Jaysehn (prime)/Reflections/Paid in Full

Poor, poor Portusa sat quietly in the high grass, feeling the strong winds of the bluff swirl the blades around his body, tickling at his face and hands with tiny little taps. An aggressive crashing of a wave into the cliff face below sent a spray of sea mist into the air, chilling the area as Portusa held his old trowel in his hands. Gnarled hands with swollen knuckles, pawed sadly at the well-worn instrument.

He was sad. Poor, poor Portusa was very sad. He wished he hadn’t had all that excitement a few weeks ago. It was nice to meet new people and have all these strangers wanting his attention. He hadn’t had something like that in his life for years and years. Not since he had given up trading when his eyes finally went dark for good.

He missed the woman who gave him a kiss and the smell of the lady who put all that coin in his pocket. He missed the eager voices all wanting to talk to him…him! Portusa!

But now…now he was alone again. Very alone. He missed his friend.

“Jasper….”, he muttered to no one, “...everyone needs more mates.”

Portusa sat that way for a while. He was out of coin, so no more food or drink was coming his way. He would have complained about his hunger, if he wasn’t so lonely as to have forgotten his lack of food.

He dozed off a while, only to be woken by the sound of someone approaching. A single set of boots, walking slowly down the stony steps that led to the promontory. Portusa tensed up a moment. Hardly anyone ever came here. Especially in the cold fall evening. But his caution melted when the smell of a steaming portion of the local fish stew caught his nose. He tilted his head in the direction of the smell, rubbing his hands in the eager hope that someone had taken mercy on him and brought him some food.

“Portusa?”, came the expected voice, though it wasn’t a voice Portusa recognized.

“Yes, mate!,” Portusa eagerly answered, the hunger returning with a vengeance, “That’s me guv, poor, poor, Portusa.”. The practiced phrasing came easily to the old man’s mind, so rehearsed as it was. ‘Is that stew, mate? I love a bowl of that fine broth, yes I do. Poor old Portusa…he has no broth at all mate, none at all…”

The man came closer, his feet moving through the tall grass. The stranger smelled of ozone, thyme and leather. Portusa could get a brief whiff of something else…but he couldn’t quite place it, other than that it seemed wrong somehow.

He stopped caring when the warm bowl was placed into his cold, wet hands. He slurped at it eagerly, the man above him saying nothing. It went down with a wonderful warmth that gave Portusa new vigor.

The man waited politely, taking only a few footsteps in either direction. When Portusa was well into the act of licking the bowl clean, the man spoke again.

“You ..know Jasper De Rayne?”

“Yessir. Jasper was me good mate he was. Toughest old salt there ever was, that one.” Portusa scrunched his face up thinking and went on, “Ran off with some doxies he did. I don’t blame him, mind, they kissed nice and smelled nice. Proper doxies though. He up and left without a word, he did. Thought he was going to the tavern and then he’d be back in a flash. I don’t blame him, no sir I don’t. But he could have at least come back when had his fill of the doxies.”

The man’s steps brought him close to Portusa again. Portusa sensed movement and heard the man lower himself into the grass. He took the bowl out of Portusa’s hands and replaced it with a heavy metal object. It was square in shape and Portusa ran his hands over it eagerly to discover its nature.

“A...box mate?”

“I am returning Jasper to you. You are his friend.”

Portusa was confused at first and then he felt around the box more. Eagerly pawing at the exterior of the locked container. His mouth turned into a near toothless grin and he wheezed out a childlike laugh.

“Is it matey? Is it truly? Me ol’ mate Jasper is back!?”

“His debts are paid. I trust him to your care.”

“And right you are matey! Portusa, poor old Portusa is the man for the job, he is! Me and Jasper here are thick as camel’s fleas we is. Shall I take care of him matey? Of course, I will. Just like a good caravaner does, eh? Stay the course. Mind the road and watch yer mates. So, I was and so I will, guv!”

As proof, Portusa began immediately digging up a hole to store his friend in, just like Jasper would like it. His trowel worked furiously tossing earth around him with a lack of care as to where it ended up.

Portusa barely registered the sound of footsteps as the man left. He was far too focused on the return of his best friend. Portusa hugged the metal box close like a pet, happier than he had been in years, and then went back to digging a nice snug place for Jasper to get a nap in.