I was quiet for a moment, not sure if she was done. “It’s a sad stone then?”
She kissed the stone and dropped it, watching as it settled to the sand. “No, not sad. But it was thrown once. It knows the feel of motion. It has trouble staying the way most stones do. It takes the offer that the water makes and moves sometimes.” She looked up at me and gave a guileless smile. “When it moves it thinks about the boy.”
I didn’t know what to make of the story, so I tried to change the subject. “How did you learn to listen to stones?”
“You’d be amazed the things you hear if only you take time to listen.” She gestured to the streambed strewn with stones. “Try it. You never know what you might hear.”
Not sure what game she was playing at, I looked around for a stone, then cuffed up my shirt sleeve and reached into the water.
“Listen,” she prompted earnestly.
Thanks to my studies with Elodin, I had a high tolerance for the ridiculous. I held the stone to my ear and closed my eyes. I wondered if I should pretend to hear a story.
Then I was in the water, wet to the skin and spitting it. I spluttered and struggled to my feet while Denna laughed so hard she doubled over at the waist, barely able to stand.
I moved toward her, but she skipped away with a little shriek that left her laughing even harder. So I held off chasing and made a show of wiping water from my face and arms.
“Give up so easily?” she taunted. “Are you so sudden doused?”
I lowered my hand into the water. “I was hoping to find my stone again,” I said, pretending to look around for it.
Denna laughed, shaking her head. “You’ll not lure me in that easily.”
“I’m serious,” I said. “I wanted to hear the end of its story.”
“What story was that?” she asked teasingly, not coming any closer.
“It was the story of a girl who trifled with a powerful arcanist,” I said. “She mocked him and she scoffed at him. She laughed at him full scornfully. He caught her one day in a brook, and rhyming he did quell her fears. And then the girl forgot to look behind her, and it led to tears.”
I grinned at her and pulled my hand out of the water.
She turned in time for the wave to hit her. It was only as high as her waist, but it was enough to unbalance her. She went under in a swirl of dress and hair and bubbles.
The current carried her to me and I helped her to her feet, laughing.
She came to the surface looking three-days drowned. “Not fair!” she sputtered indignantly. “Not fair!”
“I disagree,” I said. “You’re the fairest water-maid I hope to see today.”
She splashed at me. “Flatter all you like, the truth remains for God to see. You cheated. I used honest trickery.”
She tried to dunk me then, but I was ready for it. We struggled for a while until we were pleasantly breathless. Only then did I realize how close she was. How lovely. How little our wet clothing seemed to separate us.
Denna seemed to realize it at the same time, and we moved a little apart from each other, as if suddenly shy. The wind stirred, reminding us how wet we were. Denna skipped lightly to the shore and stripped away her dress without a moment’s hesitation, tossing it over the greystone to dry. She wore a white shift underneath that clung to her as she made her way back into the water. She gave me a playful push as she passed me by, then crawled atop a smooth black boulder that lay half submerged near the center of the stream.
It was a perfect sunning stone, smooth basalt, dark as her eyes. The whiteness of her skin and the too-revealing shift were a sharp contrast against it, almost too bright to look on. She lay on her back and spread her hair to dry. Its wetness made a pattern against the stone that spelled the name of the wind. She closed her eyes and tipped her face toward the sun. Felurian herself could not have been more lovely, more perfectly at ease.
I moved toward the shore as well and stripped off my sodden shirt and vest. I had to be content with my wet pants, as I had nothing else to wear. “What does that stone tell you?” I asked to fill the silence as I laid my shirt next to her dress on the greystone.
She ran one hand over the smooth surface of the stone and spoke without opening her eyes. “This one is telling me what it is like to live in the water, but not be a fish.” She stretched like a cat. “Bring the basket over here, would you?”
I fetched the basket and waded out toward her, moving slowly so as not to splash. She lay perfect and still, as if asleep. But as I watched her mouth curved into a smile. “You’re quiet,” she said. “But I can smell you standing there.”
“Nothing bad I hope.”
She shook her head gently, still not opening her eyes. “You smell like dried flowers. Like strange spice smoldering, close to catching flame.”
“Like river water too, if I have any guess.”
She stretched again and smiled an easy smile, showing the perfect whiteness of her teeth, the perfect pinkness of her lips. She shifted her position on the rock slightly. Almost as if she were making room for me. Almost. I thought of joining her. The stone was large enough for two if they were willing to lie close. . . .
“Yes,” Denna said.
“Yes to what?” I asked.
“Your question,” she said, tilting her face toward me, her eyes still closed. “You’re about to ask me a question.” She adjusted her position slightly on the stone. “The answer is yes.”
How was I to take that? What should I ask for? A kiss? More? How much was too much to ask? Was this a test? I knew asking too much would only drive her away.
“I was wondering if you would move over a little,” I said gently.
“Yes.” She shifted again, making more space beside her. Then she opened her eyes, and they went wide at the sight of me standing shirtless above her. She glanced down and relaxed when she saw my pants.
I laughed, but her wide-eyed look of shock pushed me back into caution. I set the basket in the place I had thought to take myself. “What thought was that, my lady?”
She colored a bit, embarrassed. “I didn’t think you were the sort to bring a girl her lunch while you were running stark.” She gave a little shrug, looked at the basket, at me. “But I like you this way. My own bare-chested slave.” She closed her eyes again. “Feed me strawberries.”
I was happy to oblige, and so we passed the afternoon.
Lunch was long gone and the sun had dried us. For the first time since our fight in Severen, I felt things were right between us. The silences no longer lay around us like holes in the road. I knew it had just been a matter of waiting patiently until the tension passed.
As the afternoon slowly slid by, I knew this was the right time to bring up the subject I had been biting my tongue over for so long. I could see the dull green of old bruises on her upper arms, the remnant of a raised welt on her back. There was a scar on her leg above her knee, new enough that the red of it showed through the white of her shift.
All I needed to do was ask about them. If I phrased things carefully, she’d admit they were from her patron. From there it would be a simple thing to draw her out. To convince her she deserved better. That whatever he was offering her was not worth this abuse.
And for the first time in my life, I was in a position to offer her a way out. With Alveron’s line of credit and my work in the Fishery, money would never be a problem for me. For the first time in my life, I was wealthy. I could give her a way to escape. . . .
“What happened to your back?” Denna asked softly, interrupting my train of thought. She was still reclining on her stone, I was leaning against it, my feet in the water.