Chapter Twenty-One #2
“I’ll go find him and let him know we’re ready to sail at dawn,” Marin said. She retreated down the dock, leaving Ree to muddle through his rhymes and Surot to bask in memories.
Marin knew where to find Dax: up the mountain, with the dragon.
Long before she saw him, she heard him. He was singing today, no instrument, and his voice was deep and soft, carried by the wind and drifting over the rocks.
She couldn’t pick out words and thought maybe there were no words to it, only melody.
She tried to push her conversation with Surot out of her mind.
The fact that she was in love with Dax didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t going to be staying in her life, not on a daily basis anyway.
As soon as it was safe again in Alyssium, he was going to return to the conservatory.
He was supposed to be performing for vast concert halls filled with appreciative audiences, not singing for a solitary dragon on a bare mountainside, though it was nice the dragon was appreciative.
If anything, it was because she cared about him that she wasn’t going to stand in his way. Dax was destined for greatness, and she wasn’t going to be the one to yank him off that path. She didn’t have the right to do that—it was his life.
As Marin climbed up the path, she saw the great beast sprawled on her perch. Her eyes were half-closed, and her tongue poked out between her teeth. She reminded Marin of a very contented winged cat, the kind who’d just devoured a fish feast at the End-of-Harvest Festival.
She returned to worrying about whether the dragon would want to keep Dax.
Surot had just said that dragons could collect people—Nessa had done so.
What if, despite Marin’s little speech when this began, this dragon wanted the musician as well as the music?
Marin had been very clear, but did a queen dragon care what a lowly sailor said?
Marin knew firsthand how difficult it could be to leave someone who didn’t want to let go, who wouldn’t respect what you wanted, who didn’t care about anything but what they wanted …
She forced herself to take a deep breath.
Maybe Keva won’t be like that at all. She wondered how long Iovar was going to poison the way she saw everyone and every situation. Softly, Marin called, “Dax, we’re ready to sail whenever you are.”
Meeting her eyes, he nodded, but he didn’t stop singing.
She sat on a nearby rock and listened.
There was a story in the song, even though it was wordless.
She could hear a journey in his voice, the way the melody traveled.
It reminded her of the sea, with the shimmering horizon in the distance.
Closing her eyes, she listened as the waves rose around the traveler.
He was singing of the storm, of the fear and the chaos, and then the quiet and the peace.
She thought of the marmoose, the warmth and the softness and the kindness of that rare creature.
It was all there, inside the melody, or maybe it wasn’t and that was just what she brought to it?
She couldn’t tell, and she guessed it didn’t matter.
She wondered what journey it made the dragon think of, if it conjured up memories for her.
Maybe the dragon thought the song was about flying, not sailing, and maybe that was just as true.
He ended on a note that he held until it faded away with the last of his breath.
Marin sat in silence, unwilling to break the moment.
And then Dax stood and bowed to the dragon. “Thank you for listening to me, Great One. I won’t forget this, or you. If I ever sail this way again, I’ll visit.”
Keva opened her eyes.
Marin held her breath.
And the dragon closed her eyes, sighed, and let him go.
As if something momentous hadn’t just happened, Dax picked up his guitar and the bag that had held his lunch and started down the mountainside.
Marin felt her rib cage loosen, and she could take a full breath again.
Her heart was still racing. She hadn’t realized how much of her believed he wasn’t going to come, or be allowed to come.
I’m not ready to lose him. Not to a dragon.
Not to the conservatory. That was a terrible realization, given the inevitable end to their story, and exactly what she’d tried so hard to avoid.
She had literally just sworn to herself that she wasn’t going to stand in his way.
It’s not about what I want, she reminded herself. It’s about what’s best for him.
She was going to keep telling herself that until she believed it.
“I was singing about our journey,” Dax said.
“I know,” Marin said. She glanced over her shoulder, up at the reclining dragon, wondering if Keva was going to change her mind.
Perhaps the dragon hadn’t realized yet that this was goodbye and the music, at least the music made by Dax, was leaving her life.
Keva would, of course, have plenty of other music provided for her by the village of dragon-tenders, but none were world-class composers who’d been child prodigies.
Dax seemed delighted. “You could tell? I’d hoped that the key shift would indicate the swelling waves, the change from the peaceful sea to the dangerous one. You know, along with the tempo change—I’d thought about adding lyrics…”
“It doesn’t need them,” Marin said. “The sea is larger than words.”
“Yes! Yes, exactly that. How do you do that? Understand so perfectly.”
He continued to chatter about his musical choices as they made their way down the mountain.
In the distance, the sun was sinking lower in the sky, and she saw Perri out in the waves, glittering with reflected gold.
Seagulls were circling about him. She wanted to be out on that water, sailing again.
It felt as if the waves were pulling her, her blood a part of its current.
She interrupted him. “How quickly can you be ready to sail? Can we go at dawn?”
He cut off his musings on what kind of percussion to add to the melody he’d created and said, “How about now? Can we navigate by the stars?”
She was startled. He’d seemed so content singing for the dragon and in the Silver Dragon Inn that Marin hadn’t thought he’d want to leave as quickly as she did. “We could. Yes, of course. If you’re ready.” She’d worried she’d have to persuade him to leave his adoring audience.
Dax sang one of Ree’s songs. “The sea calls, and we must sail—beyond the horizon, into the bluuue!” He then added, “Besides, we have to find Rijes Velk and then get that heartsinger ruby to your parents as soon as possible. We’ve lost too much time as it is.”
It was kind of him to think of her parents when he had a deadline too. “We also have to get you back for your opus at the winter solstice.” It hurt to say the words, like a paring knife carving away at her heart.
He didn’t respond to that. Pausing, he skirted around a boulder in the path. They were nearly at the village. Marin could smell the heavy scent of dinner wafting from the houses and the tavern—the scents of seasoned mutton and tubers, fresh-baked bread, and caramelized fruits.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Dax said. “It’ll be a long sail, right? We’ll need to stop for supplies along the way. But we’re short on money because we haven’t taken any jobs.”
She’d been considering it. “I thought we’d pick up a few delivery requests at the next island with a job board.”
“That will slow us down, right? If they aren’t on our path?
Or even if they are—they’ll take time out of our journey, and we don’t know how long it’ll take for us to find Rijes once we reach Alyssium.
We might need every bit of time we have.
So here’s my idea: we sing our way across the sea!
Remember when I sang in that tavern? I’ll compose some songs for the four of us—”
She smiled at his enthusiasm. “The four of us?”
“I’d imagine there are a lot of islanders who have never heard a sea serpent sing, especially with two humans and a sentient plant.”
“You want us all to perform together? For people?”
Dax grinned. “Think of it! A traveling troupe!”
She … loved it. All four of them, singing together, harmonizing, the way they did while they sailed.
She wanted to say yes instantly. But then she thought of Surot and all her unsolicited musings on love and relationships.
Forming a musical troupe … That was intertwining their daily lives even more, wasn’t it?
It was going to make it hurt all the more when it was time for Dax to move on with his real life.
He was playing at being a sailor, an adventurer, and now a traveling musician.
And I’m the one who’s going to end up hurt at the end of it.
She supposed it was already too late to worry about that.
It was already inevitable. She might as well enjoy every second she had left, before her heart was hollowed out.
Out loud, Marin said, “That’s not exactly the prestigious musical career you’ve been training for.
You should be working on your opus. I can find jobs to take. ”
His grin had faded. “Of course, if you don’t want to…”
Instantly she regretted squashing that smile. “No, I think it’s a great idea! I’m no professional singer, but if you think you can make all of us sound good together…”
The grin popped back. “I already have ideas for harmonies. The Crescent Islands won’t have heard anything like this.”
His smile was infectious. Unable to help herself, Marin smiled back at him, despite the alarm bells ringing in her heart. “I’m sure that will be true.”
They sailed at dusk, and no one (and no dragon) stopped them.
Marin guessed that meant Surot was right: they weren’t assholes.
Yay, she thought. As she, Dax, Ree, and Perri waved goodbye to the villagers, she shouted thanks and praise and a promise to return someday, if they could.
The enchanted moorings chimed in to join Surot and the villagers wishing them good wind and smooth seas.