Start reading on 3 September:

Without even looking over his shoulder the elderly man chortles, “You can come out of there now, Girlie.”  Ayden timidly approaches him; she can see his eyes are on the aged hag but she can tell they are looking deep into the recesses of his memories.  In a voice that is distant and thoughtful, his hand twisting at the tail ends of his white beard, as he begins, “I watched her come out of the ocean back when we were both not much older than you are now.  She was beautiful then and I cannot figure it out but she is just as beautiful today,” he explains, letting his voice trail off as he disappears back into his own memories.  Not wanting to interrupt his reminiscing Ayden moves closer and stands before him, silently, and he reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder, looking at her quickly and then back to the old woman as she disappears around a distant corner. 

“You know when she walked out of the surf, her long red hair dripping down her back I thought I was dreaming.  I had never seen anything quite like her and she was the first vessel sub I had ever seen emerge,” he softly recalls.  “Something in the back of mind keeps telling me that there is something wrong.  I mean look at me, I am an old man and yet she looks as fresh as the day she walked out of the water; still absolutely just as beautiful as the day I claimed her for my own.”  He drops his gaze to the ground shaking his head, “Something just is not right,” he says thoughtfully as he brings the gem up to the sun and turns it over in his fingers letting the light shine through it illuminating green prisms around the shop.  “This little jewel changed everything though.”

“What do you mean?” Ayden barely gets out, fighting the dryness that has suddenly set into her throat.

“Oh, well I offered to take her home with me but she would not hear any of it.  She stayed right here on the pier; and eventually left me to become a crate girl and a good one at that.  She had all the tokens that she could ever want, but they are not good anywhere but here on the pier, you know.”  He pauses and takes in a deep breath letting it out slowly before he carries on with his story, “Then one day she shows up with a handful of gems like this one.  I have no idea how a vessel sub, a crate girl at that, could ever get her hands on a precious stone like this,” he says as he tosses the gem into the air catching it in his fist and depositing it in his pocket, and continues, “but there they were tucked in her tight little fist, not one but a whole handful.”  Shaking his head he goes on to tell Ayden, “She walked off this pier and she never came back.  She bought a pub a little way up the road and has a few rooms she rents out on the second floor.  She serves the most amazing house drink there and I am not sure if I go for the ale or in the hopes that I will have the chance to taste her lips just one more time.  I just cannot seem to stay away.”  With what Ayden can only describe as a heartfelt moan he says, “Something just is not right about it all though.”

Coming back to reality the old man taps Ayden on the shoulder, “Now come on you; letting an old man blather on about things that might have been.  We have work to do; now don’t we?”  The old man turns and goes into the workshop with Ayden fast on his heels, but she cannot help stealing a look over her shoulder and looking to the corner where the old hag disappeared and Ayden questions how love can be so blind.

As the old man takes his seat at his workbench Ayden turns her back to the bench, facing the man and quietly asks, “You mentioned that she was a vessel sub.  What is that?”

The old man is twirling a beautiful piece of jewelry around in his hands and with an extraordinary skill he molds and fastens small bits of gold and gems to it with incredible dexterity as he smiles at her out of the corner of his eye.  “Girlie, what am I going to do with you?  Did you just land here today?” he chides.  In an almost scolding tone he asks her, “What is a vessel?”

Ayden blinks and replies simply, “A boat? Or maybe a ship of some kind.”

He smiles and picks up another tool and makes fine detailed carvings into the band before looking at her and nodding, “That’s right.  And where do you find boats?”

“On the water,” she replies flatly, clearly not following his line of logic.

“Yes!” he says his eyes beginning to twinkle again, “And if you are not talking about a boat what else can a vessel be?”

Ayden looks off into the distance and as she thinks she slides her hands back onto the smooth wood of the work bench, lifts herself up, and scoots back to sit on the table top beside where he is working, “I am not sure.  Maybe a…,” she stalls, until she sees a delivery man going into a nearby shop with a  jug of water slung over his shoulder and she smiles as she triumphantly says “jug.”

The old man chuckles and pats her on the knee, “Very good.  So a vessel is a jug that holds what…?”

Ayden sighs and chews on the inside of her lower lip, “Liquids?”

“You catch on fast, little girl.  So a vessel is something that can hold precious liquids, like a bucket or pitcher, and it can also come from the sea, like a ship that has slipped its moorings and washes up on the beach,” he pauses and looks over at her, “Are you following me, Girlie?”  When Ayden just shakes her head he puts down the ornate design he is working on and turns to face her, leaning forward as he props himself up with his hands on his knees. “Okay,” he sighs, “Years ago the women of this town, or so the story goes, used to be subservient.  They were proud to do their duty and they were celebrated the world over for their high quality, and were highly desired.  Then things began to change and they wanted to be wives.  They wanted to be treated as equals, but this was not working and neither the men nor the women were happy.  Then one day a vessel sub washed up on shore.  Soon after that they started washing up on a regular basis.  There were so many of them that some were left to starve on the beach or scavenge for food on their own.”  He stops for a moment and looks up at her, “If I am going to finish this story I am going to need a drink of water.  Please get a drink from the bucket and bring it here to me.

Eager to hear the rest of his story Ayden hurriedly jumps from her seat and lands with her bare feet slapping hard against the stone floor of the shop.  She pads over to the bucket and brings up a ladle full of water.  Holding it up high in one hand and placing the other under the dipper she carefully carries it over to the old man.  As she reaches out to hand him the ladle he looks her directly in the eyes, holding her gaze, and lets his lips part slightly.  Unsure of what to do Ayden gingerly presses the ladle to his lips and tips it, allowing the cool water to trickle into his mouth.

Accepting the last of the water from the ladle the old man licks his lips and wipes away the remaining moisture with the back of his hand.  “Do you see?  Vessel subs are intuitively submissive.  They were highly cherished.  Families began taking them into their homes.  The leaders of our city finally acquiesced to the women of the village and allowed them to take an equal place next to their husbands.  The vessel subs were from then accepted into the town to serve as our submissives.