling to the promise that he’d see Arkenn again.
Petran roamed the streets, peeking in shops at their wares or watching passersby. Maybe he shouldn’t have said goodbye so soon, but waiting would only have been harder after a day spent together, showing him and Arkenn a taste of what they couldn’t have.
Not now.
Petran found himself wanting to show Arkenn a beautiful pottery bowl or a scabbard of carved leather and find out which pieces his friend liked best.
His friend. He had a friend.
Most of the people Petran met took one look at him and shuffled away with something akin to horror on their faces. Barefoot, in worn breeches and a simple shirt, didn’t set him apart from many of the children playing games in an alley, but his matted hair and sun-bronzed skin marked him as an outsider.
Not everyone harshly judged his looks, particularly not the kind-faced woman who’d swapped a coin for a meat pie from her pushcart, throwing in a peach crumble because he “looked like he needed some meat on his bones.” Climbing riggings and subsisting primarily on fish didn’t exactly make one fat.
The sun sank lower on the horizon. No more putting off the inevitable. Petran turned back toward the sound of bells as the ships in the harbor gently rocked on the waves. The always present seabirds shrieked overhead, and above all, the scent of salt spray spoke of home.
Home. His heart gave a painful squeeze. Arkenn. Petran would take comfort in the priest’s words. Da waited. Petran had a job to do and would perform each task to the best of his ability. He might not earn an equal share with the crew of all the spoils they acquired, but he’d be comfortable when he did stay ashore.
He climbed the wooden walkway to the docks.
“Unhand him!” an angry woman snarled.
The distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh made him wince. “Shut your thieving mouth, witch.”
