by CJ Brightley
Flutter poured the Mother’s power over Kezel. It was working. The large area of skin producing the substance was having a marked effect on her illness. The shadow was only a filmy veil. The squishy feeling and sour taste receded. It would take a long time before they were gone completely, but they were clearly responding.
Larine threw her arms around Kezel’s father in an exuberant embrace. He gaped at her, but she just laughed. “I figured it out. I found the cure.” Her masterwork would be written into the records of the guild. She’d be included in the next History, like the wizard in the Sixth History who’d discovered that fresh fruit and vegetables kept sailors from developing scurvy. Children in Gemgeda would never have to suffer pain and deformation again. “Let her play in the sunlight as long as she wants.” Surely the sun today wasn’t hot enough to burn her, like happened to apprentices who played on the beach too long. “Every day, all summer, until she stops complaining about her bones hurting. I’ll check on her as long as I’m here to make sure she keeps improving, and I’ll tell the wizards who come with the next voyage what to look for.” They’d have to find a way to let children get sun in the winter without freezing. Unless they stored the substance in their bodies somehow. Maybe that’s why summer babies weren’t affected as badly.
The carver grinned at her bemusedly. “Her mother’s going to have my hide for letting her play naked.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Larine promised. “Believe me, every child in Gemgeda is going to be playing naked all summer.”
After a brief tussle with Ozor to get his tunic back on, she scooped him up, made a hasty farewell, and hurried toward the center of town. She had to tell someone who would understand.
When she neared the Mother’s Hall, loud, angry voices came from within. She peeked in a window. The other two journeymen wizards who’d come from Elathir were deep in the middle of an acrimonious court case. One displayed a window, while the other spoke earnestly to first one party, then the other, trying to keep their frayed tempers from exploding into violence.
Deflated, Larine backed away. She couldn’t interrupt them. Her news would have to wait. At least she could tell her family over the midday meal.
As she turned, the cobbler’s shop caught her eye. She would tell Shiar. He wouldn’t be terribly excited, but maybe he’d finally appreciate the value of her work. This would prove to him that she’d been accomplishing something significant during the mornings while he cared for Ozor, not just idling away her time the way he’d accused her of doing.
She hurried across the street and pushed the door of the shop open. The front room was empty except for a stranger perusing the displays of shoes and boots. Shiar and the cobbler must be in the back.
She poked her head through the curtain that screened the rear doorway. “Excuse me?”
“Yes?” The cobbler, an older woman, looked up from her workbench, her knife poised over a half-shaped piece of leather.
Larine stepped through the curtain. “Ah, I’m looking for my husband, Shiar Butcherkin Sailor. He said he was going to get a fitting for the boots you’re making him?”
Her brow creased. “No, they’re finished. He picked them up yesterday.” Suddenly her expression cleared, and she nodded at Ozor, who was squirming in Larine’s arms. “I told him I’d be happy to make your little one a new pair of shoes, since he’s almost outgrown those. But he said you took care of the boy’s clothing, so he’d send you by. You must have misunderstood what he said. I can take the measurements now, if you have time.”
Larine clutched Ozor close. “I need to find my husband. We’ll come back later.”
“Very well.” The cobbler winked at Ozor, who stopped wiggling to stare in fascination. “Just remember I’ll need three days to make them, so be sure to leave enough time before your ship sails.”
“I will.” Larine backed toward the curtain.
“Sorry I couldn’t help you.” The cobbler bent back to her work.
Larine tried to remember exactly what Shiar had told her as she left the shop. She was sure he’d said he was the one who needed the fitting. But she’d been annoyed at him, so maybe she hadn’t listened clearly. He frequently complained that she misheard his words. Or maybe he’d known that if he told her the truth, she’d be even more annoyed. She’d asked him dozens of times to take some responsibility for clothing his son, instead of expecting her to do it all.
In any case, he’d probably returned to the ship. She scowled. He’d given her a false excuse so he could steal an hour of idle time without Ozor. She wouldn’t be surprised to find him napping in their cabin.
Larine set Ozor down, took his hand, and marched toward the dock. Usually when she discovered Shiar’s little prevarications she ignored them, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time. Her work was important, and he would blasted well respect it from now on. His interference might have caused her to miss the clue that had unlocked the puzzle, if she hadn’t been so determined to continue her investigation.
Then again, if the need to keep Ozor out of trouble hadn’t driven them outside, she never would have guessed sunlight might be the vital factor. Her anger gave way to rueful contemplation of the mysterious ways the Mother worked. Maybe she should thank Shiar instead of scolding him.
None of the sailors were on deck when Larine picked Ozor up and carried him onto the boat. She shifted him to one hip and navigated the ramp down to the cabins in the stern. She wasn’t looking forward to the homebound voyage. She’d been tense the whole trip north, constantly vigilant lest Ozor tumble overboard or blunder into any of the dozens of dangers the ship offered. Shiar was infuriatingly blind to the dreadful possible consequences of a single moment of inattention.
Larine strode along the narrow corridor and shoved the door of their cabin open. “Shiar, are you—”
She froze. The bunk was occupied, but not by Shiar alone. Her husband and one of the female sailors turned to gape at her in unison.
The woman grabbed for a blanket and Shiar scrambled to disentangle himself. “I swear, this isn’t what it looks like.”
She stared pointedly at his nakedness. He flushed, his fists clenching. “Blast it, Larine, I can explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” A strange calm gripped her, half pain, half relief. This time he wasn’t going to weasel out of it. “I saw you. Nothing you can say can make this anything but what it is.”
The woman looked nervously back and forth between them, clutching the blanket to her throat. Shiar hopped on one leg while trying to shove the other into his breeches. It was all Larine could do not to laugh. He refused to stop babbling. “It’s just part of being a sailor. We take care of each other when we’re away from home. It doesn’t mean anything.”
She’d suspected him of infidelity for a long time, but she’d never had proof before. There were rumors about the Sailors’ Guild, and she’d resigned herself to the likelihood that Shiar indulged while on voyages. Now, though… Rage bubbled up from her gut. “Smash it, I’m right here. With our son.” She thrust Ozor forward. His big eyes were taking in the whole scene. “But clearly none of that matters to you.”
Shiar moved to get between her, or more likely Ozor, and the woman in the bunk. “Stop making a scene,” he said through gritted teeth. “We can handle this quietly.”
She did laugh at that. Fury and triumph made a heady mix. “I’m done covering up for you. I’m done looking the other way. I’m done with you.” She wrapped her arms around Ozor and stepped backward through the door. “You’re not welcome in my parents’ house any more. I don’t want to see you again the rest of the time we’re in Gemgeda. I’ll have the captain assign me a separate cabin for the trip back. When we get to Elathir, you’ll sign the divorce papers without argument. Our guild representatives can negotiate a standard settlement and custody agreement.”
She took a deep breath. “If any of those arrangements aren’t to your liking, I can always bring a case against you for adultery
right here and now. The court can watch what you just did through a window, along with all of Gemgeda. And the crew of this ship.”
He glared, but there was nothing he could say, and they both knew it. Proof of his betrayal presented at a public trial would ruin his reputation and destroy his chance of earning the captaincy he wanted so much. Larine held all the cards. All Shiar could do was forfeit the game before he lost everything.
Larine turned her back and walked away. She heard the door slam behind her. Tears formed in her eyes, but she held her head high and blinked them away. She’d never wanted it to end this way, but she couldn’t be sorry it had. Thank the Mother, she was finally free of him. She’d never have to deal with Shiar again.
Ozor twisted in her arms. “Want Dada,” he said petulantly.
Larine held him tighter. “Not now, sweetheart. Dada’s busy.”
His face crumpled and he thrashed. “Dada!” he screamed, kicking so hard Larine feared he’d leave bruises. “Want Dada!”
His tantrum raged while Larine trudged up the ramp and left the ship. A few of the sailors gave her sympathetic glances; they’d become accustomed to Ozor’s outbursts during the journey. Nothing calmed him once he reached this state. All she could do was wait it out.
Larine walked along the shore for more than a mile before exhaustion overcame Ozor. His screams subsided to wails, then sobs, then hiccups. He sagged against her shoulder, sweaty and tearstained, stuffed his fingers in his mouth, and fell asleep.
She buried her face in his hair. She’d been wrong. She would have to deal with Shiar again, regularly, for many years to come. Some bonds couldn’t be broken. Until Ozor was grown, they’d have to tolerate each other as best they could, for their son’s sake.
Larine stood outside Dabiel’s door. She stroked Flutter with shaking fingers. I don’t want to do this.
Her familiar was sympathetic but uncompromising. If you don’t face her now, you never will. Shiar will win. Is that what you want?
She winced, but he was right. Absolutely not. The thought of Shiar’s smug satisfaction if she and Dabiel remained estranged was just the kick she needed. She forced her hand up and rapped on the door.
She heard movement inside. The door opened a crack, and Dabiel peered out. She eyed Larine warily. “What do you want?”
“Can I come in? Please?” Larine took a deep breath, let it out, took another. “I—I need to apologize.”
Dabiel blinked. After a moment, she said, “I’m listening.” The door remained where it was, her body blocking the narrow gap. Buttons’s broad face poked around her legs. His shiny black eyes studied Larine.
Larine fixed her eyes on Dabiel’s left ear, as close as she could come to meeting her gaze. “You were right. Shiar told me to break off contact with you.”
In the three years since, they’d only spoken when they had no choice but to work together. Dabiel treated Larine with distant courtesy. At first Larine had longed to confess everything to her friend, but after a few months of coldness she grew angry that Dabiel had been willing to drop years of close companionship after one argument, without even putting up a fight. Eventually she grew numb, certain that things between them would never change. Even now she didn’t dare hope Dabiel would want to renew their friendship. Larine had hurt her too much. A few measured words of forgiveness would be more than she deserved.
Dabiel’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Larine clenched her fists. “We’re breaking our bond. I caught him with another woman.”
Dabiel blinked a few more times. She glanced down at Buttons, who returned her gaze with his usual immense dignity. He flicked an ear, and Dabiel swallowed.
Abruptly she yanked the door open and stepped aside. “Come in and sit down. I want to hear everything.”
Larine walked in. At Dabiel’s gesture she took a seat in one of the chairs in the small sitting area across from the bed. Once she’d spent almost as much time in this room as in her own. Dabiel sat across from her, just as she always had whenever they weren’t flopped on the bed or sprawled on the floor. Flutter glided to the ground and hopped over to exchange sniffs with Buttons. The pig collapsed at Dabiel’s feet, and the falcon snuggled against his side.
“Look at them.” Dabiel jerked her head. Larine couldn’t tell whether the disgust in her voice was amused or not. “Like nothing ever happened.”
“They didn’t fight.” Larine twisted her fingers together. “I’m sorry, Dab.” The old nickname felt both awkward and natural in her mouth. “I should have believed you. I shouldn’t have let him come between us.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.” Dabiel sat stiffly straight, not yielding anything.
Larine rubbed her face, then wrapped her arms around her torso. “I loved him so much, and I was so scared of losing him. I would have done anything he asked. He—he accused me of having an affair with you.” She grimaced. “How could I be so stupid? He was probably sleeping around already. I bet he got angry because he felt guilty and couldn’t admit it, so he blamed me for what he was doing.”
“That would be typical.” Dabiel still didn’t show any reaction in her face or voice, but one foot reached out to rub Buttons’s side. The pig grunted and rolled a little closer to her.
Larine twisted her fingers together in her lap. “So, anyway… I did what he told me, and lied to you that I didn’t want to be friends any more. And here we are.” She shrugged helplessly. “I know it’s too late to fix things between us, and I don’t blame you if you hate me, but I had to tell you the truth. It makes me sick when I think about how much I hurt you. I really am sorry. I’d do anything to go back and change what I did. But since that’s impossible, I would be forever grateful if someday you could find it in your heart to forgive me.” She stood up and edged toward the door.
Dabiel jumped to her feet, scrambled over Buttons, and threw her arms around Larine. “Smash it, Lar, of course I don’t hate you. I hate that rat of a husband of yours for doing this to us. Of course I forgive you.”
Larine clung to her, shaking. “I’m so sorry, Dab. I never meant any of those things I said.”
“I know you didn’t. I always knew it was Shiar. Dear Mother, Lar, I was terrified he’d hurt you. I mean, I knew Flutter would protect you, but I was afraid he’d be clever enough to catch you alone.”
“He never did that, thank the Mother.” Larine rested her forehead on Dabiel’s shoulder. “Maybe if he had, I would have seen the truth and gotten out sooner. Before Ozor—” She shook her head, unable to go on. No matter how irresponsible it had been to bring an innocent child into their disaster of a marriage, she couldn’t regret her son’s existence.
Dabiel stroked her hair. “Shh. He’s proof the Mother can bring good things out of bad. Never be sorry you had him.”
Sobs wracked Larine’s body. Dabiel held her, a quiet, strong support, until they subsided. When at last Larine stilled, Dabiel pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, handed it to Larine, and gently guided her back to her chair before returning to her own. “Where is the little handful, anyway? Not with Shiar, I hope.”
“In my room, asleep.” Larine scrubbed her eyes with the soft cloth. “He was so excited to get home. He wore himself out playing with the familiars after the evening meal—they all adore him. I think he knows every one of them by name.” She gulped. “But I have to let Shiar have him sometimes. He hasn’t done anything to justify taking away his blood rights. He’s keeping him tomorrow morning while I report to Master Tasha about my masterwork.” She twisted one corner of the handkerchief. “He’s not very attentive or involved, but he does love Ozor. I know he’d never hurt him. And Ozor loves him. He’d be devastated if he couldn’t see his Dada anymore.”
Dabiel nodded, sympathy in her eyes. “I guess that’s for the best. If Shiar can manage to be even a halfway decent father, it will be a lot better for Ozor than if he had to do without.”
“I think he can. I hope so, at least.” Larine unc
rumpled the handkerchief and blew her nose.
“Good.” Dabiel waited until Larine folded the handkerchief and stuffed it in her pocket. “So tell me about your masterwork. How did it go?”
Larine brightened. “Better than I ever hoped. I not only figured out what was causing the disease, I found the cure.”
Dabiel leaned forward, eyes sharp with interest. “What—no, wait, start at the beginning. I want to hear everything.”
Larine poured out the story. Dabiel listened with unwavering fascination. When the narrative was complete, she asked insightful questions and raised some points Larine hadn’t considered. From there the conversation wandered to other unsolved mysteries of their craft and how they might be investigated. Dabiel talked about the advanced training Master Idan was giving her in conflict resolution, and Larine described her work with various diseases that affected children. They talked for hours, catching each other up on everything that had happened during the years they’d been estranged. They spoke about their hopes and dreams and fears, their memories and regrets, all the secret things they could confide to no one else.
During a lull in the conversation, Flutter’s sleepy voice reached Larine’s mind. I hate to interrupt, but you’d better get at least a few hours of sleep if you don’t want to be dozing off during your meeting with Master Tasha tomorrow.
Larine blinked at him. It’s not that late, is it? She went to the window and craned to catch a glimpse of the moon. The lopsided disk, a few days past full, had passed its zenith and was descending toward the western horizon. Smash it.