Artham was in a daze when he entered the cottage with Nugget yipping at his heels. Podo and the children stopped mid conversation when he did, asking him various questions about his empty sack and success in catching any thwaps. He didn’t respond immediately, but rather peered into the pot of porridge over the stove and winced.
“No, I did not catch any,” he answered, taking his seat across from Podo.
“I swear an old woman can catch the little stinkers better,” Podo murmured beneath his breath as he scooped a glop of porridge from his bowl. It dripped as he pointed the spoon at each of the children. “Eat. It’s gonna be busy today.”
“The sea dragons!” All three of them cried in unison.
“The summer dusk hath split in twain the gilded summer moon, and all who come shall hear again the golden dragons’ tune,” Artham recited after them. “Podo’s right. Your chores and T.H.A.G.S. can wait.”
The children cheered.
“Janner, lad,” Podo continued, “I want ye to keep an eye out for those Fangs. They’ll be especially riled today with us happy Skreeans millin’ about.”
“Yes, sir.” Janner’s expression quickly soured as his brows furrowed, and he stared at his steaming bowl of porridge, still untouched.
Caution stirred in Artham’s chest. He knew that look well; he had seen it on his nephew’s face many times. He understood better than Janner would ever know.
“Yer uncle and I won’t always be there to watch over ye three,” Podo went on. “The eldest has a noble responsibility —”
“Of being a nanny, I know,” Janner huffed, his cheeks reddening. “You’ve told me this every day of my life, and I’m pretty sure I get it by now. It means I have to keep an eye on Tink and Leeli and never do what I want to do.”
Tink smiled a precocious grin and tried to hide his laughter before Janner elbowed him. There was a brief tussle between them before Podo stood, gripping the sides of the table with his enormous hands.
“Janner —” Artham started calmly, trying to diffuse Podo’s wrath before things were carried away.
“If my parents were still alive, they would understand,” Janner continued, his words coming out in a stuttering rush. “But neither of you let me have any freedom. I’m always watched over, always being told what to do. I just don’t want to be chained to my siblings for the rest of my life!”
The tense air thickened. Podo was still for a few moments, gazing at the table with his brows furrowed.
Artham stood. “Podo —”
The old pirate held up his hand, his head still lowered.
“Tink, Leeli, put your dishes away and get dressed,” Artham instructed quietly.
The two obeyed and shut their bedroom door behind them with concerned glances. The cottage was silent for several painstaking moments.
“Ye know we love you, Janner,” Podo said, his tone softer.
Janner slowly nodded, averting his eyes.
“Yer uncle and I swore to yer parents to raise you how they would, and to protect ye with our lives,” Podo explained, sorrow colouring his face as he seated himself again. “And Maker knows we’re not perfect.”
“We understand you better than you might think,” Artham added, gathering the rest of the dishes and silverware from the table. “Sometimes your world feels too small for the ideas in your head, doesn’t it?”
Janner took a deep breath as though preparing himself. Still keeping his gaze down, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. And without a word, he unfolded it and spread it across the table.
Artham’s heart stopped.
Hot tears blurred his vision, and his guilt writhed in the pit of his stomach. Artham remembered this sketch — the one of the boy on the sailboat with the ocean dancing around him. It was beautiful and disturbingly lifelike, drawn by a methodical and artistic hand.
“Is this — Esben?” Janner hesitated to utter his father’s name.
Artham shook. His entire body trembled as an onslaught of anxiety, sorrow, grief, and regret crashed over him. He couldn’t control the tears streaming down his cheeks as he choked back a sob. This simple act conjured too many emotions, too many memories.
“Yes,” Podo nodded. “And Esben wanted nothin’ more than fer you to sail yer own seas, and I know you will one day. But now is not the time fer sailin’. The Maker has called you here, laddie. You’re meant to be here.”
Janner looked at his uncle and grandfather with tears, unsure how to respond. He nodded, glancing down at the sketch again. Hundreds of emotions swirled in his irises and he took a deep breath.
“Yes, sir,” was all Janner could say as he folded the picture and carefully slipped it back into his pocket.
“Now you run along,” Podo said. “Yer uncle’s gonna take ye three into town. I’ve got some chores to take care of.”
Excitement ignited in Janner’s face as he stood. But his smile was quickly doused.
Artham had his back to them, his arms pulled close to his chest with his head bowed. He made no noise, no sound, no indication he heard either of them. A tangible anguish enshrouded him like a dark cloud.
“Uncle Artham?” Janner asked slowly.
Artham’s head whipped up as he turned. His blue eyes were wide and his cheeks stained with tears. Anguish was written all over his face.
“Go get your siblings,” he said quietly with a soft smile. “Let’s go to the festival.”
That was SO good!! 😭 Thank you for writing!