THE FIRST BEAMS OF dawnlight dappled the deep blue of the blanket as a feather-soft breeze tickled the curtains. Sasa’l awoke, as she often had over the last few weeks, to an empty bed. For a moment, her heart tightened, relaxing when she heard him moving about the house. At the sound, she had to smile; he tried to be quiet, he really did, but to her ears he sounded like a lumbering rhinox. Sasa’l stretched, nudging the blanket aside as she rose. Wrapping a light robe around her lithe body, she set off to join him.
The rising suns crested the deep blue of the ocean horizon, climbing lazily into the late summer sky. Tiosa was, as he often had been over the last few weeks, dressed and ready for the day. For a moment, he stood quietly, knowing Sasa’l would be waking up about now. Tiosa thought about returning to bed with her, but he caught a whiff of a uniquely peculiar tang on the air. Storm’s coming, he thought, pausing for another moment to let his senses absorb nature’s signals. Going to be a big one… He took a deep breath, then moved to get his gear together. Tiosa, his thoughts already several hours in the future, didn’t hear Sasa’l approach. She watched him for a little while, a soft smile on her lips.
“The river is not so far,” she said, breaking the silence. It took Tiosa a long moment to bring himself back to the here-and-now; his thoughts had been rather distant, as her aphorism suggested.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have a lot on my mind.” He stepped over and took Sasa’l in his arms, kissing her forehead.
“You’re not sleeping well,” she remarked.
“No, no I’m not.” He smiled weakly. He knew Sasa’l thought he’d been waking an hour or two before her; in truth, Tiosa was actually sleeping less than two hours each night. The rest of the night was spent lost in thought, or doodling in notebooks he kept carefully hidden, or sometimes walking aimlessly around the island. And when he did sleep, the dreams came. Oh, the dreams…
“Stay,” she said, pulling him closer. “Stay, and we can talk. Or a swim, that seems to relax you.”
“I can’t,” replied Tiosa, reluctantly stepping away from her embrace. “I have to get the boat out, catch what I can. There’s a storm coming, a big one.”
“Go then,” Sasa’l said gently. “I need to go to market. Hopefully I can get some ayath root this time. I know how you…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she was talking to an empty room. Suppressing the pang of an increasingly familiar sadness, Sasa’l went back into the bedroom to dress.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
TIOSA’S BOAT RODE AT anchor, some distance away from the island he and Sasa’l called home. He’d only been out a couple of hours, but his nets were almost half full. Several other boats from nearby islands were scattered within a kilometer, their nets out as well. The saberfish were schooling today, unusual in the quantity and doubly so for the time of year. It was an opportunity not to be missed.
Abruptly, though, Tiosa began pulling in his nets, dumping the saberfish into his boat’s water-filled hold. Ropes creaked as they strained against the weight of the fish, and the boat rocked as if off-balance. Tiosa had built her well, though, and she was capable of holding much more than what he’d gathered.
The fishers on the nearest boats looked at Tiosa quizzically, waving to get his attention as they were just barely too far away to yell. He finally noticed, and made quick, chopping hand gestures to indicate dahk'tar, an oncoming storm. Some of the less seasoned fishers looked at the sky, clear with a smattering of clouds, and turned dismissively back to their work. Tiosa, having delivered his warning, paid the other boats no mind. With his nets stowed and haul secured, he pulled his anchor and turned the boat back towards the island.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE UNNAMED ISLAND THAT Tiosa and Sasa’l made their home on was on the western rim of an extensive archipelago, several hundred smaller islands surrounding a group of seven large ones. The market that Sasa’l preferred was on the second-largest island, Khor’u, which was only an hour’s journey from her home. Normally, she’d make a day of her trip to market, taking time to peruse the merchants’ sundry wares or enjoying a long lunch with her friends. Several of them made their homes on Khor’u, and Sasa’l would often visit and occasionally spend the night.
Today, though, she moved with quiet purpose, her own thoughts uncharacteristically distant. She’d found the ayath root she’d wanted, taking a few minutes to stock up on a variety of spices and preserving agents. She was heading for the shop where she knew she could get cantu, the sweet confection that Tiosa had a weakness for, when she heard a voice call her name.
“Sasa’l,” the gently rasping voice said again. Sasa’l turned to see Y’sol, one of Khor’u’s elders as well as the Revered One, the chief shamaness. “The river is not so far, my dear.” Y’sol gestured towards a nearby café. “Sit, my dear. The p’mar is fresh today.”
Sasa’l smiled at the echo of her own words to Tiosa, earlier that day. “Apologies, honored Mother, but I cannot. I have one more stop to make, and then I must return home.”
“Such haste is not like you, my dear,” the older woman smiled. “You must have good reason.”
“I do, honored Mother. Tiosa this morning said that a storm was coming, a strong one.”
Y’sol thought for a moment. “As long as he has been among us, O’ho’ulho has not been wrong about a storm, not once.” Sasa’l paused; only Y’sol and a handful of the other elders called Tiosa by that name. She wondered what it meant, but didn’t dare ask. Only the elders had the right to use the ancient tongue. Y’sol quietly cleared her throat, and embraced Sasa’l warmly. “Go quickly, then. I will spread the word here. Be careful, my dear.” Sasa’l bowed and headed for the sweet shop. Soon after, she was at the helm of her small boat, steering a course for home.
The rising suns crested the deep blue of the ocean horizon, climbing lazily into the late summer sky. Tiosa was, as he often had been over the last few weeks, dressed and ready for the day. For a moment, he stood quietly, knowing Sasa’l would be waking up about now. Tiosa thought about returning to bed with her, but he caught a whiff of a uniquely peculiar tang on the air. Storm’s coming, he thought, pausing for another moment to let his senses absorb nature’s signals. Going to be a big one… He took a deep breath, then moved to get his gear together. Tiosa, his thoughts already several hours in the future, didn’t hear Sasa’l approach. She watched him for a little while, a soft smile on her lips.
“The river is not so far,” she said, breaking the silence. It took Tiosa a long moment to bring himself back to the here-and-now; his thoughts had been rather distant, as her aphorism suggested.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have a lot on my mind.” He stepped over and took Sasa’l in his arms, kissing her forehead.
“You’re not sleeping well,” she remarked.
“No, no I’m not.” He smiled weakly. He knew Sasa’l thought he’d been waking an hour or two before her; in truth, Tiosa was actually sleeping less than two hours each night. The rest of the night was spent lost in thought, or doodling in notebooks he kept carefully hidden, or sometimes walking aimlessly around the island. And when he did sleep, the dreams came. Oh, the dreams…
“Stay,” she said, pulling him closer. “Stay, and we can talk. Or a swim, that seems to relax you.”
“I can’t,” replied Tiosa, reluctantly stepping away from her embrace. “I have to get the boat out, catch what I can. There’s a storm coming, a big one.”
“Go then,” Sasa’l said gently. “I need to go to market. Hopefully I can get some ayath root this time. I know how you…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she was talking to an empty room. Suppressing the pang of an increasingly familiar sadness, Sasa’l went back into the bedroom to dress.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
TIOSA’S BOAT RODE AT anchor, some distance away from the island he and Sasa’l called home. He’d only been out a couple of hours, but his nets were almost half full. Several other boats from nearby islands were scattered within a kilometer, their nets out as well. The saberfish were schooling today, unusual in the quantity and doubly so for the time of year. It was an opportunity not to be missed.
Abruptly, though, Tiosa began pulling in his nets, dumping the saberfish into his boat’s water-filled hold. Ropes creaked as they strained against the weight of the fish, and the boat rocked as if off-balance. Tiosa had built her well, though, and she was capable of holding much more than what he’d gathered.
The fishers on the nearest boats looked at Tiosa quizzically, waving to get his attention as they were just barely too far away to yell. He finally noticed, and made quick, chopping hand gestures to indicate dahk'tar, an oncoming storm. Some of the less seasoned fishers looked at the sky, clear with a smattering of clouds, and turned dismissively back to their work. Tiosa, having delivered his warning, paid the other boats no mind. With his nets stowed and haul secured, he pulled his anchor and turned the boat back towards the island.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE UNNAMED ISLAND THAT Tiosa and Sasa’l made their home on was on the western rim of an extensive archipelago, several hundred smaller islands surrounding a group of seven large ones. The market that Sasa’l preferred was on the second-largest island, Khor’u, which was only an hour’s journey from her home. Normally, she’d make a day of her trip to market, taking time to peruse the merchants’ sundry wares or enjoying a long lunch with her friends. Several of them made their homes on Khor’u, and Sasa’l would often visit and occasionally spend the night.
Today, though, she moved with quiet purpose, her own thoughts uncharacteristically distant. She’d found the ayath root she’d wanted, taking a few minutes to stock up on a variety of spices and preserving agents. She was heading for the shop where she knew she could get cantu, the sweet confection that Tiosa had a weakness for, when she heard a voice call her name.
“Sasa’l,” the gently rasping voice said again. Sasa’l turned to see Y’sol, one of Khor’u’s elders as well as the Revered One, the chief shamaness. “The river is not so far, my dear.” Y’sol gestured towards a nearby café. “Sit, my dear. The p’mar is fresh today.”
Sasa’l smiled at the echo of her own words to Tiosa, earlier that day. “Apologies, honored Mother, but I cannot. I have one more stop to make, and then I must return home.”
“Such haste is not like you, my dear,” the older woman smiled. “You must have good reason.”
“I do, honored Mother. Tiosa this morning said that a storm was coming, a strong one.”
Y’sol thought for a moment. “As long as he has been among us, O’ho’ulho has not been wrong about a storm, not once.” Sasa’l paused; only Y’sol and a handful of the other elders called Tiosa by that name. She wondered what it meant, but didn’t dare ask. Only the elders had the right to use the ancient tongue. Y’sol quietly cleared her throat, and embraced Sasa’l warmly. “Go quickly, then. I will spread the word here. Be careful, my dear.” Sasa’l bowed and headed for the sweet shop. Soon after, she was at the helm of her small boat, steering a course for home.