(Brothers - Brothers Book Three)
© 2013 A. Jane
Morning rose and once more Rune found himself standing at the rail watching his son go about his duties on Graceful. Barely a day had past since Jag took to fostering under Rum and… And Rune hated it. Every minute that had past since Jag left Treasure Hunter was nigh torture. And yet to see Jag, his face alight with pleasure…
Unexpected rage arose and Rune readied to teleport to Graceful, plans to kill the bastard who cuffed his son. He cared little that the pirate then helped his son to his feet or that Jag rushed off, hand against his ear, laughing.
“Do ye desire to bathe so badly, Master Stone?” Gator asked seeing Rune about to pull himself up onto the railing. He looked to see what the first mate was looking at and saw Jag ducking an attempted strike.
Rune turned about and nigh choked the lad. “Mayhap ‘tis ye who desires an early bath.”
Gator stepped back. “Nae need for such threats, old man, only was I curious yer destination. Never say ye would shame yer son by coming to his rescue over a minor cuff?”
“Nae minor cuff…”
“Did ye never receive such a cuff for a missed attempt at lifting a timetell?”
Rune felt the urge to cuff Gator for pointing out what was most obvious. Had Rum not been teaching Jag to lift? Surely the lad was about attempting what he had learned, gaining proper experience. Who best to make such attempts upon than the crew of the boat one sailed on?
“Get back to work.”
Gator laughed and did as ordered.
Rune continued to stand at the rail, watching Jag move about his duties, giving the unknown lad a shove. Who was that lad? And why would Rum make part of his crew a lad wishing to sell him a map?
“Truly, son, one would think ye become a regular mother hen with yer constant concern for Jag.”
His body went ridged hearing the laughter in his mother’s voice. “Hardly did I have time with him before he began fostering with Rum.”
“Aye, ‘tis so, and yet ye have not denied the tendency towards mother hen. Or mayhap ye think to deny all the time spent at this railing…”
“Do ye say ye received nae reports from Aunt Gray when I fostered upon Weathered?”
“Of course, gladly did Gray inform me of yer progress, but I hovered not. Or do ye lie and say that always was I pestering ye?”
“Nae, but experienced I was with the sea, with the way of the sea. Already had I lifted multiple daggers by the time I was Jag’s age. He…”
“He needs the space to learn what needs learning. ‘Tis interesting the way Rum goes about the task.” Jasper stood at the rail with her son and watched Jag. “’Tis little bells he gathers, not timetells. Much is it like when I taught ye with the pebble.”
“A game.”
“Aye, a game. Despite being cuffed, he lifted that crew member’s bell, ‘tis why he laughed—even young Gator saw it before ye did. Be proud of yer son and hold secret any concern, he will fear he fails ye does he learn of this worry ye carry about.”
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