On the banks of the Suvan, where tendrils of cut land spread toward Alvadas in slowly tapering fissures, Wrenmae kicked his foot out over the water. It was a sunny day, the bright lancing rays cutting across the sea like lances. Each rose and fell with the swell of Laviku’s heartbeat, washing and breaking over Wrenmae’s bare feet with gentle coercion. Zan was out beside him, ducking and bobbing in the surf, the only water that did not move by command.
“This stuff is unambitious,” Zan muttered, ducking in and out of the oncoming waves, “I sense it wants to swallow the land, but with such weak punches, it’ll take forever!”
“Maybe that’s the point,” Wrenmae said, staring at the small silver fish beneath the surface, “Do it all at once and we’ll notice. Maybe bit by bit means humans don’t suspect a thing.”
“You guys ARE awfully unintelligent,” Zan commented dryly, “So I don‘t know why the ocean doesn’t get a grip and just rise up. C’mon. C’MON.”
“I can’t breathe underwater.”
“So?”
“You’d die.”
“I mean…well, ok. Sure. Maybe after you’re gone, after we set out for the wider, bigger world. Then when we come back, we take a dip in the pool where Alvadas used to be.”
“I’d hope not.”
“Why?”
Wrenmae drew some hair from his face and leaned back on his arms. The sun crossed his pale skin and kissed it there, leaving red residue spreading along his arms and face. “Too many good memories in the city of Illusion. I’d hate to see it go.”
“But most of them fear you.”
“They fear my mark, Vayt’s mark,” Wrenmae responded flippantly, “Me? I think without this mark, I could be loved, even lauded.”
“Oh the deep depths of delusion, Poor master, so given to the passions of fantasy! Woe is I, Woe the poor Sarawanki.”
Wrenmae aimed a kick at the familiar, but it scuttled out of his reach. He chuckled, and the familiar joined in. It was a good day, a perfect one to bond.
“This stuff is unambitious,” Zan muttered, ducking in and out of the oncoming waves, “I sense it wants to swallow the land, but with such weak punches, it’ll take forever!”
“Maybe that’s the point,” Wrenmae said, staring at the small silver fish beneath the surface, “Do it all at once and we’ll notice. Maybe bit by bit means humans don’t suspect a thing.”
“You guys ARE awfully unintelligent,” Zan commented dryly, “So I don‘t know why the ocean doesn’t get a grip and just rise up. C’mon. C’MON.”
“I can’t breathe underwater.”
“So?”
“You’d die.”
“I mean…well, ok. Sure. Maybe after you’re gone, after we set out for the wider, bigger world. Then when we come back, we take a dip in the pool where Alvadas used to be.”
“I’d hope not.”
“Why?”
Wrenmae drew some hair from his face and leaned back on his arms. The sun crossed his pale skin and kissed it there, leaving red residue spreading along his arms and face. “Too many good memories in the city of Illusion. I’d hate to see it go.”
“But most of them fear you.”
“They fear my mark, Vayt’s mark,” Wrenmae responded flippantly, “Me? I think without this mark, I could be loved, even lauded.”
“Oh the deep depths of delusion, Poor master, so given to the passions of fantasy! Woe is I, Woe the poor Sarawanki.”
Wrenmae aimed a kick at the familiar, but it scuttled out of his reach. He chuckled, and the familiar joined in. It was a good day, a perfect one to bond.