Lentz of the Wolf - Relationships

Four blue-black towels draped over four glistening bodies cast shadows against the slick walls from the window of the charcoal stove in the center of the room.  Above the stove of steel hot pumice stones glowed, waiting to be doused again by a serving of water from a nearby pail. Thez Turak, ship master and father of Fitzar, obliged his wife, son and guest every now and again by pouring the tepid water on the rocks whereby it sizzled into the steam of the sauna.

Jukla Turak, his wife, sat comfortably with her town around her waist, and eyes closed, but mind awake and active.  “So tell me Haref, what interests you about our young Fitzar?  You must know we are training our eldest to one day take over our sloop.  Kelra beat out her twin by mere minutes.  Ironic, considering how motivated Lurel is.  So you know, there will be no room more a new wife here." 

"Yes, Lurel was a classmate of mine last year.  A beautiful young woman if I may say, and smart. 

"We spoke briefly about our future plans at the end of schooling.  As I am sure you know, her ambitions are quite impressive indeed.  A fleet admiral?  Land colonies?  That will be a tough dream, but if anyone can do it, she can."

"Yes, Lurel has quite the future for herself." Jukla laughed opening her eyes just as her husband found his way back to his seat.  "You know she too is nearing the end of courtship.  We've secured a contract with the first son of the Bohut, Heztre.  He visited us just as you are now only a fortnight ago.  Of course you know of the Bohuts..."

"Mother!" Fitzar protested, "We are not here for Lurel."  The young man clenched his fits nervously.  He, like his parents and his suitor, sat with nothing but a towel around his waist, but he might as well have been naked.  The blonde youth sat against the oak sauna walls with the grace of a wooden plank, nervous as he was with this meeting.

"Easy Fitzar," Jukla retorted, "She might as well get to know her prospective in-laws if a solid contract is to be struck."

"I am not familiar with the family.  The outer fleet does not get much time to interact with great families." Haref admitted, sheepishly "Please go on."

Jukla offered the young woman an skeptical, barely derisive glare, but after a moment of thought to herself, she continued, "It is a very old tale, but surely familiar enough to you.  Do you remember being told of the story of Myr and her travels to the world beyond?"

Haref suppressed a smile she only ever intended for her grandfather, "Yes, of course."

"Legend says that she named her first boat the Kalmut.  A bold statement when she left the docks on that mythical day.  'The first among the living'"

"Ah," Haref quickly realized, "'The last among the spirits'.  Bohut means 'the last among the spirits'"

Thez, Fitzar's father smiled in approval, "You know Classical Waak well."

"They say, when she returned, she left the Kalmut in the world beyond, and came home with the first steam powered vessel known to the Wak.  That, she called the Bohut.  But there is an alternate translation of the word."
"Last among the stars." Haref quickly amended and was rewarded with a patronizing smile.
 "Now, make no mistake," warned Jukla, "any ship from those days surely is long gone.  But the family would have passed down that name to each successive boat they built."

"So it is possible that Lurel's suitor is related to such a woman of myth and legend?  That is quite impressive."

"Oh dear," Jukla laughed again, loud and openly, "  I'm sure all of us have a drop of the blood of Myr somewhere.  He's not merely related, he is the sole heir of Myr and her works!"
"If the myths are even true, mother." Fitzar growled in a low voice, eager to be done with the topic.

"Well," Haref reclaimed the conversation after moments of silence that she hoped were interpreted as deference, "My ambitions are not so astronomical, admittedly.  As you may know, I am heir of my own vessel, the Veshja, the 'Myopic Traveler', and I search for a solid and successful life.  I am the only child, last of my line, and I want to be sure that as the world turns, that line will live on."
"So you wish children?" Thez chimed in with a deep but pensive voice.

"Yes.  As soon as possible.  And a father that will help me to raise them to be proud Wak."

Nobody said anything for several seconds, but Fitzar blushed a radish red against the orange glow of the stove.  Hoping to break the tension, Haref continued, "Lurel told me of Fitzar.  She mentioned that we might have a great deal in common, and that our goals are the same.  She suggested we might be a good match."

"A good match for a woman of the outer fleet?  My boy is hardly the laborer.  Look at him." Thez muttered derisively, but he was promptly ignored by both his wife and his guest.  His son, however, cast his gaze downward in embarrassment.

"Fitzar, go ahead and say something," his mother prodded.

The boy collected himself and straightened his back. "I am Fitzar, third son of the ship Turak." he recited as if he had practiced it all afternoon.  "I have little to offer but my intelligence, strength, bravery and capability."

"Yes dear, all that.  But speak plainly." his mother nagged, irritated.  "Leave the ceremony for the wedding."

"I seek to be a helpmeet for the Matron of a ship, to be her first mate, to help her on her voyage as it too becomes my voyage.  I wish to be father to her children, to love them, to guide them and protect them, I..." Fitzar paused, clearly having forgotten his next line.  Instead, he turned sheepishly to the half naked Haref.  "Um... " he tried to find words in frankness, but his mind failed him and his practiced speech offered no back-up.   "That's all."

Haref smiled.  She got up from her oak wood seat in the sauna and bowed her head before youth she courted.  "Fitzar of the vessel Turak, I beg your permission to speak alone with your parents." she said with ritual perfection.  

The youth nodded and fumbled trying to stand up.  He lost his towel in the process and blushed hot with embarrassment before his mother collected him and escorted him out of the sauna.  It was several minutes before she returned.

"Lurel may have been a little liberal on her brother's behalf." Thez spoke quietly, "Ambitions of progeny aside, I see very little in common between yourself and my son."

"Thank you for your concern father," she mentally winced, hoping he took that as confidence and surety, rather than arrogance.  "But love, duty, family, can grow out of differences.  I'm sure that your son and myself will be able to find the path to a successful ship.  We will make you proud."

"My son is a good boy, but he will provide no leadership."

"I will provide it."

"He will provide no cleverness."

"I shall be clever enough for the both of us."

"He may tie you down."

"I will carry us both."

Thez sighed.  "It sounds like you and his mother are already convinced then.  What can a man say?  I'm just Master of my ship."

"I will make you proud, I promise." Haref asserted just as the sauna door swung open again. 
"That was never my concern." he interjected one last time.

"Come, come," beckoned Jukla before her husband and her son's suitor. "I've had the helm assistant begin drawing up the documents.  Let's talk over coffee and biscuits."

"Jukla, my dear, aren't you rushing things?" Thez bemoaned but Haref was already standing before the both of them, in a full bow.

"Master Thez Turak and his first mate Jukla, I beg to give your son the name and ship of Veshja, to make him my first mate and to forever sail under the fleet with him by my side, so long as we are on this side of the world."

Before her husband could speak Jukla interjected with a sultry smile, "Agreed.  Please accept our son into your crew, and care for him as you would your own.  Come now child, let us draw up those documents."

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The helm's clock chimed five times and still there had been no word from the young woman who once begged for a bedtime story.  Lentz sighed while he looked onto the faded horizon of dimly lit eastern stars.  His bones were tired and old in this world when his life was never intended to know such pain.  He didn't know how much longer he could stay, yet he feared what might happen to his adopted granddaughter if he were to leave.

As he sat in his reclining chair, he felt the creases of the leather under his fingertips and snarled.  He had never met the boy Fitzar, but he already knew he wasn't good enough for her.  Nobody was good enough for his beautiful, intelligent Haref.