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AVEN LED ARIA AWAY from the canoe, and down to the water’s edge. He waded out to his knees and slapped the water twice, then twice again.
“What are you doing?” Aria asked.
“The sound carries underwater,” Aven answered. “For miles. That tells Melody to come in.”
Aria smiled, moving into the water up to her ankles. “You still haven’t told me what a Melody is.”
Aven grinned. “Besides what you sing, if you’re not singing the harmony? Melody is a water-cat. She’s been with me since she and I were both kits.”
Aria looked around. She looked down at the water swirling around her feet, then asked, “How are you going to teach me to swim, when you can’t speak when you’ve got a tail?”
“We could start in the sweet water pool, where you bathed last night. That won’t trigger my change,” Aven answered. “And if I don’t go all the way under in salt, I won’t change.” He tapped the side of his throat. “I have to be up to the gills.”
“Oh.” Aria took another few steps, moving deeper into the water. She looked back over her shoulder, then at Aven. “I have another question.”
Aven nodded. “Go ahead.”
“You call your mother Ama. Why?”
Aven burst out laughing. “Oh, that?” He waved Aria closer. “Come on. You need to be deeper to swim. I’ll make a bargain with you. If you float, all alone, then I’ll tell you.”
Aria looked skeptical. “Float?”
“It’s the first part of swimming. And you’re light, so you should have no trouble. It’s easy. You just lie here. Come on.” Aven held his hand out. “I won’t let you get hurt.”
“If I lie there, what do I do with my wings?” Aria asked. She took Aven’s hand, and he led her into deeper water, up to his waist. He didn’t ask her to take her clothes off, nor did he take off his kilt. They were both ruined anyway from their disastrous swimming lesson, so there didn’t seem to be a need. He considered her question, then shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve never taught anyone with wings to swim before. We’ll see what works for you.” He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her sideways, then placed one hand on her back, below her wings. “Lie back. You’re going to start with resting on my arms. And relax. I won’t let you go.”
Aria shivered, then looked up at him. “I trust you,” she said softly. She leaned back into his hand, and he eased her down until she was lying on his arms, her wings outspread.
“You’re too stiff,” he said. “Relax. This is just like lying on the ground.”
“I won’t go under when I’m on the ground,” Aria protested.
“You won’t go under here. Your body wants to float.” He spoke gently to her, softly, and slowly she softened, relaxing until all of the tension was gone from her limbs. “Good. Very good. I have you. I’m taking one arm away. You’re doing just fine.”
Slowly, he drew his right arm back, watching Aria closely. She simply sighed and took a soft breath.
“I think you’re ready to fly, little bird,” he murmured, and took his left hand away. She bobbed gently with the waves for a moment, then must have realized what he’d said and that his hand was gone. She jerked, started to sink, and put her feet down with a splash. She stared at him for a moment, then laughed.
“I did it?”
“You did it,” Aven agreed. “Very good for a first time.”
She giggled, splashing over to him. “Now tell me the story!”
Aven blinked, then remembered what he’d promised. “Oh, that. Yes. When I was little, I had trouble with the word Mama. I don’t know if I heard it wrong, or if I couldn’t say the first ‘m’, but I called my mother Ama.”
Aria made a soft cooing sound. “That’s so sweet!”
Aven snorted. “Got teased for it by my cousins when I was older, and I tried to change it. The first time I called my mother Mama, she looked at me. Just...looked.” He shook his head. “She looked sad. When I asked her why, she told me that it was because everyone else called their mothers Mama. She was the only Ama she’d ever heard of, and that made it special. I’ve never called her anything else since.”
Aria smiled and rested her hand on his chest. “That’s beautiful. You’re so lucky to have such parents.”
Aven nodded. “I know. Thanks.” He looked up when a high trill sounded, louder than he’d expected. “Come up on the beach. That’s Melody. You should meet her on land. She’s less intimidating that way.”
“Intimidating?” Aria followed him out of the water. “I’ve known cats, Aven. They’re not intimidating.”
“They’re not? I’ve never seen a land cat,” Aven said as he reached the shore. He turned, and saw motion in the water. “There she is.”
A moment later, Melody surfaced, and he heard Aria gasp.
“Aven,” she said slowly. “That is not a cat!”
Aven studied Melody for a moment – her dark-gray skin, soft as fine leather. Her diamond-shaped head and large, dark eyes. Her long, sleek body and powerful legs, and the sinuous tail that was longer than her body, longer than he was tall. She trilled as she came up the beach, then cocked her head to the side.
Aven held his hand out to her. “Come on, Melody. I want you to properly meet Aria.” As Melody came to his side, he turned to Aria. “How are land cats different?” he asked.
“Cats are small!” Aria blurted.
“I’d wondered,” Aven admitted. “Fa says that if he’d been around at the beginning of the world, he’d never have named them water-cats, because they don’t look anything like cats. But he never really explained.” He knelt down and slung his arm over Melody’s shoulders. “Aria, she won’t hurt you. And to be honest, she’s met you already. She watched over you while you slept, after we got you out of that ship.”
“She did?” Aria stepped forward, then went to her knees, holding her hands out. Melody stretched toward her, sniffing her hands. Then she shoved her head against Aria’s hands, crooning and purring as she left Aven’s side to curl around Aria, rubbing against her. Aria’s laughter was like bells.
“She’s so soft!” Aria draped one arm around Melody’s shoulders, as Aven had, and scratched Melody under the chin with the nails of her other hand. Melody’s crooning grew louder, and she flopped onto her side, almost knocking Aria over. Aven laughed and moved closer, stroking Melody’s flank as Aria whispered soft nonsense to the water-cat.
“She likes you,” Aven said. “That’s good.”
“Will she stay here, Aven?” Aria asked. “If you tell her to stay, will she?”
“She won’t like it,” Aven answered. “And I’m not sure if she’ll listen to me. Fa says that she will, because I’ve got what Earthborn call an animal sense. Not enough that I can understand them, but they seem to understand me pretty well. Melody certainly does. But she's got her own mind, and she doesn’t always do what I want her to do.”
“That’s very much like a land cat,” Aria said. “They’re willful.”
“That’s a good way of describing her.” Aven clicked at Melody, who raised her head languorously and looked at him. “If I could bother you?” Aven teased. “Melody, we’re leaving the island. You can’t come with us.” Melody’s eyes flared, and she snorted. Aven nodded. “I know. You don’t like it. I don’t like it either. But where we’re going, you could get hurt. I want you safe. We’ll be back. I don’t know when, but we’ll be back.”
Melody shook off Aria’s hands and rose, shaking herself all over before twining around Aven, coiling around him twice before resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, suddenly sad and scared, and feeling very much alone.
“I’ll miss you, too,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to leave you behind. But it’s not safe where we’re going, and I don’t want you hurt.”
She whuffed into his hair, crooned in his ear, then uncoiled herself from around him. She nudged his chest, rubbed her face against his, then turned and walked slowly into the water. The last sign of her was the slight wake that followed her passing.
Aria shifted on the sand, moving to sit next to him, taking his hand.
“Do you think she understood?”
Aven didn’t look at her, watching the water where the wake had already vanished. “I think so.”
“Do you think she’ll follow us?”
“Mother of us all, I hope not.” Aven swallowed. “I couldn’t do this again. And if she got hurt—” He rubbed his face with his free hand. “Let’s go help my parents. We need to get started with whatever this plan is.”
“You don’t know?”
“I’ve asked, but I haven’t really gotten a full answer yet,” Aven said. “We’re going south, when yesterday going south was too dangerous.”
“Yesterday, I wasn’t with you,” Aria pointed out. “Well, not until late yesterday. Things have changed.”
Aven nodded. “This much change this quickly is... uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry, Aven,” she said, hugging his arm. He looked at her and smiled.
“I know. Thank you. Let’s go finish getting ready.” He got to his feet, pulled Aria to hers. “While we go, you can learn to sail.”
Aria looked down at their linked hands. “Your mother has marks on her hand. You don’t.”
“Ama is a navigator,” Aven said, leading her up the beach and toward the canoe. “I just know how to sail. Someday, I might earn navigator’s tattoos.”
“Who decides if you do?” Aria asked. “Is there a school, or someplace you learn?”
“You learn by doing. And by not dying.” Aven shrugged. “The head of the family is the one who decides, usually. Which would be my grandmother, and she wouldn’t pour sweet water on me if I was on fire, so I know she won’t ever recognize me as a navigator.”
Aria stopped so abruptly that Aven almost pulled her off her feet. “She doesn't like you? Whyever not?”
Aven shrugged again. “Because she doesn’t like my father. She doesn’t think Water blood should marry outside the tribe. So when my mother asked my father to build a canoe with her—”
“I’m sorry?”
Aven grinned. “She asked him to marry her. Before the wedding, a woman and her man have to build a canoe. The families provide the materials, but they have to build it, all without help. If their relationship survives the building, they’re ready to marry. So when a woman asks a man to build a canoe with her—”
“She’s asking him to marry her. I see. And I imagine that there are a number who do not last through the building?”
“I imagine not, but I don’t actually know.” Aven tugged Aria into motion again. “To go back to my grandmother, she was furious when Ama took Fa as her husband. And she really doesn’t like me, because she doesn’t think I should have happened.” He shook his head, trying to decide how much to tell Aria. He glanced at her, and saw that she was studying him.
“There is something you are not saying,” she said. “I can see it.”
He smiled. “You met me yesterday. You’re not supposed to be able to do that.”
“Do what?” She laughed and hugged his arm. “I met you yesterday, but we’ve known each other since before we were born. We’re meant to be. You, me, and the others who will wear the other gems w hen we find them. Now, tell me?”
Aven considered, then sighed. She’d find out if they met any of the rest of the Water tribe. “When you reach twenty, you’re considered an adult in the tribe. And the head of your family marks that by giving you the family tattoo.”
Aria frowned. “You’re the same age as I am. You have no tattoos.”
“Because my grandmother refused to allow it,” Aven finished. “That’s why I know she won’t give me navigator tattoos.”
Aria stopped again, and Aven laughed. “I’m going to pull you over if you keep doing that!”
“She refused you?” Aria sounded outraged. More than sounded — her anger was written in every line of her body, from her stiff legs to her flared wings. “You’re an adult of your people, and she won’t recognize that?”
“Aria, I appreciate that you’re angry on my behalf, but please, don’t be,” Aven said gently. “I don’t care what she thinks. And it doesn’t matter, does it?” He waited until Aria looked quizzically at him. “What matters is what you think,” he finished. “And what I think of myself. Not necessarily in that order, of course.”
Aria smiled. “Of course.” She moved in closer, then slipped her arms around Aven’s waist. “And I think you’re perfect. And wonderful. And if I knew how to give you a tattoo, I would.”
Aven put his arms around her shoulders, holding her close. “You don’t have to,” he murmured into her hair.
“I don’t?”
“You gave me the Water gem.”
He felt her shiver against him, a sensation that did the most amazing things to him. “And if we want to find the others, we need to go. Which means that we need to go and help your parents.”
By the time they reached the canoe, almost everything was stowed away.
“Fa, where’s that sailcloth we took from the ship?” Aven called, looking around. The only things that were still on the beach were the sweet water casks that they carried for Jehan.
“What we didn’t pack for a spare sail is stowed in the cave,” Jehan called. “Why?”
“I was going to cut some for new kilts, since mine were ruined. And something else for Aria. She can’t keep wearing your clothes, and there’s no time to make new taipa.”
Aleia nodded, looking thoughtful. “That’s a good thought. Cut enough to make for your father, too. Two each. And cut twice as much in the silk. Silk packs small. We can’t trade it without explaining where we got it, but we can wear it. While you do that, Aria can help us fill the water casks.”
Aven fetched his knife and headed inland, following the trail through the trees toward the cave where they stored supplies and where they took shelter during the worst of the storms. He had to duck underneath the low opening at the cave mouth, but it opened up three paces inside, and he could stand straight up. There was a ledge there, where they kept a flint and steel, and an oil lamp. With practiced ease, he lit the lamp, then carried it further into the cave. Their supplies were stacked near the rear, wrapped up against weather and animals. He found the bundles of canvas and of silk and measured the lengths that he would need, then cut them and laid them aside to rummage through the other bundles and baskets. He found an extra sewing kit, a spare knife, and another flint and steel. And, to his surprise, his mother’s swords, well-wrapped in oilcloth.
“Why leave them here?” he murmured.
“Why leave what here?”
Aven turned to see his mother had come into the cave. For some reason, she was wearing his canvas carry-bag, the one that he used when he was collecting oysters and shellfish. “Ama, why are you leaving your swords here?”
Aleia came and crouched next to him. “Jehan and Aria are filling the casks. I thought we might need another one, since we’ve another person who can only drink sweet water. So I came to get it. And why am I leaving the swords? Because... I don’t know. If I bring them, that means I’m going to use them.”
“But isn’t it going to be dangerous?” Aven asked. “Shouldn’t we have them?”
Aleia frowned slightly. Then she nodded. “Bring them. Don’t forget to put out the lamp. I’ll get the cask.” She handed his bag to him. “And wear this. Aven, I’m serious about this. I want you to keep this to hand from the minute we leave until we reach Forge.”
Aven took the bag from her, feeling the weight of it. “What... Ama, there’s something in here?”
“Yes. Think about it.”
Aven frowned, hefted the bag, then blinked. “The Diadem? And the gems?”
“Don’t let Aria know you have them,” Aleia said. “I don’t want her to know where they’re hidden.”
“They’re hers, though,” Aven said. He slung the bag over his head and across his body, settling it on his hip. “Why not tell her?”
“Because if things go badly, it’ll be on you to keep her, and those, safe.” Aleia folded her arms over her chest. “And she’s got a good heart. She has to, or she’d not wear the Diadem. If things go badly, and she thought for an instant that she’d be able to save you by giving Mannon the Diadem, she’d do it.”
“And she can’t,” Aven said. He smoothed his hand over the strap on his chest.
“He can’t have the Diadem, and he cannot have her,” Aleia said softly. “Aven, the only reason that we left Milon behind was that he was dying. If Mannon had gotten his hands on the Heir... no. No, Milon wasn’t the Heir at that point. He was the Firstborn. If Mannon had gotten his hands on the Firstborn... I don’t know. I don’t want to know. You’re her Companion now, Aven. It’s on you to keep her safe.” She sighed. “And that’s another reason to bring the swords. You’ll need them.”
“Me?” Aven said. No, he didn’t say it, he squeaked it, and felt his face grow hot. “Ama–”
“I’ve taught you all of the sword dances, and you’re very good with sword and club.”
“But that’s just dancing!” Aven protested. “Ama—”
“You have the skills,” Aleia cut him off. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
“If—”
Aleia shook her head. “I’ve no doubt that the time is coming, Aven. Don’t deny that. You’ll be fighting. We’ll all be fighting.” She bent, picking up the oilcloth bundle. “These were Abin’s, you know.”
“You told me the story,” Aven said, but his mother didn’t seem to hear him.
“I brought them with me to the Palace, because my mother insisted. She gave them to me before I left, telling me to bear them with pride. She was proud of me then, proud that I was going to be Companion to the Firstborn, the same as our distant father. I’d only ever used them to dance. I never used them on another person until the morning Mannon attacked the palace.” She cradled the swords like a baby. “I would dance with these, for Milon. He was a dancer, too. I was teaching him sword dancing, and he was teaching me smoke blades.” She smiled, softly. “It’s fitting that you should have them, that you should use them to protect his daughter.” She looked up. “Do you want to carry these, or the cask?”
“I’ll carry the cask, Ama.” He packed the cask with the canvas and the silk, and the other supplies he’d collected, then hoisted it under his arm. It wasn’t heavy. Not nearly as heavy as the meaning of the weight of the bag that rested on his hip.