From the deck of the ship, Rinka reasoned she could understand why. No one could be unhappy in such a place with such a view.
The sky was clear and blue, completely free of clouds. The morning sun cast long shadows on the bleached plaster of the buildings of Landsend, which were arranged in neat rows like the layers of an elaborate, though somewhat wonky, wedding cake. The small town was alive at the early hour: pedal-cyclists travelling up and down the hills and narrow lanes, families dragging great big umbrellas to a sunny strip of beach where turquoise waves lapped onto the shore.
The air was filled with anticipation, not just for the day that had just begun, but for the season itself, the start of the endlesssummer days and balmy nights that seemed to both last a lifetime and be over in an instant.
Rinka spotted Drystan on the upper deck, leaning over the railing and gazing out at the sea beyond. He had changed into another shirt to go with his mended trousers, a tan tunic that laced at the collar. It stretched tightly across his broad chest, almost comically too small for him.
Not that Rinka was complaining.
She joined him at the railing just as the ferry got underway, the gentle lurch of the ship into motion causing her to stumble a step back.
He reached out for her, helping her steady herself once more. Gods, his skin was soft.
“Sorry,” she said, trying not to overreact to how nice it felt when he held her with his strong arms. “Believe it or not, I’m not usually this clumsy.”
“Really? That’s a pity. I was rather enjoying coming to your rescue.” Drystan brushed his freshly washed hair behind his ear, which came to a slight point and gave little indication to his heritage. She did like the way he looked with his hair tucked back, but honestly, she was getting nowhere with thoughts like that.
“I’ve figured out my first question,” she said.
“I can’t wait to hear it.”
She could see that was true, and so she drew it out a bit, teasing. “You promise you’ll tell the truth?”
“I promise.” He tapped his fingers on the railing, waiting.
“Alright, if you promise. Here it goes.” His anxious smile was darling. She almost regretted actually asking the question—she could have sat in this moment of anticipation for a while. “Are you someone well known?”
Drystan hesitated, looking around for a moment as if deciding how to answer. “Yes, and no.”
Rinka was displeased with the quality of his response, to say the least. “‘Yes, and no?’ Is that it? That’s hardly an answer. Do you care to elaborate further?”
Drystan chuckled at her indignation. “I didn’t say I would elaborate, but I’ll admit the answer is unsatisfying.” He waited a moment, perhaps seeing if he would get a rise out of her. She did not take the bait, and so he continued. “Yes, I was once. No, I wouldn’t say I am now. Or perhaps I am well known now but seldom discussed. Does that satisfy you?”
“Not even a little,” said Rinka.
What could that possibly mean? Someone once well-known but now rarely thought of. A child star, perhaps? He had said he wasn’t in picture shows, although he hadn’t answered that question under the conditions of their deal, so perhaps it was a lie. But there were also child stars on the stage, although Rinka could rarely afford tickets to the theatre. If he had been a star of the stage rather than the screen, she would never guess who he was.
But even that theory didn’t really work. How would a little-known child star manage to get away with boarding a rail-wheeler without a ticket?
Rather than plying him with further questions for him to dodge expertly and weave around, Rinka resolved to try a different tactic during their time at sea: revealing information about herself in hopes that he would slip up and reveal something about himself in response.
She told him many things as they walked the decks of the ferry together: of growing up in Arcas Dyrne, of the family she loved but also couldn’t wait to leave, of Alison and the flat they had shared together, of Alison’s inheritance and her unexpected attachment to the place and the people, and of the things she would miss in the city.
“Oh, and the plumbing,” she said as the light began to turn to gold. They were sitting together on a bench on the lower deck, now more than halfway to their destination. “Aren’t humans so clever? They say the dwarves are the great inventors, the great industrialists, but it was a human that invented the toilet, and what an invention it was! Oh, but of course you know, since you’re human yourself.”
Drystan’s dark eyes flashed with recognition. Rinka had made a number of similar bids for information throughout the day, but this one did not have an easy escape.
“I’m not human,” he said simply.
“I knew it!” It was only confirmation of something she was already quite certain of, but it felt like a small victory nonetheless.
Rinka looked out onto the open water, searching for her next question, but she was surprised to see there was something out there. “That’s funny,” she said. “It looks like another ship is approaching.”
“What?” said Drystan, on his feet. “Where?”
Rinka pointed. Although she did not yet know what Drystan was, she doubted his eyes were as sensitive to motion as hers. “It’s just there, just near the horizon,” she said. “But it seems to be coming quickly. Or maybe not, I don’t have much experience with sea travel.”
“It’s coming quickly alright,” he replied, squinting off into the distance. His face had lost any trace of joy from the day they had just shared. His body tensed, giving Rinka the distinct impression of a snake preparing to strike.
