surface, water dripping from her furled sails. A moment later the ship sat at anchor on the Sea of Fallen Stars. Some of her yards were broken once more, but the hole in the hull was patched and she was more or less watertight.
Shang-Li shook his head in wonderment.
“What?” his father asked. “Did you think Amree would not be able to do as she’d set out to do.
“Not that. I’m just surprised that so many of us are still alive.”
Thava and Iados labored in the longboats with the rest of the surviving crew. Amree called out directions from the ship’s prow.
“We lived,” his father stated simply. “We fought for ourselves and the gods favored us. Hopefully we still have many things to accomplish to justify their trust in us.”
“Or maybe we were lucky.”
His father snorted. “Even your mother wouldn’t have agreed with that.” “You’re right.”
Reaching into a basket at his feet, his father handed him a bowl of cooked rice. The provisions had come from one of the cargoes they’d managed to rescue. “You need to eat. Get your strength back.”
Although he didn’t feel hungry, Shang-Li did as his father bade him. It wasn’t worth the argument, and he knew his father wouldn’t give up.
“Do you think we’ve seen the last of the Blue Lady?” Iados asked hours later when they’d returned to the ship.
Shang-Li stood at the railing where sailors worked on repairs and peered down into the calm ocean. As soon as the Blue Lady had vanished into the sea, the storm had abated.
“I do,” he told the tiefling. “She was dead. No one could have lived through that.”
“You did.”
“I had help.”
“You do realize there are probably several fortunes lying at the bottom of the sea down there. As well as a potential door to somewhere else.”
“You do realize that in order to get to any of that treasure, much less return home safely,” Amree said behind him, “you’re going to have to have a fit ship. And you’re not going to have that if you don’t get to work.”
“Harpy,” Iados said beneath his breath.
“I heard that.” Amree walked away, already giving orders to the ship’s crew
Shang-Li glanced up at the broken and splintered yards. Moonwhisper sat there looking regal and distant, doubtless thinking of mice and other small snacks.
Kwan Yung walked up with a cleric’s kit. “Come.” He gestured at Shang-Li. “Let me rebind your wounds.” He waved to the deck. “Sit.”
Shang-Li sat and held still as his father checked the stitches. The flesh was raw and abraded. Thankfully there didn’t appear to be any permanent damage, but healing would take time.
“This may hurt,” his father warned. “Do not cry. I don’t want you to shame me.”
In spite of the pain and everything they’d been through, Shang-Li laughed. For a moment. His father smiled at him. Then Kwan Yung started working on his wounds and the real pain began.
“Do you regret coming with me on this quest?” his father asked.
Shang-Li thought about that for a moment. “No. It made me remember.”
“Remember what?”
“When we used to do things together.”
His father shrugged. “Sons turn into men. You can’t be someone’s son forever. We will argue and disagree. We will see the world differently.”
“Or,” Shang-Li said, “we could start seeing some of the world together and find things we can agree on.”
His father looked at him and smiled. “Sometimes the son can teach the father new things. I would like that. I find the monastery too lonely at times.”
Quietly, Shang-Li reached forward and gave his father a hug. To his surprise, thought it was in public and such things weren’t supposed to be done in public if at all, his father hugged him back.
His father patted his shoulder. “But do not think I will let you forget you spilled that sauce on purpose in the Pirate Isles, Shang-Li.”
“Of course you won’t.”
