Bloodline Plant Lord: Rise of the World Sovereign

Lyra came back with damp boots tied to her pack and dried lake weed caught in the laces.

She had submitted the report at the survey post before leaving. At the Terrace, she set her gear beside the door, looked from Ren to Iris, and dropped into a chair.

”I want the skewers. The red ones.”

”Now?” Iris asked.

”Once I’ve washed. Will you both come?”

Ren reached for the pack before it could tip against her leg. ”Of course.”

”Good. I’ve wanted them since the second site.”

She left him to put the pack away. By the time she returned in clean clothes, Iris was waiting at the door. Ren joined them, and Lyra took his arm as they headed down toward the market.

— • —

Vendors were drawing in their awnings when they reached the second terrace. On the boats below, long poles hooked the floating lamps and lifted them aboard, leaving wider stretches of dark water between the moorings.

The skewer stall was still serving. Its owner had scraped half the griddle clean and gathered the remaining skewers at the other end.

”Three portions,” Lyra said, setting down her coins.

He divided what was left between three paper cones. Lyra passed two to Ren and Iris, then took a bite before they had moved away from the counter.

Ren remembered the sourness as soon as he tasted his own, followed by smoke and salt. Beside him, Lyra closed her eyes briefly while she chewed.

”What were you eating at the lake?” he asked.

”More dried fish than I want to see again for a while. We cooked other things with it, but I could still taste the fish.” She inspected the next piece on her skewer. ”I thought about this stall while I was writing the report.”

”Did you finish it before you left?” Iris asked.

”Yes. Though I kept going back to the second site.”

Someone came behind them carrying a stack of stools, and they moved on. At the lowest terrace, the ring-game floats had been gathered into a crate. The throwing rope hung coiled beside it.

They found room on the broad upper water step, clear of the vendors carrying things to the boats. Lyra sat between Ren and Iris and rested her cone on her knee. A few lamps still drifted beside the farther stalls.

— • —

”What happened at the second site?” Ren asked.

Lyra drew the empty skewer from her cone and laid it across the paper.

”We reached all three. Finished the first and third. At the second, I stopped with four stations still to sample.”

”Why?”

”The water was falling faster than the survey notes suggested. We took the boat through a shallow channel to a bar, then worked along it on foot. By the time we came back with the first collection, there was barely enough depth at the channel entrance for the loaded boat.”

She pointed toward a boat below them, where its reflection trembled against the hull.

”We checked along both sides for another way out. More mud, shallower water. The remaining stations were farther along the bar, and we had to keep the collected growth wet. Even if we left the jars aboard, everyone still had to get back.”

”So you left while you could,” Iris said.

”Yes. All four of us, with what we’d collected. Those last stations are listed as unsampled. I couldn’t give them a conclusion for the whole site.”

Ren lowered his food. ”Could you tell how long the channel would stay open?”

”Not closely enough to trust it. We’d already lost more depth than I expected.” She picked up her cone again without eating. ”But if we’d started earlier, or taken those stations first, we might have finished.”

”Would you have known to do that?”

”I should have checked the channel over a longer interval. I measured it before we went in. It looked deep enough then.”

Iris turned toward her. ”Would you stay longer if you were back there, with the boat loaded and the same water left?”

”No.” Lyra answered at once, then looked down at the skewer across her cone. ”I’d still bring them out.”

”Then it’s the preparation you want to change.”

”Mostly. I keep thinking about the jars we brought home empty.”

”I’d have wanted to finish too,” Ren said. ”But I can’t tell you how much longer you had from here.”

”Neither could I, standing there.” She shifted the cone onto her other knee. ”Next time I’ll check the water’s fall before committing the boat to a channel like that. Take measurements far enough apart to see what it’s doing.”

Below them, a vendor pulled a pole along the water to bring a lamp within reach. Lyra watched him lift it, then took another skewer.

”I do want a next time,” she said. ”Another team of my own. Maybe a longer contract, farther out.”

”Already looking?” Iris asked.

”Not yet. I liked choosing the people and working out the visits. They were good to work with. Even when we had to pack everything up early, they got on with it.” She leaned back on one hand. ”I’d ask them again.”

Ren rested his shoulder against hers. ”I missed you.”

”I missed both of you.”

”Meals were quieter,” Iris said.

Lyra turned to her. ”You could have written more.”

”I thought you’d be busy.”

”I was. I still liked getting them.”

Iris nodded. Lyra reached for the hand resting on the stone between them, and Iris turned it into hers. They sat together while Ren finished his food, listening to the boats shift against their moorings.

— • —

”Did Holt approve the bridge?” Lyra asked.

”It ran while you were both away.” Iris smiled. ”He changed the starting time and kept the rest.”

The twelve first-years had gone over the training ridge in three groups of four. Each group carried more equipment than it could take across the bridge in one crossing. Holt supervised at the entrance; Iris waited at the far end.

”Two groups read the sign,” she said. ”They put everything down, worked out the loads, and split their crossings. The last group kept walking until Holt stopped them.”

”And then they read it?” Ren asked.

”Then they had to take the long route. With everything.”

”Were you there when they arrived?”

”Yes. One of them asked why the others had been allowed across. Holt asked what the sign said. None of the four could tell him.”

Lyra laughed. ”You enjoyed that.”

”I did. But the second group was better to watch. They unpacked twice because they hadn’t counted the loose rope with the packs. One of them noticed just before they started across.” Iris reached for her food with her free hand. ”They were annoyed, but they went back and divided it again.”

”Has Holt asked for another?”

”Yes.” Her smile widened. ”I have three ideas. I need to choose one before I show him.”

”Still only one problem allowed?” Ren asked.

”He reminded me.”

— • —

Lyra finished another skewer and looked into Ren’s empty cone.

”Was the food good on Kilnreach?”

”The fruit was. We had it at a counter under the canopy, cool enough to be worth sitting down for after the port.”

He had told Iris about the covered streets on their walk from the transit hall. Now he described the basin the vendor had shown Eira: shallow stone beneath the fruit tray, supplied through a narrow channel from a well, with the cloth’s edges hanging into the water.

”So the cloth stayed wet?” Lyra asked.

”As long as they kept the channel clear. He told us to keep it out of the sun too.”

”I’d like to try that for the food on a survey boat. A basin would need fastening down, though. Everything slides when someone steps aboard.”

”You had cold water available.”

”Plenty. I’d have to change it before it warmed up.” She took the last piece from her skewer. ”Would have been useful when we stopped to eat.”

Ren told her about the other vendor, the one who had pulled his produce rack back into the shade without interrupting his conversation. He described the children taking the covered lane around a bright opening, and the keepers tying new growth over the street.

”Was there room to walk beneath them while they worked?” Lyra asked.

”On the other side. Everyone knew where to go. We followed Sol with the frame and tried to keep out of the way.” ℴ

Lyra leaned against him as he described the climb from the port. Her cone was empty now, its skewers gathered inside. Ren took it when she offered it and put it with his own.

— • —

The last floating lamp beside their terrace came out dripping. Its owner set it on the boat’s deck, where the light caught the wet pole as he laid it down. Behind them, someone began sweeping beneath the closed skewer stall.

”What have you been doing since you got back?” Lyra asked.

”Among other things, asking the craftsperson to make me a throwing spear.”

She lifted her head. ”What brought that on?”

”I bought a method at the archive. Farcast. It needs a weapon fitted for the release. We’ve chosen worked glass for the head and wood for the haft.”

”Have you tried it?”

”Just the movement with a wooden blank. The spear still needs making and checking.”

”I’d like to watch when you test it.”

”Come with us. I’ll tell you when it’s ready.”

”Good.” She looked toward the stairs. ”Shall we go?”

Iris stood with her, letting go of her hand to brush the crumbs from her clothes. Ren gathered the papers and dropped them into a waste basket on the terrace above.

At the top of the steps, Lyra stopped to look back. Lights still burned on the boats, but the spaces where the lamps had floated were dark. A vendor called to someone across the water and received a shouted answer.

Lyra slipped her arm through Ren’s, then held out her other hand to Iris. They started home together, moving aside at the first narrow turn to let a man with a loaded barrow pass.