The next few days were enjoyable ones for Adelard, for, though he kept his promise to continue completing his fair share of work and therefore spent a good portion of each day performing tasks aboard the ship, his down time consisted of hours of reading and delightful interactions. He had initially worried that the crew might be cold to him once they had learned who he really was, but a stern warning from the boatswain, in tandem with the duke’s affable and helpful nature, resulted in the vast majority of the sailors behaving in a friendly fashion toward him. Adelard had also grown close to boatswain Henry and his wife Hildeth since revealing his identity, and the countless discussions the trio shared made him feel as if the pair almost functioned as surrogate parents. Finally, he had been correct in assuming that he and Syndalle Scarre would develop a friendship, for they discovered they had much in common and would often sit and chat in the evening after they had finished their work. Adelard came to understand that he had not had a real friend in quite some time, and that he perhaps needed one just as badly as Captain Scarre did, and he found himself trusting her in a way in which he had not trusted many.

During the first week of the Silver Pearl’s journey, the vessel had stopped at several small ports so that the mariners might eat well and procure various needed sundries, but none of the stops had featured much entertainment. On the seventh day of travel their circumstances changed, though, for they found themselves nearing the port of Pultare, a well-developed town with a reputation for fine food, fine music, and fine frolicking. Before the crewmen went ashore, Henry gave each a small allowance and informed them that they might use it however they desired so long as they were ready to depart the following morning. This made the men eager to make their way onto land, and they practically stormed the gangplank once it was placed down.

Adelard determined that he would tag along with the others, and so he quickly groomed himself and put on a handsome but unremarkable outfit, then joined the mob as they hurried into Pultare whooping and cheering. He decided that he would join Robert Browne, the boatswain’s son, and his friend Reynard on their planned excursion, for they were the most genial of all sailors aboard the ship. They informed him that they would be heading to an establishment called the Pig’s Whistle, for they had heard it held both skilled musicians and pretty girls aplenty, and he gladly accompanied them in the hope of hearing some rousing tunes.

He was not disappointed, for, upon their arrival, he discovered a band performing that played both beloved standards and original pieces that he found surprisingly moving. He listened to them for the better part of an hour, and, once they had finished their set, conversed with their singer, a bronze-skinned young man who called himself Geoffrey, for the remainder of it; it was only after noticing how much time had passed that Adelard realized he might be abandoning his companions and bade the singer farewell to seek them out.

He found Robert and Reynard, each with a flagon in hand, seated at a table with two women at the rear of the room. They all seemed to have enjoyed quite a bit of strong beer, for they were laughing riotously and waved frantically at Adelard as he approached them. Robert patted the bench next to him, indicating that the duke should take a seat, and Adelard gingerly did as requested. One of the women, a brunette, seemed very interested in Reynard, for she kept glancing at him and placing her hand upon his shoulder while he spoke, but the other, a blonde, seemed much more interested in the drinks than in Robert; however, she perked when Adelard joined the party, and flirted with him to the point where it made him mildly uncomfortable. He politely rebuffed her advances, which turned her sour, and, when the brunette and Renard got up from the table to dance, she huffily followed them to the dance floor.

Adelard turned to Robert, who was staring wistfully at the departing maiden. “I’m sorry if I spoiled your chances, I hadn’t meant to.”

Robert cocked his head and grinned at the duke. “No need to worry yerself, fancy breeches,” he said, casting Adelard a wink. “I liked ’er, but I don’t think she liked me. Besides, I’m too drunk to enjoy time with ’er anyway.” He chortled and slapped Adelard on the back. “Were ye ’avin’ a good time?”

“Oh, yes,” Adelard replied. “I was quite enjoying the music and spoke to the singer, who was very nice. I―”

“Ye know, if ye’re tryin’ to pass for a seaman, ye’re doin’ a poor job o’ it,” interrupted Robert, eyes twinkling. “Ye speak far prettier than most o’ our lot.”

Adelard reddened, and was about to apologize and promise to be less conspicuous when Robert said abruptly, “Ah, there’s Cap’n Scarre. I didn’t know she’d come ’ere. She don’t usually join us when we’re gettin’ soused.” He chuckled, and Adelard had started to rise to go ask her to join them when Robert stayed him. “What’re you doin’? I know you bunk with the cap’n, but, even if you’re friendly, you need to remember she’s cap’n. She looks busy, so ’tis best not to bother ’er.”

Adelard sat down sheepishly, then scanned the crowd in hopes of seeing what Syndalle Scarre was doing. He soon found her standing near the bar, where she appeared to be in deep conversation with someone who was presently blocked from view. Eventually those standing in the way moved aside, and he saw that the captain was speaking with a woman with brown skin and dark brown hair who seemed to be wearing a dress made of sail cloth. (See, I told you I’d show up eventually-Irmene.) The lady was talking animatedly and Adelard thought he saw Captain Scarre’s brow wrinkle with concern, then the stranger took the captain by the arm and led her off through the crowd.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to find Robert peering at him curiously. “What’s the matter, fancy? Ye all right?”

“Captain Scarre was speaking to a woman, who then seized her by the arm and dragged her off somewhere. Perhaps she’s in trouble? Maybe we should help...” He trailed off when he saw that Robert was smiling at him in the way one might smile at a child who has just made a foolish remark. “Why are you making that face at me? Have I misspoke?”

“I know ye’re a noble an’ all,” said Robert, “but I wouldn’t think that’d make ye an innocent. I’m sure ye know that folks bed each other sometimes, right? Well, our cap’n likes to do that like anyone else.”

Adelard needed a moment to process the sailor’s words, for he was temporarily taken aback by them. Although he had spent quite a bit of time with Captain Scarre, she had never mentioned any romantic or sexual history to him, so he had never really thought of her as being interested in that sort of intimacy; he supposed he was a bit naive to have not considered that the captain might have those desires. After a bit, he cleared his throat and, hoping to appear more worldly than he had in the first place, said, “Oh, I know folks bed each other, Robert, I just didn’t know that the captain held interest in that sort of thing. Besides, she didn’t look like she was having that kind of conversation with the woman she was talking to, she seemed distressed.” Robert kept grinning at him in an infuriating manner, so he followed this up with, “Does she only dally with women?”

Robert’s smile widened. “An’ why do ye want to know?”

Adelard stammered that there was no particular reason, he was just asking, and Robert guffawed. “I’m just takin’ the wind out o’ yer sails. Naw, from what I know she likes all sorts of folks. It’s rare for her to bed some ’un, though―I’ve been workin’ for ’er since a was a boy, nigh on fifteen years now, an’ in that time she’s ’ad maybe one a year, if that. I ’eard she was betrothed once, to a man of Roseland, but that was before I sailed with ’er. I know she was also with a woman for many years―that was durin’ my time with ’er―but it ended a long while ago.”

“Since then, she just brings someone she takes a likin’ to back to ’er quarters every once in a while. Maybe she’ll bring the grabbing lady back, and ye’ll have to sleep on the deck? Fresh air will do ye good.” He laughed at his words, then returned to swigging his beer.

Adelard ordered a pint of ale and a pasty and tried to enjoy himself, but found that he could not help dwelling on the captain. He felt he knew her pretty well due to the friendship they had struck up (although not well enough to know about her love life, he now had to admit to himself), and he knew that he had seen worry on her her face while she had been speaking with the stranger. He excused himself from the table once Reynard and the brunette had rejoined Robert, and embarked upon a search of the premises in hopes of finding her.

Adelard soon discovered the captain sitting at the bar and immediately grew alarmed, for her countenance was the picture of despair and she was gulping down a pint of strong beer in a manner that was strange to her. She finished swigging it and, once she noticed the duke standing beside her, grinned at him sheepishly. "I know that was unseemly behavior for a captain, but, I swear, I only had the one."

"I don’t care how many you’ve had, I just want to know why your face is so grim," said Adelard. "I saw you speaking to a woman earlier―is she causing you trouble?"

Captain Scarre grimaced. "She isn’t, but she did share some knowledge that gives me cause for concern." She leaned toward the duke and lowered her voice. "I do not wish to speak of the matter here. Might we adjourn to our quarters and discuss it there?" Adelard quickly agreed, as he was mightily curious about what was causing his friend such distress, and they hastily left the tavern and clambered back aboard the Silver Pearl.

Once they had entered their chambers and closed the door firmly behind them, the captain sank onto the bench with a groan. Adelard flopped down next to her, then turned to her and said, "Now, come out with what’s going on. You look as if you’d found one of the crew dead."

Syndalle Scarre groaned once more, and replied, "To be honest, I’m very worried that I might see several of our crew members perish during our journey." The duke stared at her quizzically, and she went on, "That stranger in the bar offered me a warning, and I fear that, if we aren’t very careful and do not prepare accordingly, we may soon lose many of them."

"What?" yelped Adelard. "What are you talking about, Syndalle?"

"Tomorrow morning we will be venturing into ocean territory that I do not know well, for I’ve never before had cause to journey in that direction. The woman I’d spoken with had overheard some of our men discussing our search for the ’land of the dead,"’and she sought me out to inform me that, although she’s never visited it, she is aware of its existence―and also that the course said to lead to it is known to be treacherous, which is why many who’ve sought it have never returned from their journeys."

"Many of the dangers are as yet unknown due to the lack of records from successful voyages, but there is one that appears certain: there is an island a day or so from here upon which dwell a horde of sirens. If we aren’t careful, we shall be at great risk from them."

Adelard was skeptical. "Sirens? You mean, creatures like mermaids who lure men to their deaths by singing to them? I thought they only existed in old seaman’s tales."

"There are many things in this world that cannot be easily explained, Adelard, including much that I have seen with my own eyes," replied Captain Scarre. "Just because you haven’t encountered them whilst sequestered in your uncle’s kingdom does not mean they aren’t real." The duke conceded her point, and she continued, "According to that woman, these sirens aren’t pleasing to look upon, but their songs are very powerful and have the ability to addle the minds of the men who hear them, and to cause them to jump from their boats to join the creatures. Those who do not meet their doom in the waves end up finding it beneath the claws and teeth of their tempters."

"Well, then, whatever shall we do?" said Adelard, for he was afraid for the crew and, moreover, for himself, as he figured he was man enough to be affected by the sirens’ curse despite his not always feeling that way.

"We ready ourselves as best we can. I was fortunate that the warning I’d received was accompanied by some advice regarding how to avoid being harmed by them, and you shall learn what we must do to best face the danger on the morrow, for I plan on sharing it with the whole of the crew then. Now, let us discuss more pleasant things, for I hope to be able to sleep tonight and know I shall not if I dwell on this."

Adelard, still reeling from the information the captain had imparted to him, was unsure of what he might say to take her mind off the matter, and, without thinking, blurted the first thing that popped into his head. "It’s too bad that woman was a harbinger of ill luck, for some of the crew were hoping she would provide you some temporary good fortune by warming your bed."

He immediately realized the impertinence of his words and flushed, and was relieved when Captain Scarre laughed and said, "Oh, really? And who might have wished me such delights?"

"Oh, j-just some people," stammered Adelard. "I’m certain they meant no offense, I―"

"There’s no need to get flustered, I haven’t taken any, and you don’t need to share the well-wishers’ names if you don’t want to." The captain smirked at him, and he continued to babble nonsense until she added, "Anyway, although she was attractive, I hadn’t thought of her in that way. I guess it takes a particular kind of person to turn my head nowadays. That’s what happens as one advances in age."

"You’re not that old!" exclaimed Adelard. "You always talk about how ancient you are, but you aren’t even forty yet. You’re not that much older than I am, so stop making yourself out to be some sort of crone."

"I suppose you’re right," admitted Captain Scarre. "’I’m not that old, really, but sometimes I feel much older―particularly during times when I must navigate a situation that puts my crew and our mission at risk of a terrible doom." She laughed weakly, then rose from the bench and, to Adelard’s surprise, walked over to his hammock and sprawled upon it. "Since you’ve been so presumptuous with me, I shall now take the liberty of trying your hammock, for I’ve wondered of its comfort and, frankly, finishing that beer so quickly has left me a bit unsteady on my feet." She laughed once more, this time more robustly, and shifted her head so that she faced the duke. "It has also, admittedly, made my lips looser than usual, so you’re in luck―I’m not opposed to chattering with you about our respective amorous histories as if we were lads working together on the docks. I’m assuming you’re interested in doing so, being that you were the one to bring up my dalliances?"

She smirked at Adelard, who once more reddened. "I actually don’t have much of one," he said softly. "There was a girl once, when I’d just turned eighteen. She was lovely, and I liked her and was certainly attracted to her, but it...just wasn’t right. Since then, I’ve primarily focused on my studies, as, though I’ve met others I’ve found attractive, none of them were quite the proper fit."

"What a surprise!" exclaimed Captain Scarre. "One would think that, given your standing and appearance, you’d have scores of ladies clambering for your attentions. You must be very fickle."

She winked at Adelard, and he quickly attempted to change the subject. "I’d heard from the...well-wishers that you’ve had your share of experiences. I think that anything you’d care to relate would be much more interesting than anything I might share regarding my meager experience."

It was the captain’s turn to blush, but then she briskly shook her head. "I am not ashamed of any decision I’ve made regarding carnal matters, so I am not about to get bashful about them now. What, exactly, have you been told, and what more do you want to know?"

Put on the spot, Adelard scrambled for what to say. "Well, I’d been told that you were betrothed at one point but ended up not marrying the man, and that you’d also been with a woman for several years, but that both of these ties had been long-severed and that your affairs since have been much more...casual." He grimaced. "I hope that didn’t come off as insolent, I just wasn’t sure how else to phrase things."

"I mean, ’casual’ would be as good a word as any to use to describe my recent relations, so I remain unbothered. Those you’d mentioned that weren’t so casual―their names were Roland and Sybil. I hadn’t thought of either of them in quite a while―and I cannot remember the last time I’d spoken about either of them to anyone―but I suppose they are the reason why all my other connections have remained brief." She smiled wistfully. "Sybil especially."

She decided Adelard was a close enough friend to share some of her more intimate memories with, and continued, "I met Roland, the man I was betrothed to, when I was fifteen; he was the same age as I was, the son of one of my mother’s friends. We were introduced at a dinner party, where he attempted to impress me with his knowledge of history. I proved myself more learned than he in this regard, and he decided that the woman who had bested him would one day become his wife. He pursued me vigorously, and, although I was at first unmoved by his advances, his intelligence and charm eventually won me over. When we were seventeen, he asked if we might wed when we turned eighteen. I haggled for twenty, and he agreed to this."

"Well, as you know, my father went missing during my eighteenth year, and I determined that I would take over his business to ensure that none would destroy what he had built. Roland...was not pleased with this," the captain said scornfully. "He had expected that I would sell the business, as my father had left it to me, and that we would live off the profits until he came into his own inheritance; he had anticipated being able to study and to engage in pleasurable activities without toil, and, when he found out that I intended to sail in my father’s stead, he grew very angry with me. He told me that he needed a wife who would be there to provide for him, to cook and to clean for him whilst he focused on increasing his knowledge and wealth, and that he expected me to ’make sacrifices’ in order to do so."

"I took off the ring he had given me and threw it in his face, then immediately boarded a ship and undertook a three-month journey in search of my father and his missing crew. When I returned from the trip Roland came to me and begged me to take him back, but I refused him. I am unsure whether I ever loved him―for I sometimes feel as if I accepted his proposal due to the comfort I felt with him rather than any particular passion I had for him―but I knew that, after he had so callously disregarded my desires, I no longer did regardless."

"And that was that. The last I heard, he had received his inheritance and had married and sired a brood. I’m happy for him, I suppose, but I’m mostly just glad I didn’t end up yoked to him."

She grew quiet, and stared at the ceiling until Adelard broke the silence. "You’d mentioned a ’Sybil’ as well, and stated that she was ’especially’ the reason you’ve kept your recent affairs brief. I’m guessing she’s the woman you spent many years with... Could you tell me more about her?"

"I knew you’d ask about her. I can’t really hide how she continues to affect me, can I?" The wistful smile returned to Syndalle Scarre’s lips. "Though I’m uncertain whether I truly loved Roland, I know that I certainly did love Sybil―perhaps I still do, in a way, although most of what I feel regarding her nowadays is a dull ache and a vague sort of sadness."

She bit her lip, then let out a deep breath. "I met Sybil when I was around your age, and spent about five years with her―I say ’about five’ not because I don’t recall exactly where and when I met her as well as the exact moment things ended, but because we spent enough time apart during that period that it wouldn’t be quite right to count the years in full. She was the daughter of an alchemist, and spent much of her time seeking the answers to life’s most inscrutable questions. She was full of dreams and ambitions, and I fell for her quickly. It felt like we were a perfect fit for one another, as we both wanted to learn and to adventure―or so I thought―and gave each other the space to do so. I would leave for months at a time, but always believed that she would be waiting for me upon my return."

The duke had been listening raptly to her narrative, and said, "It sounds like you had quite the connection―for what reason did it end?"

"She fell in love with another," admitted the captain, a rueful note tinging her voice. "As I was away so often, we had an agreement that permitted each of us to pursue additional relations. Although I rarely took advantage of the arrangement, I was quite comfortable and happy with it, and I believed she was as well. I was wrong, of course." She sighed. "Near the end of our fifth year together, I returned from a voyage to find that she had wed whilst I’d been gone. She’d met a lord who’d wooed her relentlessly and had fallen hopelessly in love with and married him, and that was the end of her and me. She told me that she’d never truly been happy being a partner to someone who was absent so frequently and had desired a lover she could share her life with, and she’d found what she’d been seeking in that man. She went to live with her husband on his manor, and that was the last I saw of her. I can only assume that she continues to search for answers, same as she always has, for I’ve no doubt the lord is able to easily fund any venture she might desire to undertake."

Captain Scarre’s eyes were shining, and she used the back of one hand to wipe away the tears that were starting to form in them. "Ah, well, it can’t be helped, really. I learned too late that even those one trusts wholeheartedly might not always be honest regarding their feelings, but at least I can say that I walked away from the experience with greater understanding. It’s become clear to me that one such as myself, whose life is devoted to exploration and discovery, might end up spending the majority of their days alone. It is a burden I have grown to shoulder with little regret." She shrugged and, still wearing the melancholy grin, returned to staring at the ceiling.

Adelard, stunned by her revelation, gazed at her face as he contemplated how to respond to all that she had just unburdened to him. He was a bit ashamed to admit, but, up until that night’s conversation, he had never given thought to the captain’s ability to feel sorrow or love or pain despite his having grown to consider her one of the closest friends he had ever had; then again, there was still so much he had not yet shared with her in spite of their closeness that he knew it should not have come as a shock that she had more layers to her than he had expected.

Still, the fact that he had not acknowledged to himself that she might experience a variety of feelings just like any other normal person made him feel abashed and naive―he realized that he had been placing her on a pedestal and that this was not a kind thing to do to a friend―and so felt that he should make things up to her and help her to feel better. He weakly offered, "It isn’t completely hopeless though, Syndalle, when you really think about it. If you’d like to share your life with someone, you just have to find a person who desires adventure to the same degree that you do."

Captain Scarre turned to look at him. "I appreciate the kind thought, Adelard, but I feel as if those willing to throw their comfortable lives on land away in order to travel with me for half the year are a rare and difficult-to-find breed."

"Not necessarily. I mean, there are many impetuous fools who would sacrifice comfort and wealth for a chance to see the world. I believe you might already be acquainted with one of them."

Syndalle Scarre’s eyebrows raised, and she let out a guffaw that might have been the only truly mirthful sound she had produced that evening. "You’re right, I very well might be." She raised herself from the hammock with a grunt. "I suppose I shouldn’t be so discouraged about these things. I did warn you that I was bitter, though, and for good reason." She strode across the room to Adelard and, leaning over him, placed her hands on his shoulders. "You may have your bed back now, Your Grace."

Adelard rose to his feet, and was surprised when the captain grabbed him, enfolding him in a tight hug. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "I don’t know how I lived for so long without a friend like you, but I’m exceedingly grateful to have you now." She kissed his cheek, then released him from her embrace and bustled over to her desk. "I will now take the time to plan what I shall say to the crew regarding the sirens on the morrow, for I fear that I shall not be able to sleep if I don’t. Enjoy your reading, Adelard, and please go to bed whenever you need to―don’t worry about me, I shall be fine once I get the right words down."

She sat down and began busily scribbling on a sheet of writing paper. Adelard sidled over to his hammock, staring incredulously at her as he did so, for he was still having difficulty wrapping his head around the fact that Captain Scarre was not only fallible and just as capable of experiencing feelings as any other human, but that she also appeared to treasure their friendship as much as he did.

As he settled into bed with a book, Adelard could not help but replay their interaction in his mind, and he conceded to himself that it had caused him to see his friend in a different light and that this new view of her felt more than a little strange to him. He determined that he would take some time over the following days to pay further consideration to this strangeness―provided, of course, that the ship was not constantly assailed by vicious sirens―and he pushed all complicated feelings aside as he dug into a new literary adventure, one he consumed insatiably until the candle near his bedside at last went out.

Next Chapter: Chapter 4: The Sirens