DREAMWIELDER Book 1 of The Dreamwielder Chronicles

Chapter 13: THE BOND

With the sun at his back, Parmo could see for miles on the eastern horizon: nothing but blue sea and a few puffy white clouds. They were heading east again, toward the East Islands, as luck would have it. Parmo could still hardly believe it. The captain of Pyrthin's Flame had told Parmo that they would return to Kal Pyrthin afterward, and Parmo readily agreed to work on the ship in exchange for passage. He didn't tell the captain that he meant to stay on the East Islands with Makarria. The man seemed nice enough, but Parmo didn't trust anyone. It would be an easy enough task, and safer for everyone, for Parmo to slip away with Makarria once they were in port in the East Islands.

"Hey there," one of the sailors barked, interrupting Parmo's reverie, "those whippings aren't going to finish themselves."

"Aye, right you are," Parmo said pleasantly enough, but inwardly he cursed the man. I know more about sailing than you and the rest of this fool crew combined. Still, Parmo took pride in his work, and he turned his attention back to the whippings he'd been at all day. There were nearly one hundred and forty lines on Pyrthin's Flame, and the ship still being new, none of the ends had been finished. The captain had tasked Parmo with finishing them all, which involved binding the ends of the three-stranded ropes with an intricate combination of sewing and knotting to keep the ends from unraveling. Parmo was not yet even a quarter of the way done. He picked up his sail-needle with a sigh and tightened the leather palm he wore over his right hand. It was tedious work, but at least it passed the time he figured. He would have preferred to spend his time with Makarria, but the Princess on board had more or less adopted her. Parmo still could not fathom why the Princess was on board in the first place, but he knew better than to ask questions and arouse any suspicion. Just stay quiet and Makarria will tell me all about it when we get safely off ship in the East Islands, he reminded himself.

Makarria, for her part, was having a perfectly wonderful time with Taera. The Princess had helped her bathe the day before when they'd been rescued, then insisted that Makarria stay with her in her cabin. The cabin did not have a particularly comfortable bed by Taera's standards, but to Makarria it was the most luxurious thing she had ever experienced, especially after sleeping in a skiff for the last week or more. Makarria still couldn't believe that she had met a princess. Taera, with her long blond hair and clear blue eyes, was more beautiful than Makarria ever imagined a woman could be. By comparison, Makarria with her brown hair and dark-tanned skin felt like a wretched-looking whelp.

"You don't speak much, do you?" Taera asked her.

Makarria looked up to see Taera staring at her from across the bed where she sat combing her hair. "I don't?"

"No, you're very quiet, and sometimes you're not even listening when I speak. Your eyes see me, but you're somewhere else."

Makarria glanced away, embarrassed. "My mother says that too. She says whenever there's work to do I go off into my own little world."

Taera smiled and rubbed Makarria's shoulder. "Don't worry, I was the same when I was your age."

"Really? Did your mother yell at you too?"

"No. I didn't have my mother around much growing up. She died when I was very young."

Makarria covered her mouth in shock.

"It's alright, sweetie," Taera assured her. "As I said, I was very young and I barely remember her. I was well taken care of. I imagine it's quite different being a farmer than it is being a princess. No one has ever depended on me to milk goats or tend to a garden."