Chapter Twenty-One
It took a week and a half to repair the mast and the sails.
But the beautiful part was that Marin didn’t have to pay for it, or even lift a finger. Surot was so pleased that they’d figured out what Keva wanted to hoard that she instructed the local shipwright to make Marin happy.
At first there was a bit of confusion, wherein the shipwright misinterpreted what Surot meant, and Marin had to calm a very irate shipwright’s husband, but once that was sorted out, construction began.
A spruce tree was chopped down, branches sliced off, and bark stripped away.
After that, the local metalsmith was roped into creating new winches, and undamaged lines were donated by a lobster fisher.
A man who was lauded as deft with a needle was tasked with creating a patchwork sail out of the remnants of her sail and leftovers from other damaged sails.
While the villagers swarmed over the deck, Marin scrubbed and patched the hull. There was minimal structural damage, but a ton of scrapes and gashes. As she worked, the enchanted moorings called out advice:
“Eh, you should be using a softer cloth.”
“Don’t be daft—she’s got to sand it first.”
A third said, “You missed a spot.”
“Don’t bother her, Mauris. Can’t you see she’s busy?”
“You’re bothering her,” the mooring named Mauris said.
Loftily, the other mooring said, “I am giving expert advice.”
“Only thing you’re an expert on is seagull shit.”
“I heard that!”
“You were meant to!”
Ignoring them, Marin continued on.
Inside the cabin, everything had been tossed about wildly on the ship’s flight through the storm. Ree worked beside her to restore everything, and occasionally Dax joined them. Mostly, though, Dax stayed up on the mountain, composing music for the dragon Keva.
Marin missed him more than she wanted to think about.
It was disconcerting: he hadn’t always been a part of her crew, and she shouldn’t have become accustomed to his presence so quickly.
But every time she finished a task, she caught herself looking around from him, hoping to catch his smile.
Every time she did it, she shook herself and reminded herself he was temporary.
That was why they weren’t going to kiss again.
She couldn’t help feeling, though, that she’d waited too long to be careful with her heart.
At last, it was finished, and the shipwright pronounced it perfect (and the shipwright’s husband pronounced the shipwright perfect, after which Surot had pointedly offered them both a room at the Silver Dragon Inn).
Marin stood on the dock with her hands on her hips and surveyed it.
Beside her, Ree said with a sigh, “It is perfect.”
She agreed. Her sails were still silver but they were a patchwork of different shades of silver, from pale near-white to a slate-gray silver.
The mast had been stained a starless-sky black, and the hull was painted blue, darkest where there were once gashes.
It was the same ship, but … it had scars now, and the scars were beautiful.
All this beauty … it had to cost more than the knowledge that a particular dragon liked music. Specifically, Dax’s music.
A sudden thought occurred to her.
What if they weren’t satisfied with just knowing what Keva wanted to hoard?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Surot come stand beside her. “Our artisans did a magnificent job, didn’t they?”
I’m just being paranoid.
The headwoman had been nothing but kind and helpful.
On the other hand, she’d also made it clear that the dragons were her priority.
“Just to be clear,” Marin said. “Are you going to try to force Dax to stay here? Make him keep playing for your dragon?”
Ree let out an “Eep!”
“I beg your pardon,” Surot said, shocked. “Of course not.”
She sounded sincere, as well as offended. Marin didn’t relent. If she was out of line, she’d apologize when they were underway, sails billowing and the island fading into the distance. “We’re not leaving him behind.”
“What kind of people do you think we are?” Surot asked.
Marin shrugged. There was no good way to answer that. She didn’t think Surot would believe her if she tried to explain it wasn’t personal.
Grumbling, Surot said, “Well, we are not assholes.”
“Good,” Marin said. “And yes, your artisans did a magnificent job.”
Surot wasn’t mollified. “You should try being more trusting.”
“The last time I trusted too much, people I love got hurt. I try not to repeat mistakes.” She tried to say it lightly, as if it were just her policy, but she heard the old hurt sneak into her voice.
“Ahh.” Surot’s voice changed completely, and Marin glanced at her.
She looked as if she’d sipped sweetened chocolate.
“I knew there was some reason that boy was not in your bed. I have seen the way he looks at you and the way you look at him, and I couldn’t make it make sense.
Family didn’t approve, eh? Or is it an ex-lover causing problems?
Been betrayed before and now you have difficulty trusting your instincts and everyone else’s intentions? ”
Wait, that wasn’t what she’d meant, though Surot was right.
Still … “Dax isn’t … We aren’t…” Firmly, she said, “I value him. And of course I admire his musical talent.” She might not have conservatory training, but she knew she liked to listen to his songs as much as the dragon did.
He was special. More than that, he was earnest. And kind.
Look how he treated Ree and Perri. And she liked the way his eyes lit up when he saw something new.
So, yes, she felt … a lot for him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be practical about their future.
Ree leaned against her ankle. “Marin likes him.”
It was clear both Surot and Ree were delighted with this idea.
“We often hear in songs and stories about two souls who are matched by the stars,” Surot said, as if imparting wisdom.
“Their fire draws them to one another until they create an inferno together. You ask your lover boy about that, and I bet he’d sing you a litany of songs about fiery love and destiny.
But that’s not the love that lasts. Oh, it’s fine, of course.
You get one of those soul-consuming fire loves, and you don’t need wood for the winter.
You’ll heat yourselves until you burn to a crisp.
Better, though, is a quieter love. Like you two. ”
Stepping backward, Marin held up her hands.
“There’s no ‘us two.’ He’s my friend. My crew.
My travel companion, until it’s safe for him to return home.
He can’t be more. He has to return to Alyssium.
He has a life there. This is, at best, a temporary friendship.
” It was all it could be. Love wasn’t enough.
There were practical considerations too. “I’m being sensible.”
Surot continued on as if Marin hadn’t protested.
“Most of the time, love grows. You share experiences. Joys. Sorrows. But more importantly, the little moments. You begin to shape yourself around the other person. You may not even notice it at first, but over time, who you are stretches and shrinks and bends and twists until the two of you fit together. That’s the best kind of love: going through life side by side.
Friends who become more but most importantly stay friends, through the more and the less and the everyday. ”
Marin shook her head. They didn’t understand. It wasn’t about feelings. Maybe, yes, she did love him, but they both had responsibilities that were going to take them in opposite, incompatible directions. “We can’t…”
“It’s nice to not go through life alone,” Surot said. “Don’t deny yourself that joy. Share your sunrises and your sunsets.”
She had the sudden sense that Surot wasn’t talking about her and Dax anymore. Surot was looking up at the mountain beyond the village, and Marin was certain she was remembering someone. Quietly, she asked, “Who were they? Your love.”
“She was a dragon,” Surot said with a sigh as heavy as the north wind.
“My dearest friend, to begin with and to end with. This village was her hoard. She collected us, or the ancestors of many of the people you see now. She knew we needed a home, a purpose, and she found us and brought us here. Like you and your musician, we could not have been more different in our lives before we met, but we grew together. Changed together. Built lives together.”
Marin tried not to look startled—this village wasn’t newly built, plus Dax had known of the dragon-tenders from an old ballad. She remembered Surot saying she was two hundred years old and then laughing it off. Maybe that hadn’t been a joke.
Ree hopped forward on the dock until he planted his roots in front of Surot. “Can we go back to the first part? Your love was a dragon? Is it rude to ask how that worked?”
“Yes,” Marin told him.
“Not all of us have the same needs, even among the same species,” Surot said. “You do not need to make love to have love.”
“Ah, I see,” Ree said.
Marin wasn’t sure he did, given that he was a plant, but whatever.
“Love is choosing to spend your day with someone, and then choosing to spend another and another, until at last you’ve spent a lifetime, and there are no more days left.” Surot let out a wistful sigh. “I don’t regret a single day I spent with her, only the days that I didn’t.”
Ree said stoutly, “I think your love would make a great song.”
Surot smiled. “Then someday you can be the one to sing about it. Her name was Nessa, and her scales were as blue as the sea, her eyes as gold as the sun, and her wings as black as shadow.”
“Ooh, I’ll do it. I’ll write your song and sing it everywhere we sail,” Ree promised. “Scales as bluuuue as the blue-blue sea, love as true as the honey bee…”
Marin kept herself from smiling. The little shrub was so earnest and sweet. She wouldn’t mind at all if he sang his songs at every port, though she wasn’t sure about the “honey bee” rhyme.
Ree cut himself off. “Dax will help me make it better.”