Chapter Four
Kagren entered the Healing House first. A moment later, he pushed the curtain aside and beckoned to Mirei.
Taru was inside, rolling up clean bandages. Mirei went to her and nestled against her chest. The matriarch made a deep thrum and nuzzled the girl’s hair.
“How is he, Mother?” Mirei whispered as she pulled back and looked at the figure on the reed mat, a blanket pulled up to his chest.
“His scent is clearing,” Taru said. “I expect he will wake soon.”
Kagren had settled onto the floor next to Soru. Mirei sat on the floor across from him, peering down at the man. “He’s beautiful,” she said.
One corner of Kagren’s mouth lifted. “Think so?”
Mirei nodded. Her eyes flicked toward Kagren. “Should I not say things like that?”
Kagren’s crooked smile evened out. “Maybe not when he’s awake.”
Mirei lowered her eyes. “Oh.”
Kagren reached over Soru to pat Mirei’s hand. “Only because he’s shy. Startles easily.”
Mirei looked up at Kagren again, her eyebrows drawing together. “Shy? But… he’s so…” Her hands waved vaguely over Soru’s massive form. “...big,” she finished. The light was dim, but Kagren was sure her cheeks reddened.
“So is a therali,” Taru said. Her head hovered above Mirei’s left shoulder. Kagren saw her nostrils expand. Taru’s pupils were black circles in the relative darkness. When they shifted toward Kagren, he gave her the slightest nod.
One parent to another, he thought, before he could stop himself.
Your son.
He sighed.
Mirei’s eyes met his again, and she frowned. “Are you worried?” She turned her hands and glanced down at her palms. “I know I promised, but… maybe I could just nudge him awake?”
“No!” Kagren’s answer came more sharply than he had intended. He swallowed, took a breath, and shook his head. “No, Rei,” he said, quietly now. “He’s going to be fine. It isn’t that.”
He was helpless under Mirei’s look of confusion, bordering on distress. Kagren inhaled again—Say something, anything—but Taru brushed her chin over Mirei’s shoulder.
“Your scent has gone rather pink,” the matriarch said. “A blossoming sort of pink.”
Mirei’s spine went rigid. “What? Mother!”
She began to scoot back from Soru. Kagren rose to one knee. Before he could say anything—
What does she mean by ‘pink’?
Don’t be stupid, old man; you know.
Rei, no, this is all messy enough…
—Soru groaned, a soft, deep sound that swept away all other thoughts.
Taru’s spines rattled together as she turned her head. Mirei froze and looked at Kagren. He tried his best to put on a reassuring smile, but he knew it wasn’t convincing.
Soru groaned again as his head lolled to one side. His eyebrows twitched, lids fluttering. His eyes opened. He squinted at Mirei.
“Naress,” he muttered. “I am not finished yet. Begone, Lady.”
Mirei’s eyes met Kagren’s again. That line had reappeared between her eyes; her lips were pursed. There was no mistaking her reddening complexion now.
Kagren pinched himself between the eyes. “This kid,” he muttered.
Soru’s head swiveled toward Kagren. His eyes opened a little wider. “Atren?”
Kagren let out a heavy breath as his palm rested on Soru’s forehead. “I’m here.”
“But what of…?” Soru blinked. His head moved again toward Mirei. “That… is not She of the Last Watch. Is it.”
Mirei got to her feet and headed for the exit.
“Rei, wait,” Kagren began, but Mirei pushed through the curtain; her footsteps faded down the stairs outside.
“Kessira, Soru.” Kagren rubbed at his eyelids.
Taru tilted her head one way, then the other. “Who is Naress?”
Soru’s eyes had been drifting closed, but he forced them open at the matriarch’s voice. He gazed at Taru for a moment through heavy lids. “Where am I?”
“In a Nahrzai village in the Virelda region.” Kagren put his hand over Soru’s eyes. “You’re safe. Go back to sleep.”
Soru’s eyes remained closed as Kagren took his hand away. Soon, the younger man’s breathing grew deep and steady. Kagren shook his head and smoothed back a strand of Soru’s hair. “Try not to offend any women in your dreams, all right?”
With a grunt, Kagren stood and turned to Taru. “Naress—she’s a Tharnethi goddess.” His expression softened as he glanced down at Soru. “He loves old stories. He has ever since he was a kid.”
Taru made that deep thrum in her throat. Kagren thought it wasn’t a chuckle this time. Only a non-committal noise, perhaps.
“I’ll come back,” he said.
Taru inclined her head and thrummed again.
Outside, Kagren found Mirei sitting on the sand next to Orsec. The big Nahrzai male was splayed out in the sun, basking. Mirei sat in his shadow, her knees drawn to her chest.
“Now you’ve got the right idea,” Kagren said to Orsec as he walked up.
Orsec’s eyes were closed; his head spines twitched in acknowledgment.
Kagren settled onto the sand just beyond Orsec’s shadow. “You didn’t have to leave,” he said to Mirei.
“He told me to go away.”
“He told Naress to go away. That’s what you’re supposed to do if you see her and you’re not ready.”
Mirei had been avoiding Kagren’s eyes, but she looked at him now. “What?”
“Naress.” Out of habit, Kagren felt for his duskleaf pouch again, remembered he had lost it, and settled for stroking his beard. “She’s our goddess who guides the souls of fallen warriors to the next life. Poor kid mistook you for her.” He cleared his throat. “If it helps, she’s supposed to be so beautiful that only the most steadfast can resist following her.”
Even in the shade of Orsec’s bulk, Kagren saw Mirei blush again. She looked away for a moment, but then turned to him once more. “What do you mean, a goddess?” she asked.
Kagren stared at her for several seconds before something clicked. “Oh. Right. Nahrzai don’t have gods the way Velka do.”
“The pull of the tide,” Orsec said, his eyes still closed. “The breath of storms. The calm between waves. The cycles. The connections. We attune to the world. We do not appeal to it.”
“Sometimes I think you have the right of it,” Kagren said as he looked out at the water. “Appealing never did me any good.”
Liri had begun to approach, but she stopped short and thumped her tail in the sand as she looked at Kagren. “Muddy blue!” she yelled, and ran the other way.
Kagren picked up a shell fragment and chucked it after her. “A man can’t have a perfectly good sulk around here,” he muttered, then called to Liri: “You think I’m bad, wait’ll Soru’s up and about!”
The thrum in Orsec’s throat was definitely a chuckle.
“What do you mean, a goddess?” Mirei asked again. She was sitting cross-legged now, hands gripping her ankles as she leaned forward.
“You should be asking a priest,” Kagren said.
“What’s a priest?”
Kagren rubbed at a small pain forming between his eyebrows. “I was promised duskleaf.”
Mirei shifted and rose to one knee. “If I bring you some, will you tell me?”
“I guess you won’t be the first kid I’ve ruined with an education,” Kagren said.
“Take him to the Longhouse.” Orsec’s eyes were still closed as he spoke. “His muddy blue is dimming even the sun.”
Kagren frowned at Orsec. “You, too?”
Another thrum was his only response.
Mirei sat on the top step outside the Longhouse, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands.
“So the gods are Velka?”
Kagren took a grateful puff of duskleaf—his carved bone pipe, at least, had made it back among the pouches he’d had on his person.
“Not exactly,” he said as smoke drifted from his mouth and nose. “They’re like people—Velka, I mean. Just—more powerful. Bigger in every way.”
“Giants?”
“No. Rei.” He sighed. “Look. I never paid much attention to gods or priests or any of it. That was…” His voice trailed off, and his brows furrowed. Had Liri been around, he knew she would have shouted his colors at him. He certainly felt muddy blue at the moment. “You should let Soru tell you, when he’s awake. He’ll love having someone to talk to about all that.”
Mirei sat up straight; now she was frowning, too. “I’ve made you sad again. What did I say wrong?”
“No. Rei… no.” Kagren’s free hand gripped her arm. “It isn’t you. It’s just… I’m tired, Rei.”
He expected her to pull away, but Mirei scooted closer to him and placed her hand over his. “What can I do?”
His eyes began to sting as he gazed at her—so open, unafraid. It hit him then: raised among Nahrzai, Mirei didn’t hide her thoughts or her emotions. He doubted she even had a concept of such a thing. He blinked rapidly and looked down at the pipe in one hand as his other turned to grip hers. “Stay like this, Rei. Don’t change.”
Even as he spoke, the thought occurred: Simply being here, talking to her, will change her. We shouldn’t be here.
Voices drifted to them. Kagren recognized Saya’s high-pitched chatter before he saw her emerge from beneath the cypress trees, carrying a large basket filled with white flowers. Soru’s sword was stuck blade-first into the midst of them, the grip resting against Saya’s shoulder as she walked. Behind her came Rima and the three other Nahrzai, each of them bearing a net full of bones slung across their backs, rattling with every step. Mirei got to her feet with a laugh and hurried to meet them.
“Yarrow!” Saya announced as she thumped the basket down. “Or foamflower—whatever you call it.”
“Thalara, if you wanna get really fancy,” Rima said with a grin. From her net poked the horns and tusks of the thavok skull.
“You need another bath,” Saya said as she pulled the sword out of the basket. “That skull smells, and now so do you.”
“I’ll put it out for the birds to finish cleaning it.” Rima headed for the village outskirts, the others behind her with their clacking nets. “The sun will do the rest.”
“Then a bath!” Saya called after her.
“You could use a bath, too,” Kagren said to Saya as he ambled up.
Saya stiffened, but then looked down. “Yes, Atren.” She offered him the sword, hilt first. “I got it back.”
Kagren took it. “Good work. Soru will be happy.” He cleared his throat and waved at the air between them. “Seriously—go, bathe. And get something fresh to wear.” He plucked at his borrowed linen. “I managed that much.”
Saya gave the linen a dubious look. Mirei touched her arm. “You can wear something of mine.”
Saya brightened. “Really?”
Mirei smiled. “Of course.” She took the younger girl’s hand. “Come on, it’ll be fun. But…” She coughed. “Yes. Let’s get you to the spring first.”
“All right, all right, I get it.”
Mirei and Saya had taken only a few steps when a deep voice reverberated from the Healing House:
“Atren!”
A second later, the huge Velka man—Soru—dashed out onto the porch, skidding to a halt and gripping a post before he flew off the edge. His chest heaved as he cast a wild look around, his long black hair tumbled in disarray past his shoulders—and he wore nothing but the bandages around his waist.
Saya went rigid. “Soru!”
Mirei heard Kagren muttering obscenities as his footsteps pounded up behind her. “Soru, get back inside!” he yelled.
Mirei stood in place, rooted, her jaw slack as she stared. The man’s eye caught hers. His chin dropped; he looked down at himself. From where she stood, she saw his face go red, all the way to the points of his ears.
Then Kagren was on the porch, gripping the taller man’s arm and compelling him into the Healing House.
Mirei stayed where she was, still gripping Saya’s hand, staring as the curtain over the door swayed, then went still.
Saya looked between Mirei and the Healing House before she dropped Mirei’s hand and hurried after the two men. “Wait right there, Atra!” she called back over her shoulder, then disappeared through the curtain.
Mirei wasn’t sure how long Saya was inside—not very long, it seemed, before the younger girl returned, looking frazzled.
“Is he all right?” Mirei asked. She took a half step forward. “Should I help?”
Saya smoothed back her hair and shook her head. “He’ll be fine. Lord Kagren told me to beat it and not come back until I stop smelling like death and whatever the hell is rotting in the mud around here. His words,” she added with a lopsided grin.
Mirei frowned as she kept her eyes on the Healing House. Saya took her hand and gave a light tug. “Really, Atra, it’s fine. Lord Kagren has been taking care of Soru since before I was born. If he needs us, he’s not shy about saying so.”
“Well… all right.” Mirei took a final glance at the Healing House, then turned toward the spring again.
Saya’s free hand patted her cheek. “Are you all right?”
“Huh?”
“You look a little flushed.”
Mirei pursed her lips. “No I don’t.”
Saya glanced back at the Healing House as they walked. One corner of her mouth twitched. “I may need a bath, but I think you need a cold dunking.”
A splash and a swell of water announced Rima’s arrival. Saya, still in the spring, sputtered as a displaced wave hit her in the face. She shook her hair back and glared at the Nahrzai. The spring was deep enough for Rima to let her back legs drift to the bottom. She submerged completely for a moment before her head broke the surface, blowing droplets from her nostrils.
Before Saya could say anything, Nahmei, Eisun, and Velec joined them, splashing Saya one after the other. “Oh, come on,” the Velka girl grumbled. She heaved herself up onto the flat rock where Mirei sat, herself fresh from the water. Mirei laughed as she picked at the ends of her damp hair with a wooden comb.
Two squares of plain cloth hung from a nearby low branch. Saya grabbed one and began toweling off her hair. Giving it a final shake, she wrapped the linen around herself and sat back down next to Mirei.
Mirei, unclothed and no more bothered than the Nahrzai, paused in her combing to wring a bit of water from her hair. Saya watched her for a moment, then moved to retrieve the other towel. “Can I?” she asked as she knelt behind Mirei.
Mirei looked at her a moment before understanding lit up her face. She handed Saya the comb.
“I’ll be gentle,” Saya said as she took a handful of the thick, damp waves. “So much hair,” she said as she began to comb.
Rima lifted her head from the water enough to speak. “Tell me about it. It gets everywhere. I’m even picking it out of my spines most days.”
“Maybe if you didn’t hang all over me so much,” Mirei said, grinning.
Rima dipped her nose below the water and blew bubbles.
“White and black,” Saya observed as she worked the comb from the black ends of Mirei’s hair up toward where it lightened to white just below her shoulders. “A few people in Tharnethan have hair like this.”
Mirei turned her head as much as Saya’s grip on her hair would allow. “Really?”
“Sure. Two-toned hair isn’t rare. You see it more in Myrneth, though. We mostly have black hair in Tharneth, but there are some people with Myrnethi parents. I guess one of yours was Myrnethi?”
Mirei frowned and dropped her chin. “I don’t know.”
In the water, Rima let out a bubbling growl and submerged herself completely.
“Why don’t you have that much hair?” Velec asked Saya.
Saya blinked. One hand came up to touch the damp ends of her black bob. “It used to be long. Most people in Tharneth don’t cut their hair.” She set the comb down and ducked her head. “I, uh… kinda burned mine off once.”
Rima had resurfaced in time to hear this. “You what?”
Mirei pivoted to face Saya, her eyebrows raised. “Are you all right? How long ago was that?”
“Oh! A few years!” Saya raised her head with a crooked smile. “I wasn’t even a scout yet. So… it’s a long story, but—” She offered the other towel to Mirei. “Let’s just say they don’t let me near the cooking fires anymore.”
It was Mirei’s turn to blink, along with four pairs of Nahrzai eyes behind her.
Mirei took the offered towel and rested it in her lap. Her gaze remained on Saya as one hand gripped a lock of her own hair. “Does it not grow back when it’s burned?”
“Oh, it does,” Saya answered with a laugh. “It was just so convenient, I decided to keep it short.”
For a few seconds, only the rapid hammer of a woodpecker broke the silence. Then, Rima snorted into the water, sending spray everywhere.
“Yours has to be either the luckiest moon, or the unluckiest,” she snickered.
Saya grinned. “The priests say that about me a lot!”
Kagren lounged on the Healing House porch, one leg dangling over the edge. Behind him, Soru sat cross-legged, his back straight, wearing his bandages and a pair of trousers, his hair combed but still loose. His sheathed sword leaned against a post, within easy reach.
He would have stood, in full uniform, if Kagren had let him.
Soft footsteps in the sand announced Saya’s approach. Kagren turned his head and raised an eyebrow at the garment she wore. Sleeveless, little more than a shift, it was dyed a soft pink, and though it only reached her knees, Saya’s thin frame was lost in its folds. The fabric rippled in the breeze.
“Nice dress,” Kagren said.
Saya flushed. “It’s roomy.”
“You look like a hibiscus.”
Saya narrowed her eyes. “You’re wearing a sack, Atren.”
“And I make it look good.” Kagren patted a section of porch beside him. “You know I’m teasing. Sit. You’ve got that look.”
“What look?” Saya asked as she ascended the stairs and settled onto the top step. She stretched out her legs in the sun.
“Something’s on your mind.” Kagren puffed on his pipe. “Or are you gonna pretend otherwise until I keep asking?”
Saya pursed her lips and gazed out at the shore. Orsec had barely moved, and now Taru had joined him. Unlike her mate, she sat upright, her neck arched downward as she spoke with Liri in tones too soft for the wind to carry. Liri’s little forearms waved, claws raking the air. Taru nudged the hatchling with her nose, and Liri clung to her mother’s long muzzle for a moment before she let go and settled back in the sand.
“It’s Lady Mirei,” Saya said at last.
Kagren heard Soru draw in a long breath through his nose. Anyone else might have missed it. He kept his focus on Saya. “What about her?”
“I…” Saya chewed her lip for a second. “I think we should stop asking about her.”
Kagren’s hand tightened on his pipe. “You think so?”
Saya’s words came tumbling out now. “It makes her uncomfortable. It makes everyone here uncomfortable. Especially Rima. And Lady Mirei has been so good to us and I want Rima to like me and—”
Kagren rested his free hand on the girl’s shoulder. She stopped talking.
“It’s all right. I was thinking the same thing.”
Saya’s large eyes widened at him. “You were?”
One corner of Kagren’s mouth twitched up. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “Yep.” He gestured around with his pipe. “We’re guests. Not interrogators. And like you said, Rei’s been good to us.” He watched as Liri clambered up one of Orsec’s hind legs, balanced on his back, then tumbled head-over-tail to the sand again, her jaws gaping in delight. “They all have. Least we can do is not be a bigger pain than we already are.”
He felt Saya’s posture ease under his hand as she let out a breath. “Okay,” she said, and nodded once. “Okay, good.”
Kagren patted her shoulder. “Good,” he repeated.
When he glanced Orsec’s way again, Liri had wandered from her parents and now crouched at the halfway point between her basking father and the Velka. She was staring at the three of them.
“Hi, Liri,” Saya said.
Liri blinked, then rose to her hind legs and stepped toward them. “Hi.” Her amber eyes focused on Kagren in particular.
Kagren stayed where he was as the little Nahrzai reached the bottom stair. She blinked at him, then at Saya, and finally, he saw her nostrils quiver as she tilted her head toward Soru. Liri blew out a puff of air, and her claws curled into the wood of the step for a moment. Kagren didn’t move. Under his hand still on her shoulder, he felt Saya stop breathing.
Liri twitched her stubby tail and climbed the stairs. She flopped on her belly across Kagren’s lap, and Kagren couldn’t help the surprised bark of laughter that escaped. Saya let out her breath in a giggle and began to stroke Liri between her eyes.
Liri’s eyes closed. “Better,” she said.
Near the water, Taru inclined her head to them once. Kagren thought she smiled as she settled on the sand next to Orsec.