by Clayton, Jo;
“My clan owed Idaguu a lot of money. From the time our own Cern blew its top and we had to move to Radnavar. He was a Shipmaster and Councillor then and tighter than a starving suckerfish.” She scratched absently at the skin on her knee. “He came to Radnavar to arrange for payment and there I was. He liked what he saw and said he’d take me instead of the pile of oboli that would have beggared the clan.” She arched her body, bending her head back until her skull rested against the rail, cushioned by the springy blue hair that wasn’t hair at all but a complex sense organ. “It wasn’t so bad. He was nice enough to me. But old. And the other wives … well, they were all from Myamar clans and I was an outsider.” She straightened, smiled at Gleia. “Till you came I was lonely as a schoolless herring. There’s not much news from Radnavar.” She waved a hand to the south. “It’ll be good to see my people again. If I survive the swim.”
“Get the sail, will you?” Gleia’s voice was sharper than she intended. Jevati’s nose wrinkled again, but she uncleated the halyard and let the sail slide down. As the boat rocked gently in the calm waters of the small bay, Gleia examined the seaborn’s bland face. “What did you mean by that?”
“What?” Jevati walked her fingers along her thigh muscle, apparently absorbed in the small dents they made in her flesh.
“Idiot! You said it twice. If you survive the swim.”
“Oh. Nothing much.” She pushed herself onto her knees and looked over the side. “Want me to let Vlevastuu know you’re here?”
Gleia pulled the tie from her hair and ran her hands through the curly mass. “Little fish, sometimes.…”
Eyes twinkling, Jevati settled back in the bottom of the boat. “Gleia, Gleia, you make it so easy I couldn’t resist, I have to tease you.”
Gleia wiggled her fingers. “You forget your little weakness. Talk, fish, or I—”
“About what?” Jevati opened her eyes wide in exaggerated innocence then shrieked as Gleia raked fingers across her too-prominent ribs. “Truce,” she squealed. She pushed at Gleia’s hands and lifted herself on an elbow.
“Truce.”
When she caught her breath, Jevati shifted out of her awkward crouch to a more comfortable position leaning against the side of the boat. “After all, it’s not so funny for me. Widowjourney. Simple. When Idaguu dies, all his wives must go back to their birth clans.”
“I don’t see …” Gleia rubbed her hand across her forehead. “What’s the problem?”
“Obiachai. I’ve got to make it on my own.” She slid her shoulders against the side, her glassy scales moving with a papery sound over the wood. “The others, they swim a few body lengths. Me, I head for Radnavar. If I make it, fine. If not, too bad.”
“Obiachai!” Gleia clenched her hands into fists. “I’m sick of that word. When Temokeuu brought me here that’s all I heard. Obiachai! That’s the way things have to be done because that’s the way they’ve always been done. It’s a matter of clan honor. Don’t disgrace us. You can’t do that. Hunh!”
“Yelling doesn’t help.”
Gleia sucked in a breath and blew it out again. “You’re right, dammit. I really must be dim this morning.”
“You are. Where’s Cern Radnavar?”
“Huh?”
Jevati nodded gravely. “I thought so. Listen and learn, little mammal.” She paused then spoke in an exaggerated singsong chant. “Cern Radnavar swims six hundred stadia south.” She laughed at the consternation on Gleia’s face. “Two weeks, swim in untamed water. Now do you see?”
“Why can’t Temokeuu give you passage on one of his chis-makkas when they go trading south? He won’t worry about being paid.”
“You’re not listening. Obiachai binds him as much as me. He’d be exiled if he tried to help me.”
“That’s stupid.”
“That’s the way things are.” She took hold of the mast and pulled herself onto her feet. “Vlevastuu obviously doesn’t know you’re here. Temokeuu won’t want to wait for his breakfast melons.” She slid over the side and disappeared into the depths of the bay.
Gleia paced restlessly along the edge of the water, her cafta brushing against salt flowers and trailing kankaolis. This room was built out over the harbor and took in a portion of the shoreline. The roof was checkered with panels of translucent kala shell, letting in enough light to keep the plants growing and healthy and was supported by rough beams of twisted sinaubar wood exensively imported from the mainland. This was Temokeuu’s study, his particular retreat. No one came here except by invitation and he seldom invited intrusion. Gleia was the single exception to this rule. He watched her prowl about for a while then looked down at the papers in front of him.
“Seems god-Meershah speared another starfish.”
Gleia dropped onto a bench. “Translation please.”
“A starship came down in the sea by Cern Vrestar. Jaydugar has gathered to herself another branch of man or other kind.”
Gleia smiled. “The Madarmen would say the Madar saw man-corrupt and plucked him from his wicked ways as she did my parsi and your seaborn and all the other sorts. Plucked them from their evil paradises and set them here to be men again by the labor of their hands.”
Temokeuu leaned back in his chair and smiled affectionately at her. “They didn’t make much impression on you.”
“They caught me too late. The streets taught me to believe more in my hands and feet.” She chuckled. “And teeth.” She jumped up and came to stand beside him, one hand on his shoulder. “Those are reports from Tetaki?”
“Mmh. As you see. He says the starfolk are starting to clean out the ashes from the house on Vrestar. Apparently they’re land dwellers.”
“Mammals?”
“He doesn’t say.” Temokeuu turned over the top sheet. “They’re small, dressed in bulky gray coveralls.” His long slender forefinger touched a few lines of writing. “With tails they can use like another hand.” He sighed and looked worried. “He says he’s going to try talking to them.” He picked up a stylus and began twisting it through his fingers.
Gleia felt his muscles tensing and smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “He’ll be all right. He’s as tough and wily a trader as his father.” Temokeuu laughed and patted her hand. She snorted. “I’m not flattering you and you know it.” She moved away from him and began prowling about, feeling more restless than ever. “I was talking to Jevati this morning.”
“Oh?”
“It’s idiotic to send a frail child all that way alone.”
“Obiachai, Gleia-my-daughter.” Smiling at her grimace of disgust, he went on. “It is sometimes idiotic, I must admit, but it gives us stability and makes us remember our origins when others forget.” He set the stylus beside the pile of papers and watched her stalk about, kicking at the hem of her cafta until it belled out around her body. “All this isn’t just for Jevati, is it? I’ve watched you growing more restless as the winter passed.”
Gleia threw herself down on the bench. “I don’t know. I have everything anyone could want. I’ve been happy here.”
“Been?”
She ran her hands through her hair until it was a wild tangle. “Everything I tell myself sounds not quite right. I’m not idle; I think I do help you, that it’s not play you’re making for me. I think I’m spoiled for peace.” She looked helplessly at him. “I’d be a fool to leave and I’d miss you terribly, Temokeuu-my-father.”
He pressed his hands on the desk top. “Most of the seaborn prefer the quiet order of the Cerns. But some of us have a taste for broken water.” Amusement lit his eyes and his mouth twisted into a smile. “I understand you better than you think, Gleia-my-daughter. You’re bored. There’s no challenge left here.”
She sat up, alerted by the look on his face.
He touched the pile of papers in front of him. “I want you to find Tetaki and see what he’s doing. These …” He tapped his fingers in the center of the pile of reports. “These are several weeks old.” He turned grave eyes on her.
“This will be your home when you need it again, Gleia-my-daughter, but now you must try the broken water.” He fell silent, frowned at the kala shell panels in the side walls. “I’ll have the Dragonfish provisioned for you. There’s no hurry. You might take the long way round, stop at Radnavar before you head out to Vrestar.”
She flung her head back, bubbling with excitement. “I told my little fish you were the wisest of men.”
His smile flashed again. “Not wise, Gleia-my-daughter, merely old in much foolishness.” Then he sobered. “Don’t talk about this other thing. As far as anyone will know, you’re out to see Tetaki. Jevati can do what she pleases about joining you. I don’t think you’ll have to warn her not to discuss her intentions.” He walked over to her and smoothed down the wild spikes she’d clawed into her hair. “I enjoy having you about the house. I want you free to come home.”
Gleia paced over the sand, looking repeatedly out toward the tall fingers of rock that poked through the seawater at irregular intervals. The barrier pillars. Horli was a bead of fire between two black fingers, turning wisps of fog into crimson smoke. She turned and trudged back up the slope to the beached Dragonfish. This was her second day of waiting and she was beginning to worry.
Horli drifted higher and Hesh poked up his deadly blue head. As a few clouds scooted amiably across a sky that already shimmered with heat, Gleia tucked the ends of her headcloth into the binding cord, dug her toes in the sand and hugged her knees against her chest.
The suns crept higher. Wavelets began lapping at the boat’s stern. Shading her eyes with her hands, she searched the water until tears streamed down her cheeks and black spots danced like new-hatched teypolei in front of her. She rubbed her eyes. A whole day late. Damn, it’s hot. Jerking the headcloth off, she dropped it into the boat and waded out to where the water was waist deep. One last time she looked around, then plunged under and came up sputtering but feeling a bit cooler.
“Gleia. Gleia.” Behind her, closer to the beach, Jevati crouched on her knees, the shallow water washing around her body. Gleia waded to her and helped her stand. Together they stumbled up the gentle slope to the patch of shade developing at the foot of the cliff. Jevati collapsed, arms dangling limply, resting her head on her drawn up knees. A few drops of blood oozed from a cut on one arm, leaking around a fine membrane that held the torn flesh together. After a few minutes the harsh explosions of breath grew softer. She raised her head and leaned carefully against the shaded rock.
“What happened?” Gleia touched the small webbed hand quivering on the sand. When Jevati shook her head, still sucking in great gulps of warm air, she said, “Take your time, little fish.”
They sat quietly in the widening patch of shade, enjoying a companionable silence as Jevati’s strength gradually came back. The tide rose until the water’s edge was a short distance past the Dragonfish. The little boat began to rock in time with the beat of the waves.
Jevati sucked in a deep breath, pushed up onto her knees and scanned the horizon, relaxing only when she saw nothing but the bright expanse of water foaming about the barrier pillars.
Her eyes on Jevati’s troubled face, Gleia said, “What’s wrong?”
“Can you launch the boat now?”
“It’s coming up high heat. Are you strong enough for that?”
“We can’t stay here.”
As soon as she had the Dragonfish running southeast on a broad reach, Gleia settled back and fixed her eyes on Jevati. “How’d you get that cut on your arm?”
Eyes half-closed, stretched out comfortably in the bottom of the boat, Jevati smiled sleepily. “Nag, nag.”
Gleia sniffed. “What happened?”
“Well, after they locked the doors against me, I walked down to the bay and started out.” She looked past Gleia, frowning slightly. “The strangest feeling. Like the whole city was empty when I knew it wasn’t. Even the bay was empty.” She yawned suddenly. “Ohhhh, I’m tired. I could sleep a week.”
“Jevati!”
The seaborn stroked her throat slowly. “I was just passing Cernsha Sharoo, surface swimming for a change, when a miserable rat-nibbled dhoura came round the point. I swam right under the bow and some idiot tried to harpoon me.”
“What!”
“You’re surprised?” She giggled and shook her head. “You should have seen me. He creased my arm and scared me stiff. I mean really stiff. Damn if he didn’t pull in the barb and try again. Missed me completely that time, but I was bleeding and sending out signals for every blood-sniffer within a dozen stadia. I got myself into the island just in time to avoid being eaten by a cheksa.” She looked down at her arm, touched the film on the wound. “By the time this was set, the men on the dhoura had spotted me. I could hear them yelling. I went deep, found a ledge to rest on. Spent the night there. As soon as Horli stuck her head up, I was coming for you fast as I could.”
About mid-afternoon Jevati yawned and sat up. “Where are we?”
“Past Cliffend.”
Jevati looked out to sea. There was a dark smudge low on the eastern horizon. She sighed. “Cern Vrestar,” she said. “The cone is still smoking after six thaws.”
“Temokeuu told me …” Jevati’s gasp interrupted her. The seaborn was staring past her. Gleia glanced back and saw the peak of a triangular sail. As she watched, the sail grew until most of the dhoura was visible. She heard a splash and swung around. Jevati was over the side, gone deep in her panic. Gleia turned Dragonfish and raced toward the line of barrier pillars. The water inside was too shallow for the dhoura and the spaces between pillars too narrow to admit the seagoer. Reaching along a course parallel to the pillars, she chewed on her lip and waited to see what would happen.
Jevati came up out of the water and thumped into the boat, dripping slathers of water into the bottom. “Sorry,” she said. “That thing scares me.”
Gleia laughed. “I’d say you had reason.” She watched the sail grow larger as the dhoura came dipping toward them, riding the brisk wind that ruffled the water into lightly foaming peaks. “Think they saw us?”
“Probably.”
“Well, better safe than fast. Unless you have a deadline.”
“No.” Jevati looked wistfully at the smudge darkening the sky in the east. “Maybe we could see Vrestar first once the dhoura’s past.”
The dhoura came even with them about an hour later then started pulling ahead. In the west Horli’s bottom edged behind the inland mountains. Hesh had moved a double fingerwidth across her middle and was sitting close to her left side, still several hours from touching down. Gleia looked at Jevati, raised her eyebrows. “Still want to go?”
Jevati nodded. “Wait a bit longer,” she said. “The dhoura’s too fast and too close yet.”
Five discs came out of the smoke smudge and hovered above the dhoura like large black coins tossed into the air. Gleia glanced at Jevati. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Me either.” Jevati crouched in the bow watching as the discs circled slowly over the ship. “The dhoura’s in trouble. Look at the way the sail is jerking.”
As they watched, three of the discs sank until they were behind the pillars and out of sight. The fourth continued to hover. The fifth came darting toward them. Jevati gasped and went overside again. Gleia swung the Dragonfish around and raced for the shore.
Gleia blinked and sat up. Her head throbbed. She clutched at her temples and groaned.
“Here.” A man’s voice. She jerked around, then squeezed her eyes shut as the dull pain drilled through her brain. A hand closed around her wrist and pulled her arm down. She felt her fingers close around cool metal. With his hand covering hers, supporting her, she lifted the cup to her lips and gulped down several swallows of the stale water. Then he took the cup away. “Sit still a minute and the pain will lose its bite.” She heard him straighten and move away.
After a few minutes she opened her eyes, reluctantly convinced she would live. The pain was still there but it
had subsided to a dull ache like that of a rotten tooth. She looked around. They were alone in a small bare cabin. She sat on the floor, her shoulders against a bunk bed built into the wall; when she managed to tilt her head back, she saw a second berth stacked above the one she was leaning on. In the far wall a small square porthole let some light creep through but no fresh air. The man was perched on the end of the lower bunk watching her.
He was thinnish and pale with a tangled thatch of hair so red it was a shriek of fire in the half-light. His eyes were pale, a nearly colorless gray—or maybe green or blue. She couldn’t tell which. They changed as she watched. His face was a stubble-shadowed blunt triangle with clean-cut angles as neat and delicate as Jevati’s. He sat with long legs pulled up, long narrow hands resting on his knees. His jacket had wide sleeves, the ends cut in square scallops to make a frame for hands and wrists—bright blue-green outside, dark yellow lining; his dark blue leg coverings—thick material that clung to the long muscles of his thighs—disappeared into knee-high boots. His jacket hung open, showing a wedge of pale, well-muscled chest.
Moving cautiously Gleia used the side of the bunk to pull herself up. “How’d I get here?” She swallowed and leaned her forehead against the side of the upper bunk. “Where am I anyway?”
“Thissik brought you.” She looked blank. “The disc riders,” he went on. “This is Korl’s Cuttlefish.”
“A dhoura?”
He watched her a moment, pale changeable eyes touching her face and fisted hands. He nodded.
“Was I brought in alone?” She waited tensely then relaxed as he nodded once more. Jevati got away, she thought. Madar be blessed. “Who are you? How did you get here?”
“Shounach. Juggler. A humble passenger.” His mouth curled into a sudden broad smile. He cupped his hands, swayed them until she almost saw the bright balls circling above them. Then he dropped his hands on his knees and raised an eyebrow. “You?”
“Gleia.” A large shoulder bag made of a shiny green material, sprinkled with red and blue stars sat on her end of the bed. She lifted it, found it surprisingly heavy, set it on the floor—a floor that was rocking in long smooth swells—and settled in its place on the bed. “What’s going on?”
