The wind picks up, and the canoes are paddling away. They’re fast, and the vessels are slender and quick. If they had sails, they could travel even faster. But then they would need fabrics, which I think are in short supply on Xren. Cora does some weaving, shesaid, but I think a sail would need more of her burlap than she can make on her loom.
Men struggle to push big pieces of broken wood from the surface to the platforms. I can’t imagine how they built these platforms in the first place. The main poles must be immensely heavy, and if they float, that just makes it impossible to push them down into the water.
I could probably make some suggestions about building stuff. But there’s no rush. I’m not sure I want to start improving this place. I don’t even know if Theodora will like it.
Thinking of my friend sends a barb to my conscience. By now she must have concluded that I’m gone. And the way I know her, she might start to look for me. She will go into the jungle and face all its deadly dangers.
I close my eyes and think of her. “Don’t go. Stay. I’m fine.” Telepathy never worked for me before, but one time must be the first. Maybe this is it.
“Hey, Iamon an alien planet,” I mutter. “They should at least have the Force, like inStar Wars.”
I open my eyes again, having sensed no contact with Dorie. But it might have worked.
“If not, I’ll ask for a refund,” I add.
8
- Crat'ax-
The village does not pause to mourn what was broken. That is part of the test. The Deep must see that we are dealing with it and rebuilding right away, in Its honor.
I stand at the center walkway and lift my voice, letting it carry across the water and wood. “Cer’ex! Take a canoe and wind some rope around that supporting pole. Vrat’ix, help him wind rope around it.”
They move at once. No argument, no delay. Even the older men shift without protest, hands already reaching for rope and poles.
I walk over to the chief. “We are rebuilding fast, Chief. Thankfully the krai didn’t destroy more.”
“Thank the Deep for that,” he replies. “And for your spear.”
“I am thankful for that,” I agree. “We will find iron for making more of them.” I’m not talking to him to be praised, but for the men to see that I’m consulting him. I don’t want to weakenhis position more than it already is. He may seem cheerful and smiling, but if I were to put him too deeply into the shadow, he might start to resent me. And I do want his support, especially now that Callie is here.
I glance over at her. She’s in my boat, picking pieces of debris out of the water. The boat is still tied to the platform, so she leans out, making her round behind stand out in a way that my midsection reacts to in an urgent way, so hard that it’s all I can do to not burst on the spot.
I had no idea I would ever meet a woman. I know the shamans in the jungle tribe talk about the Woman, but none of us here believe in their prophecy. And yet, here she is. A woman, given from the Deep. To me.
At least, I hope she was given by the Deep and not by the Plood.
Men shout to one another. Canoes scrape against platforms. Someone laughs too loudly, the sound brittle with relief. Others are quiet, faces set, and eyes flicking often to the water below.
And through it all, I am aware of her.
Callie has climbed out of my boat and back to the platform, quickly looking around until she spots me. Then she looks away. She moves more carefully than the others, which she has to. I watch as two boys come up to her and shyly offer her dried fruits. She smiles, and seems to joke with them, then sends me another little glance that makes my heart jump in my chest. She’s marvellous. In every sense of the word.
I step onto a half-repaired platform and test it with my weight. It dips, then holds. “Add another brace here,” I say, tapping the joint with my knuckles. “The current pulls harder at midday.”
A younger man nods and does as I say. His hands shake slightly. Many of theirs do. Mine do not, but my body feels too aware, too awake, as if the fight never ended. Every sound carries farther than it should. Every movement draws my eye.
Callie straightens nearby, brushing damp hair from her face. Her garment is still wet from the krai’s splashing, and I wish I had something else to give her to wear. My thoughts snag and stumble as I consider the possibilities. A loincloth would be too little coverage, a fur would be far too hot in the sun. Perhaps there is a way.
I force myself onward.
We work fast. The sun lowers towards the sea, about to be claimed by the Deep all night long. The broken platform near the eastern edge saw the worst of the krai’s attack. Two huts lost entirely, poles snapped clean through. No men died, but one broke a finger, and another was badly cut along his thigh. Both are taking part in the rebuilding, and the platform has already risen, bigger than before.
“This one,” someone says behind me, “it feels wrong.”
I turn. A man stands with a pole half-raised, hesitating. He does not meet my eyes.
“It will hold,” I say. “Tie it tighter.”
