Men move between the boats with baskets and poles. They all look up when they see me, but they don’t say anything. They already know, and they have no idea how to deal with a woman in the village. Nobody expected the Deep to give usthat. To givemethat.
I brought her in at sunrise, openly and with my head up. The Deep saw fit to give her to my hands in the open. I will not pretend otherwise now. She is mine, and everyone must understand it.
The skirr slaps its tail against the post near my feet and gives its chirping noise. I frown at it out of habit. “Quiet,” I tell it. “There are no Bigs in the bay. Why do you warn when there’s nothing to warn about?”
It ignores me and climbs up a pole to nudge my calf with its head. I shove it away with my foot. Not too hard. It stays up there, sniffing.
Someone laughs.
Chief Brun'ax approaches along the walkway with his slow, rolling stride. He wears three strings of shells around his neck today, which means he is pleased, or pretending to be. No, he wants to impress Callie, of course. A man with three necklaces must be an important one.
“You bring strange tides with you, Crat'ax,” he says. “The sun had not yet warmed the bay, and already we had a woman among us.”
“She came by the Deep,” I answer. “As all things do.”
“As all things do,” Brun'ax repeats solemnly. “Of course. Yes.”
His eyes slide past me toward the hut. “And now she… is still inside?”
“She had a long night,” I tell him. “And who knows how much rest the Plood gave her? There is a ship of theirs on the land.”
“You mentioned the Plood flying ship.” the chief says.
“I never saw it fly,” I admit. “It was there, on the beach. As I watched it, Callie came out of it, and I accepted her as given to me by the Deep.” It’s perhaps not entirely truthful, but it’s close enough.
“It was on the beach?” the chief asks, eyes still on my hut. “On the sacred sands where the Deep meets the Dry? Then the ship, too, has been given by the Deep. Truly it is powerful! It now hands out both women and Plood ships.” He hides a yawnbehind his hand. “Such an eventful morning. And surprising. What shall we do with the female? Can she hunt, or do other things for the tribe?”
“The Deep gave her to me,” I state. “Perhaps it has also given her a task. We shall see.”
The chief looks her up and down, clearly not convinced. “Have you given her food? Drink? Bring her to the Circle, and we shall examine her as a thing given from the Deep. It must be an omen. Perhaps a good one.” He straightens and gazes out toward the horizon as if he’s just said something profound.
Two boys have hovered behind him, and now they dare approach. They’re young enough not to have started the Stripening, and they stare at me with wide eyes and no fear at all.
“Is she small because she is young?” one asks.
“She is small because she is not of our people,” I say. “I think she comes from the stars. Certainly she’s not Plood.”
“Will she grow?”
I scratch my chin. “I don’t know. Probably not. She’s an adult, not a child.”
“Does she eat splix?” the other asks. “Or only fruit?”
“She eats what I give her,” I reply, hoping I’m right. “She likes fruit juice and dried splix softened by water.”
“Does she like dried fruit?” The boy holds out a yellow fistful of strips ofdrus.
“Perhaps later you can ask her,” I suggest. “She’s asleep now, but she must get hungry at some point. She may want to eat themidday meal with the tribe. But maybe she doesn’t want to. We must wait and see.”
“Can she talk?”
I chuckle. “She’s not a skirr, Apter’ix. Of course she can talk. Not perfectly, but she is new to Xren. Soon she will speak like we do.”
The boy’s eyes widen as he has an idea. “Can I teach her?”
“Perhaps. If she agrees and if there’s time.”
That satisfies them. For now.
