We shall not cease from exploring
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time
-T.S Elliot
On a clear, bright day such as this Santuario Harbour rarely saw much traffic. Yet today was an exception. The usually calm waters were crowded with shipping. Stately clippers from Ciodad crossed yards with blowsy old cogs from the far north and compact Elethian schooners. There was even a galleon lurking near the mouth of the Harbour, ostensibly harmless. Crowded almost out of the water, the local fishing caravels and brigs appeared small and insignificant, overshadowed by the tall ships. The briny smell of the harbour was laced with the stench of rotting fish and seaweed, as well as the more pleasing aroma of exotic Elethian spices and other foreign delicacies.
The docks were bustling with activity. Young seamen worked alongside grizzled old sailors tossing barrels and sacks and easing more fragile cargo up out of the hatches and down to their waiting comrades. The splashings and muted groanings of ships at anchor played counterpart to the lusty bellowing of commands, and good-natured jests among sailors.
Evie was perched comfortably on a thatched rooftop overhanging the harbourmaster's doorway. From that vantage point she could easily hear the heated arguments peppered with foreign curses that drifted out the open door. Feria Luna week. The craziest season in Santuario. Forget unpredictable summer storms, Feria Luna week could turn even shore life up- side-down.
The girl was wrenched from her day-dreaming by a hoarse shout, punctuated with shrill yelling. A scuffle was taking place down on the shoreline where Santuarian fishermen were sorting their catch. She trained her grey eyes in that direction, trying to make out the source of the disturbance.
Even as she watched her questions were answered. A skinny child, sex indeterminate, erupted from the crush of people, a slippery bream clutched to its chest. Feet skidding frantically across the pebbled stretch of beach, it reached the cobbled street front and picked up speed. It darted away like a minnow, instantly out of sight.
Evie clucked her tongue as she scrambled to her knees. It was but the work of a few moments to half-jump off the sagging rear veranda, long skinny legs eating up the ground, as she set off hot in pursuit. The girl took a path parallel to the small troublemaker's. It was more the advantage of longer legs and greater muscle structure than any true speed or agility that found her cutting slightly in front of the child. She slowed down and reached out an arm to catch it as it barrelled past.
'There's no one following!' she gasped.
'Vie!' some relief evident, 'Look what I got us!'
Evie straightened up, glancing around to check no Soldados were patrolling. 'That's great Charli. That should feed about two of us.' Measured up the bream. A modest sized catch. Worth maybe 6 shards. Sighed in exasperation. 'There were too many men around today, you shouldn't have risked it.'
The two reached a solid door, good wood, but the red paint was faded and peeling from the weather. Evie recovered her key and forestalled any of her sister's protestations that she 'got it though, right?' by embarking on a detailed account of a brand-new schooner the Mulleys were commissioning from an Elethian ship-builder, arrived that very day for Feria Luna week.
Charli listened dutifully but was rescued by the clamour of a baby's yelling. Thom, their youngest brother, was eager for his dinner and everyone was being told about it.
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time
-T.S Elliot
On a clear, bright day such as this Santuario Harbour rarely saw much traffic. Yet today was an exception. The usually calm waters were crowded with shipping. Stately clippers from Ciodad crossed yards with blowsy old cogs from the far north and compact Elethian schooners. There was even a galleon lurking near the mouth of the Harbour, ostensibly harmless. Crowded almost out of the water, the local fishing caravels and brigs appeared small and insignificant, overshadowed by the tall ships. The briny smell of the harbour was laced with the stench of rotting fish and seaweed, as well as the more pleasing aroma of exotic Elethian spices and other foreign delicacies.
The docks were bustling with activity. Young seamen worked alongside grizzled old sailors tossing barrels and sacks and easing more fragile cargo up out of the hatches and down to their waiting comrades. The splashings and muted groanings of ships at anchor played counterpart to the lusty bellowing of commands, and good-natured jests among sailors.
Evie was perched comfortably on a thatched rooftop overhanging the harbourmaster's doorway. From that vantage point she could easily hear the heated arguments peppered with foreign curses that drifted out the open door. Feria Luna week. The craziest season in Santuario. Forget unpredictable summer storms, Feria Luna week could turn even shore life up- side-down.
The girl was wrenched from her day-dreaming by a hoarse shout, punctuated with shrill yelling. A scuffle was taking place down on the shoreline where Santuarian fishermen were sorting their catch. She trained her grey eyes in that direction, trying to make out the source of the disturbance.
Even as she watched her questions were answered. A skinny child, sex indeterminate, erupted from the crush of people, a slippery bream clutched to its chest. Feet skidding frantically across the pebbled stretch of beach, it reached the cobbled street front and picked up speed. It darted away like a minnow, instantly out of sight.
Evie clucked her tongue as she scrambled to her knees. It was but the work of a few moments to half-jump off the sagging rear veranda, long skinny legs eating up the ground, as she set off hot in pursuit. The girl took a path parallel to the small troublemaker's. It was more the advantage of longer legs and greater muscle structure than any true speed or agility that found her cutting slightly in front of the child. She slowed down and reached out an arm to catch it as it barrelled past.
'There's no one following!' she gasped.
'Vie!' some relief evident, 'Look what I got us!'
Evie straightened up, glancing around to check no Soldados were patrolling. 'That's great Charli. That should feed about two of us.' Measured up the bream. A modest sized catch. Worth maybe 6 shards. Sighed in exasperation. 'There were too many men around today, you shouldn't have risked it.'
The two reached a solid door, good wood, but the red paint was faded and peeling from the weather. Evie recovered her key and forestalled any of her sister's protestations that she 'got it though, right?' by embarking on a detailed account of a brand-new schooner the Mulleys were commissioning from an Elethian ship-builder, arrived that very day for Feria Luna week.
Charli listened dutifully but was rescued by the clamour of a baby's yelling. Thom, their youngest brother, was eager for his dinner and everyone was being told about it.