“You no love old mate?” I ask.
“It’s complicated.” She pushes a lock of black hair behind her long ears.
To think I mistook her for Fallon’s true grandmother. To think I mistook Agrippina for her mother. These two women look nothing like my daughter. Then again, both are here, sailing back to Luce to be at her side during the ceremony.
When my chest burns hot with that ugly feeling, I refocus on the wide, crystalline river that bursts with not only serpents and fish, but also with curious Shabbins out for a swim and tiny boats brimming with fresh produce.
Little by little, the heat swamping my chest climbs into my eyes and spills over. “Thank you,” I croak, knuckling away a tear.
Ceres frowns. “For what, Rajka?”
“For raise Fallon. For love her.” I knuckle away another tear, then heave a deep breath and concentrate on the land and its people.
“She was easy to love.” With an easy smile, Ceres adds, “Not as easy to raise.”
I laugh.
“Anytime you want stories, come to me and I will fill your ears with your daughter’s penchant for misadventure.”
With a grin, I say, “I ready to hear all.”
So Ceres begins to recount Fallon’s childhood while I watch the landscape tighten into slimmer dwellings and slighter gardens the farther up we sail. By the time we reach the tiniest abodes, I feel like I’ve salvaged some of the years of which I was robbed.
“The Queen!” a diminutive Shabbin yells, rushing to the embankment and diving in. Dozens more follow. Where many kick their legs and thrust their arms, a few grab onto tusks in order to keep up with our brisk cruising speed.
Ceres interrupts her storytelling when my grandmother approaches and opens one of the four trunks that were hefted aboard. The sun catches on a mound of gold coins stamped with the Shabbin crest.
“Have a blessed journey, Sumaca!” one of the swimmers yells as their body is dragged parallel to our vessel by a serpent as large as Sun Warrior.
The queen thanks the small Two-legs with a majestic smile and a sprinkle of gold coins that makes them release the tusk and dive to pocket them.
Another glistening face pops out in the foamy wake of our ship. A small female with pink eyes and a coin tucked inside each hand. She displays her loot with great pride.
“What wrong with mouth?” I ask.
Ceres frowns.
But Asha comprehends my question. “Children lose their teeth before regrowing adult-sized ones.”
Of course.Children. That is why they’re so small.
Asha puffs out a laugh when a juvenile serpent bumps his tusk—more of a nub, really—into one of the little girl’s hands, making her coin slip.
The child scowls at the serpent, then mutters an, “Oh, no you don’t,” before plunging after it to retrieve her prize.
“That’s something you won’t see in Luce,” Ceres says. “No one swims there.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because they fear…” Asha must give her a look, because Ceres purses her lips. Even though she ends up saying, “Because they aren’t taught,” I know the reason the Lucins do not swim.
They fear serpents.
They kill them.
Like my mood, the air darkens. I think it’s because of the Crow’s shadows but soon find out the darkness isn’t of any giant bird’s making. No, what casts us in shade are the queendom’s walls.
The trunk, now empty of coins, is clapped shut and carried away. No new one is brought out. Probably because no Shabbin splashes in the water here. A glance around reveals that not a single dwelling dots the tangle of trees and shrubs.
