The Dragon Keeper
Page 98

His mother pursed her mouth, and her eyes grew moist. Such words might win her over. But his father was not impressed. “It’s time you were out on your own for a bit, son. Schooling is fine, and I’m proud to have a son who can read and write and figure accurately. If our fortune had fared better these last few years, perhaps that would be enough. But our holdings haven’t prospered, so it’s time for you to go out and find something of your own, something to bring back and add to your inheritance. If you work out on the ship, you’ll be earning a decent wage. You can set something aside for yourself. This is an opportunity for you, Sedric, one that almost any boy in town would jump at.”
He’d gathered his threads of courage. “Father, it just doesn’t fit with who I am. I’m sorry. I know that you asked favors to get this opportunity for me. I wish you’d talked to me first. I’ve been on ships and I’ve seen how the crews live aboard. It’s dirty, smelly, and wet, with boring food, and half your fellows are coarse, illiterate boors. Deck work demands a strong back and tough hands and little more than that. That’s not who I want to be, a barefoot sailor pulling on a line on someone else’s ship! I do want a future, and I’m willing to work hard. But not like that! I’ll work somewhere clean and decent, among nice people. I just like things to be nice. Is that so wrong of me?”
His father leaned back abruptly in his chair. “I don’t understand you,” he said harshly. “I don’t understand you at all. Do you know what it’s taken for me to get this offer for you? Do you know how embarrassed I’ll be if you turn it down? Can’t you appreciate anything I do for you? This is your golden chance, Sedric! And you’re going to turn it down because you ‘like things to be nice!’ ”
“Please don’t shout,” his mother unwisely interjected. “Please, Polon, can’t we be calm and polite about this?”
“And ‘nice’ too, I suppose!” his father had snarled. “I give up. I’ve tried to do my best by the boy, but all he wants to do is wander about the house and read books or go out with his useless idle friends. Well, their fathers have the money to raise useless idle boys, but I don’t! You’re my heir, Sedric, but what you’ll inherit if you don’t take hold soon, I don’t know. Don’t look at the floor! Meet my eyes, son, when I speak to you!”
“Please, Polon!” his mother had begged. “Sedric just isn’t ready for this yet. He’s right, you know. You should have discussed this with him before you sought it for him. You didn’t even speak of it to me!”
“Because opportunities such as this don’t wait! They come along, and the man who seizes it is the man who finds a future in it. But it won’t be Sedric, will it? Oh, no. Because he’s not ready, and it’s not ‘nice’ enough for him. So, very well. You keep him at home here with you. You’ve ruined the boy with your indulgence of him. Ruined him!”
Sedric shifted in the narrow bunk, pushing the uncomfortable memory away. It came back in the form of a new question. Did his father still think he was “ruined”? He knew that his sire had felt chagrin when Sedric announced he had taken a position as Hest Finbok’s secretary. Even his mother, far more patient and tolerant of Sedric’s ways than his father was, had winced at the idea of him being employed in such a position. “It’s just not something that you expect the son of a Trader to do, even a younger son. I know that it’s an upward path, and even your father has said that perhaps you’ll make good connections accompanying Hest on his trading trips. But, don’t you know, it just seems as if you could have started your career a bit higher in life than as a secretary.”
“Hest treats me well, Mother. And he pays me well, too.”
“And I hope you are setting money aside from it. For as handsome as Hest Finbok is and as wealthy as his family is, he has a reputation for being fickle in his pursuits. Don’t count on him to be someone you can depend on for the rest of your life, Sedric.”
In the dark of the deckhouse, he groaned softly as he recalled her words. At the time they had seemed like her usual nattering worry for him. Now they seemed like a prophecy. Had he been a fool to let himself depend on Hest so deeply? His hand crept up and touched the small locket he wore around his neck. In the darkness, his finger caressed the single word engraved on its case. ALWAYS. Had “always” come to an end for him?
He shifted in his bunk, but it was uniformly hard. Sleep would not come to him, only memories and worries. He was being foolish, of course. This was only a minor tiff with Hest. He and Hest had had quarrels before and lived to laugh about them later. There had been that business in the Chalcedean town, where Hest, in a towering rage, had left Sedric behind at the inn and Sedric had had to dash through the streets to reach the ship before it sailed. He’d only ever struck Sedric once, and to be fair, Hest had been drinking and in a black temper even before they had quarreled. Hitting someone was unusual behavior for Hest. He had other ways of expressing his domination and control. Sarcasm and humiliation were more commonly his weapons. Physical force was his last resort, and it meant that his temper had reached a red hot heat.