It took a week and a half to repair the mast and the sails.
But the beautiful part was that Marin didn’t have to pay for it, or even lift a finger. Surot was so pleased that they’d figured out what Keva wanted to hoard that she instructed the local shipwright to make Marin happy.
At first there was a bit of confusion, wherein the shipwright misinterpreted what Surot meant, and Marin had to calm a very irate shipwright’s husband, but once that was sorted out, construction began. A spruce tree was chopped down, branches sliced off, and bark stripped away. After that, the local metalsmith was roped into creating new winches, and undamaged lines were donated by a lobster fisher. A man who was lauded as deft with a needle was tasked with creating a patchwork sail out of the remnants of her sail and leftovers from other damaged sails.
While the villagers swarmed over the deck, Marin scrubbed and patched the hull. There was minimal structural damage, but a ton of scrapes and gashes. As she worked, the enchanted moorings called out advice:
“Eh, you should be using a softer cloth.”
“Don’t be daft—she’s got to sand it first.”
A third said, “You missed a spot.”
“Don’t bother her, Mauris. Can’t you see she’s busy?”
“You’re bothering her,” the mooring named Mauris said.
Loftily, the other mooring said, “I am giving expert advice.”
“Only thing you’re an expert on is seagull shit.”
“I heard that!”
“You were meant to!”
Ignoring them, Marin continued on.
Inside the cabin, everything had been tossed about wildly on the ship’s flight through the storm. Ree worked beside her to restore everything, and occasionally Dax joined them. Mostly, though, Dax stayed up on the mountain, composing music for the dragon Keva.
Marin missed him more than she wanted to think about. It was disconcerting: he hadn’t always been a part of her crew, and she shouldn’t have become accustomed to his presence so quickly. But every time she finished a task, she caught herself looking around from him, hoping to catch his smile. Every time she did it, she shook herself and reminded herself he was temporary. That was why they weren’t going to kiss again. She couldn’t help feeling, though, that she’d waited too long to be careful with her heart.
At last, it was finished, and the shipwright pronounced it perfect (and the shipwright’s husband pronounced the shipwright perfect, after which Surot had pointedly offered them both a room at the Silver Dragon Inn). Marin stood on the dock with her hands on her hips and surveyed it. Beside her, Ree said with a sigh, “Itisperfect.”
She agreed. Her sails were still silver but they were a patchwork of different shades of silver, from pale near-white to a slate-gray silver. The mast had been stained a starless-sky black, and the hull was painted blue, darkest where there were once gashes. It was the same ship, but… it had scars now, and the scars were beautiful. All this beauty… it had to cost more than the knowledge that a particular dragon liked music. Specifically, Dax’s music.
A sudden thought occurred to her.
What if theyweren’tsatisfied with just knowing what Keva wanted to hoard?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Surot come stand beside her. “Our artisans did a magnificent job, didn’t they?”
I’m just being paranoid.
The headwoman had been nothing but kind and helpful.
On the other hand, she’d also made it clear that the dragons were her priority.
“Just to be clear,” Marin said. “Are you going to try to force Dax to stay here? Make him keep playing for your dragon?”
Ree let out an“Eep!”
“I beg your pardon,” Surot said, shocked. “Of course not.”
She sounded sincere, as well as offended. Marin didn’t relent. If she was out of line, she’d apologize when they were underway, sails billowing and the island fading into the distance. “We’re not leaving him behind.”
“What kind of people do you think we are?” Surot asked.
Marin shrugged. There was no good way to answer that. She didn’t think Surot would believe her if she tried to explain it wasn’t personal.
