As Ian drew closer to the vessel and waited in line, he examined the craftsmanship of the boat. It was a work of art. Its fine embellishment reminded him of his father’s artistry. A low boat with a tall mast, the sails had been tied and tucked; the tiller attached to the rudder was carved into a dragonhead. The oak planks of the keel were fastened together with wooden pegs. It was clean, waxed smooth, and smelled like the ocean.
“Step up here, boy,” one of the crew called to him. Ian moved his cart forward.
“You’re new,” the man said.
He was a weathered fellow. Ian couldn’t tell if he was old, or if it was just his rough skin that made him look that way. He had a gray beard and wore a black cap that shaded his face, so all Ian could see of his eyes were two sparkly blue dots. Several men that were with him threw fish into Ian’s cart.
“I was taken prisoner last night,” Ian told him.
“Prisoner?” the man grunted. “Well, I’ve never heard that one before. Prisoner are you?” He laughed. “And where do you come from?”
“My father and I traveled from the south west, but we aren’t from this country. We aren’t from here at all. We’re from...” Ian hesitated, not sure whether he should give his story or not. After a moment’s pause he gave in. What worse thing could happen to him that hasn’t already? “We’re from another world.”
The man chuckled. “Are you now? And is your father a prisoner too?”
Ian studied the man’s eyes and wondered if there was the slightest chance that these sailors could help him. “I don’t know what happened to my father. All I know is someone hit me on the head and brought me here.” At least Ian could prove that story what with the big white bandage wrapped around his head.
The man nodded. “Well, they must have hit you pretty hard if you’re believing you’re from another world. Go on now, your cart’s full.”
**Only .99 cents!**
**Only .99 cents!**
**Only .99 cents!**
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