Dexter glanced up at Jenna, concerned. His reactions and thinking were somewhat dulled by the alcohol, however, so it took a moment before he spoke again. “What sort of magic?”
“I do not know, I only possess the ability to know that it is magical.”
Dexter nodded and frowned. He blinked and watched, not certain he was seeing things properly. Almost before his eyes he saw the elven woman’s gaze drift over him. He flinched in what he saw revealed in it. There had been a long moment where she gazed upon him dully, as though unfamiliar with who he was. Her smile had slackened as well.
A roar broke his attention. He turned and saw a grizzled old man with an eye patch slam his fist onto the table. “Jasper Highsail, you whore-son!”
His gaze was directed at Rosh, who could only stare back in shock at the man.
Dexter surged to his feet, coming to the aid of his Arms Master. “Friend, you’ve got the wrong man,” he said, one hand slipping to his pistol.
The old man continued to stare down Rosh. “The Hell I do! He struck a deal with me and then turned me loose when the deal went sour so he could get away!”
“Thing is,” he said, leaning in closer and glaring with his one eye at Rosh, “I ‘spect you had that planned all along!”
“I got away though, lost half me crew and near as much of me ship! We ended up finding this place and decided to settle in — safer and more prosperous than dealing with pirates like you!”
“I should gut you like a fish,” he continued, giving no one a chance to interrupt. “And maybe I will if the new Lady will let me — but first I got to know why you ain’t aged a day in a score of years?”
“I ain’t Jasper Highsail,” Rosh said. He stared back at the man and stood up, dwarfing the one eyed man. “Name’s Rosh, and I ain’t never met you before.”
“Captain of the Shark’s Teeth?” Dexter asked, surprised to hear the name. He had not heard of the infamous pirate captain in many years, but now he was putting it together and remembered the stories.
“Rosh is my Arms Master, I’m the Captain of the Voidhawk. I’ll vouch for him that he’s never had ship nor crew in his charge, and he’s aged a day for every day I’ve known him,” Dexter said. “Have some more of your fine brew, friend, and let’s put this behind us,” he added.
Rosh glared at him a minute longer, then walked away, heading away from the Festival and towards the ship. Dexter watched him go, open mouthed, before returning his attention to the table. The old man walked away a moment later as well, heading to the table he had come from.
“What was that?” Willa asked softly from nearby. The sudden excitement had sobered her up — if only briefly.
Dexter shook his head. “If you find out, let me know.”
Dexter searched for Jenna but she had disappeared. He cast about for her, but found her nowhere to be seen. Sighing, he slumped back to his seat and took another drink that now lacked the sweet taste of relaxation. “Stay as long as you like; I’m off for the ‘Hawk.”
Keshira rose and followed him obediently. The others remained, looking uncertainly towards one another, but then deciding to settle in and see what else remained of the night.
Dexter, mildly drunk, turned once he had left the festival behind him and found Keshira less than a dozen feet behind him. “Why are you following me?”
“Captain, I exist to serve you,” she said.
Dexter growled and waved a shaky finger at her. “I don’t deserve no serving. Nobody does!”
Keshira looked at him. She said nothing, but stood there patiently.
“What now?” Dexter cried, seeing her complacency.
“I am failing you, Captain, I do not understand.”
Dexter threw his hands up in the air and rolled his eyes. “What? What are you not understanding?”
“You said nobody deserves to be served,” she said. “But you clearly serve the members of your crew.”
“That’s not serving,” the mildly drunk captain said. “They be my responsibility. Swearing service to me means I owe them my support too.”
“If they swear service to you, are you not someone then who should be served?”
Dexter stared at her for a long minute. “Why do I bother?” he muttered. “You can’t learn what it means to be human. You can’t know responsibility or friendship or love. No matter how much I tell you, you’re nothing but a walking and talking chair,” he said with disappointment.
Dexter turned to walk away again, feeling like he had failed. He took a few steps and glanced back, seeing that Keshira had not moved. “Not following me like a lost puppy?”
“Captain, I feel your disappointment,” she said to him. “We are bonded and I can feel you through it.”
Dexter grunted. She had told him this before. It had bothered him then, but now it was of little interest. He had given up hope of her ever being anything more than a mindless automaton.
“It causes a disturbance in me,” she continued. “Something is not right. Do you know what it is?”
“How would I know?” He snapped back at her.
Ignoring his temper she replied, “You can feel it through the bond we share.”
“I don’t-“ Dexter stopped, realizing what she had just said. “Wait, you mean this bond… it’s something I can use too?”
She nodded. “Yes, Captain, it works both ways.”
“What does that mean?”
“You can feel what I feel and communicate with me through it. With training, you can experience my senses through it as well.”
“Your senses,” he said slowly. “You mean I can see what you see and hear what you hear?”
“With training and time, yes Captain.”
“How do I do it?”
“Concentrate on me and will yourself to feel the connection to me,” she explained. “It may help if you close your eyes.”
Dexter stared at the beautiful construct before him and realized how he had trained himself to not really look at her. To not really think of her as a person in spite of all that he had said. He cursed himself for his contrary behavior and forced himself now to look upon her fully. Doing so, however, quickly left him distracted as he became entranced by her impossible physical perfection.
“Aye, close my eyes,” he muttered. He closed them and thought of her again, struggling to feel some sort of connection to her.
“You have done this before, Captain,” she said softly. “You have spoken to me without speaking.”
“I have?” he asked, eyes opening in surprise.
She nodded. “Yes Captain, you were always distracted but very focused on your distraction, it helped you connect to me without realizing it.”
Dexter nodded and closed his eyes again. He focused again on her, but instead of spamming random mental thoughts in her direction, he tried to feel her. In a rush that nearly knocked him from his feet, a new world of sensation and possibility opened up to him.
“I feel you,” Keshira said to him, her tone different than normal, though he did not notice. “I have felt you before, but this time it is different.”
Dexter nodded. “Yeah… different.”
Dexter’s senses swam with Keshira. It was a strange and alien feeling, sensations not his own tingled through him. Emotions, he was familiar with, and recognition of what was happening set in.
“You… you feel,” he said, realizing something that he had not truly appreciated before. “I’m sorry, Keshira,” he said.
A rush of emotion welled in her, washing away the sadness with pleasure. She knew, she could feel him as well. She knew he was genuine in his remorse. “I know other people think and feel,” he explained, for himself more than for her. “I know it, and yet it never really mattered.”
“I know better now,” he muttered.
Dexter glanced up at the beautiful construct that suddenly seemed more human to him than anyone before ever had. “Keshira, that thing you felt. The disturbance — it is called sadness. I treated you poorly and it made you sad. I am sorry.”
