Chapter 70 #2
So they lugged their belongings down the entire length of the boardwalk to the wooden archway that signaled the end of the town and the beginning of the Library of Xandria estate.
Absolutely drenched with sweat, Millie soldiered on under the weight of her luggage and supplies down the rocky, uneven, meandering path that dropped off sheerly on either side.
As if a rocky bruising wasn’t enough of a threat should she slip, the obscene amount of thorns from the beach roses and the pointy leaves of the sea holly promised a good and thorough stabbing on her tumble down into the sea, where she would inevitably drown, dragged down to the depths from the weight of the various bags strung about her person.
Dirk helped as best he could with a discreet levitating breeze, as weak as it was, for he couldn’t risk discovery, not even here in the shadow of the dragonlore library.
At the end of the path, the iron door of the library was bolted shut, and a sign hanging from a nearby peg said it would open at nine.
Two hours from now. A ‘No Loitering’ sign made it clear they could not sit down and wait.
Millie kept her chin high as she turned around and began the slogging trek back to the boardwalk.
“You could help her with the bags, you know,” Dirk hissed into Bradley’s ear.
“I know.” But he didn’t, plodding easily along after the princess.
When she reached the smooth, even planks of the boardwalk, Millie shed her burden and collapsed down beside it to attack one of the waterskins.
Mid-guzzle, the smell of something fresh and sizzling wafted past her nose.
Her stomach had long ago burned away the fuel of the soaked oats, and presently it snarled and twisted with hunger.
She turned, a few runnels of precious water dripping down her chin, and spied an older gentleman near the end of the pier hunched over a little charcoal grill.
“Hey, you can’t just abandon our stuff here,” Bradley called after her as she hurried down the planks. Growling, he fisted all the straps in a single hand and strode after her.
“Excuse me, sir,” Millie said when she was close enough, “what are you grilling? It smells marvelous.”
“Eels, miss. Jerry and I caught ’em just this morning.”
The man’s companion, who was in the middle of unloading a small rowboat, paused to touch a finger to his red knit hat.
“Don’t normally catch eel ’round these parts, but when you do, it’s gonna be good eatin’,” the first man continued.
“So good Nash’s gotta cook it up straight away instead of helping unload the boat,” Jerry ribbed. “Even though my arthritis is worse than his.”
“You won’t be so salty when you’ve got a skewer of this juicy goodness stuck in your mouth. Now did I forget my bottle of secret sauce at home, or is it down there with you?”
“I’ve never had eel,” Millie said. “Would you gentlemen be adverse to sharing your meal with us? We have plenty of our own provisions to share.” She gestured to Bradley, who had just arrived with all their luggage, including the picnic basket.
“Yeah?” Nash’s bushy eyebrows rose. “What you got in that fancy picnic basket, miss?”
After a short time, in which Bradley helped unload the boat with Jerry, Nash layered a skewer of barbecued eel across each bowl of rice and gave it an extra drizzle of the dark sweet-and-salty basting sauce. Millie moaned as the first bite of succulent flesh slipped past her teeth.
“Told ya.” Nash grinned. “But it’s the secret sauce that truly makes it.”
“Fancies himself a chef, he does,” Jerry teased.
“A right better one than that snotty tall-hat at the Crystal, that’s for sure. He’d serve you a sliver of this no wider than your thumb and demand a silver for a pleasure.”
“He’d demand a silver for this little morsel, too,” Jerry agreed, peeling the bumpy red rind away from a fruit and tossing it into the water for the fishes to investigate. “What’s this called again?”
“Lychee,” Dirk supplied begrudgingly.
Nash rose, sucking the grease and sauce from his fingers. “Well, pleasure supping with you folks this morning, but I’d best be getting this skate cleaned if we’re gonna have any supper tonight. Jerry, I’ll have your cut tomorrow as always.”
“And I’ll double-check it, too.” Chuckling, Jerry climbed the ladder back into the boat and picked up the oars.
“Jerry!” Millie shot to her feet. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, just down there yonder, to the lighthouse. Me and Nash have the Library of Xandria’s fishing contract,” he said proudly.
“Could I prevail upon you for a ride? We’re headed back that way, I’ve never been in a boat before—”
“Never had eel, never been in a boat—lots of nevers for you, miss.”
She flushed. “We don’t have eel and seas where I’m from. It’s all so new and exciting. So, a ride? I can pay in coin, or perhaps teacakes?”
Jerry’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his red hat. “Teacakes? Why, that sounds like something fancy the Crystal would serve, Nash, dontcha think? Reckon I’d like to try one of those.”
“Me, too,” Nash said. “If you don’t mind, miss.”
“Not at all.”
Dirk whimpered softly. First his beloved lychees, now she was offering up his beloved teacakes. Dirk was glad Duchess wasn’t here, lest Millie trade away his favorite cat.
“Spank me with a spyglass,” Jerry groaned as he tasted a teacake. “That’s fantastic.”
“Jer, we got a lady present. An’ a fine baker at that.” He bobbed a nod at Millie.
She flushed. “Oh, I’m not a baker—”
“I reckon one of these teacakes is worth a ride for you and your friends.” Jerry jerked his chin towards the apprentice. “If that big one doesn’t mind helping if the arthritis acts up.”
The fisherman gestured them inside the gently bobbing boat, holding out his hand to help Millie.
The moment she set foot upon the bench, Millie’s stomach lurched. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, stifling a burp, and gave Jerry a weak smile. “Just some indigestion.”
“Eel can be a bit rich to those unaccustomed to it,” he agreed.
She sat, tense as her stomach continued to sway, hand perched lightly upon the gunwale.
When Bradley joined them, the boat rocking under the addition of new weight, her stomach threw itself into her throat like a squirrel escaping a house fire by scampering up the chimney—frantic, panicked, and determined to get out.
“No,” she whined. “No, noooo—”
The rowboat wobbled as Jerry took a step forward to place a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Miss?”
Millie heaved her breakfast into the sea. And last night’s supper. And yesterday’s afternoon tea.
“Blimey,” Jerry exclaimed, pitching back and stimulating another volley from Millie’s stomach.
She did not stop retching until Bradley manhandled her up onto the pier and rolled over onto her side.
“Millie.” Dirk fanned her quickly. “Oh, Bradley, what do we do? Have you ever seen a face turn that green before?”
Millie spat the bile from her mouth and pushed herself upright on shaking arms into a seated position.
Jerry gave her a woeful look. “Sorry to say it, miss, but it seems you’re a landlubber through and through.”
“A-a what?”
“You have acute seasickness,” Bradley translated.
“But she wants to be a pirate,” Dirk sputtered. “How can she be a pirate if she can’t set foot in a boat?”
“A what?” It was Jerry’s turn to sputter. “Pirate? Good-day to you all.” He shoved away from the pier with an oar and rowed faster than any old man with arthritis had any right to do.
No. Millie wiped the yellow-tinged spittle away from her mouth with her wrist. No.
The sunlight of what had promised to be a wondrous day blackened as the apprentice crouched down in front of her.
Months ago, Bradley would have laughed in her face. But now, his blue eyes bore into hers with a strange intensity. “What are you going to do now, Tula?”