Page 16 of The Summer Pass

She spoken Zashian like … he didn’t know what, exactly—the only time he’d heard an accent like that was from Madurasha, who was a Zashian nobleman, so presumably it was that kind of accent. Lill had a bit of it, when he spoke Zashian—on certain words. Vanu had thought that was because he was Madurasha’s son, but of course he wasn’t.

“You must be descended from merfolk, sir,” the girl went on. Heart of the Blue Heaven, she was a talker like Lill, too. Shame they couldn’t meet. “Indeed, by the angels of the Almighty, you swim like one of them.” She gasped. “But you are one of the Hawakhaba, to judge by your appearance. Do you understand a word that I am saying, sir?”

He nodded. She was using a lot of words that he’d only ever seen in Atari’s books, but he had no trouble understanding her. He wished he could explain that.

“I can’t speak your language well,” he said carefully. His Zashian sounded like nothing on earth. Even Lill couldn’t make it out. “But I can understand it.”

“Ah!” She leaned forward, peering at him. “You have a throat injury. How curious—I was hearing only the other day about an illustrious man of your people who is similarly afflicted. I suppose it may be a common enough injury in these turbulent times.”

No, it was probably me you were hearing about, Vanu thought, but he just shrugged noncommittally.

“I suppose you are wondering how I came to fall into the river,” the girl went on. “I can assure you that it was an accident and that under normal circumstances I know better than to approach dangerously fast-moving water, since I am almost a complete novice at swimming. But you see⁠—”

She went on with a story that Vanu only half followed, something about a pet monkey and her father’s steward. She was shivering, but probably not from cold—they were sitting in the full sun. Shock, it would be, from her very real brush with death. Probably why she was babbling like this, too. When she paused for breath, he held up a finger—wait—and pointed down the bank to where he had left his boots and shirt and horse. He walked back to retrieve his clothes and his mount and returned to find the girl somewhat calmer. She didn’t immediately resume the story about the monkey and the steward.

Vanu offered her his dry shirt and turned away to give her privacy to change.

“I am quite decent now, sir,” she said, and he turned back to find her rolling up the sleeves of his shirt so she could get her hands out.

The shirt came down to her knees, even when she belted it with his sash. She must have lost her shoes in the river, or taken them off while chasing the monkey, because she was barefoot. She gathered her wet clothes up into a squashy bundle.

“Maybe … ” He gestured toward the rocks on the riverbank, trying to suggest that she should spread her clothes out to dry.

“My father will reward you handsomely for saving my life,” said the girl, holding out the soggy bundle. Vanu took it. “However, I must tell you that he will not offer you my hand in marriage, as he has given me his word he will not do that ever, unless I wish it, which—with no wish to offend you, sir—I do not.”

Vanu paused in wringing out her tunic to give her a look of alarm. “Already have a wife.”

Who probably didn’t think they were still married, seeing that he’d left behind the ring and hadn’t entered into the marriage in good faith in the first place. Someday Vanu would come round to agreeing with him, maybe, but he felt that day was still a long way off. He was married.

“Don’t need another,” he clarified. “And—I—have three daughters. I also give them—like your father. My word.”

“Oh, how admirable of you, sir!”

“Where’s your father live?” Vanu asked.

“Where does he live? Well, he has a house in Suna, of course, but—oh, you mean where is he now? Camped outside of Latish, or what’s left of Latish. It’s just upstream, about … well, I don’t know how far, actually, because I was carried along by the current and didn’t walk, you see. And—which side of the river are we on now?”

“North.”

“We need to be on the south! Oh, but there’s a bridge. I went under it shortly after I fell in.”

“Yes,” said Vanu, getting to his feet. He held out a hand to help her up. “I will take you back there.”

Chapter 6

Entertainers

They crossed the bridge with the girl sitting astride Vanu’s horse, bare legs dangling. Vanu led the horse. He had hung her wet clothes from the saddlebags to dry. She had not stopped talking the whole way to the bridge. He’d now heard the whole story about how she ended up in the river, along with several others involving the monkey and the steward.

On the other side of the bridge, a track led toward the remains of the village of Latish. Burned fields and barns surrounded a cluster of houses in a cleft of the landscape, dominated by a stone building with a tiled roof that must be the Protector’s outpost. Tents had been pitched close to the river on this side, and a large number of people were milling about the camp. Vanu and the girl did not have to go all the way to the tents before they saw a man approaching on horseback, and the girl recognized him and waved.

“That’s my father!”

Vanu halted his horse and plucked her down from the saddle to set her on her feet. She ran toward the man, who had already jumped down from his own horse.

All Zashian men looked a bit alike to Vanu, with their black beards hiding half their faces, but he did know a nobleman when he saw one, and this man’s scarlet coat and gold earrings weren’t hiding his status. His horse was a beautiful, sleek black animal who wore his bronze trappings like he knew he deserved them. The man was medium-height and lean, not physically impressive, but he had an air of authority.

He had gathered his daughter into his arms, questioning her intently, but now he was looking over her head at Vanu, and their eyes met. The stranger’s eyes were dark and keen. Vanu couldn’t hear what the girl was saying to him, but of course she was talking. He had no doubt that her father was guessing who he was looking at. Vanu had a pretty good guess about who he was looking at, himself.