She heard the past tense “wanted” and felt something inside twist.This is good,she told herself firmly. It meant they were moving pastthat awkwardness. “We’re friends. Whatever happened or didn’t happen—we’re still friends.”
“Good,” Dax said, and he smiled a real smile.
Marin felt a surge of relief as potent as a gulp of wine.At least I haven’t ruined anything.
Surot and Ree came outside, and Ree bounded over to Dax. “We’re going on an adventure!” the shrub caroled.
“We are indeed,” Dax said cheerfully.
Marin crossed to Surot. This morning, the headwoman was clothed in a beautiful jade wrap dress. She still wore the same elaborate necklace and looked as regal as any queen. In a low voice so Dax wouldn’t overhear, Marin said to her, “We need to make it clear that we’re offering music, not my musician, in exchange for the boat.” Friend or not, she was absolutely not losing him to any boat-stealing oversize lizard.
“They’re as intelligent as your sea dragon,” Surot said. “Speak, and she’ll understand.”
Intelligent, sure, but would she be as friendly as Perri?
“Please tell me this isn’t a terrible idea,” Marin said, eyes still on Dax. A few feet away, Dax had hopped off the stone wall and was showing the guitar to Ree. It came with a strap for carrying it up mountains.
“I make no promises,” Surot said. “But our dragons are noble creatures. She will not harm your musician.”
Not harmwas not the same asnot keep, but Marin supposed it was the best she was going to get. It was either try this or give up onSilver, and she wasn’t willing to do that. “Then I guess we’d better start climbing.”
A guide had volunteered to lead them up the mountain. Not Surot, who’d said her bones creaked too much to make the climb. Their guide was a thirteen-year-old boy with green freckles named Ferix who had just gifted his first dragon with a catch of fresh fish, he’d told them. He then proceeded to list out exactly what species of fish were in the catch, what the length and weight of each fishwas, and in what order the dragon had consumed them. Marin only half listened as they started up the path through the spruce and fir trees toward the mountain. By the time they reached the base of the mountain beneath the boat, she was only a quarter listening.
Ree didn’t seem to mind maintaining the conversation with their guide, asking Ferix about the dragons, the mountains, the trees, the village, and anything else that popped into his mind.
Dax walked beside Marin. He had the guitar from the tavern strapped to his back and was wearing his own conservatory clothes, the ones he’d been wearing when the storm hit, freshly washed. She was back in her own clothes too, including her boots, with the ruby and her emergency supplies secured in their original pockets.
“Have you ever met a dragon?” Marin asked him, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t interfere with the steady stream of questions from Ree and endless answers from Ferix.
“Never,” Dax said.
“Do you…” She hesitated, not sure how to articulate her worry without making him think she doubted him. “Music isn’t a material item. Keva won’t be able to hoard it like a mound of gold.”
“It’s valuable. As essential to the human soul as air is to the lung. You think she won’t appreciate it because she isn’t human?”
“It’s a language that speaks to everyone,” Marin said, quoting him back to him. “It’s a language of the heart.”
He smiled.
“Besides, Ree loves your music, and he’s even less human than a dragon.”
Ree called back, “Hey, I heard that! And you are correct.”
Up this high, the wind barely smelled like the sea. Instead, it smelled sharp, like rust and pine. She noticed there were no birds on Ilreka, not even the gulls that loved every island in every weather. She wondered if the dragons scared them away or simply ate them.
“What kind of music do you think she’ll like?” Dax asked anxiously and adorably. “I have ideas, but I don’t want to make a mistake. There’s Stuben’s ‘Allegriti,’ which is not commonly done ona guitar but has a unique melodic run that revolutionized how we perceive progressions in a minor key. Or I could go with Anciana’s famous opus. Not melodic per se but utterly unique in how it continues the conversation with syncopated rhythms.”
Marin had zero idea what he was talking about, but it was sweet how enthusiastic he was. Like Ree about sailing. She wondered if anyone in that great conservatory had ever compared him to a sentient shrub. It was a high compliment, in her opinion. More people should strive to be like passionate shrubbery. “Play something you like,” she suggested.
“I can’t just chose what I like,” Dax said. “This is too important.”
“Itisimportant, and that’s why you should choose what you like. Is there a song or piece of music that made you fall in love with music?” Marin thought of the first time she fell in love with the sea—the earliest sail she could remember, when her parents brought her on their boat and she felt the wind and sea spray in her face and saw only blue stretched before her. That was all she remembered of that moment, but it was enough: the spray and the blue. She chased that same feeling every time she sailed.
“I… don’t know. I’ve always loved music.” He frowned, troubled, and then frowned harder as the path grew steeper. They were walking up a narrow path that switched back and forth up the barefaced mountain. The gravel crunched under their feet. “My first memory is of playing my dad’s flute for my parents. They were so happy, so proud of me. They had me play for everyone who came by.”
“What did you play?”
“That’s the thing,” Dax said. “I don’t remember. I think… I wasn’t in love with music then. I just loved that I could make them happy.” He fell silent.
