Page 34 of Ballad of Sea and Sky

Astraios held a wooden door open for me, and I looked up to see a wooden sign with a painted image of a red rose wrapped in strings of pearls. The Rose and Pearl then, I supposed. The music was louder now, and I recognized Caspian’s voice as Astraios pushed me ahead of him.

“Two pints,” he said to a stout dwarven male behind a bar. I didn’t pay attention to him as my gaze went straight to Caspian, who sat on something of a makeshift stage strumming the golden stringed instrument I’d seen him play on the ship. A rapt audience had gathered around him, the bar almost packed to the rafters, and his words captured me with equal fervor as I recognized it as the song I had heard him play before.

Horizons meet in a kiss so sweet,

And dance in harmonious tune.

Where sunsets bleed and tides recede,

And twilights fade too soon.

In nature’s dance they took their chance,

To join together, whereby,

The gods refused, the pair accused,

The ballad of sea and sky.

So sing of sea and sky, my love,

The tale a sweet lullaby.

A story of old, a dream so bold,

The ballad of sea and sky.

Caspian looked up then, just as Astraios pushed a mug of amber liquid into my hand and dragged me into a booth, the table made of what appeared to be tops of barrels. He gave me a wry wink as he continued the song, and my heart seemed to beat with the rhythm of his music.

In rage the storm of love foresworn,

A tempest bittersweet.

While touch they might each day and night,

The two would never meet.

The legend born, this love we mourn,

A boundless star-crossed cry.

An ancient lore from distant shore,

The ballad of sea and sky.

So sing of sea and sky, my love,

The tale a sweet lullaby.

A story of old, a dream so bold,

The ballad of sea and sky.

Caspian strummed the last note slowly, letting it ring out in the tavern and over the hushed audience. A beat of silence was broken by applause and sighs from the various females watching, and a few males. Caspian nodded politely, shouldering the instrument and excusing himself to walk toward our table.

“I see you made good choices, Urchin,” he rumbled, his voice so similar and yet different from the one he used to sing. I started, a little entranced by what I had heard, and gave myself a mental shake. Maybe he had lied about this song being woven with magic.

“Marina,” I corrected automatically. “What was that song about? And what is that thing?” I added, pointing to the instrument.