Page 77 of Dark Destiny: The Turning Of The Loom

He pulled out of her arms and resumed swimming.

Nine and ten were hard.

Eleven he did on arms alone, his legs gone to lead. The next five he did by sheer force of will because he had said he would. When he touched the wall for the last time, his lungs were on fire, and his vision had narrowed to the tile in front of his face.

He held the edge, stood, and waited for it to pass.

"Sixteen," Areana said. "Now the question is whether you can make it back to the apartment on your own or Daniel will have to carry you."

"I'll make it."

She helped him up the steps, and he let her because he couldn't have done it on his own. She draped the robe over him, but he tied the belt himself.

The walk back was never-ending and excruciating. The corridor stretched ahead of him, and he didn't bother to count because counting would have told him how much was left, and he didn't want to know.

Daniel and Areana walked beside him, tense and watchful, probably expecting him to fall on his face. Neither of them spoke.

When he finally made it to the apartment, he dropped into the armchair and let his legs fall into whatever awkward angle they had landed in, too weak to rearrange them.

Areana made tea, as she always did when they returned from the pool. That was their ritual. Tea, rest, then shower, and bed, and the next day everything all over again.

"Kalugal sent pictures of the building project," she said. "The road is graded. They will start on the foundation on Friday. The walls are coming from a factory, already made, so it won't take long to erect the structure. A month or so."

She showed him the pictures on her phone. A raw scar of packed earth cut into the hillside. Stakes and string marking where the buildings would go.

He picked up his tea. "A month to finish everything?"

"Maybe a little longer."

He stretched out his legs in front of him, and the muscles answered, sore and alive, and he closed his eyes. "Twenty laps tomorrow."

"Navuh."

"Twenty."

"Eighteen."

He opened his eyes. "You are a tough negotiator. Eighteen."

28

TURNER

Turner walked into Kian's office and set his thermos on the desk.

"Let's make it quick," he said. "I want to avoid the worst of rush-hour traffic."

Kian glanced at his watch. "Five-thirty in the morning is as early as I can make it. How is Bridget doing?"

"As well as can be expected. She can't wait to get this baby out, and I'm stressed every time I have to leave for the office because I'm afraid she'll go into labor while I'm away and I won't make it back in time."

Kian smiled, and Turner knew what he was about to say.

"If you worked in the village, that wouldn't be a problem."

The same speech every time. If nothing else, Kian was persistent.

"I would be bored out of my mind because you don't have enough work for me."