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She was a fearless woman. It was deeper, darker. “You didn't kill him?”“No.” Her word was short, clipped. “He lived.”“When we finish the quest and slay the dragon, the council will understand why you did it. Besides, he attacked you.”“Doesn't matter.” She glanced at her red robes. “I'm not a mage any longer. I'm a warlock. I don't even have to wear this. I can wear what I want.”“You're still a mage.” I reached out to put an arm around her but she shied away.“I'm filthy, Thrak.”“I don't mind,” I answered. “It's mostly dried anyways.”The sailor dropped the bucket of seawater before her. Some sloshed over the rim. She seized it, grunting beneath its weight, and dumped the water over her head. It flowed over her, washing across her naked flesh and spilling on the deck. A salty scent caught my nose.Then she grabbed the sleeve of her robe and rubbed at herself. “I'll need more.”“Sure, sure,” the sailor said and pitched it over.It took three more buckets to clean her. I watched her,. She had found some bread and also made herself some plain toast to have with her eggs. His hair was still damp, combed back, tucked behind his ears on each side and hanging well over his collar in back. He was clean shaven and had changed into a mint green polo shirt and clean blue jean pants. His hiking boots had been replaced by a pair of athletic shoes but his casual appearance did little to diminish the strength and security that Amanda felt in his presence. She also couldn’t ignore how much this man had flamed her blood from the moment she had set eyes on him. Sean pulled out a stool as he placed his land line phone onto the counter between them. He took a seat on a stool, hit the speaker phone button and the silence in the room was filled with a dial tone. Checking his memory against a slip of paper pinned to his bulletin board, Sean dialed a long distant number. Amanda continued to eat her eggs and examine the cabin as Sean initiated his call. ‘Parker,’ was the response as his.
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