When Wilkes Meets a Girl 3

Wilkes spent the better part of an hour avoiding Hannah, Beatrice, and any possibility of accidentally proposing to another woman. Muttering to himself and staring into a middle distance was a better use of his evening. The tavern proved a perfect location for both endeavors. Ale was simpler than courtship. Ale did not blush. Ale did not ask questions. However, Barry did.

"Lad, I heard your mouth is faster than yer mind, eh?" Barry asked softly, dropping himself onto the stool beside his indirect apprentice. "Blonde yer type then, I reckon?"

"Nah, I prefer darker hair. Hannah was just really sweet and as ye know, I am fond of putting my foot in my mouth."

Barry let out a laugh. A real one for once. Not the mean spirited sort he usually favored.

"Aye, that ye are. Most men spend years learning how to talk to women. You somehow found a way to skip straight to discussing marriage."

Wilkes groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"I wasn't discussing marriage."

"Lad, from what I heard ye told the baker's daughter she'd make a fine wife."

"I said someday."

"Ah, well that changes everythin' then."

The older sailor took a long pull from his mug before setting it down with a dull thunk. For a moment neither spoke. They sat in silence for a moment, as they often did while toiling away.

The tavern buzzed around them. Laughter. Music. The scrape of chairs across old floorboards.

"You know," Barry finally said, staring into his ale, "I met my first wife at this festival."

Wilkes blinked. The statement caught him entirely off guard. "You were married?"

Barry frowned. "What d'ye mean was married? I ain't dead."

"I mean—"

"I know what ye meant." The older sailor waved him off.

"Met her right over there." His calloused finger pointed towards a table near the back, a single candle burning. Near the table, Amy sat with her nose buried in a ledger scrawling away on another parchment. "Thought she was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Hair like copper and eyes as blue as the mornin' sea."

"What happened?"

"Found out she snored loud enough to wake the dead." Barry Snorted

Despite himself, Wilkes laughed. Barry's smile lingered a moment before fading into something softer.

"But she was kind. That's what mattered." The old sailor drummed his fingers against the mug.

"Pretty fades. Excitement fades. The sea'll beat most foolishness outta ye eventually. I gave it a head start at least." His eyes drifted toward the tavern window where lantern light spilled across the square outside. "Kindness sticks."

Wilkes found himself listening more carefully than usual.

"That what happened with Hannah?" Barry asked.

Wilkes thought about golden curls. Flour dust. Nervous laughter. The way her face had lit up whenever he paid attention. "Aye," he admitted quietly.

Barry nodded once.

"Then there are worse mistakes a man can make."

The two sat in silence for a while. Not uncomfortable silence. Just the sort that happened when neither man felt a need to fill it. Finally Barry stood.

"Come on then."

"What?"

"The ceremony's startin' soon. You sitting around in here is only tempting fate." The old sailor adjusted his coat and grunted. "Wouldn't want ye missin' the night ye stop bein' useful cargo and start bein' a sailor."

On the way out Wilkes caught a glance of Amy speaking with the librarian. Thomas, if Wilkes remembered correctly. An older gnomish man. They were rambling about logging predictions given by the Oracle and her apprentice.

By the time he emerged the festival had shifted. The dancing had slowed. Children were being gathered by parents, pulled away from the central square. Apprentices lingered near their respective canopies. Elders began arranging tables for the feast and ceremony to come.

He spotted Erik immediately.

Mostly because the half-elf was standing atop a barrel attempting to explain something profound to three young women and a dog. He spoke as much with his hands as he did his mouth; gesturing wildly and miming a sword fight.

Wilkes decided that problem belonged to the future. Barry stormed off to solve it immediately.

As he crossed the square he passed the oracle's booth. A line had formed before it. Most people wanted a blessing, a fortune, or reassurance that next year's fishing season would be kind. Small things really with the fate weavings at your fingertips.

One young woman sat behind the table with a stack of cards spread before her. She was speaking to a fisherman twice her age. Her tone was gentle but distant. More like she was reciting an old story than active in conversation.

"No, your wife will not kill you." The fisherman visibly relaxed, tensed shoulders dropping like anchors. There was a pause however. "You'll wish she had."

The man looked considerably less relaxed. Wilkes stifled a laugh as he walked by. "Poor bastard." The ale in his belly coaxed out a sympathetic grumble.

The oracle's apprentice didn't even look up, her veil obscuring the majority of her features. Neither of them paid the other much attention. By the time the feast began Wilkes had entirely forgotten about her. The problem was that she apparently had not forgotten about him.

The newly made sailors stood alongside the other apprentices while names were called and duties granted. The village elder droned on. Parents cried, children fidgeted, Erik somehow managed to look hungover and proud at the same time.

When Wilkes's name was finally called he stepped forward. Applause followed.

His mother looked moments away from bursting into tears. Barry looked moments away from pretending he wasn't. Rangpar was stringing some sort of bracelet together. The captain alongside the elders handed Wilkes a small pile of clothing. Trousers, shirt, leather boots, and socks. His work clothes for the foreseeable future. Man enough to be dressed as one now.

That was when he noticed her. Not because she was beautiful and staring up at the stage. No, he noticed her because everyone else in the crowd was watching the ceremony. The oracle's apprentice was watching him. Not the newly given clothing. Not the stage. Him.

The sensation crawled up his spine. Their eyes met, his gray and her green. She pulled off her veil and he saw her in full. For the briefest moment her expression softened. Not surprise. Not curiosity. Recognition.

As though she had finally found something she'd been looking for. Then she smiled. A small thing. Barely there. And somehow impossible to ignore. A tugging in his chest drew him toward her, but he was ushered off the stage and lost sight of her in the crowd.

Wilkes immediately scanned the crowd for her. His eyes moved from face to face like he was casting a net.. He chanted what he could remember in his mind.

'Eyes like the sea, hair like the night sky.' He burned as much of her face into his mind as he could. 'Skin that was freckled heavily from working in the market sun. A nose slightly upturned. Heart shaped face.' Even as he recounted everything, no name came to mind.

He had survived Beatrice. He had survived Hannah. He was not prepared for mysterious smiling women.