I pull a chair closer to his, sit down, and we drink. The air is cool and the valley is quiet. For a few minutes nobody talks.
Irrva is the one who decides to break the silence.
“So,” she says. “When do I get to meet her?”
“Whenever you have the time,” I say. “Come by tomorrow, or the day after. She’s usually in during the mornings.”
“Usually in.” She turns her bottle in her hands. “How are the two of you getting along?”
“Fine.” I shrug. “She spends most of her days down in the Narrowhalls. It’s easier for her there, I guess. She seems comfortable.”
“Everything up here is built for us,” Irrva says. “The furniture, the doorways, the stairs. If I were her size and the chair in myroom came up to my chest, I’d probably find somewhere else to spend my time too.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“But she can’t live in the Narrowhalls forever. Not if this is going to work.” Irrva says it gently, without pushing. “Maybe I can help. I could come by, bring some food, show her around the Highhalls a bit. Let her see there’s more to this place. If she had someone besides you to talk to, someone who isn’t her strange, clumsy husband who bought her and now doesn’t even know what to say to her, she might start to feel more at home.”
“I know what to say to her,” I mumble.
“No, you don’t. Your whole life, you never knew what to say to the people closest to you.” She takes a sip and smiles over the rim of the bottle. “I’ll bring honeyed bread from the market. Humans like sweet things. And I’ll introduce her to Gella and Maren down the hall. They’re pleasant enough, they won’t overwhelm her.”
“She’d like that,” I say. “I think she would.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” Irrva stands and sets her bottle on the ledge. “I’m going to go check on my flowers. The frost got into the snapdragons last week, and the new ones I planted might not have taken.” She touches my shoulder as she passes, a quick squeeze, and then she’s gone down the garden steps.
She does it on purpose, always finding a reason to step away so Jarrvik and I can talk without her in the middle. She’s been doing it for years, and I’ve never once called her on it because she’d tell me I’m imagining things. I’m also grateful, because she’s my sister, and there are some things I just can’t share with her.
Jarrvik and I are childhood friends. We grew up together, and then Irrva was born and when she was old enough, we included her in our games. I’m glad they are soulmates and they foundeach other early. It’s a blessing to not see either of them have to deal with the threat of calcification.
Jarrvik waits until her footsteps fade, then looks over at me.
“So, how is it really going?”
“I told you. She’s spending her days in the Narrowhalls.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I take a long drink and set the bottle on the stone between my feet. The valley below us is dark, the trees a black edge against the stars.
“I don’t know if she’s the one,” I say. “The pull is there, and it hasn’t gone away. But a pull isn’t a bond, and four days of closed doors and a few stolen words here and there haven’t brought me any closer to knowing for sure.”
“You told me the pull was stronger than anything you’ve felt before. When you came back from the market, you said it hit you like nothing else had.”
“I know what I said. That doesn’t mean I’m right.”
“And if you are right? If she’s your mate and you’re just sitting here, giving her space until your body gives out?”
“Then it gives out.”
Jarrvik exhales. “Have you told her about the calcification? About what happens to you if you don’t bond?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not her problem. She came here with bruises on her face and arms, Jarrvik. She escaped a bad place, and I’m not going to pile my problems on top of hers and watch her buckle under the weight of it all.”
“You could tell her without making it her burden. Just let her know what’s happening. She deserves to understand what she’s part of.”
