where we’re heading? I mean, because of the moving Bergs and all… aren’t the north nymphs bound to be in a different place every day? And come to think of it, what keeps them or your tribe from moving too far south, or north, or even out into the open sea?”
She considered the inquiries coolly, then answered. “Your first question is simply explained. I have been to the Reethe Circle once before, a few years ago, when my father took me to the Great Celebration held every seventeen years by all three sea-nymph tribes. Your second question’s answer is simply no, and the explanation is tied into the answer of your third.”
“I see,” he lied.
She smiled, seemingly catching his irony. “I will do my best to explain, for your benefit, Gribly, and for yours as well, Lauro.” She nodded to each in turn. “The Zain in the South, as you know, live on the land and have for the most part lost their ability to Change Forms. The Treele have not… did not, I meant to say…” her voice trailed off and Gribly saw that she was obviously biting back the bitter memories of the dead. When she had recovered, she continued. “My people still kept their Other Forms strong, and there were also many Wave Striders among us. I was one, and my father was another. Together the Wave Striders of the Treele were always able to keep our Tribe Circle’s Berg floating only where we wanted it to go.
“In the winter we would steer it into the southern waters and sometimes trade with the Sainarch’s nymphs. We had been about to do that when… when… But in any case, we have always been able to live wherever we will in the Inkwell, thanks to our Wave Striders. The Reethe make use of a similar strategy to keep their dwellings rooted in place year round.”
“Frost Striders!” Gribly interrupted, suddenly remembering the ranger Byorne’s words back at the Arches. “The Reethe have Frost Striders instead of Wave Striders, don’t they?”
“Yes,” she answered, a little irked by the interruption but patient nonetheless. “Have you heard of them?”
“Only the name,” Gribly faltered. Lauro added unhelpfully that he knew legends but no facts, so Elia explained further.
“Frost Striders are similar to Wave Striders, but they are attuned more to the snow than the sea. Their power is more over the winter than the sea that the winter makes cold. More than that I cannot tell you, for my people do not know or pry into the matters of the other tribes. Simply put, the Reethe tend their homes differently than us. They anchor them with ice they have shaped, making immovable little islands of snow and ice in the northern waters of the Inkwell. Over time the dust and dirt of the mainland has blown onto these islands and gathered there. Now some of them are true islands, with grass and even a few spindly trees. The Reethe are the oldest of the tribes, and the strongest. My own people have always been small… open to attack…” her voice broke and she seemed to shrink, drawing her knees up to her chin and rocking on her feet.
“I’m sorry,” Gribly said, briefly touching her shoulder. He wished he could do something to comfort her over her loss, and so the words came before he could stop them. “I think I know some of what you feel. I was brought up by an old woman who was always kind to me, to replace the parents I never knew. The Pit Strider killed her, and- and he cut her up pretty badly, too. So I know how it feels, a little… to lose somebody. Somebody who means a lot. Even if I am just a thieving street urchin.” His feeling was genuine, and he turned away sadly to stare out over the open bay and the shining sea beyond. From the sun’s position, the morning was almost gone.
He turned back to find Elia asleep, curled up in the narrow bow of the boat.
“She’s been through a lot- more than us, in the
She considered the inquiries coolly, then answered. “Your first question is simply explained. I have been to the Reethe Circle once before, a few years ago, when my father took me to the Great Celebration held every seventeen years by all three sea-nymph tribes. Your second question’s answer is simply no, and the explanation is tied into the answer of your third.”
“I see,” he lied.
She smiled, seemingly catching his irony. “I will do my best to explain, for your benefit, Gribly, and for yours as well, Lauro.” She nodded to each in turn. “The Zain in the South, as you know, live on the land and have for the most part lost their ability to Change Forms. The Treele have not… did not, I meant to say…” her voice trailed off and Gribly saw that she was obviously biting back the bitter memories of the dead. When she had recovered, she continued. “My people still kept their Other Forms strong, and there were also many Wave Striders among us. I was one, and my father was another. Together the Wave Striders of the Treele were always able to keep our Tribe Circle’s Berg floating only where we wanted it to go.
“In the winter we would steer it into the southern waters and sometimes trade with the Sainarch’s nymphs. We had been about to do that when… when… But in any case, we have always been able to live wherever we will in the Inkwell, thanks to our Wave Striders. The Reethe make use of a similar strategy to keep their dwellings rooted in place year round.”
“Frost Striders!” Gribly interrupted, suddenly remembering the ranger Byorne’s words back at the Arches. “The Reethe have Frost Striders instead of Wave Striders, don’t they?”
“Yes,” she answered, a little irked by the interruption but patient nonetheless. “Have you heard of them?”
“Only the name,” Gribly faltered. Lauro added unhelpfully that he knew legends but no facts, so Elia explained further.
“Frost Striders are similar to Wave Striders, but they are attuned more to the snow than the sea. Their power is more over the winter than the sea that the winter makes cold. More than that I cannot tell you, for my people do not know or pry into the matters of the other tribes. Simply put, the Reethe tend their homes differently than us. They anchor them with ice they have shaped, making immovable little islands of snow and ice in the northern waters of the Inkwell. Over time the dust and dirt of the mainland has blown onto these islands and gathered there. Now some of them are true islands, with grass and even a few spindly trees. The Reethe are the oldest of the tribes, and the strongest. My own people have always been small… open to attack…” her voice broke and she seemed to shrink, drawing her knees up to her chin and rocking on her feet.
“I’m sorry,” Gribly said, briefly touching her shoulder. He wished he could do something to comfort her over her loss, and so the words came before he could stop them. “I think I know some of what you feel. I was brought up by an old woman who was always kind to me, to replace the parents I never knew. The Pit Strider killed her, and- and he cut her up pretty badly, too. So I know how it feels, a little… to lose somebody. Somebody who means a lot. Even if I am just a thieving street urchin.” His feeling was genuine, and he turned away sadly to stare out over the open bay and the shining sea beyond. From the sun’s position, the morning was almost gone.
He turned back to find Elia asleep, curled up in the narrow bow of the boat.
“She’s been through a lot- more than us, in the
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