me?” the boy asked. He appeared irritated, his hands firmly planted on his hips, his face set in a scowl.
“What?” Taren frowned and tried to remember what the boy had said before.
“I asked where your clothes were.”
“I don’t know.” Taren honestly couldn’t remember. I must have transformed. This thought was quickly followed by the realization that he’d had that particular thought before. “I… I don’t remember.” Whatever had hit him in the water had hit him hard enough to jumble his thoughts. He’d seen that happen once before, when he’d been aboard another ship. Someone—a boy?—had hit his head on one of the masts. He struggled to remember the name of the ship but could not. And he needed to find the dagger.
“We should find you some, then.”
“Some what?” Taren asked, losing his train of thought once more.
“Clothes.” The boy offered Taren his hand. “I can help you.”
Taren considered the offer. Even as strange as he felt, he figured the boy could do him no real harm. He was smaller even than Aine, built far more like a girl. He was thin—thinner than a boy of his age should be—his ribs prominently visible since he wore no shirt. Taren wondered when he’d eaten last. He reminded Taren of himself a scant few years before, when he’d begged Cook to let him lick the pot before washing it.
Taren wondered vaguely how he could remember his time at the inn so clearly, when he could recall only some of the events that had brought him here. “I… yes. Thank you.”
The boy laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Taren asked.
“It’s rare I meet someone as polite. Usually it’s ‘get ye gone, boy!’ and nothing more.” The boy smiled to reveal a set of white teeth with a small gap between the two largest. An endearing smile. This too reminded Taren of something. Someone. Red-haired. Freckled. Someone Taren cared for. Taren struggled to remember his name but came up empty. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. His head still ached.
Best get some clothing. Until his head cleared, he doubted he’d be able to find his way back to the Phantom . Eat, rest, then…. His thoughts clouded once again, and he rubbed his face with his hand in a vain attempt to think clearly.
“Clothing?” the boy prompted. He scrunched up his face, then added, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.” Taren managed to get to his knees before the pain in his limbs asserted itself with a vengeance. He cried out as his muscles seized, protesting the movement, so he rested on his hands until the worst of it had passed. It struck him as odd that his body was so battered, yet he had no broken bones, or at least none that he immediately recognized as being broken.
“You don’t seem well.” The boy eyed him with concern.
“Fine.” Taren spoke the word between clenched teeth. The last thing he needed was a mother hen half his age.
“Stay here. I’ll get you some clothing.” The boy waited until Taren nodded his assent, then took off at a trot down the beach.
Taren closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp air. He remembered a walk along the beach and how Ian had pulled him into the surf. He remembered making love beneath the waves, and how Ian had felt….
Ian. Taren reminded himself that Ian was safe and his racing heart calmed once again. Why did he keep forgetting things? I need to get back to the ship.
“Here you go.”
Taren looked up, surprised to see the boy standing there holding a bundle of fabric. Clothing. Yes. He was going to find me clothing. “Thank you,” he said.
“Do you need any help?”
“No. I can do it.” Taren took the clothes from the boy’s arms and tried to stand up. He swayed, then promptly sat back down again as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The boy huffed and extended one arm. Taren ignored the offer of assistance and managed to get to his feet on the third try. He hadn’t felt this out of sorts since he’d been pulled from the water by
“What?” Taren frowned and tried to remember what the boy had said before.
“I asked where your clothes were.”
“I don’t know.” Taren honestly couldn’t remember. I must have transformed. This thought was quickly followed by the realization that he’d had that particular thought before. “I… I don’t remember.” Whatever had hit him in the water had hit him hard enough to jumble his thoughts. He’d seen that happen once before, when he’d been aboard another ship. Someone—a boy?—had hit his head on one of the masts. He struggled to remember the name of the ship but could not. And he needed to find the dagger.
“We should find you some, then.”
“Some what?” Taren asked, losing his train of thought once more.
“Clothes.” The boy offered Taren his hand. “I can help you.”
Taren considered the offer. Even as strange as he felt, he figured the boy could do him no real harm. He was smaller even than Aine, built far more like a girl. He was thin—thinner than a boy of his age should be—his ribs prominently visible since he wore no shirt. Taren wondered when he’d eaten last. He reminded Taren of himself a scant few years before, when he’d begged Cook to let him lick the pot before washing it.
Taren wondered vaguely how he could remember his time at the inn so clearly, when he could recall only some of the events that had brought him here. “I… yes. Thank you.”
The boy laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Taren asked.
“It’s rare I meet someone as polite. Usually it’s ‘get ye gone, boy!’ and nothing more.” The boy smiled to reveal a set of white teeth with a small gap between the two largest. An endearing smile. This too reminded Taren of something. Someone. Red-haired. Freckled. Someone Taren cared for. Taren struggled to remember his name but came up empty. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. His head still ached.
Best get some clothing. Until his head cleared, he doubted he’d be able to find his way back to the Phantom . Eat, rest, then…. His thoughts clouded once again, and he rubbed his face with his hand in a vain attempt to think clearly.
“Clothing?” the boy prompted. He scrunched up his face, then added, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.” Taren managed to get to his knees before the pain in his limbs asserted itself with a vengeance. He cried out as his muscles seized, protesting the movement, so he rested on his hands until the worst of it had passed. It struck him as odd that his body was so battered, yet he had no broken bones, or at least none that he immediately recognized as being broken.
“You don’t seem well.” The boy eyed him with concern.
“Fine.” Taren spoke the word between clenched teeth. The last thing he needed was a mother hen half his age.
“Stay here. I’ll get you some clothing.” The boy waited until Taren nodded his assent, then took off at a trot down the beach.
Taren closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp air. He remembered a walk along the beach and how Ian had pulled him into the surf. He remembered making love beneath the waves, and how Ian had felt….
Ian. Taren reminded himself that Ian was safe and his racing heart calmed once again. Why did he keep forgetting things? I need to get back to the ship.
“Here you go.”
Taren looked up, surprised to see the boy standing there holding a bundle of fabric. Clothing. Yes. He was going to find me clothing. “Thank you,” he said.
“Do you need any help?”
“No. I can do it.” Taren took the clothes from the boy’s arms and tried to stand up. He swayed, then promptly sat back down again as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The boy huffed and extended one arm. Taren ignored the offer of assistance and managed to get to his feet on the third try. He hadn’t felt this out of sorts since he’d been pulled from the water by
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