-

As soon as he set foot at the Drunk Tuna he was ambushed: a whole barrel of sweet beer slipped over his head amidst screams and laughter.

“Boy, so you fell in love with the blondie, huh?” Deniz asked with a loud laugh, though it was more of a statement than a question. “Shinji saw you and told us, that madman.”

“You’re such a damn old man, may Aedan take you” retorted the embarrassed merchant, soaked and stinking of beer.

“Come on, boy! Offer a ride” Shinji yelled at him as the entire crew watched him ravenously for a round of beer or rum without having to fork out a single Waterby’s copper with the face of King Theophane the White Deer’s wife, Donna Leah, engraved on it.

“May Aedan take you all” he said through clenched teeth, then began to smile as well. In fact, he was among his family members there at that moment. Those worthy scoundrels were all he had and all that still held him on the Tiburon’s deck, even against his own will to abandon it.

“So, you brought Thyrus back, huh? Do you remember the day we hoisted him aboard?” Deniz asked laughing passionately. He repeatedly banged the mug against the counter as if he wanted to mark the rhythm of the words.

“How could I had forgot it, old man? I’ve the scene in front of my eyes as it happened yesterday” Ethan said waving his arms to wipe off the beer, laughing too. “You took a plate of hot fish soup from Benson’s hands and, keeping a safe distance, slid it to the deck floor because you feared Shinji might lash out at you if you approached. You were terribly afraid!”

“How could I ain’t it?” he asked, motioning for Shinji to come closer. “This brat” - he first put his arm around Shinji’s neck, then left it and mimicked what he was about to say - “as soon as he came to his senses, he jumped up agile. He stood with his legs apart and slightly bent, his arms right here, look, at eye’s level. His hands were in this position, like this, opened and with his fingers trying to emulate nice big claws. He seemed to imitate a goddamn dragon, for the Divines!” Deniz said, laughing harder and harder. By now his face had taken on the colour typical of Mehtop’s juiciest tomatoes.

“I was scared. Be happy that I did not hurt you because I could have” the Nionreian defended himself, hinting an unpleasant smile that disappeared almost instantly.

“And what would you have done? Would you have spit fire at us from the mouth?” Zuganio broke in, laughing in the same way as Deniz.

The carpenter, among the crew members, was the most massive and tall, the one who aroused the most fear. Although he had soft, curly, blond hair worthy of a noble of high rank, he also appeared to the eye as the gruffest among the sailors, given the square features of his face and the trilinear scar left in memory by the claws of a crocotta, well before to join Tiburon. It ran vertically across his cheek, neck, and part of his chest. Despite appearances, Ethan had not known a more docile man than the carpenter, thanks in large part to the regret for the killing of his father, an act for which he had made vows of compassion and dedication to work and to help others to the Divines Gwenaelle and Dyvis.

Shinji did not answer. He limited himself, once again, to a hint of a smile as unpleasant as the first but which disappeared even more quickly.

“So, do you remember when he started ranting about those nonsense?” Deniz asked the part of the crew that had surrounded them and that accompanied the captain’s rhythm, beating their mugs against tables and counter. “Ramashi, Mahoshi, Masuzhu, sapphire rains and…” The laughter forced him to stop. “And all those words that seemed to come out of his nose instead of his mouth!”

“Ah! Sure, I remember! Mahoshi, the famous magic. Huh, Thyrus?” sailor Pwikke asked giving him a strong elbow.

“Yup. I remember it but this is not funny, I was telling the truth” said the Nionreian who seemed to start getting irritated.

“The truth, you say. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man throw lightning from his hands, or a woman breathe fire, or a donkey fly. Do you know what were real? The tons of sea bream and salmon you used to eat were real, you damned bottomless pit of a foreigner!” Cook Benson broke in surly as always.

Contrary to what his profession inevitably imposed on his colleagues of the time, he was small and thin. In him the ancient law of the cooks according to which for each dish served, one must be eaten, was not applied. He wore his hair with the typical cut of the priests of the Divines and a pair of very long and thin black moustaches that he curled continuously.

How can they not make fun of you, after all, Shinji? Mahoshi, as you call it, has officially disappeared since the Al-Fedar’s Fires, Ethan mused. However, he also knew that some bestial races which had survived, such as merfolk and sirens or protean – whom unfortunate people who met them called with the right appellation of theriomorphs due to their ability to transmute certain parts of the body into parts of different beasts – retained the knowledge of some magical techniques. In some popular beliefs, then, reference was made to women who had obtained the Black Magical Sparkle by donating their bodies to the Plagues and consecrating themselves to those abominations. Some called those women janaras, others majaras, and others bordas. All rumours, however. Hardly anyone believed those cursed witches really existed except the fanatics or the paranoid. Edmond the fat, stupid and perverted bumpkin with whom he had clashed the day before, was the perfect example.

The last four magicians who had been officially seen on the Continent went down in history as the Four Fires of Al-Fedar.

During the seventh century from the Convention of Five, persecutions and executions against the magicians had reached their peak.

After a month of strife and thousands of deaths, the Ish-Telir’s Emperor, Mehekmed III, managed to capture the last magicians in the village of Cealif, on the border with the Northern Trust. They were taken to Al-Fedar and, after a formal sentence without any possibility of being exonerated – whose purpose in truth was only to incite the crowd –, they were impaled at the four corners of the capital in front of the more than fifty thousand inhabitants of the time.

Their remains were set on fire on the spot. It is said that those fires burned continuously for four days and four nights. Mehekmed wanted not even the ashes of them to remain. And from there came the famous and macabre name. The Four Fires of Al-Fedar became a warning to the world: there was no room for magic in the Continent.

Almost the entire crew that had seen Deniz, Zuganio and Benson’s show at the beginning had burst into laughter but then someone reminded Ethan of the promised free booze round. Certainly, he did not back down, even if he wanted to, the merchant. This upset his finances leaving him with few florins. However, he was happy because this served to calm the air which, after the last statements against the Nionreiano, had become a little stiff.

Ethan heard Deniz’s mischievous voice. “Boy, tell this old man about the Garatier girls. Come on, I’m curious! Here we always talk about business, seas, politics. For Ayae’s Love, I wanna hear stories of tenderness! Especially if these don’t concern women who, for stupid power games, fill their husbands’ goblets with arsenic and antimony. It’s thanks to your little friend that today there are more tasters than guests in the court revelry.”

Ethan tried to hold back and ignore the last sentence which, as always when it came to Maeve, tasted like a lash. He succeeded, at least initially, with extreme difficulty. “What do you want me to tell? I don’t even know her name, old man. She’ll be one of those girls who provoke you but don’t indulge themselves until marriage and you know how I feel about them” he said, lying. “Then, I certainly don’t need to remind you that my heart’s already promised, despite the arrows you try to throw at me every time the topic comes up” the merchant continued, tired of being criticized for the unconscious choices of his heart. Yes, he managed to keep himself from reacting to the salt thrown on the open wound, but only for a handful of moments.

“Ah-ah! So, ya failed to drag the sweetie into bed and now ya’re whimpering, huh? You pervert” interjected Son who, appearing like a ghost, had overheard.

“You pig, go get drunk again with those other pigs of your cronies!” Deniz shouted smiling at him, pointing with an index finger to part of the crew who was bothering the sweet Ronda with comments not really worthy of the court of Theophane the White Stag, King of Waterby. Son obeyed with a stupid smile, clearly tipsy.

“Deniz, forget it a bit. I want to drink” said Ethan, who always tried to avoid the conversation when it came to love.

“What do you find in her, boy? Are you fascinated by power and danger?”

“Come on. I said forget it.”

“Or is it for her body?” I remember her to be small. Luxuriant, of course. But small…”

“You really are made of earthenware, old man! It’s none of what you said. She’s... Her gaze is… For Gwenaelle! Why do you have to ask me these odd questions? Everything! Everything about her seems to be made to attract me. Everything about her seems to be totally tailor-made for me, as if we were two parts of the same mosaic. That’s enough now, though. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“As you wish, boy.”

-

After a couple of drink, still side by side, Ethan finally placed a hand on Deniz’s shoulder, totally forgetting the heated discussion that had taken place about ten minutes earlier. “So, old man, I found at least four to sell the goods to. If only you could see those peasants. It’ll be easy to invent stories to pump up the prices. Give me a week and the four merchants will become ten. There’s so much hidden here.”

“Four, huh?” It seems that here in the great Garatier, we’ll have to be content. It’s not good at all, boy. After the failure of Dyvislande, I thought that coming here after twenty years would certainly have helped us, but…” he began lucidly, despite the too many mugs. “Then let’s get ready, in the meantime. Tomorrow at dawn we’ll sell the goods to your four folks and by noon we’ll already be twenty leagues from here on the open sea, towards Gwenaelleville. Hoping that at least the Capital will smile at us” he concluded, ignoring the proposal for an extended stay.

Ethan returned to his reality. Joking and laughing with the crew had once again blurred his vision. His desire to leave life among the seas was about to take a back seat, again.

I don’t want to upset the crew, he thought. What should I do? he asked himself, saddening by the prospect of immediately abandoning a city so beautiful and which had so captivated his soul as Garatier. After all, this was how life went on the Tiburon: dock in a port, businesses, supplies, and immediately set off for another port, sometimes known and sometimes not. Often there was not even a way to see any of the cities other than the ports and the inns.

It was precisely for this reason that life on the freighter began to be tight to him, since the never stopping was no longer suitable for the Ethan who at that moment wanted to know other beauties of the world, in addition to crystalline seas and imperious winds.

Why do I feel like this? he asked himself, seeking an answer to the attraction he felt towards the city of the Waterby Kingdom. Why does the thought of that warm and familiar aura that the blonde girl gives off so naturally makes me want to stay in this place? Ethan wondered once again as he couldn’t figure out exactly what was going on in his alcohol-messed mind.

He was not, however, anxious to find out. He realized how adamant he was now in wanting to stay in Garatier for some time yet. After all, you have really granted me your Courage, Divine Cohar.

The problem was being able to explain it to old Deniz and, perhaps, being able to persuade him to settle on the mainland for a while, so that he could gradually get used to the separation.

“Listen, Deniz, as I was telling you, how about staying here for a while?” he asked almost frightened by the reaction the captain might have had. “I have never been to Waterby and this city, unlike Aillte an Tine which stinks of piss and vomit in every alley, Dyvislande with the political tensions and Mite with the pirates of the Conch, is pure and impregnated with the smell of flowers and pollen. I wish I could visit it thoroughly. I need it, old man. My soul needs it. I’m also convinced that the potential of the city is high and we’ve a lot of unsold goods that collect the humidity of the hull. If you could give me a week or two maybe I…”

Deniz laughed, thanks to the large amount of rum and beer he had swallowed, and which was now starting to take effect. “Staying here? I’m the old man, but it seems like you’re the fool. How do you want to stay in an expensive city like this selling just few goods to four peasants? Are you hoping to find four more and sell them four more trinkets? Well, so the thirty-one of us can live one day at a time hoping to find someone who appreciates our possessions. Is this your plan?

“You know how we are, Ethan. You know damned well the men have just enough florins to buy bread and soup every two days hoping to pity the innkeeper for a beer at most. They’re used to drinking litres of alcohol and buying the best gigolettes’ services. We can still afford it if we leave this damn city and go looking for business elsewhere. In Gwenaelleville it could be better or in the Ish-Telir Empire we could sell something western, or maybe after months it would be time to return in the Trust. We might even move on to Morven, where I picked you up. Do you think some of those ridiculous nobles not to get the cash?” concluded. He had to breathe deeply because he had spat out all the words in apnoea.

Ethan stayed silent, gazing down at the brown liquid swirled in the wooden mug.

“Huh? Wait, boy. Wait, wait, wait. It’s not that by any chances you…” The captain’s laughter turned into a grimace that showed how annoyed he was feeling right now. “Won’t you do it for that woman, do you? You stupid brat! Wake up, for the goddamn Plagues! Won’t you give in to such an ephemeral feeling for the second time, boy? Was the first not enough for you? Luckily at least then we were forced to flee!”

A certain heat made its way into Ethan’s guts, his chest and inflamed his temples. He did not like to talk about Maeve in tones that were not appreciative, although she gave very little reason to be appreciated by strangers. “Old man, listen. Do you really think I fell in love with someone I don’t even know the name of? It was just an acquaintance, nothing more. I won’t allow you to compare it to… The woman of that time is still in my heart as Syradis is in yours” he began and then, moving closer still and speaking in a low voice, he continued. “I need you to trust me, Deniz. I’m just suggesting that you extend the stay and maybe delay a few more weeks. I am also convinced there’s a lot for us and our business.”

That thought again. In Ethan’s mind that idea began to come forward again, and with increasing conviction. Tiburon had been for him like the father’s house and, after fifteen years, it was time to leave it to start creating something that could call his. To fulfil his fate. However, he could not think clearly because of the alcohol.

“Hear me well, boy, because I won’t repeat it.” Suddenly Deniz went ice-cold. “Tomorrow we’ll sell the goods to those dogs and leave. You’ll come with us. Dot. End. You’ve no other options. If you decide to leave the Tiburon, you leave it forever. You should remember the oath.”

The oath. Ethan hadn’t heard it in years. He wasn’t there during the one of Egill Olcsson, known as Borda, and barring him, no one had joined their family for years.

The oath. How could he forget it? ‘I swear to protect the Tiburon as the only home, I swear to protect the Tiburon’s crew as the only family, I swear to be loyal to the Tiburon forever, whether silver is plentiful or a mirage.’ It came of itself that whoever left the merchant ship, betrayed the oath of eternal loyalty, dishonouring the word given.

“That’s why I asked you to stay, old idiot, so as not have to leave you like this, not have to do it forever. It’s not that you can’t understand me, it’s just you don’t want to! Ever since I crossed the streets of Garatier, fragrant and festive, and even before when I touched the white stone floors of the pier, I felt something inside me roar like a bolt of lightning. Now, without even knowing the reason, I feel connected to this place and I’ve to understand why. I must understand, Deniz. No, don’t interrupt me. Look into my eyes as I speak to you with my heart in my hands.

“If I left tomorrow, perhaps I would forget everything within a week, as you’re surely thinking. Yes, that’s right, it could happen. Or it could happen that not having answered the call that I feel so pressing inside my heart could haunt me for years. Is that what you want? But then it’s not just about me here. Do you realize it?” He hoped Deniz could understand if he shifted his focus from ‘me’ to ‘us’. “I’m telling you there could be a lot more here for the entire crew. We could make good money if we only had a few more days or at most a few weeks. I’ve been the Tiburon’s merchant on board for nearly a decade. Do you no longer trust my judgment?”

It was late, the old man was now stubborn. “Enough!” he shouted forcefully.

The whole great hall of the Drunk Tuna, which until a moment before was echoing with laughter, singing, the clink of cups beating against each other in thunderous toasts, froze. Silence. Everyone watched the old captain get up, sending to the ground the tripod stool on which he had perched curved just a moment earlier. He was a white giant, his aura of fire almost tangible.

“Boy, don’t test my patience. Nobody leaves the Tiburon. In forty years, the only ones to have done so were those whom the sea called to itself during storms and those who, gutted by pirates or tritons or cursed shapeshifters, ended up in coffins. You won’t be the damn exception. You’ve a mark that binds you to us forever and to be bound to us forever you’ve to stay on the deck. So it was decided before embarking. So is Tiburon’s law. For the Plagues! What are you people looking at? Get drunk again and don’t stare at me like that, you idiots!”

Ethan, with a sudden movement, violently unbuttoned his shirt and two buttons leapt to the ground and rolled away. “Take it, then. If to be bind to you, if to be bind to our family I’ve to be attached to you like a nursling for the rest of my life, then take it.” He pointed to the tattoo of the Tiburon on his left pectoral: a green shark dominating a wave of fire, surrounded by other swirling columns of flames. “But know this. Even if would you snatch it off with that sabre of yours, I would love you for the rest of my life anyway. It’s not this piece of coloured skin that binds me to you, that binds me to them all.” He moved his finger to his heart. “This is what binds me to you!”

“Boy…” Deniz didn’t even turn to look at him, he was already about to climb the stairs that would lead him to the bedroom. “I hope to find you aboard the Tiburon tomorrow, three hours after dawn. Don’t worry about the goods to sell, I can handle them even without you” concluded glacial. Adding nothing more, he climbed the ramp and disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell.

Although no one initially seemed to want to continue partying, after a few minutes the cups returned to crash and the beer and rum to wet tables, floor, and throats. The freighter’s men were used to far worse fights, which often ended in broken bones and blood on the walls. It certainly wouldn’t have been easy to impress them with such a quarrel.

For that few minutes, Ethan stared at the swirl of beer in his goblet.

“Ethan, are you all...” Shinji began, but was immediately interrupted with a wave of the hand.

Ethan didn’t have the heart to continue standing there joyfully or even just talking to someone. Without saying anything, without greeting anyone, he went up to his room.

Passing in front of Deniz’s room, for a moment, he intended to stop and talk to him. Maybe alone, without the rest of the crew looking at us like a doll show in the square, we could have a more prolific dialogue and he could understand my reasons. And if that wasn’t enough, at least I could say hello to him better than that, he thought.

He thought but did not stop.

-

The night, with no dreams or nightmares he could remember, passed quickly. However, upon awakening, Ethan again felt as though he had only slept a few minutes. I had them he realized as he sat up. Nightmares had haunted him during the night and of this, now that he felt fatigue tormenting his bones, he was almost certain.

From the large window he saw the sun having already crossed the horizon and he dressed as fast as he could. He had to dash to the dock since it was time to leave, but not for him.

He had already made up his mind. I have no intention of getting on Tiburon. Maybe it’s a stupid, quick, and rash choice, but I feel it’s the best thing for me. Why is the desire to stay and understand what this city hides from me so strong? Sorry Deniz, but what else can I do but stop here to find out? I hope you’ll be able to forgive me one day.

-

He arrived short of breath and fell back with his hands on his knees.

He saw Son with two men of the crew arranging moorings and sails. Ethan sensed that they had already sold the goods and were preparing to set sail. Zuganio, Benson, Son himself and a few others looked at him and turned away without saying a word, without winking. Only boatswain Ilker, trying carefully not to be seen, hinted a smirk, like one of those a father gives to his son when the latter return with his first prey from a hunt.

Ethan stood there, surrounded by the morning comings and goings of the dock of one of the Maritime Capitals but he felt nothing but solitude. He did not perceive sounds, smells and not even the men beat shoulders against him.

The ship set sail.

A little boy with showy red hair, tattered breeches, and no shoes, approached the merchant. “Sorry, sir. Are you Ethan? Ethan of Morven?” he said pulling Ethan’s hand. “An old man asked me to give this to a sir with this name. He said I’ve to look for a man with long brown hair, eyes like two yellow resins. You’re like that. Are you Ethan? Ethan of Morven, sir?”

“Yeah, it’s me, kid.”

“Here, take! He paid me five florins, sir! I can buy something for me!” he said happily.

Blessed. I’d give a few years of my life to go back to your age, kid. Although my childhood was almost certainly much less happy than yours, he thought as he dismissed the little one with a caress on his tomato-coloured hair.

It was a rag of parchment sealed with the shark stamp Tiburon. He opened it and began to read.

Dear boy,

you grew up, huh? When you were just eight years old, I took you with me that you were just a stray. Your family had abandoned you and I decided to raise you as my own son. But I’m not writing this letter to remind you for what I or your companions from Tiburon did for you or to remind you that I saved you the life.

I’m writing you this letter because I hope I was not the ideal father for you, but at least the father you needed. One who could raise you up in the best way and teach you how to be in the world. One you could count on without hesitation.

For me you were an unexpected gift, but you made me a happy man father. You were the child Syradis was carrying when she died. You were my baby, the son I never got to see come into the world and grow up. Now is the time for you to leave this old man to his own fate and spread your wings to yours.

I’ll miss you, Ethan.

With love, the-captain-of-Tiburon your father,

Deniz of Al-Fedar

The merchant squeezed the scribbled piece of parchment tightly onto his family’s tattoo as he looked up at the ship slowly moving away from the dock.

Ethan saw him look out of the open window of the captain’s cabin in the forecastle. Deniz was partially hidden by the pale green curtain. He stood there motionless. He stared at Ethan without nodding, until he raised his arm. The hand closed in an upward fist. In their personal jargon it was a goodbye or rather, a “See you later.”

Ethan understood. Old Deniz had approved of his choice already in the evening, but he didn’t want to show it to the rest of the crew. Otherwise, it would have been difficult to get the other family members to keep the oath. Deniz would have been mocked and treated as weak that if he cannot take care of one boy, he certainly cannot take care of a ship and thirty men.

I’m proud to have had you as a father. No one could have been better than this. I’ll miss you too, Deniz. No words came out. A tear slowly ran down his face as he saw leaving what had been his home for fifteen years, his only real family.

I should have knocked on your door, he thought, bringing a fist to the sky.