“That you are here,” I say. “And that you are with me.”
She studies my face. “You didn’t tell them anything else?”
“I promised not to. And I think that’s wise.”
She nods, though her fingers tighten on the rope. “All right.”
She gives the rope back to the boys, and then pulls me by the hand toward Carter’ez’s platform before the sun sinks too low.
“Before he eats,” she says. “If he eats first, he might forget what I want changed.”
“That’s true,” I say. “He does enjoy a sip of frit with his meals.”
“I noticed.”
Carter’ez looks up from a pile of skins as we approach. His hands are broad and scarred, careful despite that.
“You bring the woman,” he says. “Good. I was hoping to see how my work failed.”
Callie holds the garment up. “The dress didn’t fail. It just needs change.”
He grunts approval. “Then let us see.Dres, you call it?”
“Dress,” Callie confirms. “Many women wear it on Earth.”
Carter’ez takes the dress and turns it over. The skin is supple and dark, patterned with faint ridges that catch the light.
“This is from atreper,” he explains, glancing at me. “It was a trade from one of the Dry tribes. I think the Oporty. They prize our fresh splix. We prize skin that does not rot in salt air.”
Callie runs her fingers over it. “It’s beautiful.”
“It tried to eat three men, so they said,” Carter’ez informs us. “Beauty is dangerous.”
“If you say so,” Callie replies, with an amused little glance my way.
He motions for her to step forward. She does, lifting her arms without being told. He wraps the garment around her and tugs here and there, frowning in concentration.
“The waist holds,” he says. “The hips are… generous.”
“I’ve heardthatbefore,” Callie says.
I look away, grinning. Carter’ez snorts.
“You walk fast,” he tells her. “This must not pull when you climb ladders. You climb more than the men, I think. Always up and down the platforms.”
“She does,” I say. “She forgets she’s not born to live on the ocean.”
“Wasn’t I?” she asks. “I swim just as well as you. At least I don’t fall anymore.”
“That sounds like progress,” Carter’ez agrees. “It needs reinforcement here.” He taps the side seam. “And pockets, I understand? I have made some loincloths with that addition.”
“Yes,” Callie says eagerly. “Pockets are important.”
“For what?” Carter’ez asks, distractedly as he looks through his skins.
“For everything,” she replies. “Knives. String. Stones. Anything.”
He nods. “Fine. Pockets.”
