Original

It was Haraan's last day in Mauhu, and the weather had never been better.

Out on the patio, an ocean breeze blew in from the north, bringing up with it the waxy scents of palm and ficus leaves from the lower forests. It danced through the thatched bungalow behind him, around the reed-woven chairs and between the lanterns, and into the town behind that, nudging the walkways which ran between the trees. The beaches at the water's edge, hundreds of feet below the suspended settlement, shined like polished teeth under the clear summer sky.

The eight-year-old had heard the weather would not be this good where his family was heading. He heard it rained hard enough in the autumn to kill anyone caught outside, and that the sun would be smaller there, colder. That was what Ren said. He had not been mean about it, nor had he rubbed it in. He had presented those facts flatly, in his normal, this-is-how-it-is way, and had advised Haraan to find a good raincoat.

Haraan hated raincoats. He was small, even for a Loeri kid, and every raincoat he had ever worn practically nibbled at his knees. Give him what he was wearing right now: a thin shirt with sleeves and a stitch-up front, and light, loose pants — he could run anywhere in those clothes, but a raincoat would only bog him down. If the weather up there was going to be as Ren said, then he might as well stay inside for the rest of his life.

A door swung open behind him. He heard his mother call him. "Kiddo? How are you — Oh, Lady. It's nice out here." She walked over and joined him at the patio rail, resting her hands on the bamboo. Like him, Lyra had a head of black hair, blue eyes, and was slight of frame. Her dress, light and undyed as dresses on Liliota Island tended to be, exuded a mix of citrus and pan-fried fish from the kitchen. She inhaled through her nose as the next breeze blew in, stretched her back, and sighed. She looked over at him. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want a stupid raincoat," Haraan grumbled, staring straight ahead.

"No one does. They all want the intelligent ones," said Lyra.

"I mean I don't want to move," he said, dragging his nails along the rail. "Why do we have to leave? Can't Dad just stay here and not be a captain?"

Fingers slipped into his hair and ruffled it, back and forth in a rhythm. "Your dad's going back to do what he loves," said his mother. "He loves being out on the ocean. That's where we first met, after all, you know. When we had you, we never planned on staying here forever. We just needed a quieter place to raise you, that's all."

There was a moment of silence between the two. The wind picked up again and shook the leaves. It sounded very much like rain.

"I like quiet," said Haraan.

"Because that's all you know, kiddo. Your Dad and I wouldn't be going back to Talery Bay if we didn't think you'd have a better life there. You know how you always race through this town with Ren? You're going to meet a bunch more people who will be as amazing as him, and they'll keep you busy. I'm sure you're going to love it there."

To this, Haraan said nothing. Someone was out there on the ocean, pulling a net into his boat hand over hand. The breeze picked up once more.

"What is Ren up to right now?"

"He's upstairs, playing with his sister." Haraan made a face. She was weird. How else could he say it? How Ren could stand being her brother—

Lyra bopped him on the crown with her knuckles. Not very hard, but firmly enough to make a point. "Kaela is a fine girl now, and she will grow up to be a fine woman one day. Just you wait. You'll be glad to have known her."

Haraan rubbed his head and frowned.

"You know what? You should ask them if they want to go outside. Kellie and I could even bring dinner down to the beach and we could have a picnic."

The idea of a picnic got Haraan to cheer up—for a moment. He was all for running around with Ren, but it would be better if his sister stayed behind. She tended to wander off and climb into bizarre places they would not have even noticed. He turned to his mother. "Are you sure you can get the food down there?"

"It's not too late to change the menu to sandwiches. But I'll be counting on you to find us a good spot down there, first. One without any other people on it for us and for Ren's family, understood?"

Haraan nodded.

"Good." Lyra started heading back to the kitchen. "I'm going back to tell Kellie about our agreement," she called over her shoulder. "Make sure you hold up your end, young man."

Once his mother was indoors, Haraan pushed himself off the rail and looked around. How was he going to keep Kaela here while he and Ren went looking for the picnic spot? He could try calling Ren away for a bit—his sister was the type to wait patiently, too patiently, for someone to come back if they had to leave for someplace.

There was that one time they were outside when it started raining, and he told her to wait a moment while he ran inside for a towel. A mug of hot cocoa and a change of clothes later, he suddenly wondered where Kaela was, only to find her outdoors, in the same place he had left her, shivering and soaked. What did she do then? She smiled and shrugged it off, saying that the rain had told her to trust her friend to come back.

That the rain told her anything was only the start of her problems.

Confident in his scheme, Haraan walked upstairs, keeping his steps light. The hallway leading to Ren's room was lit by two old lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, casting orange light on framed photographs of Ren's family—two with just his parents, one more with him included, and the other three with Kaela. The light from downstairs pierced between the edges of the floor slats, and the patterns they cast on the ceiling shifted as Haraan went along. At Ren's door, he heard them talking on the other side.

"Who do you think is out there?" Ren asked.

"It's Haraan, of course," answered his sister.

"How can you tell?"

"Because he's the only one who comes up here so quietly, isn't he?"

Haraan stifled a groan. That was the kind of thing about her that annoyed him the most: her ability to make him feel stupid, time and time again, without any effort. She had once called to him while he was climbing a stairway when he tripped on a raised footboard and dented the wood with his head. When the pain let him see again and she arrived at his side, she told him she had wanted to warn him about the danger. He could not even hit her for it, not because she was a girl—a slight one at that, even thinner and shorter than he was, despite being the same age—but because he somehow knew she was not out to get him on purpose.

He heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It opened inward, and Ren's head peeked out from the threshold. "What is it?"

Ren, two years Haraan's senior, had inherited his mother's straw-colored hair and his father's stocky constitution, minus the beer gut. His brown eyes bore an expression that said, "you will be quick about this," or so Haraan thought. He recovered a little when he saw his friend was already wearing light clothes, much like his, meaning they would be out of the house—and away from Kaela—sooner.

"Mom just needs a little help from us," he said, pulling his thumb down the hallway. "Would you mind coming? It'll be fun and we won't be gone long." Keep it simple, he thought. He never said where the help was needed, or what it was—it certainly was not "downstairs" or "chopping vegetables," and Ren would be smart enough to catch onto his hidden meanings. He turned to leave when Ren's hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"Can it wait? I'm in the middle of a game," he said.

Haraan turned back. "It can't really wait. You'll have to leave the game alone for a bit or dinner won't happen." The thought had entered his head like the sound of a tree limb snapping in a wind, and he was happy for it—it was always energizing, but he could only stand so many before his mind collapsed. If Ren turned this into an argument, that wind would become a monsoon. "They need us," he finished, realizing his gaffe in the narowing of Ren's eyes.

"They? I thought it was just your mom."

"Well, your mom asked for help, too." Haraan forced himself to keep eye contact. A lie, no matter how small it began, never helped him win against Ren.

"What do they need us to do? Chop vegetables?"

"Nah, they've got that covered. We just need to head down and set the... table." There were no tables on the beach, but if he said blanket, that would have given it away, would it not have?

"That's not bad." Ren looked over his shoulder at his sister. "Hey, wanna come help us set the table?"

"Oh, she's fine where she is," Haraan blurted, grabbing Ren's wrist. "We can set the table and be right back up here in no time at all." He stopped, another idea whipping to mind before Ren could preempt him. "Hey, Kaela, you don't mind waiting for us, do you—waugh!"

When Haraan first spoke with Ren, Kaela had been sitting in the middle of his room—well, their room, they shared it. He had not seen her approach until she was next to her brother, and next to him. Like Ren, she had straw-colored hair, but she had green eyes, eyes that stared into him with the calm weight of seas.

"Can I help? You can play with us too, if you want."

Haraan's jaw wobbled soundlessly before he caught up with himself. He was, however, disarmed for the moment, and a question tumbled out of him before he could bite it back. "What were you two playing? I don't see any games out at all."

"Questions," Kaela replied. "We're both winning at the moment."

"Huh?"

"'Huh?'" Kaela looked up at the ceiling, smiled, and looked back at Haraan. "That's kind of an odd question. So, I'll give it an odd answer. Huh-nuh-nuh gibble barble. Eep!" She reached over and poked Haraan on the nose. "Lloo! Haha!"

"The point of the game is to ask interesting questions." There was the barest hint of restraint showing on Ren's face. "That last one put you a little behind, honestly."

Haraan snapped, "Forget about the dumb questions! Kaela stays here, you—" pointing at Ren, "—are coming with me. To set the table."

Two hands slammed palm-out into his chest, sending him into the other wall. Ren was standing over him in the next instant.

And you," he said, "are not going to order my sister around, or I'm gonna hit you. You think she makes you look like an idiot? You don't have to be smart to see the truth. You're always the one making an idiot out of yourself. Not her."

The two boys glared at each other, their chests heaving, their shoulders taut, for several breaths. Ren was the first to relax. He shook his head and held out his hand. Haraan took it without another word.

"This is your last night here." Ren pulled Haraan to his feet. "There's no point in fighting. I'm going to miss you, and so will Kaela. I hope you'll feel the same way about the both of us."

Haraan looked down the hallway, out to the ocean, where the sky's bright yellow began to deepen to orange and the scattered clouds turned purple. He realized he had a knot in his throat that refused to come unstuck, no matter how hard he swallowed. His vision became curiously blurry.

"Kaela's coming with us," Ren said. "Now—what did your mom ask us to do?"