Rowan gripped the blue woman’s hand. “We can’t leave invisibly. People will see. They’ll ask. They’ll wonder.”
Birch said, “Tell people we’re moving back near our shop. We’ve decided to rebuild.”
“Fine,” Marin said. It was a smart idea, but she wasn’t in the mood to be impressed. She wanted to snarl at all of them, even though it wasn’t their fault, even though she was the one who was saying yes. “Whatever you need to do, whatever you need to say. But we leavenow. I want to be out of this city before the moon rises.” Ree was hugging her ankle. She felt the prickle of his branches jabbing into her skin, as if he was only beginning to realize what he’d asked of her and only beginning to realize that this was potentially dangerous. One thief had already tried to take her boat. She was fully aware that this whole plaza, this city, was overflowing with desperate people.
I can’t help them all.
But I can help these twelve.
She tried not to think about how much it was going to set her back with helping her parents. She consoled herself with the thought that they’d approve of aiding these people. She knew them well enough to know they’d have said yes too.
She and Dax helped them pack and carry their belongings, which included, as she’d suspected, everything they’d been able to rescue from the fire, from a chair to a mirror to a trunk, as well as bags, crates, and suitcases. She didn’t tell them not to bring them; this was everything they owned, every link to their past and to their dreams for the future. As they carried all their worldly possessions that hadn’tburned to a crisp through the array of tents, she kept silent as they told their neighbors that they were returning to their shop. Some wished them well; others warned them not to try.
They kept moving.
They reached the dock, and Marin saw them falter when they spotted Perri. “Don’t panic, don’t gawk, and don’t draw attention. He’s a friend,” she told them. “Put everything belowdecks.”
Eyeing the slim sailboat, Rowan objected, “How can more than two or three of us squeeze in, much less all of us? And all of our belongings? Is this some kind of joke?”
“It’ll be tight, but you’ll fit,” Marin said. “You’ll need to spend the bulk of the journey belowdecks, take turns coming up for fresh air.” She crossed her arms and glared at Yarrow’s sister.It is what it is. Take my help or don’t.
Pulling his mother by the hand, the toddler scurried past Marin and Rowan onto the boat and down into the hold. Following them, Rowan and Yarrow’s other relatives proceeded one by one, their arms full of bags, crates, and whatever else they’d decided to haul with them. She heard them exclaim as they realized it was larger on the inside, and she kept shooing people down. Dax and Ree both helped, hurrying everyone along.
Overhead, the stars were beginning to poke through the blue-gray. It was already later than she wanted it to be, but she had no problems with sailing through the night. So long as the archways were still open.
One of Yarrow’s relatives—a woman with faded tattoos of flowers on her cheeks who held an overstuffed box in her arms and a basket strapped to her back—hesitated on the dock. “We’d built a life here,” the woman said sadly.
“I know,” Marin said. And then because she didn’t know what else to say, she added, “I’m sorry.”
The woman shook her head and then squared her shoulders. “Sometimes the world is shit, you know? But we go on.” She repeated softly as if to herself, “We go on.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
One of Yarrow’s relatives, a man named Rorick, identifiable by a tuff of white hair in the center of his otherwise bald head, would not stop vomiting. His two sons took turns coaxing him to sip water so he wouldn’t become dehydrated. Every time Marin asked how he was doing, she was greeted with a litany of apologies and profusive thanks. She finally quit asking and assumed they’d let her know if it became dire.
She avoided going belowdecks as much as possible.
It was not a short sail from Alyssium to Belde, but it felt a thousand times longer with so many guests within the hold of her boat. Happily, Dax didn’t seem to feel the need to critique her decision to act as a passenger ferry, even though he knew she’d done it against her better judgment. Instead, he took on the role of fetching her whatever she needed from the cabin so that she wouldn’t have to venture down there herself for food, water, or whatever.
He spent the rest of his time scribbling in his notebook, as well as fiddling with his tri-lute. He didn’t play a full piece—just a smattering of a melody, and then he’d scribble again.
“You’d think,” Marin said, “doing the right thing would be a lot less annoying.”
Dax flashed her a smile, but there wasn’t much he could say to that.
She supposed he was used to saying yes when he really wanted to say no. The drummers’ island was, she guessed, the first time he’d chosen himself over others. “Do you regret coming?”
“Never,” Dax said immediately.
She could hear the voices rising up through the deck—the words themselves were muffled, but the hum of them was incessant. They were always talking, talking, talking. She wanted to be more sympathetic—they’d lost their home, their business, their future—butugh! It was nonstop. Even Perri kept his distance from the boat.
“Really?” she asked Dax.
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he said, then grinned. “Just to myself. Like most people do.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
Every hour, Ree would pop back up with the same question: they wanted to know how much longer it would be.
