Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Tia says nothing. She is too busy feeding a piece of the loom—the weft—through the alternating threads, her fingers trembling with excitement. I am forgotten for the moment, and I feel a surge of jealousy over the loom, as well. Must I share my mate with both it and Noj’me? “How did you know how to work the loom?”
“As attendant, it is my job to know things.”
“Is this why you are here, then?” I ask. “To show off your knowledge?”
My mate turns, surprised at my tone. I flush with embarrassment at my rudeness. It is not that I dislike Noj’me. It is that she represents everything I am trying to forget.
If the cheerful Attendant is hurt by my words, she does not show it. Her smile remains bright as she turns to me. “I did not come to speak of looms at all. I came to see when we will go to the great ship. It has been many days now, and I am eager to see the Oracle’s ancestor. And now that I am here, I can hear for myself that your resonance song is different. Does this mean we will go soon? Yes?”
Her eagerness is palpable. I hate to disappoint her, and open my mouth to say just that…when I pause.
Is our resonance song different? I have grown so accustomed to its hum, its ceaseless energy that I haven’t noticed the change. But Noj’me is right. The once-insistent khui song has slowed to a more contented, almost sleepy sound.
Resonance has been fulfilled.
Tia is carrying my child now.
I look over at my mate, shocked. She clutches a hand to her chest, over her heart, and her expression is just as stunned as my own. Neither of us had realized this. It took an outsider coming into our cozy nest and pointing out the obvious.
Tia blinks, and I wait for her to say something to me. To say she is happy. Relieved. Glad to move forward. If she is joyous, then I think I can live with this. But she only turns to Noj’me, her hand still over her breast, and says a few soft words I do not make out.
Noj’me turns to me, beaming. “She is right. There is no reason to delay further. Shall we leave tomorrow, then?”
Tomorrow?
It feels so sudden.
I want to stay in this hut with Tia forever. I want to nibble on the foods left for us and then return to the furs for more kisses and caresses. I want her underneath me or on top of me, and then we collapse together, sated and content. I want to see her weave her first project on the loom and the pride she will have on her face.
I want to watch her belly grow round with my child and watch it come into this world.
But I am Chief’s son. I am the Fist. And because of that, I do not get any of this. I must help my people, no matter what it costs me.
I look over at Tia, and the sadness is back in her eyes, her shoulders slumped with defeat. She knows what I am thinking, and no words are needed. We both know.
“Tomorrow,” I agree, hiding my despair. “Will you inform Set’nef the Wanderer and Tal’nef the Swiftest on my behalf, Noj’me?”
“Of course! I shall tell the others!” She jumps to her feet, regarding us.
“Others,” I echo, trying to think. “What others?”
“The human clowns and the taters.”
“Clones,” Tia murmurs, her mouth quirking. “Clones, not clowns.”
“Cloooohns,” Noj’me agrees. “The words are very similar. You said we could bring others with us, and so I have asked around. I have told them we are leaving to go find the Great Ancestor and some of them wish to join us. Colleen does, and one of the taters. Another female, too. And we cannot forget R’jaal the Stranger and Rosalind the Berry-and.”
So many. It makes me want to go on this journey even less, because it means I will not have much time alone with my mate. Yet I made this promise to her. How can I go back on it now? “Invite who you like,” I say wearily. I do not care who comes along. “Just make sure they are ready in the morning.”
“Wonderful,” Noj’me announces and gets to her feet. “If we are leaving in the morning, we must pack now. I should speak with the others. Unless you wish to meet with them first? Or should we wait until the weather is nicer? Perhaps we should see if—”
“We go tomorrow,” I say, my gaze on Tia. She will not look me in the eye. I keep watching her, even as I answer Noj’me. “Even if it is snowing. If they are not ready to go by sunrise, they will not be coming with us.”
“Eep!” Noj’me races out of the hut with a laugh. “We will be ready! See you at sunrise!”