CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: DOGPILE
Fawkes returned to his supper, then went out onto a bench to enjoy his second mug of ale. His thoughts kept pondering about the Hand. His worry they had been after Bristol and not just Boatessa was gone. Now he felt sure they were up to something else. But, what could they be doing that involved fishing boats? Did they need them for this meet happening soon? He was still puzzling it over when Bristol returned from town right at sunset.
"Hear I got you to thank for savin' Boatessa from the Hand." The old fisherman hefted his full shopping basket. Putur stomped past him with two full baskets of his own and joined his brothers.
"Lemme put this away and I'll buy you a drink or two at Cragjumpers." Bristol offered.
Fawkes blinked. He was not all that enthused about leaving the Gosling. What if the —
Loud voices shouted from the dockyard. Over a dozen fishermen were jabbing their fists in the air as they marched to the now empty low dock. Their voices turned into full shouts. A knife flashed in the setting sunlight. Grugir, Putur, and Hynk, the third brother, strode past Bristol with their turtling spears and joined the angry fishermen.
Things were looking to get real ugly. Anyone foolish to try and take a boat now would be lucky to escape with their life. As the fishers milled about, more than one pulled out a bottle and started passing it around. Men put away their knives and started to find places to lounge about while making sure all the docks were blocked. An angry soon-to-be drunk mob just waiting for a fool to try for the rest of the boats
Fawkes grimaced. He did not want to be dragged into whatever trouble their bubbling anger might decide to do. Going for a celebratory drink with Bristol would not be seen as a betrayal to the fishers and a poke in the eye to the Hand who started this mess.
The Gosling and every boat out here was safe tonight. I could do with seeing Shryi while she worked. "Sounds good." He gulped down some ale. Not that I will dare that too much, with her father and brothers about.
Bristol grinned and went to his boat.
Finishing his ale, Fawkes stood up and turned to PeyPey and JuJu. "Might be best if you both stay aboard the Gosling while I'm with Bristol."
The two dogs looked at each other then back at Fawkes. PeyPey shook his head with a snort and JuJu went to sit right in front of the young man. He let out a low firm bark then looked towards the dock. Turning his head back to Fawkes, he stamped a paw.
PeyPey moved towards the back.
"I am the skipper of this keelboat. I am supposed to be in char -- hey!"
JuJu jumped up and pushed Fawkes backward, tumbling him onto PeyPey's back where he then slid to the deck face up. Both dogs proceeded to lick his face, wagging their tails.
Bristol, done putting his shopping away, stepped back onto the dock and roared with laughter at the sight.
"Sto --- gah -- behav -- ack!" Fawkes sputtered as he tried to block them and failed miserably. "Fine -- ugh -- you win!"
The dogs stopped licking his face and, tails still wagging, flopped on him in a dogpile for cuddles.
"Ooof ..." Fawkes wheezed out then laughed as he petted them. It took a minute, but he did manage to untangle himself and stand up. Straightening his clothes, he joined Bristol on the deck with JuJu who was ready to lead the way to Cragjumpers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: CRAGJUMPERS
Fishermen, mostly the older ones, packed every long table in the alehouse. They were loud and nattering on in snarly tones but not at each other. A few ales and they just might be joining the fishers at the docks. Fawkes and Bristol made their way through the long tables to a small one in a corner. As they sat down, Shyri sashayed over. The tawny kirtle she hated wearing, but her mother insisted upon, worn over a yellow smock should have looked as frumpy as she always complained, but he found it rather fetching. The way the shoe-top-length skirt swished to reveal the bottom hem of her petticoat and part of her stockinged ankle when her hips gave that extra sway reminded him of what he had found beneath both garments and longed to find again.
"Hello, Fawkes." Her sultry greeting kicked his heart into a gallop. She gave him a coy smile, then winked. "Ale or brandy?"
"Oh, ah," he started to answer, then laughed. Clearing his throat, he gave her a reserved turning up of the corners of his mouth.
Her smile faltered. He widened his eyes at her then darted them at her father before bringing them back to meet hers with a slight shake of his head.
"Ale a-and some placards." He nodded at Bristol.
"I'll have an ale."
"I see." She hurried off.
"Good move, boyyo," Bristol told Fawkes in a near whisper. "Cragjumper was watching."
"I noticed," Fawkes admitted to the old fisherman. "Wish he looked happier about having so many customers tonight."
"It's the mood. A fight's hangin' in the air and could bust up his furniture."
Shyri arrived with two full tankards and a well-used deck of placards. Fawkes slid over three silvers then flipped the fourth silver to her with a wink. She made it disappear into the front of her dress. A wink back followed by a quick grin to Fawkes and she hurried off to another table.
Bristol took up his tankard and chugged half of it down. He picked up the deck of rectangular placards as long as a woman's hand and shuffling.
"Should I be takin' bets on you marrying her?" Bristol set the deck on the table and slid it closer to Fawkes, offering him the cut.
Fawkes tapped the deck instead of cutting it, then took a deep drink from his own tankard. He stacked some coins on the table near his elbow.
"She doesn't want to marry and neither do I," Fawkes told him while waiting for Bristol to finish dealing. "She wants fun ... like stealing Haggler's Brandy."
Bristol laughed and put aside the deck. He pulled out his own handful of coins to stack before picking up his five placards.
"Hmmm," Bristol studied his placards. "The Hand has been a big thing in Blackstone for many years. Until this fire, most youngun's been wanting to get in."
Fawkes picked up his placards and sorted them. He placed three coppers on the table.
"She deeply resents the Hand not respecting her skills."
Bristol chuckled then added three coppers. He tossed in three placards from his hand, set the kept ones down by his coins, and picked up the deck.
Fawkes tossed in two placards and matched the three coppers. Bristol dealt Fawkes two placrads and himself three before putting the deck aside again.
"That's a rare girl, boyyo. Make a proper man out of you. Don't be too choosy or you'll be seen as a wastrel and losing out on the prime business." He took another drink of his ale. "You're looking fine now but, without a wife keeping you that way an' you owning a keelboat, you might even be considered a scoundrel.
"I got some years before I'm twenty-five." Fawkes rubbed his chin. And more hair to grow. If my damn face doesn't hurry up about it, Thimmy will have a mustache before me! Why did the world demand a real man prove his respectability and gainfulness by being married? I have other things to do. No idea what those might be yet, damn it, but I will have ideas soon as the Brethren get word back to me. I really need to know if I will still be trained as a Brethren. I also need the vaulting house to approve my inheriting Grandfather's vault here in Blackstone. He added two silvers to the pile. "Also need a WILLING girl. That is not Shyri."
Bristol grunted at the pile then tossed in a second silver coin followed by one placard. Fawkes tapped the table. Bristol frowned but dealt himself one more.
"Perhaps she just needs time."
"She wants out of Blackstone. Don't see that happening. Not with HER father." And her brothers.
"Waiting for you to sneak her away, eh, boyyo?"
He sighed at his placards and added three silvers to the pile as well.
Fawkes splayed his hand face-up on the table.
"Trip knaves and double treys," he said.
"Very nice, boyyo," Bristol laid his hand down. "Twins to six in fleurs." He scooped the pile of coins towards himself, added them to his stack, and collected the placards.
"Yer deal, boyyo." He slid the deck in front of Fawkes. "I'm buying the next round 'r two." He waved Shyri over and ordered a bottle of rum to go with two more ales.
Good thing, Fawkes thought. This is going to be an expensive night. Still, it felt good to be playing placards again, even if Bristol was sharp with placards. I have not done so since Grandfather and the crew all died playing placards. It also felt good to have a friend I can talk to in a manly way. Losing some coins to keep us out of the trouble brewing at the docks was just a small price worth paying. He shuffled the placards and began to deal.
