Fen kicked the wall of the hull again and again, each blow of his boot causing another scattering of tiny sounds.
Breathing hard, Fen looked at the deck. Then he stooped and looked closer.
“My Gods,” he whispered. He pressed a fingertip to the ship’s floor and raised it to his eyes.
“No…”
He scrabbled on his knees and pulled a plank free. Turned it so the side pecked with holes was facing down, and tapped it carefully on the deck.
“Holy horsesh—… Abrakam!”
He started pulling more boards down. Yelling his head off for the centaur, he turned them over and tapped them out onto the deck. The lark swooped in and puffed herself up, her expression smug.
“You newborn-soul-bringing little bitch,” he said.
Abrakam was coming out of the aftercastle. “What is it?” he called. “Fenros, what’s wrong?”
“Seeds,” Fen cried, one arm wide, the other indicating the little pile starting to grow by his knees. “Every godsdamned board on this ship is full of Nye seeds.”
Great was the day when the Kaleuche sailed into Valtourel. The waterfront was lined with good citizens with beautiful, broken hearts. Bands of black silk wrapped each arm. Ebony bunting festooned storefronts. Handkerchiefs pressed to eyes and noses.
Naria Nyland waited at the end of the pier, enormously pregnant. The hopeful fire in Fen’s chest extinguished and he knew it was over.
He does have a son after all.
And if it’s a daughter, she’ll be the first keptenne of a giant-ship in the history of the world, anywhere, ever.
His heart broke, even as it dedicated itself to this unborn child.
You haven’t even begun yet, but I’ll be with you until the end.
The Kaleuche would be dismantled carefully, board by board. Every plank loaded onto wagons and carted out to where land was being cleared. They’d be laid in the earth, seeds, wood and all.
No one person knew to do this. Nyland had a herd mentality of its own and every soul knew it was what had to be done. The same way everyone knew another ship would come soon. The Kaleuche came back for the Cay. No doubt, now that Nydirsil was anchored to the sky, the Khollima was on her way back to replace her sister.
And she would endure.
A nine-day vigil was held for Pelippé Trueblood Cay in the mariners’ crypt. Crew members took turns keeping watch from sunrise to sunset. They came and went like the tide. The Ĝemelos. Merevhal, Dhar and their baby boy, Ikharus. Calvo and Beniv. Even the Sisters came to pay tribute.
Fen wasn’t present for the daylight shifts. Much as he had on his flights across the desert, he slept when the sun was out and kept watch from twilight to dawn. Darea often came to stand with him in the wee hours, and as he leaned his head on her smooth coat, a bit of his future tapped his shoulder. He turned to face it, at last recognizing who Darea was. Not the great love of his life, the way Zoria was for Sevri. But a noble, courageous and compassionate pegaso who might give him an heir someday.
“If you’re willing,” he said.
“Only when you’re ready.” Her velvety muzzle caressed his head. “And not a moment before.”
On the eighth day, Belmiro came. He lit his candle and kneeled beside Fen.
“Salutos.”
“Salu, Bel.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“I had to,” Belmiro said, his voice tight. “Gods, he was something.”
“He was everything.” Fen reached in his pocket for the spice pod and held it out to his old lover. “Here.”
Belmiro stared. “Is that…?”
“It’s Nye. And it’s from Trueblood. He told me to give it to you and tell you more is coming. As much as you need to stay clean.”
“Khe l’khe.”
“You’re free now, Bel.”
Belmiro put his head in his hands and Fen gathered him close.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry about everything.”
“I never got to explain. Why I waited so long to tell your father I’d seen you that day. I don’t even know why. I was…”
“Young,” Fen said. “We were both young and it’s nobody’s fault why young creatures in love do foolish things.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault. All you did was ask me to wait. I chose to follow you. I’m the one to ask forgiveness.”
“It’s yours,” Bel said. “It’s forgiven. I’m so tired of unfinished business. I hate that Trueblood left Valtourel when he was pissed off at me. My heart fucking hurts about it. And if I can…” He glanced at the pod in his palm. “If I can turn things around, I’m not saying I and you can be best friends again, but I’m so sick of the estrangement.”
“Then let’s end it. It stops now and we go from here and see what happens.”
The two kheirons kneeled quietly together and kept watch. At the end of an hour, Belmiro slid a hand on the back of Fen’s neck and kissed his head. “Thank you.”
“You get clean and you stay that way. You don’t have a price anymore. You’re no longer for sale. You understand?”
Answer your commander, he thought as Belmiro nodded and got shakily to his feet.
“Promise me, Bel.”
“I promise. It’ll be a new life.”
“All right then.”
Belmiro hesitated in the aisle. “Maybe I’ll see you later?”
Fen smiled. “I’d like that.”
Sunset on the ninth day. Fen felt no shame in not being able to shift into equos for the last watch of the vigil. He knew humos was the most noble form he could take.
He knew so many things now.
The hours passed. Fen dozed on his knees, then shivered awake. The crypt was dim and cold and behind him came the distinctive sound of four hooves on stone.
He thought it was Abrakam, and said, “When you carried us to the ship, the day we left? That was his idea, wasn’t it?”
No answer.
Fen’s arms crossed, hugging the chill in his bones. “I believed he was still alive, because he had no son. But when we came into port and Naria waited on the pier for us…I knew then. That’s when it became real. He’s gone and he isn’t coming back. We don’t get a later.”
A hand touched his shoulder. Fen leaned into its warm strength.
“I’m going back to the herd,” he said. “Darea’s chosen me and I like her. I never gave much thought to my own children but maybe… If one were friends with Pé’s child, then—”
“Give me your ringos, Fen.”
Fen looked over his shoulder and reared back a little.
His father stood in the aisle, the swirling cloud of a soul in his cupped palm.
“Hold out your ringos to me,” he said. “Do it now.”
His tone was so dire, Fen pulled the winged band from his thumb and held it up.
“Stay still.” The orb of light in the Horselord’s palm began to turn. Round and round. Faster. Brighter. Drawing out long and threading the loop of the ringos. The eyes in the horse head flashed. The wings fluttered. The metal surged hot in Fen’s fingers and he nearly dropped it. Then it cooled and went quiet. Fen let it roll into his palm.
“What just happened?” he said.
“The starsilver will sustain him,” il-Kheir said. “But his heart won’t beat without it. He has to wear it always. Which means you cannot fly.”
“Sustain him?”
“Keep him alive.”
Fen’s heart lurched in his chest. “You mean…?”
“I brought you later.”
“But…” Stunned to incoherence, Fen looked back toward the bier, then down to the ring in his palm. “I don’t understand.”
His father’s fingertip touched the feathered edg
e of the silver band. “Given my way, I wouldn’t make you choose,” he said. “I’d give you back everything. It’s no less than you deserve.” A trembling shook him. “This was the best I could do.”
Fen closed the ringos up in his hand. It was everything he wanted, but he’d been here too many times before. Suckered by the hidden prices of things. Tempted by candy filled with poison. Lured by a demon turtle disguised as a beautiful island. Lulled by a swirl in the water with the potential to suck him down to a watery grave.
Is this real? Can this be mine?
“Did you hear me when I said his heart won’t beat without your silver?” the Horselord said.
“I heard.”
“A love like that? You only read it in stories.”
“No, not only.” Fen looked at him. “I was born from a love like that.”
The Horselord shivered. “You were.”
“Mami is so beautiful. And the way she said my name was—”
“Please,” Sevri whispered, his face twitching in pain. “You don’t need to tell me what’s in my eyes and ears every single day. What I miss every minute of my life.”
“I know, Father. I know now how it feels.”
“Put it on him then. Gods know I would, if it were me.”
Fen glanced backward at his shoulders, assessing wings he’d never see again. Then he sunk his teeth into life’s sweetness and put the ringos on Trueblood’s finger.
“It will take time for his heart to wake up,” il-Kheir said. “Don’t be afraid. He’ll come back.” He cleared his throat. “You have no reason to take my word but I give it. He’ll come back to you.”
Fen had been kneeling a long time. He leaned a hand on the edge of the bier to get up, putting weight on one stiff leg, then the other. He turned to face his father, who now held something between his thumb and forefinger. Milky-white with veins of opalescence.
“Yours,” he said. “No conditions. No choices to make.”
Fen took his moonstone and held it in his fist for one inhale and exhale, then put it in his pocket. “Thank you.”
“And this.” Sevri slid his ringos from his thumb and held it out to Fen.
A long staring moment.
“Take it,” Sevri said.
“Why?”
“Because I…” The Horselord’s mouth worked several times around the words before answering, “Because I want to see you wear it?”
I must be dreaming. Dazed, Fen slid his father’s ringos onto the empty thumb of his fivehand. Gods, if I’m dreaming, don’t let me wake up.
It’s a good dream.
Il-Kheir had been watching intently, the lids blinking over his pale blue gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Fen said.
“I thought it…” Sevri shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Well.” Fen forced a little laugh. “We both know the day isn’t complete until I’ve disappointed you.”
Such a look of consternation came over Sevri’s face, Fen was filled with a bewildered shame.
Khe, he’s gotten so old.
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
The Horselord’s head moved slowly side to side. “You were only a foalboy.”
Fen felt a loosening in his heart. Some old, tight grudge moving over a hair.
Abrakam said Father lost his mind when Mami died. Then lost it again when I was taken.
He went mad.
He went literally and excusably crazy.
I know how it feels. I barely survived finding and losing my gelangos. He’s been enduring it thirty-five years.
The bitterness in his heart moved over some more, making room for Sevri’s mad cruelty. Not quite forgiving it, but creating a place where it could live.
It belongs in my nyellem, along with Arcodolori. And Trueblood stands at the door, guarding it.
This is a better way. If I’m willing.
Fen extended his hand. Elbow to the ground, thumb to the sky, offering gelango.
His father reached. Palm clasped palm. Then forearms. A single, shared inhale and exhale. Their free hands came to rest on each other’s shoulders. Then their brows pressed.
“I haven’t felt your head on mine in a long time,” Fen whispered.
“Tehvani…” His father spoke his khenom. The syllables light and beautiful. Slightly wrong.
Fen dug deep in the hold of his memory. He had to push aside boxes of anger, barrels of resentment and crates of vindictive hate before he found it.
“Sevri…” The sounds were more than just slightly wrong. He butchered it badly and embarrassment burned the back of his neck. “Like I said, a long time.”
“Say it again.”
Fen did. Better this time. Not perfect, but no one could say it perfectly but Sevri himself.
The gust of his father’s sigh blew gentle on his face. “Gods, what enemies I made of us.”
Fen closed his eyes. This was a new piece of cargo for his ship and he didn’t know where to put it.
“I tried, Fen.”
“You did everything you could.”
“I wanted to do more.”
“It’s enough,” Fen said. “Da, it’s en—”
The chamber lit up as if by lightning. A stabbing, soundless flash. Blinding, deafening. A jolt and a crackle through hands to skin into bone and soul and a waft of burning flesh.
When the light fell away, Fen stood on four hooves and Sevri il-Kheir stood naked on two swaying, buckling legs. Where once his moonstone hung was a broken cord of dark purple horsehair. Where once were tiers of alabaster feathers was a charred skeleton frame with a few smoking tufts.
“Da?”
The Horselord stumbled back against the pillars of the nave and the protruding bones crackled, disintegrating into clouds of ash.
Fen lunged to catch the frail old man. Frantically he beat out the last smoldering embers around one pathetic shard of cartilage protruding from his father’s back.
Diminished, burned and broken, Il-Kheir slid to the stones at Fen’s hooves. With a grunt, the last shard of his wingspan trembled, folded, and slipped beneath the skin of his shoulder blades. A hiss of finality. A last curl of smoke. Then they were gone.
No silver etchings marked their place.
Fen’s wings exploded. Again the crypt was filled with light as he morphed from humos to equos to kheiros and back again. Over and over from best to worst, from strength to vulnerability, hidden to exposed. A blur of limbs and mane and hair and tail and wings and skin and feathers. Until finally he stood, breathing hard, half-man, half-horse, his wings shivering. He stared at his nine ringed fingers, then reached up to touch his brow and feel the stone embedded there. Not dangling from a hoop but inexplicably and miraculously fused within his skin.
“Well,” il-Kheir said in an old man’s rasp. “I didn’t think that would work.”
The smoky air of the crypt was bitter in Fen’s open mouth. “Think what would work?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d say it.”
“Say what, what are you talking about? What the fuck is happening?”
The Horselord rocked to his knees. Slowly his head turned to look at his son’s magnificence. “Help an old man up?”
Speechless and bewildered, Fen reached down to take his father’s shaking hands. Once on his feet, Sevri brushed off each ashy arm, then turned and made his slow way down the length of the crypt. Wrinkled and twisted and naked, but dignity in his slow, shuffling steps.
“Da,” Fen called, following him. “Da, wait…”
The Horselord stopped, a hand on one of the pew backs. Tears dripped clean tracks down his dusty face as Fen’s hooves rang on the stones, coming to a slow stop.
“You see, Fen,” the old man said. “Names have tremendous power. But Da is the most giant of giantwords.
”
Words of all sizes swirled through Fen’s astonished mind, gradually becoming realization.
The Altyn witch said no word exists in the world for how much my father loves me.
But it does exist. A word both name and noun. Father and the courage to be a father.
Fen bent his forelegs, then his rear ones, sinking to his father’s level.
“Da, will you honor me by riding?”
The old kheiron reached a shaking hand to pat his son’s cheek. “The honor is mine.”
Fen helped his father onto his back. He folded his wings tight around the Horselord and started walking toward the pavilion.
“Go slow,” Sevri said. “I have so many things to tell you.”
Fen walked with deliberate precision, each hoof placed and lifted on the road. “All right, Da?” he asked over and over.
“All right,” his father answered, sounding more and more sleepy each time. “So many things, Fen.”
“Almost there.”
Sevri’s arms tightened around Fen’s waist. “Take your time. I’m enjoying this.”
Fen put his hands over his father’s. “Me too.”
“I’m sorry, my one.”
“I’m here,” Fen said, holding on tight as the roles reversed. “I’m taking you home, valentos.”
“I’m sorry. I love you, Tehvani…” His voice was a thread as he spoke his son’s soul name perfectly.
Fen was crying too hard to answer.
Kheirons and attendants gathered at the pavilion gate, open-mouthed and pale with shock.
“Please help my father down,” Fen said. “Carry him inside. He needs to rest.”
He unfolded his wings as the kheirons approached. At the collective gasp and cry, he looked back over his shoulder.
His back was empty.
All heads rose as a charm of goldfinches took to the sky.
Pelippé Trueblood walked on shaky legs out of the mariners’ crypt, turning his palm over and back, looking at the ring on his finger. He gazed up at the brilliant sky, squinting under his hand at the newborn day. Then he looked blinking around the portico.
The Voyages of Trueblood Cay Page 43