“I did my best,” she said. “You got us most of the way there.”
He shook his head. “We would have died. I was foolish. I overestimated my abilities, and it could have killed you. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to forgive. I can’t see another way for things to have gone—you weren’t the reason the pirates were there, and I couldn’t have let anything happen to the Halfling. In fact, if you hadn’t been there at all, things would have likely gone far worse for me. I probably would have confronted the elf unarmed.”
“You really would have, wouldn’t you?” He was giving her the look again.
“Is that strange?”
“No,” he said. “It’s extraordinary.”
Rinka didn’t see how that was different from strange, but he didn’t seem to be mocking her. She decided to change the subject. “Have you been awake long? Did you see if there’s a way out of the cave?”
“I did look before you woke up, but it’s no good. There’s a passage, but it’s collapsed. We’re going to have to go back out into the water and look for another way onto land.”
“Do you think there’s an inlet somewhere?” And then: “Oh, no!” she cried as she realized something unfortunate.
“What is it?” Drystan stood and rushed over to her.
“My maps! My bag with my maps. And my trunk. It’s all on the boat still.”
Drystan laughed. “You know, I thought the maps were funny when you first showed them to me, but they really would have come in handy right about now.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll bet the pirates left anything that wasn’t shiny on the ship. It’ll be waiting for us when we get to Sudport.”
“You really think so?”
“I do,” he said. “Come on.” He helped her to her feet. “I’ll make the boat. With any luck, we’ll be back to your maps and your trunk by nightfall.”
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Drystan tilted his head, amused. “You know, I don’t know if you could. I suppose it’s possible. My mother used to help me, but then this particular gift was hers as well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is she…?”
“Oh, no, she’s alive and well. Just far away. As far away from my father as she could get.”
Rinka nodded. “My parents are the same. Well, the reverse, actually. My father was the one lucky enough to escape.”
“Would you like to try? To help me make the boat?”
“I would. What do I do? What doyoudo?”
Drystan held up his hands. For the first time, Rinka noticed that Drystan held his left arm a little funny, as if he couldn’t quite bend it the same as the right.
He made a gesture of pulling into him. As he did so, water droplets appeared in the space between his palms. “My mother described it as a pull. A request you put out into the world for it to change its shape. My father’s magic is different—harder, violent. I never quite grasped it. But my mother’s magic feels natural to me. It’s a negotiation. A dance, almost. A give and take. May I?”
He reached for her hands, and she gave them to him.
“Close your eyes and imagine the rain. Imagine asking the sky to give you the water. Don’t push it. Just ask, and see if it answers.”
At first, Rinka felt nothing but the tension in her wrists and the feel of his smooth skin, the light stroke of his fingertips on the back of her hands. She was close enough to him on their little patch of shore to hear his breath over the waves. Paradoxically, it was both calming and exciting at once. His breath and the waves fell into an almost meditative rhythm, but the feel of his presence so close to her was also invigorating. Exhilarating.
And then she felt it. Her mind turned to the rain, and she let a question enter her thoughts:may I have some water?Therewas nothing at first, just the gentle sounds of the waves and his breath, but then she felt a pulse flow between them.
It snapped and hummed with ‘lectricity. It flowed back and forth between their hands and through their bodies, and Rinka almost let it go out of fear, but she held on. She wanted to open her eyes to see his response, but she resisted the urge. What should she do with the power? Was he waiting for her to act? Should she take it from him and try to wield it?
No, that didn’t feel right. It was a dance, he’d said. She imagined his hand around her waist, imagined their feet in motion, moving together across the sand.
She did not move, but she felt the rhythm of the ‘lectric flow between them pulse and change. Heard the rhythm of his breath quicken.
