Boys To Men
Roalis, 2705
Old Rose Harbor
Life was good, to Ross’s way of thinking. He smirked happily as he hopped over the gunwale, onto the sandy beach. Newk was snoring away in the bow, a stoneware jug of porter tucked safely in the crook of his elbow, its contents greatly diminished since he’d purchased it some hours before. With the old smuggler bound to be sawing logs until well past dawn, the young smuggler was at liberty to do as he pleased during those same, glorious, star filled hours. Ross hurried along the strand, his night vision now grown so accustomed to functioning in the dark that he could move with the grace and stealth of a cat.
There was no need for a lantern. The half moon above made it like unto day, for a boy whose activities were largely conducted by her helpful glow. The edges of the harbor town lay no more than a half mile away, and it would take him no time to reach its fabled streets. Muddy, sandy, filthy, strewn with the refuse of businesses, homes and humanity alike, to Ross, they beckoned all the same as if they were paved with gold. In those streets, he could find the tantalizing, mystifying and satisfying – drink, entertainment, gambling, tobacco, and women! Everything a boy right on the cusp of manhood could lust for was to be had in Old Rose. And in the hours he had to search them out, he meant to indulge in as much as he had the ready means to buy.
The coins were even his, as accorded to him by Ol’ Newk. Wages for six months of grunt work and lean living. Ross’s intent was to spend as much of it as he could, for what fifteen year old ever thought of thrift and saving? He wanted nothing to do with new clothes, or handy gadgets or weapons, even. He and his mentor were the smallest of small time operators. He wouldn’t know what to do with a sword if someone stuck one in his hand. No, he meant to enjoy himself and that would be the very best use of his hard earned coin, in his opinion.
The breeze coming off the ocean was gentle on this summer night, playfully lifting up strands of his hair and caressing his cheeks like a lover. The day had been hot, and he had roasted, keeping guard over the boat, while Newk plied his illicit business in town. But the air had cooled, and the sweat that had Ross’s shirt sticking to his back had dried. Barefoot and ragged, anyone who might have noticed him as he reached the outskirts of Redwine must have surely hoped he would pass right through and not loiter about, looking for a likely mark to harass, or rob! He obliged, and didn’t stop in the relative quiet of that neighborhood but passed quickly into Voedale, and from thence to the Cat’s Paw.
Now here he was unremarked and unremarkable. If he’d had any better outward signs of even minimal financial prosperity, he would certainly have become a victim of some forcible theft himself. As it was, he looked just like any number of other cabin boys or young sailors that shipped aboard the multitudinous vessels that came and went every day from the harbor. If Ross had been one such, he might have been a bit more savvy to the likelihood of success of his plans – for he had a very specific destination in mind, one which Newk had often spoken about. If he hadn’t been so naïve in his longing to taste of the fruits of vine and willing women alike, he might have set his sites a far bit lower, and headed towards a more modest establishment. But he was ignorant, and filled to the brim with Ol’ Newk’s stories about the Mad Queen. Like the greenest greenhorn, young Ross thought that was the place for him. Well, could be he would find out otherwise.
Eyes alight and heart beating fast, he paused in his hurried steps when she hove into view. What a magnificent sight! He smiled stupidly and hurried forward, hand in pocket, fingers gripped about the coins there, ready to pay to have the time of his young life.
