Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Stay for the food
We stepped back into the noise and I was hit with the full force of the festival all at once—the drums, the torches that had been lit along the harbor wall, the smell of fire and sea together.
The music had changed. Less structured now, more improvisational, and the dancing near the dock had gotten looser and faster.
Someone had rolled out a barrel of something.
The hunk of meat on that spit still smelled extraordinary. But all of it paled to the woman beside me.
“Are you okay?” Maive asked, and there I saw a rare glimpse of insecurity. “Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I said in a growl. “You definitely should have. And you may, anytime you wish.”
That was partly coherent. I hoped she knew I was referring to her kiss.
She looked down with a smile and I caught her bite her lower lip. “Okay,” she said softly.
Good. No regrets on either side. Both of us were too old for that sort of thing.
We strolled toward the fire looking calm, even though I felt like I’d just been revived from a long coma.
The world was a little more vivid. Sounds had a bit more resonance.
The warmth of the large fire pit moved over my skin as we approached.
Someone put a plate in my hands, heavy with a chunk of that meat they were carving on the spit.
“It’s a pindlok,” Maive explained, holding her own plate with less on it. “It’s a deepwater fish. Difficult to catch and only served on special occasions.”
I pulled off a piece of meat and ate it, then closed my eyes and groaned. The outside had a crust that cracked when you pulled it apart. The inside was soft and full of flavor, all the way through. I ate it standing up, with no regard for decorum whatsoever.
“Ah, he likes it,” beamed the proud cook, who stood beside it.
The short, strong-looking woman lifted a large brush from inside a bucket she held and slapped the fragrant mix onto the still-roasting meat.
“We cut it off and eat as it cooks. It gets dry if you wait for the whole thing to be cooked through.” She winked and sloshed on more of the oil.
“If you like that bit, come back later for the tender, inner meat. It’ll make your eyes roll right back in your head. ”
“It may well be the death of me,” I murmured reverently, pulling off another piece. “You should serve this more than once a year.”
“If only the pindlok were not so elusive, perhaps we would.”
“I would swim out and hunt one down for you,” I said. “Say the word.”
The woman laughed, but looked very happy with the praise. “Half the taste is in the spices.” She slopped more on the meat and the dripping sizzled on the coals below. “But that is an old family recipe.”
We strolled back toward the square and Maive tilted her head. “Thank you. You made Braija’s day.”
“Her food is delicious,” I said. “No false flattery there.”
A child with an infectious giggle ran up to take our plates.
Maive was finished and gave hers over, but I was not so I held on to mine.
He scampered off with a whoop. Then, Maive was summoned.
A gentle hand on her elbow from one of the elder women made her smile and nod, and she went with a small apologetic look.
I watched her retreating back and my senses instantly missed her.
I took a deep breath, looked around at the assembled Runams of Valrim Village and thought, well.
People came to me. I hadn’t expected it, but probably should have.
They came in twos and threes, and said things like, thank you for saving little Aila, and, we’re grateful, and, Tregen is our family.
I nodded and tried to look like someone who received gratitude with any grace whatsoever, which I had no evidence of ever doing.
A very old Runam woman, shorter than most and moving with the deliberation of someone who had outlived all her doubts, took my free hand in both of hers and held it for a moment without speaking. Then she nodded and walked away.
“That was Tregen’s and my great-grandmother,” Pasek said, appearing at my elbow. “She’s done that to three people in my lifetime.” He paused. “One of them was Maive.”
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“Her blessing.” He helped himself to a piece of my pindlok, which I allowed because I didn’t want to wrestle a Runam fisherman at a village festival. “Honestly, it’s more than I have.”
“She hasn’t blessed you?”
“She thinks I talk too much.”
I looked at him.
“She’s not wrong,” he said cheerfully.
I shrugged and said nothing, which was usually the best course in most situations.
Across the gathering, standing in a pool of shadow just beyond the main fire, I spotted Micher in hot conversation with Maive and the woman who had summoned her earlier.
The village healer had his arms crossed and wore an expression of displeasure.
When my gaze found his, he gave a short nod and pointedly looked away.
“Don’t worry about Micher,” Pasek said.
“I’m not.” I quickly ate another bite before Pasek could steal more of my food.
“Word has gotten around that you gave Maive a device like the one that healed Tregen when Micher’s treatments failed.” Pasek shrugged. “He’s a proud man. Good healer. He’s kept this village healthy for years with very little, but he’s a little too proud. He’ll come around.”
I shrugged again. It wasn’t my problem either way.
The music shifted again, slower, and the couples near the dock began to dance a little closer and much slower.
I watched them. Firelight on the water, shells clicking overhead, the ocean doing its sighing underneath the smoke and food and laughter.
I thought about what it took to build this.
On a stripped, abandoned planet nobody wanted.
With whatever they had. And they’d made something worth defending.
That sat in my gut with more weight than the pindlok.
Maive found me again a while later, wearing a slightly weary expression. She stood beside me and watched the dancing.
“Everything all right?” I asked.
“Always something,” she said. “Nothing that couldn’t wait.”
“Your healer’s skills are still needed,” I murmured. “The device I gave you can’t fix everything.”
“That’s what I told him.” A pause. “How are you finding the festival?”
I looked at the torchlight and the smiles and the food, and at Aila on the far side of the fire with a cluster of small children all watching Silli perform acts of great importance on her shoulder.
“Different,” I said. Which was true, and wasn’t the whole answer.
She seemed to accept it.
I excused myself, telling her I needed to check on Silli, and worked my way toward Aila.
I stopped when I was near the children, without having made a spectacle of it, but they scattered at the sight of me.
Apparently, having a large, horned male appear in their space was alarming.
They had good instincts, this lot. Aila looked up at me and grinned.
“How’s he doing?” I crouched down to her level and nodded at Silli.
“He had bread,” she reported. “And spiced fruit paste. He approved of both.”
I made a mental note to verify that Vradic-89D digestion could handle spiced fruit paste. “And you? Recovered from your adventure?”
She lifted her chin. “I wasn’t scared.”
Her state before, when I found her, had told a different story, but I smiled indulgently. “I know. Aila, I was curious about that bird you saw. The metal one.”
That made her brow drop low. Her eyes brightened as if she was glad someone was willing to take the topic seriously. “Silver,” she said. “It moved wrong. Sideways sometimes, then fast, then just stopped in the air. Real birds can’t stop.”
“What else?”
“Its eyes blinked red.” She demonstrated, blinking slowly twice. “It made no sound at all. I wanted to catch it but it kept moving right before I got close.” The memory of this irritated her visibly. “It went into the trees west of the village. That’s where I lost it.”
“West.” I kept my voice easy. “Did you see where it went after?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t find it. Then I couldn’t find home either.” She said this with brisk annoyance, which reminded me again of her grandmother.
“I don’t think it was a bird,” I told her.
Her eyes went wide. “What was it?”
“I don’t know for sure.” I leaned in conspiratorially, giving Silli a scratch under his chin.
“Sounds like a piece of machinery.” Fleck, it could be that some device from my own ship had gotten activated and flown away.
I’d have to take an inventory when I returned home.
“Things like that get left on planets and keep running for years. Nothing to worry about.” I gave her a look.
“Still. If you see it again, don’t follow it.
Let an adult know so I can investigate, instead. That’s a better plan.”
She looked skeptical. “Why can’t I investigate?”
“Because,” I said slowly. “I’m bigger and I move faster than you.”
She weighed this with visible seriousness. “I don’t think you’re faster than me, Gilrox.”
I gave her a smile that showed my once-sharp canine teeth. “We’ll have to test that one of these days, then.”
“I’ll win,” she said as if she felt sorry for my inevitable loss.
“Maybe,” I replied. “But promise me you won’t follow any strange birds from now on.”
Aila rolled her eyes. “All right, Gilrox.”
“Good. Now go have fun.” I stood up and ruffled her hair. “And don’t feed Silli any more spiced things. If he throws up in my shuttle, I’m finding you to help me clean it.”
She laughed, clearly unbothered by my empty threat, and returned to the children. I straightened and stood still for a moment, looking west.
Silver. Red-blinking eyes. Sideways movement, then fast, then motionless. No sound. Disappeared into the trees.
That sounded an awful lot like a reconnaissance drone.
It could even be the Durbok’s. It wouldn’t shock me to learn that the Runam’s sole merchant trader kept drones running to keep track of his territory.
And really, it could be mine, although I didn’t recall owning any equipment that looked the way she described it.
I rubbed my chin. Maybe it was what I’d told her it was.
Derelict equipment on backwater planets wasn’t unheard of, running down its last power cycles.
I didn’t know, but I’d be smart to investigate. Send out some drones of my own. B2 could expand its territory a bit. It would keep it out of my hair.
I shook off the feeling of concern. No reason to alarm anyone.
I set it to the back of my mind and returned to the fire.
I got a piece of inside pindlok meat, and yes, it made my eyes roll back.
By the time the festival wound down, I had eaten entirely too much, had talked more than I thought myself capable of, and was very eager to lie down and go to sleep.
People drifted off until the music stopped mid-phrase and nobody started it again.
Torches burned low. The barrel was empty.
I caught a glimpse of Tregen near the edge of the gathering, sitting up in a chair someone had brought out for him, wrapped in a blanket, watching the last of the dancing.
The young man had come close to missing this, but he looked well.
I’d seen him dancing earlier. He’d healed, but it took time to fully recover from an injury such as his.
I found Maive to say good night and she insisted on walking me to the shuttle. I’d retrieved Silli after Aila and the other children had been sent to bed. My small, furry friend had instantly fallen asleep draped across my shoulders. His breathing was a small, warm pressure against my neck.
We stood outside as the hatch slid open. Maive looked up at me. In the darkness, her eyes were deep and unreadable.
“This was more pleasant than I thought it would be,” I offered.
“I’m glad,” she said dryly. “I hope your expectations weren’t too low.”
“I didn’t have any,” I said. “I came because you invited me.”
“And you stayed because you enjoyed yourself?”
“That’s right.” I hesitated. It seemed like there was something else she wanted to say.
If she apologized for kissing me, I’d…I didn’t even want to think about that.
Perhaps it would be best if I just got out of there before things got uncomfortable.
Or, more uncomfortable. “Thank you for the evening,” I said, then leaped aboard and didn’t let myself look back.
I closed the hatch and made sure she’d backed away before lifting off into the dark. Below, I could see everything: Valrim Village, small and warm, the last embers still glowing, the lights scattered on the water, decorations set out with joy. I held the low altitude longer than I needed to.
Something had changed tonight. I couldn’t name exactly when, but there was no putting it back to the way it was.
I turned south and went home, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to.