Chapter 25
When we make landfall in Eyra Cove, I set out to learn who’s in charge and where to find them. It’s not hard to pick up a little thief sneaking around behind the shops. When I follow him into a dark alley and stop him, he’s convinced I’m going to turn him in to the guards.
“Take me to your boss,” I growl. “I want to speak to them.”
I’m surprised to find not only is there an underbelly in Eyra Cove, but it’s a mix of human and trollkin, too. I run a few small errands for the orcess who rules over the clan to prove I can be trusted. My sweet human mate is the perfect partner, standing prettily and making smalltalk with a merchant while I take what I need behind his back.
We never know where Gusak’s eyes might be, so we stay hidden, too. It’s good practice for Rimi, who has never learned to move quietly, without being seen. But she is light on her feet and her mind is always a step ahead of me, and it isn’t long before we secure the big boss’s interest. We have a talent, to walk the lines between human and trollkin, and that is invaluable to her.
Soon, I’m made aware of a shipment that needs to reach the human lands untaxed. After we talk it over, Rimi agrees that we should do it. I can wear the amulet, and she’ll handle the communication. It’s a good first test to see how she takes to it—a lifestyle of always moving, running missions that can sometimes be dangerous, and talking her way out of a pinch.
If I have to go be a farmer and wear this damn amulet every day, I’d do that for her. But I’d rather not.
We take a skiff, using my last necklace to barter, and head off into the channel. It’s a difficult trip but we get to the other end, our cargo disguised with boxes of dry goods. Rimi talks to the guards at the docks in the human city, and even displays some of the fake cargo to convince them we’re doing nothing untoward. We pass through without fuss, and take the river to the drop-off location.
The humans don’t seem to mind that I’m mute, because Rimi is charming and beautiful and clearly quite good in her own language at saying what needs to be said. It helps immensely that we can communicate with one another in perfect silence, without anyone hearing us. We’re paid well, and before we can decide where to go next, our contact asks if we can do some more work for them hauling rare artifacts. Rimi arches an eyebrow at me.
What do you think? she asks.
I think we should do it.
* * *
While we’re out on the ocean, sitting side-by-side under a clear blue sky, Rimi picks through the crates of gems and sculptures and trinkets while I fall asleep to the sound of the lapping waves.
A short time later, though, Rimi taps me on the hand.
“Look.” She’s learned a little Trollkin, and I’ve picked up some Freysian as we work, which comes in handy. There’s a broken rock in her arms that looks like it was cracked off of a much bigger one. Recognize this?
She turns it so I can see the symbols carved into it: one half of a human’s face and one half of a trollkin’s, so close together their noses are almost touching. There doesn’t appear to be any magic in it, but when she gives it to me to hold, the purple mist inside the amulet starts to glow.
Did we do what we were supposed to do? she asks me. Whatever that pyramid was trying to tell us?
I glance around at the open ocean, and listen to the peaceful squawk of distant seagulls.
I think so, I say. But does it matter? I get to live my life with you. I don’t care what some old rocks wanted.
Rimi just laughs and shakes her head at me. You wouldn’t, would you? She sits down beside me, taking my big, four-fingered hand in hers. We tap our fingers on the side of the boat, making a delightful little melody.
* * *
After a few runs like this, we’re full up with coin and we’ve earned the trust of the human outlaws. We become their go-to for overseas transport, hauling all sorts of goods past tax collectors and inspectors. With our heads together, we are much too clever to get caught.
It’s raining one day—pelting us, really—as we try to navigate our small skiff out of harm’s way.
We need a bigger boat, Rimi says, out of seemingly nowhere.
Do we? This ship has been sufficient so far.
Something sturdier, she says. More space.
I think about this as the storm calms. When we’re done putting the sails out, Rimi is breathing hard, and I help her sit down inside the cabin where it’s dry.
Why is the boat not good enough all of the sudden? I ask. I know a little storm wouldn’t rattle her, not after everything we’ve been through.
With a twitch of excitement, she scoots over to one side and invites me to sit down next to her. Because there’s going to be another person on board, she says. At least one. She brings my hand to her chest, then drags it down until it’s resting over her belly.
My heart leaps into my throat. Is that so? I lean down, pull up her shirt, and kiss her exposed stomach. So this is where my whelp will grow, big and strong.
It is so, she says with a giggle.
Whatever happens, I know they will have the most doting parents possible.
That night I take my mate slow and gentle, and she cries out underneath me until she’s squeezing me so tight, I doubt if she’ll ever let me go.
That would be quite all right with me.
* * *