The celebration ended sometime before dawn.
Probably.
Nobody remembers exactly when.
Now grey morning light fills the tavern.
A young sailor suddenly wakes beside the hearth.
SAILOR:
“Where is she?”
PIRATE:
“Who?”
SAILOR:
“The woman on the beach.”
PIRATE:
“You’ve been here all night.”
The sailor looks around.
SAILOR:
“I was on a beach.”
SEAN:
“Dream.”
ELJARA:
“Probably.”
SEAN:
“You’ve been spending too much time with Caelwyn.”
The sailor closes his eyes.
SAILOR:
“Black sand.”
“Old ships.”
“Half buried.”
“And the sea was too far away.”
He hums four notes.
Sean stops smiling.
ELJARA:
“You know that song.”
SEAN:
“I’ve heard something like it.”
A voice comes from beneath another table.
SECOND SAILOR:
“The woman had shells in her hair.”
Everyone turns.
The second sailor slowly sits up.
The first stares at him.
SAILOR:
“You saw her?”
SECOND SAILOR:
“You too?”
Nobody laughs now.
FIRST SAILOR:
“There was a fire.”
SECOND SAILOR:
“No. There was a mast.”
FIRST SAILOR:
“The mast was burning.”
The second sailor goes quiet.
SECOND SAILOR:
“Yes.”
ELJARA:
“Same dream?”
SEAN:
“Similar dream.”
ELJARA:
“There’s your annoying distinction.”
The first sailor opens his hand.
Black sand lies beneath his fingernails.
SEAN:
“You slept beside the hearth.”
ELJARA:
“Ash?”
SEAN:
“Could be.”
The second sailor searches his coat.
SECOND SAILOR:
“My coin.”
He checks again.
SECOND SAILOR:
“My mother’s coin is gone.”
SEAN:
“You lost a coin while drunk in a pirate tavern.”
SECOND SAILOR:
“She took it.”
By midday, there should be a perfectly ordinary explanation.
Rum.
Grief.
An old song.
Two exhausted sailors sharing pieces of the same story.
Then a woman from the docks enters.
DOCKWOMAN:
“Which one of you idiots was singing on the beach last night?”
Sean and Eljara look at each other.
SEAN:
“What beach?”
DOCKWOMAN:
“Past the old fort.”
FIRST SAILOR:
“What colour is the sand?”
DOCKWOMAN:
“Black.”
The room goes silent.
SECOND SAILOR:
“Were there ships?”
DOCKWOMAN:
“Wrecks.”
ELJARA:
“Did you see anyone?”
DOCKWOMAN:
“A woman.”
FIRST SAILOR:
“By a burning mast?”
DOCKWOMAN:
“No.”
He exhales.
DOCKWOMAN:
“There was a fire behind her.”
Nobody exhales after that.
ELJARA:
“Shells in her hair?”
The woman stares at her.
DOCKWOMAN:
“How the hell did you know that?”
Sean gets up.
SEAN:
“I think breakfast is over.”
Outside, morning sunlight makes the harbour look perfectly ordinary.
SEAN:
“There will be an explanation.”
ELJARA:
“You sound very determined about that.”
SEAN:
“I am.”
He reaches into his coat for his pipe.
Something else comes out with it.
A coin.
Old.
Worn.
Sean stares at it.
The second sailor’s missing coin.
ELJARA:
“How long has that been in your pocket?”
SEAN:
“I don’t know.”
For once, neither of them has a joke.
Somewhere beyond the harbour, someone begins to sing.
Four notes.
What if the dream you wake from is still dreaming of you?
Enter a Pirate Borg world that remembers what you did: