“She’s peerless and skilled or so I’m told,” Morrow answered. “Here’s a little memorial verse I wrote in Malena’s honor. Would you pass it along to her mother for me?”
Littleberry nodded. “My pleasure, that’s very kind.”
Millie added, “Don’t worry about us. Please send our condolences to Malena’s family. I only wish we could’ve done more.”
“You’re always welcome in Port-Mer. In so many years, this is the first trouble we’ve had with the Catalina’s crew. Safe journey to you both.” With that, the chief turned to his men.
As Morrow gauged Millie’s impressive poise, he realized she was much tougher than he’d imagined, based on the stories about her legendary kindness. But a lot had happened since a little girl had saved what she’d thought was an injured animal. Would she have helped the Uroch? If she’d known? He decided never to ask, since she seemed to like animals better than people, even if she was determinedly merry around them. Finally she turned away, her mouth drawn tight.
“We should go back to the ship,” she said in the flattest voice he’d ever heard.
“Are you all right?”
“Do you really want to know, or are you just asking because you’re nice?”
“I care,” he protested, stung.
“Since I’m feeling like pickled shit, I’ll take you at your word.” She set off away from the hanging trees, eyes on the ground. “I had a younger brother, you know.”
“Sorry, I didn’t.”
“No reason to apologize. My ma and dad like to pretend he didn’t exist. It’s easier than admitting they just let him go. When Isaac won the lottery, they acted like it was an honor. He was so scared. We had a going-away party for him and everything like it was good, and I had to smile and eat cake. Never have wanted it since.” She cleared her throat and swiped at the tears misting her eyes. “Now when I see … something like that, I always think of him. I wonder if he suffered, if he hated us at the end.”
Morrow stopped. “Oh, Millie. If I’d known—”
“You can’t fix me, storyteller. My hurts are my own. If you want to hold my hand, I’d take some solace in it, but that’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”
Such a simple thing. Without hesitation, he reached for her. Small hands, but rough. He could feel that she’d worked hard in her life, suffered more than he could’ve guessed. Morrow resisted the urge to put a sheltering arm around her, as he suspected he might get pummeled. Their hands swung like a lazy sailor’s hammock as they walked. She didn’t speak again for a while; he didn’t, either, but the silence didn’t boil with tension. Sometimes he chattered on for fear of that drowning quiet, but with her it was all right not to be a storyteller, too.
Just before they reached the market, she said, “Do you remember the first time we saw each other?”
It was an odd question, but she seemed intent on his answer. “When Tegan brought you to Rosemere?”
A little sigh slipped out of her. “No. There was another time, the first time.”
“When was this?” Intrigued, he tugged on her hand, but she pulled her fingers free and set off at a quicker pace.
He matched it.
“Maybe we didn’t,” she said. “Maybe it was only me, seeing you. And from what I can tell, nothing much has changed.”
“I’m sorry I don’t remember. You won’t give me a hint?”
Her smile was all the sweetness of summers lost, all the sorrow of loves left behind. “Maybe someday I will. You’re not ready to hear it now.”
Irrational Fits of Learning
Using salvaged bits, Tegan helped Szarok repair some of the furniture. Now they had a table and two chairs to go along with their makeshift bed. The furs he had been drying, he finished by smoking them. Just in time, as the temperature dropped after dark. In the heat of the day, it was still warm enough to continue his swimming lessons.
He didn’t complain as much as he had before, and he no longer froze when they waded out into the water. She looked forward to holding him up, passing on what she’d learned from the uncle who’d disappeared. In turn, eventually Szarok would share these memories with his descendants, an unbroken chain of knowledge that transcended species. Tegan smiled.
“You’re looking forward to another failure,” he accused gently.
She shook her head as they went down to the shore. This had become part of their daily routine. Breakfast, some household work, swimming and language lessons, then he went hunting and she worked on the machines in the tower. So far he had much more success than she. Afterward, they ate together again and started a small fire in the stove, letting it burn down as they snuggled in to sleep.
“Of course not. If you don’t swim before we’re through, I’ve failed as a teacher.”
“My success is yours?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I’ll do my best.”
They waded into the water together. Though his hand tightened on hers, that was the only sign of his distress. “Today let’s try floating.”
Szarok mumbled something, but he leaned back into the water. He was so strong and so powerful out of the water—strange to find him so vulnerable here. Tegan recalled how Deuce had wanted to use the river to kill all of his people before he made first contact, and a shiver ran through her. He didn’t notice, too busy battling the water. After sinking once, twice, thrice, he finally spat and stood up, his mouth pulled into an angry line.
“This is impossible.”
“You just have to relax. And to trust me.”
“The latter is always true. For your first request…” He sighed. “I can’t. I don’t know how. There is always the struggle in my head, the fear and the screaming.”
Since she didn’t have anyone else’s memories—and sometimes dealing with her own was bad enough—she had no idea what strategy to suggest. Then an idea stirred, stemming from when they’d had the most success. He was so focused on me, he forgot everything else.
“Close your eyes.”
“Why—”
“You said you trust me.”
In response, his eyelids drifted shut. Gazing at his face always engendered this rare commingling of astonishment and delight. He treats me like one of his own people. Others might not take it so, but for Tegan, it qualified as the highest of honors. With some effort, she set aside her silent pleasure at being permitted unfettered access to … him, every part of him.
“The water is cold,” he complained.
“Stop thinking about that. Focus on my voice. Now imagine it’s all you can hear. No birds, no waves. Nothing but my voice. You’re listening to me … and you’re breathing. Take a deep breath. Hold it. Now let it out.”
She focused on that until he relaxed under her hands. His shoulders lost tension and he swayed with the water as it ebbed and flowed. Rather than rush it, she murmured breathing exercises until he seemed nearly asleep on his feet. Time to take the next step. Heart pounding with anxious excitement, she shifted until she stood behind him, hands still on his shoulders.
“Now it’s time to prove your trust. Lean back and let me hold you.” She’d never dared this much before, fearing he would panic.
But he fell back naturally and without hesitation, until his head touched her shoulders. His feet came off the sandy seafloor and his legs rocked on the waves. Tegan kept her arms around him, as she’d promised, still whispering. “See, I’ve got you. I’m holding you safe.”
Szarok floated for a good thirty seconds before he realized what was happening. When he jerked upright, she suspected it was more startlement than true fear. With him standing, they were too close, but her eyes caught his, and she didn’t mind his cold skin or the nervous press of his claws.
“I did it?” His tone was questioning, and then, “I did it!”
His pleasure burst like an overripe fruit, overwhelming her with sweetness. “You did. Now that you know you can, it should be easier.”
“Hold me again.”
This time he didn’t need the slow induction. He just fell back into her arms and she kept them looped beneath his back, but with each rocking wave, his confidence grew, until he was floating on his own, riding the waves with a simple exhilaration that struck her as the finest thing she’d ever seen. Eventually she had to drag him out of the water because his gray skin seemed to be edged in blue, and now that the sun had gone behind a cloud, she was freezing, too.
“Let’s build a fire at home. I know it’s early, but we have to warm up before doing anything else. We can’t get sick.”
They held on to each other—for warmth, or that was what Tegan told herself—on the way back to the signal tower. Bits of scrub and driftwood went into the stove, and she nestled into Szarok as they had in the sea cave. For the first time, he wrapped his arms around her and then the cured furs. She waited, but there came no sense of choking, no innate panic. With the fire in front and Szarok at her back, she warmed quickly.
“Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to hold your breath. And the day after, how to paddle. I’m not sure if the weather will hold long enough to finish the lessons, though.”
He rested his chin on her shoulder, his face so close to hers that his features blurred. Somehow it felt right to tilt her head against his and close her eyes.
“That should be enough,” he said softly. “But don’t go to sleep.”
She made the negative sound in his language, a little growl that was fun to trill out. Some of the sounds, she lacked the capacity to emulate. But since they had been on the island, she’d learned more than a hundred phrases. The Uroch tongue surprised her with its complexity, for they expressed complicated concepts in a relatively short series of sounds. She found wake and rise, which he’d taught her first, to be the easiest, but she could also manage the hunting is good, along with we are feasting and what is ours, we protect. Szarok claimed her version of thank you, kinsman was intelligible, but she had her doubts.
Without shifting or letting go, he spoke right by her ear, and she grasped maybe thirty percent of it. Embarrassed, she tried to bluff. “Thank you, kinsman.” Tegan winced at how badly it came out, and her cheeks burned.
“You didn’t understand,” he guessed.
“I’m sorry. I wish I were better at languages.”
“If I can float, you can learn Uroch.” His tone was stern.
I deserve that.
“I’ll try harder.”
But actually … it was hard to concentrate with him so close, not because she feared him, but another sensation altogether, pervasive and new. He smelled wintry and fresh like the sea bath, smoky traces from the stove, and he was so warm. His body sheltered her; his breath on her ear sent pleasurable chills down her back. She recognized what she was feeling—in the abstract—but she’d never experienced it before. Knowing that he had hyperacute senses only increased her discomfort. Can he tell…? Her one hope was that human girls didn’t register in the same way that Uroch females did.
“You seem distracted.” His tone told her little, but a faint thread of amusement, real or imagined, made her squirm away.
“I need to see your mouth and throat moving, for the most accurate practice.” The heat of the stove seemed like nothing compared to the conflagration of chagrin burning up her face.
“Understood.”
For the next hour, he spoke in Uroch and she translated poorly, attempting her own responses. By the end, her throat even hurt a little from making noises too deep for her usual register. She accompanied him as far as the well, sulkily hauling the bucket up with each grumpy tug of the rope. They both lowered their faces to drink at the same time, and her lips grazed his chin. Szarok stilled; so did she.
“S-sorry.” Tegan snapped back and stumbled away so quick, her bad leg almost gave way.
Humiliated, she pressed her palms to her face, hoping she wouldn’t actually combust.
He watched in apparent alarm. “That … I don’t understand why you’re so…”
She couldn’t even find the right words to explain. Tegan turned to flee.
“If you’re upset that you’ve forced something on me, shall I make it better?” Eyes curious, but not offended, he stopped her with a hand on her arm, a loose hold, not demanding.
If I want to, I can still run.
She didn’t really want to.
“How?”
Gently, he leaned down and rubbed his mouth against her chin. Not a kiss, more of a nuzzle, but it was gentle and tender and so full of kindness that it made her want to cup his face in her hands and kiss him and just never, ever stop. But that would escalate the whole forced something on him issue, and there was the issue of his long, sharp teeth, along with the fact that she’d never actually kissed anyone before.
He clearly just wants me to feel better.
So she smiled.
“You’re right. It’s not awkward anymore.”
Visibly gratified, he stepped back and went off for the day’s hunting while Tegan sort of collapsed near the well and wished she wasn’t still thinking about whether it was possible to teach the Uroch to kiss. I could call it an experiment, she speculated. No, that’s too scientific. Well, he knows I’m prone to irrational fits of learning—
No. Stop.
Irritated with herself, she went to fiddle with the salvage items they’d found. Maybe it was her mood, but she gave the flashlight a vicious twist, and to her astonishment, it cranked, kept cranking, until it stopped. Then when she clicked the button, it lit up, far too bright to be natural, even in daylight. Elated, she switched it off.
I could use this to signal at night. A ship might see it?
Impatient, she ran back to the well and interrupted Szarok in the middle of his bath. He was oddly shy about letting her see him, and she’d always wondered why. Now it seemed there was no reason at all because he was lean and muscled and ferocious looking, even with bloodied water running off him in rivulets. He looked stronger than a human male with increased musculature, and he had natural weapons in the form of hands, feet, and teeth. But nothing about him struck her as monstrous.
He’s splendid.
Hurriedly, he ducked to the other side of the well. “Is something wrong?”
“I … no.” She growled out sorry in his tongue, couldn’t remember how to say more. “I had news. Call me when you’re done.”
Tegan paced, too excited to let embarrassment take charge. A few minutes later he shouted, “Come, share your news.”
She ran back toward him, waving the light. “Look!”
Szarok didn’t require an explanation of how significant this was. His face lit with shared enthusiasm, and when she launched herself at him, he caught her. She’d never seen the Uroch play, but she experienced it firsthand when he tossed her up and then twirled her. Giggling, she held on and just savored the feeling, almost like flying.
But I don’t need wings or wind or feathers. Just him.
“I think I can use the glass fragments in conjunction with this light source. There will need to be a ship in range, but…”
“It’s a chance,” he said. “More than we had before.”
“I’ve been worried about how we’d make it through the winter. I even wondered if it would be possible to cross the ice, if the water froze. But while I looked at Captain Advika’s charts, I didn’t memorize them.”
“It would be hard to carry enough supplies when we aren’t sure how far we’re going.”
Sighing, she agreed. “If we signal a ship, they should be willing to drop us off at whatever port they’re heading for.”
“I need to get word to my people. It will not go well if they think I’ve let my memories go.” A euphemism for a sudden, violent death.
All at once Tegan registered the enormity of his task. “If … if they hear you’re lost, will it mean war?”
He closed his eyes. “Probably. There was already division among the Uroch about our decision to support humanity against our ancestors. A vocal minority calls the action
I chose as vanguard ‘a heinous crime.’ And … there is part of me that agrees.”
“Because even if they weren’t Awakened, they were still your forebearers,” Tegan said.
“Yes.” His quiet resignation hurt her.
“We’ll stop it.”
Szarok leveled a look at her: puzzlement and something else. The muted sunlight that bothered him so also turned his eyes to molten gold, an eldritch beauty that grew the longer she gazed upon it. “You say that like my burden is yours, too.”
She almost said, That’s what friends are for. But she couldn’t get the sentence out. Not anymore. So she growled the response in Uroch, one that he had spoken before in human words. Now it was time to say it so his heart could hear. We are kin.
A visible tremor shook through him, and then he pulled her close. Not in a hug, exactly, but chest-to-chest touching. He rubbed his cheek against her face, her hair, and then nuzzled into the curve of her neck. Breathless, she fought for calm, unsure how to respond, or if she should. He seemed so happy when he raised his face, such distilled joy. It faded a little when she didn’t react as he seemed to expect.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she whispered.
He understood then: luminous eyes, sharp features, and all of him inexpressibly dear. “If we’re kin, you do it back. You put your scent on me, so others know, too.”
With some part of her brain, she found that fascinating, but the rest focused purely on the raw pleasure of finally, finally having permission to do what she’d wanted for longer than she’d realized. She heard an echo of him saying, Don’t handle me; I don’t like it, and now she had an invitation. Her breath went in a rasp that was all anticipation.
It’s so little by human standards, so why …
But her heart still pounded like mad when she rose up to press her cheek to his. The slow glide back and forth, skin touching skin. His felt incredibly smooth, different from a human’s, but good. He had no hair for her to reciprocate with, and she couldn’t easily reach the top of his head, so she improvised, pressing both of their palms together so his claws curled over the top of her fingers. The surprising intensity of their joined palms seemed to startle him. His eyes sparked, clouding with a confusion she shared. When she set her face in against his neck, he trembled, not once, but in waves.