“I prefer to judge the accuracy of danger. My people’s lives are worth more than you playing the injured innocent. Don’t feed me shit and call it honey, stone-chieftain, or Ilhukaia won’t as much as raise her sails. What. Are. We. Carrying?”
“Something your like should welcome, Riverwalker.” Galenu was still indignant. “A forged eye of metal and sand, spun finer than even the downRiver glašg blowers can craft. A device to gauge Stars.”
“Such a wonder!” Vocal sarcasm insufficient, Našobok rolled his eyes and propped hands on hips. “I know you’re Land-bound and therefore ignorant, Galenu, but surely you know wyrhling already have the finest ways to gauge Stars.”
“Not like this, you don’t. With such an eye of metal and glašg, we could see the shadows on the twin Moons. We could cross the dawning Sea.”
“Some of our People did just that, long ago. They came in smaller craft than mine, and found Kin already here. They needed no unhallowed metal eyes.”
“But many were lost.”
“Sea is dangerous.” Našobok shrugged. “More so than even River. It is Her way.”
“If they’d possessed these things, our far-flung cousins could have arrived here in greater numbers, safe.”
“And perhaps overrun those already here. Instead the lucky ones—the strongest, the most willing to coexist—survived.”
“But they could have been safer in their navigation—”
“Safe!” Našobok scoffed. “If such a thing can be had, who can afford it? What price will it demand?”
“Knowledge outweighs any price.” Galenu’s eyes, flecks of Sky against umber, shone with intent. “What would you do, wyrh-chieftain, to keep your crew safe? To know you could fix yourself more accurately upon Sea, to better make port?”
“I don’t know what I’d do, were my people’s lives handed to me on a balance scale. I’m glad such a choice isn’t mine to make. But I’d hope to never take Sea’s grace for granted.” Našobok watched the trees sway, spiky silhouettes against Dark’s breeze. “You say knowledge. I say weakness. There’s no such thing as safety, and those who think there is? They’re fools playing a dangerous game.”
“So you refuse.”
“Not necessarily.” Našobok inclined his head first one side, then the other. “Ai, I need sleep. More, I’ll need good trade for this journey, old khatak. There is little… uhn… safety in your errand.”
Galenu smiled. “Which is why I came to you. Figure your price and we’ll come to an agreement before I leave. I’ll be here for a while yet.”
“I know Nechtoun is glad of your company,” Našobok said, and meant it.
Galenu smiled.
Našobok turned, nearly had the door flap in his hand as Galenu’s voice sounded again, muted.
“How is Tokela?”
Našobok hesitated, slid his eyes towards Galenu. “Why?”
“Can I not ask out of courtesy?”
“You can. But generally you don’t.”
Galenu’s expression was odd. Našobok didn’t trust it, not even a little. “What are you and old Nechtoun contriving now?”
The old one’s eyebrows rose. “And why should you care?”
“That should be flaming obvious. What isn’t obvious is why you should.”
“He’s son to my sister’s son.”
“And you’d forgotten he existed, until Nechtoun told you of his sketches and his stories.”
Galenu blinked. “You know of those?”
“I pay attention, Galenu.”
“When you’re here.”
“Which means I need to pay attention,” Našobok agreed. “Unless you intend to send Mordeleg away from midLands, you’ve no business offering a hearth to Tokela. Someone will end up hamstrung, and Tokela deserves better than owing restitution for a spoiled anki’i.”
Galenu again started to puff up, opened his mouth for what surely would be a heated retort.
The smell of sweet spice and honey wafted outwards as the door flap behind Našobok was flung open. “I’ve held nutcakes for you long enough, lovemate.”
Aylaniś looked fit for the highest of Councils. Her bronze hair was immaculately oiled and braided, her bare legs and feet touched with woad and chalk, her tunic spotless. About her shoulders was a beaded doeskin shawl pale as Brother Moon.
Rescue! Našobok wanted to laugh with relief—and with genuine amusement as Galenu’s expression swerved from annoyance to surprise, then appreciation. Then came the charm.
Ai, well, if Našobok possessed even half that charisma when he gained that age…
Aylaniś let herself be beguiled, allowed Galenu to bow over her palms and even to brush one cheek against her knuckles. Then she firmly grasped Našobok’s arm and began to steer him into the tipo.
“—know how it is, StoneChieftain, nutcakes are best still warm… and here’s several for you. I’d invite you for some tea, but after I feed Našobok, I’m taking him to the furs for a while.” Aylaniś smiled, every bit as charming as Galenu. “A long while, I’ve hopes. So if you will excuse us, stone-chieftain?”
Was the old khatak blushing?
He was! Našobok started to comment. Aylaniś reached up and shoved a piece of nutcake in his mouth.
“You never know when to leave it, do you?” Aylaniś murmured against Našobok’s ear. “Next time I’ll just leave you to argue yourself sideways, you stubborn k’šo.”
Fine and fragrant Wind upon tall fems; Našobok didn’t have to bend much to nuzzle Aylaniś’s cheek, mouth full of nutcake and all. He knew a rout when he saw one.
Galenu did, too, from the hastiness of his retreat.
“But if you’re too tired to have a good go in our furs even after I feed you, I will go find that oških and smack him.”
Našobok allowed her to put an arm around his waist and staggered, playing along.
He didn’t need the nutcakes. All it took was having a look at Palatan lounging in the furs, looking tousled and thoroughly done to—and ready to be done again.
“Are you staying, this time?” Low, vibrating into a growl.
Našobok loved it when Palatan growled.
Aylaniś raked Našobok’s hair over one shoulder and bit his nape, making him judder like a first-rutted oških. “I think this time he’d better.”
Ai, well, Moons’ rising was some time away, and sleep was overrated. Našobok let Aylaniś feed him another nutcake, watched with no little appreciation as Palatan rolled to his feet and ambled over.
Arrow let out a small whine, rising
