Renna swallowed. She hadn’t expected such an apology from him, but to hear it now warmed her even further. “I understand,” she assured him, for it was true. His loyalty was toward his brother, as rightly it should, and she knew how Machrus had resented Sladec’s command, at least in the beginning.
The bond pulsed with tender feeling, Machrus obviously moved by his brother’s acceptance, and that meant more to her than anything. They had a mutual priority, her and Dundrel. They wanted Machrus happy, wanted joy in his life. And she felt a kinship with him for that.
And when Dundrel returned to his seat, when Machrus hugged her to him as the others began to discuss an upcoming festival, she felt more at peace than she had in the longest while.
24. Renna
Despite her efforts to convince him she was well, they did not leave for the colony with any expediency.
Days passed and her strength gradually returned, but still Machrus would insist they wait. And though she was anxious to begin their journey, she could not deny how much she treasured each not yet. It meant mornings spent in their bed, learning and exploring, tender but urgent, slow yet needful.
And it made it impossible to mind the waiting when Machrus proved so very good with his distractions.
Today however, not yet turned into an expedition of its own. Edlyn had come the day before, new fur-lined boots in hand, as well as the gloves that Marella had finished for her. She’d given them with a teasing smile and a bid not to lose them as she had the last. There was a hint of pleading in her voice, wholly unnecessary in Renna’s mind, but from the serious way Machrus reiterated the sentiment with a pointed glance in her direction, evidently she was to endure many such comments in the future.
Except she was already so weary of them. She sighed deeply, accepting the boots and gloves with a smile to Edlyn. But when the woman had gone, she cornered Machrus, placing both hands on his face so he’d have no recourse but to look at her. “You do not need to keep worrying about it happening again,” she told him firmly. “You give me plenty of reason to want to be right here.”
He brought his hands so he entwined their fingers, pulling them down so he could lean forward and rest his forehead against hers. “You do not know your limitations,” he argued. “Otherwise you would have sensed the danger and come home sooner.”
She could begrudgingly acknowledge that. There was much she didn’t know, about herself and about the world, but she was learning. And she didn’t need him fretting about this part of it so often. “I might not know all of them,” she conceded. “But now I understand that one. So I’m asking you to try, for me, to please accept that.”
He had kissed her in lieu of making promises, and soon she’d been too preoccupied to force the issue.
But instead of ignoring her as she’d feared, today he had told her to dress warmly. He did not command a certain amount of layers, but after having spent time outdoors, she had a better idea herself of what she needed. The gloves were beautiful things, surprisingly warm and supple, the design intricate and masterfully crafted. Perhaps someday she could create something so fine, her only attempts with woollen-work thus far messy and unskilled.
But she would not grow frustrated. She would simply accept her gifts and hope someday that she would be able to produce something worthwhile of her own.
They did not venture in the direction she expected. Machrus was allowing her to walk, his hand at her arm to help her navigate the snow when they were forced to vacate the path they’d constructed. “Aren’t we going to my people?” she asked, already knowing the answer as they veered higher up the hill.
“First we test your stamina with something smaller,” Machrus declared, ignoring her irritated huff. “Unless you intended me to carry you the entire way?”
She hadn’t, though the prospect of it was not an unappealing one. So she smoothed her shawl primly. “Maybe,” she replied haughtily, enjoying the flash of amusement she felt through the bond. As if she could command him to do anything.
She could not be wholly disappointed, not when they crossed over the hill—the snow not quite as troublesome as she feared. Machrus lifted her over the deeper bits, and her new boots did an excellent job of keeping out the rest. When she realised where they were going, her disappointment at not yet reaching the colony began to fade.
The burrow he’d described was more akin to a large cave. Whether it was natural or had been dug specifically for this purpose she could not tell. The mouth of it was smaller, allowing the interior to retain a much more pleasant temperature than the chilly exterior. The smell was less pleasing, sweet hay mixed with woolly bodies, clusters of little green bodies huddling together in sleeping piles. A few awoke when they entered, giving far less enthusiastic greetings than before, and she worried at their sedateness.
“They’re all right, aren’t they?” she asked Machrus anxiously. One was sniffing at her boots half-heartedly before it sank down into a heap, two others joining it to complete the mound.
Dried grasses neatly lined the interior of the burrow, a pool provided water, so they could be wanting for none of those essentials.
Machrus smiled, wrapping his arm about her waist and bringing her close. “They are perfectly well,” he assured her, tapping one with the toe of his boot, more a stroke than anything that resembled a kick. The grenpeet gave a sleepy sort of bleat in acknowledgement, unwilling to raise its head, tucked comfortably as it was on the back of its companion.
“I do not suppose you will admit how they have grown in your affections?” Machrus mused with a rather pointed smirk. It seemed so incredible that tight lines of disapproval had given way to such ease in manner, his grins as natural as his once dour expressions had been. And she was so very thankful for that.
Renna hummed a little, squatting down to pet a furry head. “That would be tedious,” she replied, just as imperiously as he had said the same to his brother.
And Machrus laughed.
Two days later they ventured all the way to the Marzon settlement. The trees provided remarkable coverage for the snowfall, but some limbs bowed, heavy with clinging heaps of white. It made her hopeful for her people though, that they might not be completely buried in the stuff by the time Machrus deemed her well enough to go to them.
She still refused a line of her own, much preferring to cling to Machrus than to risk flying up by herself. Machrus sighed, reminding her that it was not flying at all, that her people most certainly should realise the difference given their arrival, but she did not care. The lurching hover of the craft her people have managed to piece together from an actual ship was far less terrifying than hurtling through the trees at far too great a speed.
Belatedly she realised that the tether-man should not have offered her one at all, as Machrus had yet to replace the cuff on her arm, and she certainly wasn’t strong enough to hold the line on her own without the added security of a properly fastened tether.
The skin was healing nicely, though pain had given way to horrible itching, soothed only by one of Machrus’s unguents—though he was a brute and cruelty personified because he claimed that he could only apply it once daily, after her morning wash.
Machrus did not correct the tether-man, only held her close and submitted his own arm to accept the fastener, and she was glad. Her many layers concealed its absence, but she found herself missing it. It had seemed strange and confining before, a physical reminder that her life was no longer solely her own. But now she realised its significance. It was every bit as binding as she had once feared—it joined together different parts, all coming together to form a Marzon whole. Not oppressive, as she’d dreaded, but beautiful in its strength.
And now hers lay tucked with Maisie’s blanket, her growing bundle of treasures.
Machrus had tried to reassure her that perhaps she would not be as afraid coming here a second time, but he was most definitely mistaken. The heights were just as dizzying as before, the platforms far too open with their edges so terrifyi
ngly unguarded. Yet she supposed something had changed since last she’d been here.
Before, she’d been uncertain in her guide.
Her fears had proven unfounded, but at the time it was not outside the realm of possibility that something could happen to her and, it shamed her to think it now, but a part of her had wondered if he would even intervene to stop such an occurrence.
She had no such worries now. She could trip, to be sure, but Machrus would be there, keeping her from doing any serious harm or—she swallowed, the mere prospect bringing another wave of dizziness—falling over the edge into the hard ground below.
She kept to the innermost edge of the platforms, her hand wrapped tightly about Machrus’s arm. He patted it, now and again, infusing the bond with confidence she could not produce for herself. It helped, if just a little.
What helped more was focusing on the people they passed. Shy smiles gave way to warmer ones as this time they were returned, not ignored either by Machrus’s lack of care or her own fear clouding her observance to everything around her. The people appeared heartened by their coming, and slowly Renna began to recognise why.
Machrus no longer walked through their ranks more stone than man, passing through them yet most assuredly not among them. He was not cheerful even now, but he greeted some with low nods, and others with vocal acknowledgement, calling many by name. He never left her side, never took her too close to the edge, but still, this walk was different. And the Marzon seemed to notice.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” Machrus asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
She hugged his arm to her, not for safety, not because of her anxiousness, but simply because of her pride in him. “No particular reason,” she answered, unable to keep from smiling, and it only growing wider at Machrus’s dissatisfied grunt.
How she loved him, grunts, scowls, and all.
After another two days, she found Machrus in the kitchen, bundling up food and skins of water, and her heart beat a little faster. “Today?” she questioned, afraid of receiving another not yet, but equally afraid of hearing quite a different answer. But this time, it never came.
“Today,” he affirmed, regarding her solemnly, his stern expression quelling her ready smile. “But if you tire, or grow too cold...”
She nodded determinedly. “I’ll speak up and we’ll come home,” she assured him. Not that the bond would let her hide such things in any case—he would likely pay closer attention to her wellbeing than she would. But she could only think of his care with fondness, her occasional exasperation mostly feigned since he did so like to tease her in return.
He did smile then, and she realised how easily she had used the word home in reference to her place here. For that was what it was. Nowhere else meant so much to her, nowhere else meant love and affection, safety and warmth. And as she dressed, she felt a pang of sadness to be leaving it, if only for a little while, but she squashed it quickly before Machrus could think she was reconsidering the importance of the trip.
This might be home, but she still felt an obligation to her people, a pull back to them, if only to see that they were well.
What she intended to do if they were not, she hadn’t the least idea. The Marzon had already been so generous, and to ask them to do more bordered on greed. Her people would be a new colony, and there would be struggle and want, but it was up to them to work hard and flourish. She could not simply ask the Marzon to sacrifice even more—especially when their payment was already too little.
She considered wearing some of her old clothes, a reminder to her people of who she had been and the place she’d had among them. But Sladec had asked her to present the Marzon at their best, so aside from the cord she always wore about her wrist, she donned only what her new people had provided for her.
Would they be jealous when they saw how well she had been treated?
The harsher, resentful parts of her thought it a sort of justice that she found such kindness and provision from Machrus and his people, while her own had to build and toil for their necessities. They had asked her to sacrifice herself for their care, with only Sladec’s word that she would not be harmed after the exchange.
But she tried to push away such thoughts. She cared for them, she did, and all had turned out well, and she would not entertain such bitter ruminations.
She was lacing up her boots when Machrus entered, dropping her new cloak over her shoulders. It had been a gift from Adelmar, a blessing for her venture to the colony. It was trimmed in the same fur as her boots, and there was no denying how much warmer she felt when wearing it.
Machrus had no such covering, his usual clothing apparently sufficient even for colder temperatures. She had to suppress a sigh at the unfairness of it.
“Are you certain you wish to go?” Machrus asked her, his hand coming down to stroke her hair. The question was mild, absent from the complaint she might have given if asked to go somewhere she truly would rather not.
“Yes,” she replied, more easily than she really felt. “The sooner we go the sooner we’ll be back,” she reminded him.
Machrus gave her a dubious look, but made no further comment, and she was grateful for it. She knew well that if he really wanted to, he could convince her that another day would be much preferable—and by the end of it, she might even thank him for it.
The journey took longer than she remembered. Perhaps her recollections had grown muddled with the passing of time, or maybe Machrus took a different route. They’d left early, likely so they would not be forced to stay the night in the colony, and she did not mind marking the return so soon. She wanted her own bed, safely tucked away with her husband when they slept.
Renna did not trail behind this time, miserable and unhappy as two strange men carried on ahead. Instead her husband’s hand was tucked protectively around hers, her steps light even if a knot of worry was settled in her stomach.
They eventually came to the river, ice and snow clinging to the banks even as the middle continued to run clear. She held the edges of her cloak a little tighter, remembering the cold and fear she’d felt, not just when she’d sought refuge downstream after the attack by that unknown creature, but here, when a stranger had made a promise, voice hard and expression harder still, before dragging her into the watery depths.
“What are you thinking about?” Machrus asked, his hand tightening around hers.
“Our marriage ceremony,” she answered, unable to keep her grim opinion of the proceedings completely out of her tone.
Machrus sighed, abandoning her hand in favour of tucking her completely against his side. “You were so frightened,” he recalled regretfully. “And I did nothing to alleviate your alarm.”
Renna could well recall. “Not exactly,” she amended, glancing up at him. “You kept me from drowning. That was something.”
Machrus scoffed, leaning down and pressing his lips against her temple. “Not nearly enough,” he protested. And that was rather true, so she did not try to offer platitudes. She’d forgiven him for his thoughtlessness, his selfishness. And eventually, he might begin to forgive himself.
“Come on,” she entreated, nudging him onward. “You’ll only sulk if we stay here.”
Machrus glared at her. “An unfair assessment of my temperament, wife,” he rebuked.
Renna smiled, though she tucked her chin into the collar of her cloak so he couldn’t see. “Of course.”
She still felt him scowling down at her, but he kept them moving, Renna tucked neatly against his side.
If Machrus had any difficulty finding the new colony, he did not show it. They did not wander aimlessly, each step certain as he followed the riverbank further upstream, and she wondered if he had returned here without her knowledge. When they turned away from the river, she saw no marker, no indication that her people would be near, yet Machrus walked assuredly, and she could only follow.
She’d expected to see a camp, shelters sprinkled about a large cook-fire, people huddled
together for warmth as they waited out the snows.
Instead there was a solitary building, the exterior rough, but packed tightly with what she assumed to be mud. There was a huddle of rocks close by, covered in brightly covered moss that peeped out from the snow, and she squinted, noting that it looked similar to where the grenpeets were kept.
She swallowed. “Did... did your people help them find this?”
Machrus glanced down at her. “Naturally,” he answered dryly, as if the notion was preposterous that they would have done otherwise. “And we gave them some tools so they could begin their additional shelters.” He eyed the large structure ahead of them. “Evidently they have put them to use.”
A lump settled in her throat. Not that her people had managed to accomplish something, though she was glad of that as well, but at the generosity of her new nation. They hadn’t left the colonists to die of cold, but had shown them safety and cautioned them against the storms to come. They did not coddle them by offering too much, allowing her people to grow dependent on their supplies and labour, but instead gave them only what was necessary to care for themselves.
It was more than she’d ever hoped for.
The door of the building opened, a head popping out before it closed again quickly. Renna blinked, not expecting a warm welcome, but not thinking she would be shut out either.
Machrus walked closer with her, his expression carefully neutral. She glanced at him a little worriedly, and he unwound his arm from about her waist, instead leaving only their forefingers linked.
When the door opened again, it was Desmond who appeared, a translator in hand, wariness giving way to surprise when his attention drifted from Machrus down to her. “Heather!” he greeted, coming forward, his hands outstretched as if to place them on her shoulders, but he stopped, giving another uncertain glance toward her husband.
His hands dropped to his side rather awkwardly, and he backed up, gesturing for them both to enter.
Trade (Deridia Book 2) Page 37
