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COCOONED IN THE HAMMOCK, Aven slept, and woke feeling more like himself. The lights in the little room were dimmed, but he could make out a figure sitting on the bed, reading by the light of one of the dimmed lamps. He frowned, then realized that whoever it was didn’t have wings. Not Aria.
“Owyn?” he said, and scrubbed his hand over his face.
“Look who’s awake,” Owyn answered cheerfully. He closed his book and set it aside. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Aven answered. He grabbed the sides of the hammock and swung out. “Where is Aria?”
“She woke up early, so she’s up in the house. She had breakfast with Mem, and they’re trying to figure out clothes for her.” He reached over and turned up a lamp, then looked Aven up and down. “You could pass for Earth or Fire. The coloring is right. But there’s no way we’re going to be able to hide that Aria is Airborn.”
Aven grinned. “The wings—”
“They do make it kind of obvious,” Owyn said with a smile. “Now, you’ve slept the whole night around. It’s past dawn. Lucky it’s Respite today, so the forge is closed. No one going to come in and see we have guests. So you can come up.” He got up, studied Aven again. “You might fit my clothes, at least until we get some for your measure. The shirts and the trousers will be short, though.”
“I’d like to see the forge,” Aven said as he followed Owyn up the stairs. “I’ve never seen one before.”
“I’ll show you.” Owyn stopped at the top of the stairs. “Mind if I ask you a question?”
Aven looked at him, curious. “Not at all. What?”
“You and Aria. Are you paired?”
“Paired?” Aven repeated. “I... I’m not sure what that means.”
To his surprise, Owyn turned slightly pink. “I mean... well... are you... you know.” He took a deep breath, then lowered his voice. “Are you sleeping with her?”
“Oh. Oh, no.” Aven looked down. “I... I’m her Companion. The Water gem is mine. That means that she might ask me. But she hasn’t asked yet.”
“And you haven’t asked her?” Owyn asked. Aven coughed.
“That’s rude, Owyn,” he answered. “Women set the course.”
Owyn gave an uneasy chuckle. “Oh. Oh, I see. Come on. We’ll go get you some clothes first. I’ll have to see about shoes for you.”
“Shoes?” Aven looked down at his bare feet, then followed Owyn down the hall to another staircase and up. “I’ve never worn shoes.”
“I didn’t think so, but you can’t go walking in a forge barefoot. It’s not safe.” Owyn opened a door and gestured for Aven to enter. It was a small room, with a narrow bed like the ones in the hidden room. There was a chest underneath the window, a desk and chair, and shelves full of books. Owyn brushed past Aven and went to the chest. “Right. This might be weird for you. Your folk don’t wear trousers either, do they? On account of the change?”
“Right,” Aven answered. He went to the shelves and looked at the books. “I can’t change if something is keeping my legs separate.”
“I understand that, but no one else wears kilts, and it’s not like you’re going to be doing a lot of swimming here.”
Aven grimaced. He hadn’t thought of that. The idea of not being able to swim was disturbing enough that he changed the subject, “I’ve never seen so many books, Owyn.”
“You read?”
“My father taught me. But we only had three books, and all of them were on healing. And they didn’t last past my fifteenth birthday. They don’t last well on the water.”
“Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t. You’re welcome to read them, so long as your hands are clean,” Owyn said. “And if you think this is a lot, you should see Mem’s library. It’s downstairs.” He laid clothes on the bed. “Now, if you need help, just ask.”
Aven nodded. He took off his carry-bag and laid it on the bed, then picked up the shirt, a long sleeved thing made from soft cloth. He pulled it on over his head and smoothed it down. “Owyn, why did you ask about me and Aria?”
Owyn leaned against the wall. “Well, it’s like this. She’s pretty. You’re pretty. And I... well, I like pretty. Pretty girls. Pretty boys. But I won’t get in the way of two pretty people who are together. So if you’re not together....” His voice trailed off, and he grinned. “You don’t mind, do you? If I’m interested in Aria?”
Aven looked up from trying to figure out the trousers, realizing that Aria must not have said anything to Owyn. “I don’t mind, Owyn. But... you’re interested in me, too?”
“Yes, you,” Owyn answered with a laugh. A laugh that cut off abruptly. “Unless you don’t like boys looking? Maybe more than looking? Do you like boys?”
Aven smiled. “I don’t mind you looking. And I like to look at girls and at boys. But I just don’t have a lot of experience one way or the other. I’ve never had anyone who was willing to do more than look at the Mudborn before. Except Aria, and I think all she wants right now is to just look.”
“Mudborn?”
“What my mother’s folk call me,” Aven said. “Because my father is Earthborn.”
“That’s mean. I don’t like it.” Owyn looked thoughtful. “And... what you said about Aria? I think you’re wrong,” he said slowly. “Water folks. You all answer to your women, right? Women set the course, you said.”
“That’s right.” Aven frowned down at the trousers. “How do I wear these, Owyn?”
“Turn them around. The opening goes in the front.” Owen scratched the back of his neck. “One leg in each tube, and mind the goods when you button them.”
“Mind the— Owyn!” Aven laughed. “Right, why is it important that Waterborn follow their women?”
“Because Airborn follow their men,” Owyn answered. “You should take the kilt off first. It’ll get in the way. I’ll turn my back, if you want.”
“No, that’s fine. I don’t mind,” Aven said. He unfastened his kilt and laid it aside, suddenly very aware that Owyn was looking. He studied the trousers once more, then sat down and pulled them on. “So, what you’re saying is that you think I’m waiting for Aria to set the course—”
“And she’s waiting for you,” Owyn finished. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
Aven considered it for a moment, then looked up. “I didn’t know that. About the Airborn, I mean. Of course, the only person I ever met before Aria that wasn’t Water was my father!”
“You really don’t know anything about the other tribes?” Owyn asked. When Aven shook his head, Owyn whistled. Then he went to his shelves. “Right, then. The latest edition of Antiri’s History of the Tribes for you. That will bring you up to speed.” He took a book down.
“Who is Antiri?” Aven asked. He stood up, pulled the trousers all the way up, and buttoned them. Then he looked down at himself.
“They okay?” Owyn asked. “I know they’re short, but anything else? They pinch, or anything?”
“I don’t know?” Aven answered. “I’m not sure. I’ve never worn anything like this before. I’m not sure how it’s supposed to feel.” He took a few steps around the room. “Nothing hurts, if that helps?”
“It shouldn’t hurt,” Owyn said. He moved in front of Aven and studied him for a moment. Then he frowned. “Something’s not right.”
“What?”
“Hold on,” Owyn looked around, then went to the chest and rummaged around in it, humming softly. He came out with a long length of cloth, which he held between his hands. He carried to over to Aven, flipped it over his hand, then wound it round Aven’s throat twice. “That’s better. Can’t really see your gills now. You look like any Fire or Earthborn. You still need shoes.” He went to the table and came back with a piece of paper. “Lift your foot, will you?”
Aven picked his foot up, and Owyn put the paper on the floor. “Step on that,” he said. When Aven had done so, Owyn traced around his foot with a stump of something. “Right. You can move now.” He left the page on the floor, putting his foot into Aven’s footprint. Even with shoes on, his foot was smaller than Aven’s. “Thought so. None of mine will fit you. Maybe Memfis will have something. Or I can take this to the cobbler and see if he’s got anything ready made to fit you. All right. Breakfast for you.” Aven grabbed his carry-bag and slung it over his shoulder as he followed Owyn, who stopped as they were heading toward the door. “Aven, can you eat oat porridge?”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Aven admitted.
“Right. We’ll find you something to eat. And, to answer your question, Antiri was the fourth or fifth Firstborn, and he wrote the first accounts of the four tribes, of their customs and history. It’s been updated every few Firstborn since, but not since Riga. Do you know who that is?”
Aven nodded. “If Mannon is right, that’s my great-grandfather. Which reminds me. What’s the Book of Silver?”
Owyn whistled again. “Well, aren’t we fancy blood, then?” he laughed. “You don’t know anything about the tribes, but you know the Book of Silver?”
“Mannon said that he and my father are listed there as having the same father.”
Owyn nodded slowly. “Right. Let’s start back a bit. Waterborn, they trace their families through the mother line, right? Earthborn do, too. Airborn, they follow the father line.” He waited for Aven to nod to show that he understood. “Fireborn, though. We don’t marry the way you lot do. We don’t make long commitments. We pair off, and it’s not permanent. And since it’s not permanent, there had to be a way to keep track of who’s who so you don’t get kids with six heads and no ears—”
Aven burst out laughing. “Owyn, that’s impossible!”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Owyn continued. “So all the bloodlines are tracked in the Book of Silver. If you meet someone, and you want to pair up with them and have kids, you go to the Council Hall, and you ask for a pairing check. They research your bloodlines in the Book of Silver, see if you’re related and how, and if it’s safe to have children. If you’re related too closely, or too recently, the pairing won’t be approved. Everyone is in the Book of Silver.” He paused, then sniffed. “Except me.”
“Why not?” Aven asked. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Owyn looked distant for a moment.
“On account of no one knows my bloodline. I mean, I might be in there. But there’s no way to know it’s me, you know?” He looked at Aven. “No, you wouldn’t know. After Mannon took over, there was a rebellion here in Forge. A lot of people fought back, and a lot of people died. And there were a lot of orphans left behind.”
“Like you?”
“Like me,” Owyn said with a nod. “I grew up on the streets, from when I was too little to know my own name, let alone my parents’ names. One of the other boys, he named me Owyn. And... that’s all there is to me, I guess.” He shrugged. “Mem took me in a few years back. Taught me to read and how to be a person and not an animal living wild. He’s teaching me to be a smith. And he’s teaching me to be a Smoke Dancer, but that’s in secret. It’s outlawed.”
“And he calls you Fire Mouse” Aven remembered. Owyn grinned.
“Yeah,” he said. “He says that when I get going, I don’t have the sense that the Mother gave one.”
Aven stared at him. “That’s as bad as Mudborn!”
“Not really,” Owyn said. “He only calls me that when I’m too excited about something to think properly on anything else. Like last night.” He turned slightly pink. “I am sorry about all that. I knew about the salt. I mean, Mem told me, and I took notes. But then you were here and... and you were you... and I wanted you to like me.” He stopped, his mouth closing so fast his teeth clicked together. “Shutting up now.”
Aven didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he stepped closer to Owyn. Owyn was shorter than Aven, shorter than Aria, but it wasn’t difficult for Aven to lean close and kiss Owyn gently on the lips. “I do like you, Owyn. And I’m not mad at you for making a mistake,” he said as he straightened. Owyn, he noticed, had gone even more pink. Then he smiled.
“Right. It’s a shame we need to be somewhere else right now. Come on. I’ll show you the forge, and maybe dunk my head in the quench. And if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll see a fire mouse so you can see why it’s not an insult.” He held his hand out to Aven. His hand was warm, his fingers calloused. What his father would call a good hand, Aven thought as he let Owyn lead him down the hall to a door.
“This is the forge. Watch where you step,” Owyn said as he opened the door and led Aven inside. “We sweep the cobbles when we close the shop every day, but sometimes a nail or a metal scrap gets past the broom. Oh, there they are!”
“There who are?” Aven asked. Then he saw the tiny shapes moving on the ground. For a moment, he thought they were balls of flame. Then he looked closer. He laughed and went to his knees for a closer look. One of the creatures came closer, clearly as curious about Aven as he was about it.
“This is a fire mouse?” Aven asked. The little thing moved even closer, and he could see its button-bright eyes, and the long tail. “It’s not really on fire, is it?”
“No,” Owyn said. He crouched next to Aven. “They just glow like that. There are six of them that live in the forge. We’ve got a few in the kitchen, in the firebox of the stove. They’re in any place where there’s a fire. They like the heat. And they’re curious. They’re into anything new. Best way to catch a fire mouse is to put a new box on the ground. They’re in it in a minute. That’s why Mem calls me Fire Mouse. I do the same thing.”
Aven studied the little animal, then laid his hand flat on the ground. A moment later, he had a handful of flame-colored fur. He smiled as the mouse sniffed his skin, tiny claws scratching his palm. “She’s lovely,” he murmured, stroking the mouse’s back with one gentle finger. “She’s so delicate.”
“How did you know it’s a she? I mean, she is, but how did you know?” Owyn asked. “And you’re good. I couldn’t get them to come onto my hand the first time.”
“Fa says I have the Earthborn way with animals,” Aven answered absently. “What do they eat?”
“Insects, mostly. That’s why we don’t mind them in the kitchen.” Owyn offered his finger to the mouse in Aven’s hand. She sniffed him, then hopped onto his palm. “This is Trinket. She’s the bold one. Also my favorite, and she knows it.” Aven grinned, watching as the mouse climbed up Owyn’s sleeve, then down into the pocket of his shirt. Owyn looked down at her. “Oh, you’re coming with us?” he asked. Then he got to his feet and held his hand out to Aven. “Come on. You need to eat. And we need to see what they’ve decided.”
Aven got up and looked around. “I’d like to see this when you’re working,” he said. “To see what you do.”
“Not without shoes you don’t,” Owyn answered. “Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see what the plans are. Mem and Aria were in the kitchen, last I looked.”