The Secret Sky

Chapter One

Aren clamored down the gangway to the lower deck where the crew slept. A lantern that hung from a hook over the door provided the only light. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the semidarkness before heading toward a hammock hung from the overhead near the port side. A shadowy form lay under a cotton blanket.

"Bennor," he whispered, and crept over to touch the arm of the gray-haired man in the hammock. "Are you asleep?"

The old sailor opened one blue eye and peered at Aren. "No, lad. Only resting."

"Are you ill? I was worried when you didn't come to supper. Cook sent me below with some bread."

He lifted a grubby hand and unwrapped a slice of the soft Rordorian bread they'd picked up at the last port. He held it out to his friend.

"Thanks, lad, but I've no appetite today. My chest has been paining me again, and I couldn't get my breath. Your father told me to get some sleep."

Aren's dark eyes widened with concern. He set the bread down on a chest behind him and stood on his tiptoes to get a better view of Bennor's bearded face. The sailor's cheeks looked gray and sunken in the dim light. Frowning, Aren reached out and patted the sailor's arm.

"Father says we'll be back in Chitan tomorrow. Then you can rest in your own bed."

He loved to visit Bennor's cottage. It nestled in the shelter of the cliffs near the House of Lohenrin and Bennor often took Aren fishing in a little rowboat he kept tied to his pier.

"Aye, lad, that will be good. It's three generations of your family I've sailed with, counting you, and I wanted to make this one voyage at least." He grimaced and gasped for breath. "But I'm beginning to think this will be my last trip out to sea."

"No, Bennor!" A stubborn defiance rose up in Aren. He put his fists on his hips in imitation of the commanding stance his father took when in charge of the ship. "You can't stop sailing just when I am finally old enough to go with you on your voyages. I am nine now," he added, with pride in his voice.

"I know that, lad. Your father will be braiding these curls at the end of this voyage." He lifted a gnarled hand and tugged at the mass of coal black hair that hung loose around Aren's shoulders. "You've earned your apprenticeship. Time for these child's locks to go."