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Reclamation(146)

By:Sarah Zettel


She was shaking. She couldn’t help it. The Notouch did not let go of their namestones. Not until they were dead or, at the very least, dying.

Eric laid his hands on her shoulders. “We won’t know until we find your clan, Arla,” said Eric. “She can tell us nothing.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Arla pressed her empty palm against her forehead. “Of course you’re right.” She gripped the stone and pressed her fist against her own pouch, forcing the shaking in her limbs to stop. I’ve been gone too long. Servant forgive, Powers preserve, I never, ever should have left!

“Arla,” said Eric again, “could … could the Notouch have done this?” He turned her so she could look at him without having to see the body.

Arla shook her head. “No. If we’d killed her, the body would have been properly sunken, and no one would have left Trail’s namestone with her.”

He moved closer to her, and suddenly, she was very aware of his touch. His power-gifted hands, his chest, his arms, his concerned, confused face, all close to her. Too close.

This shouldn’t be, this shouldn’t be, cried out a part of her. Not with Trail’s namestone in her hand and the Lif marshes all around them. They were back. He shouldn’t be touching her. She shouldn’t be touched. She pulled away and something inside her cried out as she did.

His hands fell to his sides and they stood there, doing nothing but stare at each other for a moment, both knowing too well they were back under the World’s Wall.

He picked his stick up again. “Let’s get where we’re going. I don’t think either of us is carrying what we need to sleep in the trees.”

Arla took the lead and they kept on going.

Finally, Arla spotted a smooth, stout stick of wood sticking straight up out of the middle of a pond. A scrap of dirty cloth fluttered in the wind.

“Trap marker,” she said, pointing it out to Eric. “That’s what I’ve been looking for. All we have to do is wait here. Somebody’ll be along to check the catch before dark.” She surveyed the sky again. It was still smooth and even. “We might even stay dry until we get under cover, for a wonder.”

She swung herself up onto the bent trunk of the Crooker tree and tucked her hands under her poncho, getting ready to wait.

Eric began poking the ground restlessly with his stick. Insects rose in tiny clouds around his knees and ankles. Arla watched, absurdly glad for the distance between them.

The reeds rustled and bent. From between the thickest trees glided a light raft, steered by a boy with a pole. Arla jumped to the ground and raised both hands high in the air.

“Oy-ai! Hello, Little Brother!”

The boy’s head jerked up and the pole came all the way out of the water.

“Aunt Stone?” he cried, and she knew the voice.

“Iron Keeper!” She clapped her hands together over her head. “Little Nephew! Come show your aunt your face, boy!”

Iron Keeper poled forward so furiously, he almost upset his raft. He leapt ashore and ran up to her. He pummeled her on the back and shoulders, friendly, greeting blows as she held his face in both hands.

“Garismit’s Eyes! You’ve grown a foot and a half! Tell your aunt, quick, how long has she been gone?”

“My aunt doesn’t know?”

“It’s been a strange journey, Nephew. You’ll hear all about it later. Now, speak up or your aunt will have you across her knee.” She let him go and stepped back. “And then you tell me what you’re doing fishing all the way out here.”

“You … left six months ago, on the Turn Day. The Skymen came. We had to move out. We’re staying with the Rising Water …” His gaze drifted across to Eric, who turned his face away. She noticed he was now wearing gloves.

“He’s a Skyman, Nephew,” Arla told him. “His name is Eric Born. You call him Sar Born. He’s helped your aunt and he’s here to help more. There’s a lot in the wind, Nephew.” She smiled. “Including nighttime. What say you, will Aunt Stone be welcomed by her old clan in their new homes?”

“Iron Keeper says it’ll be so!” He grinned all over his little boy face. “He’ll take you there in a good hurry.” He glanced to the water. The raft was four yards away and drifting farther yet in the marsh’s unseen current. “As soon as he catches his raft.”

The boy scampered off and Arla suppressed a laugh. “This is good. I hadn’t thought to find my family for another couple of days, at least.”

“Thank you for giving me good welcome among your people,” said Eric softly.