Year of Three Sails
The Enclave > Seasons Long Past

Listen to him and his two good teeth spouting that old rhyme! I'll eat every sawdust-stuffed eel in this place and carve my name on the highest roof beam blindfolded if ever a Neth sailed the Unending Sea. Some drunkard Guildsman sang that song on his way to an early grave, but there sits Ochan swinging his mug like it all came from the wisest whitebeard in all creation!

Pah! Of course I know better! Three sails there were that summer - no Neth, not then and not ever. You have my grandfather's word on that, and that's more than good enough for you mangy, spirit-soused eels. You may as well spin a tale of a ship of stonefolk or castles under the currents as of Neth at sea. But three sails there were, three sails for three great ships of odd design, the strangest seafarers you can imagine at the helms and mastheads. The old Magi must have seen some sights in far lands, for these had teeth like a dog, legs for their arms, blue-painted skin and great round eyes, big as your fist, aye. They flashed their mirror-signs and hoisted pennants of all colors, sailed between the cliffs and around the bay as pretty as you please. They never dropped anchor, but followed the wind and currents back into the Unending Sea that very same day.

The merchants and Islefolk may have wailed and cried into their ale that season, but I'll wager your grandparents heaved a sigh or two. It's not right to have things other than honest folk walking the docks. Hoi! Bring a new cask and have Ochan tell a real tale, of Salin and the Fisher ... no more of that mudwater nonsense about Neth.

[ Posted by Reason on February 18, 2005 ]