Free The Lost Prince by Matt Myklusch Page A

you thought I was someone else?” His lips formed an apologetic smile. “Sorry to disappoint you. I was wondering why you were so honored to play host to a sea-born orphan.” He motioned to the bed and his fine sleepwear. “In such style too.”
    “It’s true, then? You have no family to speak of?”
    Dean shook his head. “None but my shipmates.”
    “Where are you from?”
    Dean’s eyes narrowed. This Verrick certainly asked a lot of questions. “I don’t claim to be from anywhere. I know where I live and where I’ve been, but no more than that. My only home is the ocean blue.”
    Verrick stared at Dean, deep in thought. “I don’t believe it.”
    Sensing his time in the lap of luxury was nearing an end, Dean threw back the covers. He started to climb out of bed, but Verrick motioned for him to stay put.
    “The wreck of your ship. Your mates tell me pirates had a hand in that.”
    Dean nodded. “That’s true enough.” And so it was.
    “Pirates,” Verrick said with gravel in his voice. “Scum of the sea. Their wretched lot has played an even greater part in your life than you realize, I’ll wager.”
    Dean tilted his head to one side.
Another odd comment.
Something was off about Verrick. He could feel it. “Sir, you still haven’t told me why I’m in here all alone. At first I just assumed I’d taken the longest to recover, but I can’t help but think there’s something else going on.”
    Verrick pointed at Dean. “You’re a clever one. It’s no wonder you’ve survived this long.”
    Dean studied Verrick. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about surviving out on the waves with the rest of the crew?”
    Verrick smiled. “Because I’m not.” He sat down across from Dean and leaned in toward him. “Tell me, Dean, what do you know about Zenhala?”
    “Zenhala?” Dean smirked. “Are you serious? “What has that got to do with why I’m here?”
    “Everything. I take it you’ve heard of the island?”
    “Every sailor worth his salt has heard of Zenhala.”
    “Good, that will save us time. Less to explain.”
    Dean shook his head. “There’s nothing to explain. The Golden Isle’s a myth.”
    “Many sailors would disagree with you.”
    “Desperate men and fools.”
    Verrick shrugged. “Some perhaps. But please, indulge me.What about the traders of Zenhala? Surely, you must know of them too.…”
    Dean nodded, playing along. He knew everything there was to know about Zenhalan folklore. He wouldn’t have used it in the grift he ran on Gentleman Jim otherwise. “The traders are like the leprechauns of the Caribbean. They go out into the world once every year to exchange the golden harvest for goods and supplies. If you’re lucky enough to come across one of their ships, you keep it in your sights and follow it back to the Golden Isle. If you can keep up, that is.”
    “Easier said than done, is it?”
    “They say the traders of Zenhala move through market towns like ghosts and sail across the ocean with skills that shame Lord Neptune himself.”
    “Really?” Verrick smiled. “They say all that?”
    “That and more.”
    Verrick tugged at his beard with a modest grin. “Well, that’s the real trouble with legends, isn’t it? They get all blown out of proportion. One has to be careful not to let that kind of talk go to his head. Pride is a sin, you know.”
    Dean looked at Verrick. “That’s what this is, then? You want me to believe you’re a trader of Zenhala?”
    “You don’t believe in the Golden Isle? Not even a little?”
    “Sir, I may be a child in your eyes, but that doesn’t mean I believe in fairy tales. There is no Zenhala. It’s a legend, nothing more.”
    “Believe it or not, I love to hear people say that. That brand of skepticism has kept my island safe for hundreds of years.”
    “And yet, here you are, telling me your secret. A boy you dragged out of the ocean and hardly know. I appreciate your help, Captain Verrick, but I don’t know