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2013-11-19 02:24 pm (UTC)
Edward gave his newly-christened dragon a few more pats, then straightened back to his full height. "No getting underfoot of the crew, all right? And throw your food overboard when you're done. I won't have my ship stinking of dead fish."
With that he went back to the wheel with the cheerfulness of a man ready to make his fortune, and they made for the nearest port.
It was British, which meant no risk of bumping into anyone expecting stolen Spanish cargo. It also made trade negotiations easier than relying on Edward's meagre Spanish to explain that yes, it
a dragon, and yes, he'd only be willing to part with such a thing for a grand sum. The traders were equal parts astonished and competing to buy such an amazing creature. Razorbill, for his part, was kept shacked with a metal collar and chain around his neck, but they'd purposefully weakened some of the links beforehand so the hatchling would be able to break free at the first opportunity.
And if he didn't, well. Edward had the money as he'd planned all along -- it made no difference to him.
After more trading the
hastily left port, but the brig remained close to land so Razorbill would have little difficulty finding them. Edward kept his spyglass trained to the sky, checking every half hour or so for any sign the hatchling had made a successful getaway...
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