Chapter Ten
As the island of Eventrid shrank to a speck behind them, Dax sighed heavily enough to be heard over the wind. Ree tugged on the cuff of Marin’s pants and whispered, “He’s sad. What do we say?”
She didn’t know if there were any words anyone could say that would make it better or easier. There were some choices that hurt even if they were the right ones. “Dax?”
He turned his head and looked mournfully at her.
Still couldn’t think of any words. Instead, she said, “You have to learn how to swim, if you want to stay on my boat. You’ve never sailed through a storm, and I don’t want to have to worry about whether you’ll drown before I can fish you out of the water.
” She could tell from his expression that this was not what he’d expected her to say.
If he wants eloquent comfort, he’ll have to find another boat. “Both of you need to learn.”
“All right,” Dax agreed.
“Yay!” Ree said.
She wasn’t sure why she’d expected them to object—maybe because it wasn’t what either of them had signed up for?
Or maybe because she didn’t expect anyone to listen to her.
Despite Ree calling her captain, she didn’t feel like one.
She was just a supply runner. She’d never had a crew before.
“Do you, um, want to talk about…” Marin waved theatrically behind them toward the island where they’d delivered his musician friends.
Dax looked out across the waves, where Perri was frolicking with a pod of dolphins. “I don’t think I ever realized how rarely I’ve ever made a choice just for me. It hurt more than I thought it would.”
“Um, sorry.”
He looked back at her. “Don’t be. Not for that. What you did … You fought for me.”
Marin felt herself blush. “Just made a few threats, actually. No actual violence.” She looked up at the sails, the clouds, the sun, the seabirds flying overhead, anywhere but at Dax.
She wished she hadn’t started this conversation.
It wasn’t all that remarkable what she’d done.
It was what his friends should have done, if they hadn’t been assholes.
“Thank you,” he said, with so much unaffected sincerity in his voice that she blushed harder. He seemed to sense her discomfort because then he did the kindest thing he could have: he changed the subject. “Do all sea serpents sing, or is Perri unique?”
Marin exhaled gratefully. “Ask him.”
“Will he understand me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Ask him, and see. He might. He might not. You should know he’s just as intelligent as any person.
” Probably more. She had no way to judge the depths of what Perri knew or understood.
For all she knew, he was the genius of the sea.
Or maybe she was just talking to a glorified snake. No way to know.
“Perri?” Dax called.
It took a moment before the sea serpent noticed, extracted himself from the swarming dolphins, and swam closer to the sailboat. He trilled a query.
Dax repeated his question: “Do all sea serpents sing, or are you unique?”
He curved his body so that it rose and fell out of the water in an undulating pattern, and he sang an octave run that ended in a sour note.
Marin laughed. It was easy to translate that. “He said all sea serpents sing, but some of them do it really badly.” Definitely more intelligent than most. And with a better sense of humor.
Dax grinned. “Perri, will you sing with me?”
In answer, Perri warbled a high note.
While Dax positioned himself on the bow of the boat, the sea serpent danced merrily around them, tossing off random notes, until Dax began to play on his three-necked lute. In minutes, music was dancing around the sailboat.
Dax’s voice was low and furry, far sweeter than she’d have expected—she’d heard the piercing notes that rang out of the conservatory windows from some of the other musicians.
His was gentle. It dovetailed with the sea serpent’s crystal clear bell-like tones that traveled over the waves.
She listened as she sailed. This … was pleasant.
Ree sidled up to her ankle. She expected him to comment on the music or the rescue. Instead, he said, “You really think you can teach me to swim?”
“Sure.” She had no idea. It occurred to her that she’d never taught anyone to swim before, human or plant, and she wasn’t certain where to start.
She’d been swimming practically since she could walk, possibly before.
She supposed she’d just start them off the way she had.
“First thing we need to do is find some sea turtles.”
“Yay!” Ree bounced enthusiastically. “Where do we find turtles? Also, why turtles?”
Marin scanned the horizon and adjusted the sails to aim for the third visible peak of land, pale purple at this distance. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t eat you.”
He stopped bouncing. “What?”
They were almost to the island that Marin thought of as Turtle Island (though its true name was Galap) when the stowaway made himself known.
Leaving Ree to monitor the sails, Marin had gone belowdecks to use the head. It was only when she finished and was about to return topside that she heard:
“Miw.”
Marin froze.
It was a sound she knew well, growing up on Flicker. She inhaled and exhaled.
Not that long ago, it had been just her by herself on this boat—with Perri, of course, but he couldn’t fit in the cabin even with its sorcerous expansion, and he’d sink Silver if he tried to beach himself on the deck.
So, really, she’d had quite a bit of privacy.
She supposed the loss of it was entirely her own fault.
She’d had a choice and had said yes every time.
Crouching, Marin held out her hand and called, “Pssst, psst, psst, here, kitty.”
An orange cat with purple wings climbed out of one of Dax’s bags.
“Are you hungry?” Marin asked him. “Would you like a fish?”
He would indeed like a fish. He trotted closer and allowed Marin to scratch his cheek. He then flopped onto the floor, his wings askew under him, and displayed his belly.
“Is this a trap?” Marin asked. She rubbed the fluffy orange belly anyway and was pleased that it wasn’t a trap. The cat swatted, claws retracted, at her hand and nipped the air near her fingers, but then he began to purr.
“Are you here by accident, or did you intentionally stow away?” Marin asked.
He, being a cat, didn’t answer.
Standing, she said, “Come on. Let’s get you fed.” She didn’t watch to see if the cat followed her. Above deck, she announced to Dax and Ree, “We’ve been adopted by a cat.”
Ree shook his leaves in confusion.
The orange cat poked his nose out of the cabin.
“Oh, it’s you!” Dax said, delighted. “I tried to find you.”
“Guess he found you instead,” Marin said. She was pleased and relieved that Dax hadn’t intentionally left his cat behind in the chaos. “He’s your cat?”
“No, there’s a rule that cats aren’t allowed in the conservatory.” Dax grinned at the orange cat and held out his hand. “But no one bothered to tell the cats that.”
Ree hopped closer, and the cat retreated, fur raised and tail fluffed. The shrub halted. “Hi. I’m Ree. What’s your name? Do you want to be a sailor too?”
“I’ve been calling him Escatralius, after the composer,” Dax offered.
Marin raised both her eyebrows at him.
“It might be a bit of a mouthful,” he admitted. “Escatralius was an innovator who brilliantly fused the classical sounds of the third-century organ with the modern staccato rhythms of Eano.”
The cat had gotten ahold of one of Ree’s leaves and was chasing it around the deck, until the wind blew it into his face.
Startled, the cat took flight and flew up to quiver on top of the mast. Marin shielded her eyes from the sun to look up at him as he settled his purple wings and began licking his leg.
“I’m not seeing ‘brilliant innovator.’ How about we just name him Stowaway? Stowy for short?”
“It’s less dignified,” Dax said.
On top of the mast, the cat wobbled, then stretched his wings out. A gust of wind then blew him off his perch. He swooped down and landed on the deck as if he’d meant to do it.
“Okay, Stowy,” Dax agreed.
“Perri, could you—” Marin began.
The sea serpent dove beneath the waves and then a second later swatted a fish onto the deck. It landed with a wet thwap, startling the cat again. Stowy flew belowdecks.
“Thanks,” Marin said.
“I’ll fillet it for him,” Dax offered.
“You know how to fillet?” She wasn’t sure why that surprised her. It was a common enough skill. It was just that she couldn’t picture Dax cooking anything. She had a vague image of banquets every night in the conservatory.
“I’m not useless,” Dax said.
Marin winced. She hadn’t intended to insult him. She was usually much better with people—charming them as she made her deliveries and pickups—but those were short interactions that she could control with anecdotes and end whenever she wanted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”
Dax flashed her a smile, a fake smile. She could tell the difference with him.
His real smiles lit up his eyes; his fake ones hid pain, but that pain leaked around the edges of his expression.
“I wasn’t actually supposed to learn. My teachers didn’t want me near knives, in case I sliced my hands.
” He spread his hands, palms up, and studied them.
“But I wanted to learn how to cook. One holiday, while the other students were home with their families, I spent every afternoon in the conservatory kitchens, helping out. The chef … well, no one had told her that I wasn’t allowed, and she wasn’t about to turn down free help when she was short on staff …
So, she taught me how to slice, dice, and fillet. ”
Marin stared at him for a moment. She didn’t think he was looking for pity. “We have had very different lives,” she said at last.
She meant to say it lightly, but she wasn’t sure Dax heard it that way. He was looking at her with a hint of sadness in his eyes. Taking the fish, he went belowdecks.
Perri trilled at her.
“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings,” Marin said.
Another trill.