Compelled to Rebuild (solo)

[Subira]

Season of Spring, Day 5, 511 AV In Ahnatep, spring often brought hot, dusty winds whose arid, parching breath was deflected by the city walls, leaving them to circle around the city howling like hungry jackals. The winds that assailed Ahnatep on the first of spring seemed hardly more than that at first, swirling around the walls and churning the sand, and no one took much notice of them. When the winds became a ferocious tempest, however, and proceeded to dump the entire desert upon their heads, the citizens realized that the winds weren't one of Zulrav's passing winds, but a very real and terrible threat upon their city and their lives. As the sky turned as black as night and the roaring winds deafened their cries, people frantically rushed indoors to huddle behind sturdy walls. While the winds swirled above, the ground rumbled beneath as an earthquake shook the city. To the bewildered and frightened citizens, it seemed no place in Ahnatep was safe. Closer to the coast, the violent tremors caused the estuary's usually calm waters to rage and boil, swallowing ships into the deeps and overflowing any structures near the shore. Now and then, shrill screams pierced the air from different quarters of the city, and those that heard them could only harden their hearts and pray to the gods, "Please, let that not be my loved ones. Please, let me not be next." The storm abated after five bells, and the last tremors of the earthquake settled not long afterward. Still, it was a day or more before the fearful citizens dared emerge from their sheltered places and survey the damage. The sight that greeted their weary eyes was dismaying indeed. At the bay of the South Winds' dwelling, Subira had gawked like a child when she and her family fought their way out into the open air and beheld the collapse of their private docks. As their house primarily focused on shipbuilding, sailing, and sea trade, those docks had been a major part of their livelihood. Now they were gone, and Eypharian oaths had filled the air at the sight of the tumbled ships and jagged wooden planks that remained. Never one to hold back with her emotions at such times, Subira too had given air to her feelings. "Petch it all for a chupra's crotch!" she swore, blending Common curses with Eypharian expletives in her shock and consternation. "The docks! The ships! They're gone!" "My precious Eypha's Tear!" her brother Iriei had cried out beside her sorrowfully. "She was going to be the most beautiful ship in the sea, and now she's nothing but matchwood and canvas." "All our beautiful ships," Subira had agreed. "And with them, my chances of ever becoming a pilot again anytime soon." At that, Iriei had swiveled his head to glare furiously at her. "All this destruction, all this ruin, and all you can think of is your own advancement? Subira, you self-centered fool! Can't you think about anything but yourself and your stupid hopes of being the next Kenabelle Wright? It isn't enough that we've all lost something or even someone we valued. No, your chances and dreams are the most important." While Subira's jaw had fallen, startled by the sharpness of his tone, her brother had collected himself again and sighed. "Besides, you're deluding yourself, sister. You weren't about to regain your position as a pilot again for a long time, no matter how hard you studied." For a long moment, Subira couldn't find her voice. It didn't help that they were hardly alone in the midst of their conversation, but were constantly being pushed and jostled by other Souths streaming forward to survey their damaged docks and look for relatives and loved ones amid the crowd. Even as she stared wide-eyed at Iriei, one of her uncles elbowed past her to clasp his young son in his arms gratefully while their human governess looked on. Finally, she had managed to speak. "W-what do you mean?" she had stammered. "I-I didn't have a chance? Not at all?" Iriei, who had looked away from her toward the docks again, had turned back to face her with a groan. "Ugh! No, sister, not the way you were going about it. Didn't you know? I suppose not," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "All that time, you thought you could study and bury your nose in books and become reinstated, but you never showed that you were....well, sorry. You never showed penitence or humility after all the mistakes you made. "If you had bowed your stubborn pride and asked to serve as a cabin girl on a ship," he had continued, "you might have earned some of Lord Bahhet's forgiveness. If you ever helped teach the younger ones about navigation or sailing, or offered to volunteer in any way--any way--without asking for any compensation, you would've won some favor. But you never did. Not once. And if you really want to earn your way back, sister, you should have known that you needed to trouble yourself with helping the House, not just yourself." At that point, Irien had given a mighty sigh and gruffly reached over to ruffle her hair, his expression softening. "I had better go, sister. Considering that I am a real shipwright now." He had stalked off into the heart of the milling throng at the edge of the bay, leaving Subira standing stock-still in the middle of all those people, her mouth still open and her eyes still stretched wide. No, she had never known that she had needed to do all those things to earn her House's forgiveness and to win back her old, deeply cherished position as ship's navigator. She had never even guessed, not in all those years. Yet, somehow, as she replayed Iriei's rant in her mind over and over again, Subira realized that it made sense. There was no way that she could have brought back the lost cargo or profits or make the now-fragile former ship's captain healthy and strong again. But she could have humbled herself and shown she was sorry. Subira had gazed anew at the crumbled planks and piles of the Souths' docks, as well as the city buried in sand and fallen marble beyond them. She knew she was fortunate to simply have survived the great sandstorm and earthquake that had overwhelmed Ahnatep. Now, thinking upon her brother's harsh words, she slowly began to think that perhaps the storm could provide another sort of fortune for her, now that she knew better what she needed to do to accomplish her goals. At the head of the crowd, Lord Bahhet had been calming the frightened, panicking rabble around him with the leadership skills learned from decades of captaining ships and organizing them into squads to salvage the ships and begin repairing the docks. Squaring her shoulders, Subira had pushed forward through the crowd and fought her way past relatives and onlookers until she finally stood beside him. She waited until Lord Bahhet's booming voice had fallen silent and bowed her head respectfully before him, stretching out her arms humbly. "Lord Bahhet, please allow me to assist in rebuilding the docks," Subira had said deferentially. "I beg of you. I will be a common laborer, nothing more. Only let me help as best I can, in the Souths' time of need." She had looked up hastily then and caught a glimpse of the patriarch's mildly startled face. Fearing she had not said enough, Subira had begged again and even tried to kneel in the wet sand before him, not hearing the whispers and murmurs of the crowd around them. Such was her intensity that they might have been alone together upon the shore, facing the ruin of the private docks. After what seemed an eternity, Bahhet had raised his hand to prevent her babbling further and had acceded to her request. That had been two days ago. Now, under a burning sun, Subira carefully balanced a load of planks upon her back and plodded toward the docks. Her hands were covered with blisters, as her skin had grown soft during her long inactivity and lack of sailing, and her shoulders ached with the new burden. She was sure that sand was lodged permanently between her toes from trekking back and forth from the bay to the South Winds' dwelling and her ears still rang with the angry protests of her mother, who had been planning to marry her off and had not greeted her daughter's request to serve like a common laborer at the docks with grace or pleasure. Subira, after all, was not made for this sort of work at all, and she was awkward and ignorant as a desert-dweller's goat when it came to the building of ships and restoring of piers and docks, which her current occupation required. And yet, despite all this, she was happier than she had been in years because now the ruins wrought by the storm had given her a new joy in life and new hope that from destruction could come triumph.

[Subira]

In the aftermath of the catastrophes that befell Ahnatep on the first of spring, there was no doubt that much had been lost in the sandstorm and the earthquake. The lives of many citizens had been lost due to scouring sands and falling buildings. Valuables and treasures had likewise been buried or destroyed by the raging winds, quaking earth, and surging estuary waters, with losses ranging from several piers and ships at the Souths' private docks to the wooden buckets beside the cisterns. Even among survivors, something intangible had been lost: security, perhaps, or innocence. Many wore the haunted, fearful look of someone who no longer knows what to expect from a suddenly unfriendly, pitiless world. Yet, despite all that had been lost, Subira couldn't shake the feeling that -- for her, at least -- something else had been gained as well. It gave a new spring to her step, as well as an uncharacteristic docility and willingness to fetch, carry, clean, and perform other menial chores that once she would have disdained. She felt a little strange and slightly ashamed of her own callousness to be smiling and hopeful in the midst of so much grief and destruction, with so many difficulties and tribulations to come in the days ahead. Her pragmatic nature quickly reasserted itself, though. There was a time for mourning and a time for moving on, and it wasn't Subira's fault if her time of mourning happened to be shorter because she hadn't lost anything dear to her. Sheltered behind walls of marble rather than sandstone or mud bricks, her family was unharmed and, for better or worse, Subira hadn't had a ship to lose before the storm. Their livelihood would suffer and their stores of food and water would certainly run low, but with care and wisdom they should survive through the season, at least. In short, there was no reason she should feel guilty for having no cause to weep. Smiling a little more, Subira bent low and hefted a pair of rough wood planks onto her right shoulder. Supporting them with both right arms, she laboriously rose to her feet again, turned around, and started plodding across the remains of the pier where she had been assigned to work. At the far end of the pier, workmen were reconstructing the pillars that had supported the pier before they were swept away by the storm. Subira came up behind them and dropped the planks with a thud. "There you are, Lady," one of the workmen said, not even looking up. "One moment, and I'll help you maneuver those planks into place so we can nail them in." "How did you know it was me?" Subira burst out. "This must be the fifth or sixth time you and your men have been able to tell I was standing behind you without even turning around!" "You have a lighter tread than most of our laborers, m'Lady," he replied. The workman beside him, who before the storm had been a House guardsman, chuckled. "And we'd know the thunk of your planks anywhere, Lady, being as you always carry two or three at a time to our men's four or five." It was true. Lacking the broad shoulders and powerful muscles of men who labored under the hot Eyktol sun day after day, Subira couldn't manage to lift nearly as much as they could or work as quickly either. She flushed with embarrassment. Then he chuckled again. "Except, of course, for your third trip over. How many did you stagger over here carrying? Five?" Subira grinned. "Six. It was six, at least." At first, the laborers and sailors had treated the Souths who, like Subira, had begun shouldering planks, driving down pillars, and rebuilding ships alongside them with exaggerated courtesy, out of respect for their noble birth. After enough hours watching them huff, sweat, and toil just like any other men, some of the workmen grew a little bolder around the Souths. One of them had started teasing and heckling at Subira for not pulling her weight as well as the others, calling her a "little flower" or "fragile pearl." Finally, she'd lost her temper and shoved him into the water as he was making a trip to the far end of the pier with another load of planks. The man had arced off the pier with a loud cry and a noisy splash, much to Subira's satisfaction. Thankfully, the wooden planks he'd been carrying had fallen out of his grip and landed behind him onto the pier, not with him into the water. As the man emerged dripping, Subira had knelt, lifted his planks onto her other shoulder, and lurched unsteadily to the far end, her arms and upper body on fire with exertion but her head held high. The other workmen chuckled good-naturedly, and even the heckler laughed as he pulled himself out of the shallow water. After that, even though Subira still couldn't make regular trips carrying more than three heavy planks at a time, no one had teased her or called her a "dainty pearl" again. Now, she knelt on the edge of the pier and helped the two workmen drag the planks she'd brought into place. They handled the wood gently, as though it were more precious than gold. In Eyktol, where so few trees could grow and fewer still offered wood that could be made into ships or piers, perhaps it was. While she held it in place, the two workmen secured it into place beside the others with nails and metal ties. "Now, back with you, Lady, and get more planks," the workman who used to be a guardsman told her, shooing Subira off good-humoredly. "This pier used to stretch out twenty feet into the estuary! Put your shoulder into it and give us more boards to work with." Subira rubbed her aching shoulders and knees but stood up, smiling. The wind ruffled the loose strands of her hair and cooled the sweat on her skin. All around her, she could see evidence of the sandstorm and earthquake's passage: the unsettled waters of the estuary and the flooded palace before her and the broken cisterns, tumbled pillars, and sand-shrouded buildings behind her. Yet, somehow the sight of all that devastation only filled her with gladness that she was still alive.

[Subira]

Besides, it felt so good to finally be doing something and to know that what she was doing would be noticed and important. After the disaster that had cost Subira her position as a ship's pilot, she had willfully buried herself in the South Winds' library and archives, hoping to accumulate more knowledge about navigation and sailing than anyone else and thereby prove her worthiness as a pilot that way. That, and being dragged around by her mother to all the right social functions to attract noble suitors, had filled most of the last few years. How futile they had been, in retrospect! By plunging into piles of dusty old books, Subira had merely made herself easier to ignore. It was no wonder that no one had ever asked her to serve as a ship's navigator again. Now, though, Subira was back in the light, both literally and figuratively. The bright spring sunlight shone down relentlessly on her bare face and arms, and she had never felt more grateful for the kohl that her younger sister Tesha had salvaged from Syna-knows-where and smeared liberally across her eyelids. In normal times, Eypharian men and women alike lined their eyes with kohl, not only for vanity's sake but also because it protected the eyes from the glare of the sun. These were far from normal times, though, and even if the earthquake hadn't pulled down their family's walls, it had certainly tossed about their belongings and broken them. Subira felt better knowing that today, when her parents and siblings were sure to be outside helping repair the Souths' home or docks, she and her family at least could enjoy that small luxury. Being out in the open also meant that everyone from the South Winds could watch proud Subira, the failed navigator too inept to maneuver her ship out of a reef, carrying wooden planks all day long like a lowborn servant. Her cheeks colored at the thought of it. But then, she argued with herself, the ones who watched and snickered were the ones mostly likely to be chastened for idling about when there was so much work to do. The only ones that mattered, the elders of the Souths and Lord Bahhet, might appreciate that she was doing whatever needed to be done or, at least, would not care how she looked. "Lady! Come on!" A deep voice wrenched Subira from her long reverie. "Are you going to stand in front of the woodpile all day? Pick up your load and get on with it, m'Lady!" Subira blinked in surprise and realized with chagrin that she had sunk deep into thought right in front of the pile of stacked wooden planks. At least a dozen of them had been heaped on top of each other, each with neat holes bored into each end for nails and metal fasteners. Behind her, a small line of laborers had formed as everyone waited for her to continue the cycle of taking the planks to the end of the pier. Her face turned red with embarrassment, and she bent quickly to pick up her load of planks. After half a dozen trips, her muscles protested from the strain, and Subira visibly wavered from side to side as she attempted to stand back up. She planted her feet wide, trying to regain her balance. "Here, my Lady, let me help you with that," came a soft voice from behind her. A slim Eypharian youth stepped forward from the line behind her and helped steady the load of planks in her arms. Subira breathed a sigh of relief at his intervention, which kept her from dropping the wood right back onto the pile. Together, they contrived to hoist the two planks she had managed to take onto her shoulder, where Subira was able to wrap both left arms around it tightly. Gratefully, she smiled at the young man. The deep-voiced foreman merely grunted as the rhythm of the laborers resumed. "Thank you," she said sincerely to the young man, as she laboriously turned around and moved away. She paused for a moment, watching as the golden-skinned youth gathered his own armful of planks in his six arms with far greater ease than she'd shown. A frown creased the skin between her brows. "I feel as though you should be familiar to me, somehow," she said slowly, falling into step beside him. "Have we met before?" The young man bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, Lady. I sailed on the Sweet Lark five years ago as an oarsman. It was my first trip out to sea." The Sweet Lark. The ship that Subira had nearly destroyed during a storm by piloting it straight into a reef and ripping apart its hull. Her shoulders slumped at the memory, nearly upsetting the planks she was holding. "I'm sorry to have given you such a bad experience on your first voyage, sailor," she murmured, averting her face. "I'm surprised you didn't drop the planks on my foot in thanks." The young man's soft voice sounded taken aback when he responded. "Ah...no, Lady, I would never do that. It isn't my place. And if I may say..." She looked up, curious despite herself. "What? Is it that you'd get whipped for saying mean things to me?" "No, no!" The young man looked startled at the very suggestion. "What I meant to say was... I was the one you sat down in front of when you took over an oar yourself. I saw how you rowed yourself ragged trying to save the ship. Of course, you could not. No one person could have saved us that day. But I... I could not drop planks on your foot after I saw you bleeding to bring us to safety." Unbidden, Subira's mouth dropped open, and a torrent of words burst out in response to his quiet words. "Do you jest? Bleeding was the least I could have done there. I should have died. I should have..." Her voice trailed off, before she said any of the terrible thoughts that she should never speak aloud. "If you had died, Lady," the youth said at last, still walking beside her as they brought their planks to the end of the pier, "we all might have. You guided us home. The captain was ill and weak, and no one else was trained to do it. You brought us home. That's not nothing, you know." The ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "Besides, after that, I knew no journey could possibly be that bad. I knew I could survive most anything after the Lark. So, you see, you did do me a service after all, in a way." For a moment, Subira merely stood stock-still, stunned by the lightheartedness with which he spoke of the darkest, direst thing that had ever happened to her. She could not believe that somehow, he didn't hate her for what had happened, even though she'd never been able to forgive herself. Yet, somehow the young sailor had spoken to her without rancor or anger. Then, suddenly, like the sun's rays breaking through the blackness of the sandstorm, a tremulous smile dawned on her face and she started to laugh. "You are welcome," she told the Eypharian youth, who was smiling too. "And thank you."

[Subira]

Feeling oddly better, as though balm had been rubbed over a persistent ache buried deep in her soul, Subira continued walking beside the young sailor down the creaking length of the pier. She couldn't help feeling a small glow of satisfaction when they eventually reached the farthest section of the pier that had just been reconstructed, laid with wooden planks so new and fresh that it didn't yet groan beneath their weight. It made Subira feel proud to know that she too had contributed to this grand project in her own small way. Without a doubt, this felt decidedly more worthwhile than reading dusty old tracts and logbooks in the library all day or staring at the stars all night hoping to see something new. "You are most welcome, my Lady," the sailor replied, with the bemused air of someone who wasn't quite sure why he was being thanked. Subira laughed, seeing his expression. She had missed this too, she realized: the easy banter with sailors, who had no time for polite niceties; the relaxing of court manners aboard a ship, where efficiency was more important than courtesy; the combination of informality with strict discipline. It reminded her of how it felt to be sailing a ship again. Even the soreness of her arms and shoulders, the ache in her legs, and the sticky sweat beading on her brow seemed utterly right. Every sailor probably walked twice or three times the actual distance of every voyage, pacing across the decks. "I never thought of it that way before," she mused aloud, thinking of the youth saying that no journey could possibly be that bad. "Perhaps I should have. I should have told myself, like you, that if I could get out of that kind of predicament alive, I shouldn't be scared of anything else. After all, there's nothing more frightening than being at the mercy of an angry sea while your ship falls to pieces under you, is there?" The youth bowed his head and said nothing. Caught up in her thoughts, Subira continued, "I suppose in the next storm, I would know better what to do, instead of standing still as though I had been turned to stone. I would not feel so terrified, because I had been through it all before. Yes! I should have seen it as a liberating experience, not an imprisoning one. The sea could never be more frightening than it was that day, and surely nothing on land could ever more awful than the sea." She turned her head to face the still-silent youth and asked, "Isn't that right? Don't you agree?" The youth averted his head, his gaze sliding sidelong toward the shore. His voice was distant and formal when he answered, "My Lady, it is not my place to agree or disagree with you. I must continue with my work." Subira rolled her eyes and stepped a sandal-shod foot in front of him, so that he could not pass her without tripping. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "A moment ago, you were smiling, and now you've gone all cold and stiff. What are you thinking about? Do you think I'm wrong?" "It is not my place to say if you are right or wrong, Lady," the youth repeated tautly. "Only..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Only what?" she asked. "What were you going to say, sailor? Tell me! That's an order!" "Very well, my Lady," the sailor said, biting the words off tersely. "I hear and obey. I lost my father and brother in the sandstorm. We found their bodies entombed in sand only yesterday. Sand was in their throats, their noses, their eyes. From what we could tell of their faces, they died screaming and trying to claw their way out of being buried alive." Subira gasped, her entire body going cold at the image. "I... That... Oh, Dira's blessings. Your father and brother..." The sailor cleared his throat softly and kept his face turned away. "If I could choose, my Lady, I would rather die at sea than suffer...that." "I too," Subira whispered, aghast at the thought of sand scouring her skin from her bones and filling her nose and mouth even as she screamed for mercy. "I...I'm sorry." The youth lifted his eyes, bright with unshed tears, to glance at her and seemed to soften slightly. "I am sorry too, Lady. We pray that they are at peace now. But speaking of peace..." He glanced forward at the workmen at the end of the pier, impatiently gesturing for them to hurry onward and bring their planks. "We had best keep going, or we'll have none soon enough. Come on, Lady. I can see the fishing boat bringing new pillars from the shore to drive into the bottom of the estuary." "Oh!" Subira shook herself free of her reverie. She shaded her kohl-rimmed eyes to look toward the shore. "Yes, I see it too. They must have used masts from the ships or something, to have them done so quickly." She settled her planks on her shoulder with new purpose. "For the dead and the living," Subira vowed, half to herself and half to the youth beside her, who had suffered more than she, "we go on, and we rebuild, and we grow stronger and wiser." "For the dead and the living," he agreed. And they walked on together to cross the short distance between them and the end of the pier.

[Subira]

In comfortable silence, punctuated only with grunts of effort and the rhythm of their steps, Subira and the young sailor continued bringing their sets of planks to the end of the pier side by side. While he seemed distracted, as though lost in unhappy thoughts, she walked forward with new resolve, bolstered by the memory of the devastating sandstorm, earthquake, and flooding, as well as the havoc they had wreaked. The only way to answer so much death and destruction was with renewed life and growth. Of course, how they were to manage that in the middle of the desert, where so little grew of its own volition at the best of times, was a mystery to Subira. If the city's water supplies ran low, all the resolve in the world wouldn't matter. She took heart, though, from turning around and looking at the stolid, hardworking figures of Eypharians trooping back and forth across the docks and the shipyards or moving purposefully around the ruined city beyond. Gilded by the midday sun, they were glorious to look upon and unlike any other people in the world. If the gods intended any race to rise up again after falling into such dire straits, it would surely be the Eypharians. Squinting in the bright sunlight, Subira marveled at the progress that the citizens had made to unearth the city from under tons of sand. Marble and sandstone walls were reemerging, and repairs were being made to humble homes and magnificent edifices alike. She smiled proudly. The destruction wrought on the first of spring might have caused Ahnatep to kneel, but one day the city would stand up again, oh yes, and shine more beautifully than before; Subira was certain of it. Lost in her own musings, she didn't hear the faint cracking sound of the pier beneath her until it was too late. With a great splintering and splitting of wood, the newly laid wooden planks beneath the young sailor's feet gave way beneath him and became a gaping hole into the estuary's waters. Too startled to do more than throw up his arms, the sailor fell through the hole and landed with a splash in the water. The planks he'd carried were thrown into the air and fortunately landed behind Subira without falling into the water or striking anyone. Through the hole, though, Subira could see the sailor splashing and flailing in the water. For a moment, she simply stood there, frozen in surprise from the sheer suddenness of the collapse. The planks must have been made from inferior wood, she thought angrily. It was sheer luck that they have given way now, when they could so easily be repaired, but it did not feel lucky to her. The shouts of the sailor in the water roused her to action. Acting without thinking, she dropped to her knees and tossed all but one of her planks aside. She leaned down and extended the last plank through the hole in the pier, as far down as she dared. "Swim toward the plank!" she shouted. "Reach for the plank! I'll pull you up!" The sailor's eyes rolled up to meet hers, and she was startled to see how wide they were. "I...I don't know how to swim!" he called back, still flailing madly. "What?" Subira was so astonished that she nearly lost her grasp on her extended plank. "You don't know how...but...we teach every one of our sailors to swim! There are classes of instruction! How could you not..." Fiercely, she got a grip on herself and interrupted her own tirade. Instead, Subira tried to assess the situation. They were no longer so near the shore that the water was shallow enough to practically walk around in. Without knowing how to swim, the man might very well sink into the water. Thankfully, though, some of the workmen had heard the commotion, and one of them was close behind her. Turning around to face him, she shouted, "You there! Hold the end of the plank. Do it now." Hearing the flatness in her tone, which spoke volumes about how she expected him to obey without questioning, the workman took a firm grip on the end of the plank. Subira took a deep breath and then, still acting on impulse more than anything, dove through the hole in the pier. Unlike the hapless sailor, she had learned to swim when she was young, and even if she had not practiced the skill in years, she had not forgotten. The water embraced her with a murkiness she had never know before, but she doggedly ducked her head beneath the water to find the slowly sinking sailor who had fallen. Seeing his linen kilt fluttering against the dark water, she made a grab for it. The fine linen slipped through her hands again and again, though, and the sailor's thrashings were hardly helping. At last, Subira managed to grab hold of his wrist and clenched it hard. The action made her suddenly whip her head around, reminding her of a desperate rescue in the winter at the Swan Parade. This was no time for her to meet with another shark. Kicking hard with her legs, she managed to surface and breathed a huge gulp of air gratefully. Tugging hard on the sailor's wrist, she pulled him to the water's surface as well, where he bobbed and spat water in all directions. Behind him, Subira spotted the plank reaching almost into the water itself and swam for it, dragging the sailor mercilessly along with her. She and the sailor clung to the end of the plank like a pair of barnacles, and the workmen on the other end -- a group of them now, who had gathered to help pull them up -- lifted them out of the water with a single massive heave. As soon as she was back upon the pier, sitting in what she was sure was a secure spot, Subira rounded on the young sailor. "How could you not know how to swim? How could you be an oarsman without knowing how to swim?" "Lady Subira," the foreman interrupted, "it is a fault that we will rectify, I assure you. But we had best get you and young Maruket here back to your homes to change into dry clothing and recover." Though she tried to argue, saying that a simple ducking was hardly something that required recovery, the foreman was implacable. Thus, swaddled in her dripping linen robe, Subira was herded back home, still muttering under her breath and glancing behind her to assure herself that the young sailor named Maruket was well. As she passed by the workmen, though, she couldn't help hearing the whispers they uttered as they watched her, still wet and slightly stained with estuary water from head to toe. "Foolish...not very bright...jumping into the water after some stripling...not fitting...not like a noble at all," ran many of the whispers she overheard. Just the sound of them caused Subira to quicken her pace, not wanting to look at the workmen at all. Like an undercurrent, though, she heard other whispers from the workmen, softer and fewer, but persistent. "Stupid, but brave...rather gallant...cares for her helpers...good heart." The whispers continued long after she had walked off the pier and started on her way home.

[Subira]

The murmurs, the eternal murmurs, rose again when Subira returned to the pier in the afternoon after a change of clothes and a filling, if lighter than usual, lunch of bread and eel stew. She could tell when she passed by the workmen that the news of her admittedly harebrained and impulsive rescue attempt on the one sailor in her House's fleet who couldn't swim. At least, Subira hoped he was the only sailor who couldn't swim. Even if the young sailor had sunk like a stone, he probably would have survived just as well even if Subira hadn't leaped into the water after him. The fishing boat carrying the dock pillars to be driven into the estuary's bottom had been heading back to shore, and the sailors on board would have fished him out quickly enough. All her life, though, Subira had never been able to sit by and watch while things were happening. She always had to do something, even if it was the wrong thing. Mercurial brilliance and aggression ran in the Souths' blood like currents in the sea, but prudence and forethought were rarer qualities within the family. Of course, Subira had been frozen with fear or indecision plenty of times, but that was different from choosing to do nothing while life happened before her eyes. Nor would she allow a few murmurs stop her from working. After a brief pause, Subira strode past the groups of workmen who gave her curious glances as she passed and went directly to the foreman. A brief incline of her head and a haughty lift of her chin conveyed her acknowledgement of his authority followed by an assertion of her own noble rank. "Reporting in for duty, again," she stated tersely. "Where should I be working this afternoon?" The foreman raised his head hurriedly at the sound of Subira's voice and quickly inspected her fresh, dry clothing and serious expression. He had a hearty manner that put her in mind of a good quartermaster on a ship, able to maintain his men's morale while still pushing them to work. While his other five hands were still occupied with a ledger, he pointed to the end of the pier with one free right hand. "You'll be helping hammer and fasten the planks together," he answered, equally succinctly. "After watching you sweat and labor just carrying two planks at a time, I decided to take it easy on you. And being as you're Iriei of the Souths' sister, we're hoping you'll have natural talent for building things." "To hear is to obey," she replied with a chuckle. Clumsily, her hands tried to shape an ironic undermode of "doubtful" and "unpromising," though she had to reach far into her memory for the ornate gestures and she wasn't sure she'd gotten them right. Furrows of confusion formed on the foreman's brow, and Subira flushed with embarrassment. Seeking to change the subject and sate her curiosity at once, she asked, "What became of the young sailor from this morning, the one who fell through the hole in the pier?" "Oh, Maruket? He was sent away," the foreman answered, his attention slipping back to his ledger. "Sent away? Where?" Subira demanded, suddenly alarmed. Visions of the Eypharian youth being sent home hungry and unpaid danced before her eyes, laced with the hues of obscure guilt and indignation. "To the shipbuilders," the foreman said, scribbling numbers on a sheet of wadj. Subira breathed a short sigh of relief. "I decided that, as he can't swim, it'd be safer putting himself somewhere where he couldn't possibly fall into the water again. For the life of me, I don't know why he never said anything before. We all assumed he could swim, like any oarsman. He must've skipped out on the lessons and thought he'd never need them. Damn fool." Subira nodded vehemently in agreement. "Very wise of you to reassign him," she said, though inwardly she couldn't feeling a touch of regret at losing the friendly youth who had proved such an encouraging companion. "That was a...kind thing you did for him, though, Lady," the foreman remarked, scratching the top of his shaven head. "Pulling him out of the water like that. Not really...necessary, you know, as any one of us could've fished him out, but...I appreciate that you cared." The man hesitated and then added, "If you were my superior on a ship, I'd follow you, because I would know that you cared for us. And so might many others." For a moment, Subira merely gaped at him, while warmth flooded her cheeks in a rush of crimson. "You would?" "Sure, I would," he affirmed. "I..." Subira's lips worked silently, and her heart fluttered in her chest, hearing the certainty in his voice avowing the very thing she never thought anyone would ever say about her. "I don't know what to say. I was being thoughtless, hasty…" "Yes, Lady," the foreman agreed. "You didn't stop to think. You acted. Nothing but your heart was guiding you, which was unwise, but good." Oh," Subira stammered, her cheeks turning pink. "I see. Well, thank you. I, um... thank you." Then, as a sudden thought occurred to her, she flashed him a smile. "Now I just hope you can tell all that to Lord Bahhet!" The foreman grinned, showing strong white teeth. "Perhaps I shall. Now, off with you, Lady. The sun is moving overhead, and we'll need to repair that hole and keep restoring the pier as quickly as possible." He waved her away, and Subira obeyed, her heart aglow with the warmth of his words. With a new will, she crouched down beside the other workmen hammering away at the end of the pier and threw herself into learning how to wield a hammer and fasten planks to each other. More than anything now, Subira wanted to prove her usefulness to the Souths and the sailors as much as she could. After all, she was not merely helping to rebuild the docks and Ahnatep here, but also her own reputation. And perhaps, herself as well.

[Colombina]

The XP Wand Is Waved! I enjoyed reading this, and applaud the theme. It told me a lot about the character and her position within the house. As usual, your writing is spot on and clean. You have an excellent understanding of the dynamic of the South Winds. The homage to my favorite plot device, random shark, is also appreciated. I am looking forward to selling Subira off to an eligible bachelor like a wheel of cheese... I mean... I look forward to seeing how Subira overcomes new barriers in her story. Subira's Loot 2 XP Carpentry 2 XP Swimming 2 XP Construction 2 XP Leadership Lore of Pier Construction Lore of How to save a drowning man Colombina is pleased.