One Prick to Bleed

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

A distant, low whine floated over the lapping water, drawing old Coran’s eyes into the glistening heat over the lake. Distances were blurry now, but his ears deciphered the craft approaching. He shrugged his hunched shoulders and knuckled the brim of his floppy hat upward. It would be a few more minutes, no need to rush.

His chapped hands shucked the long, thick vegetable in his hands, the silken fibers dropping to the growing pile at his feet. Sweat trickled down his temples, slipping into his ears, irritating him. Coran rubbed his left ear against his shoulder. Telmé would be here soon, basket on her hip, to collect the silk. She would lament over stolen time, but Coran knew behind her rough, grouchy words, she had been impressed and excited by the young couple’s brief time on the verandah. And, no doubt, she had been just as pleased with last night’s communication. No doubt, indeed, she had poor Evvé cooking delicious treats Coran would never be allowed to touch.

Coran stopped mid-shuck.

His beady, aging eyes sought the gondola nearing this northeastern shore. It flashed under the high, late morning sun. No one was expected until the afternoon . . . They could not have reached Balmay from Thasyin so soon, unless they traveled by night . . .

The old lake master dropped his chore and shuffled out of his shady perch on the dock’s crest. Curiosity more than alarm glittered in his dark eyes. The gondola slowed as it neared the dock, and Coran could see it was a smaller craft. A lone figure sat at the helm.

“Lok’hai,” he uttered.

Telmé will love this, Coran thought as he entered the dock hut. The dock’s computer twittered alertly, its main screen focused on the gondola now gliding smoothly to a stop. This unexpected arrival had hailed him upon entering the Great Mouth two hours ago, but he had been enjoying his mid-morning pipe and soaking in the rising heat as the sun finally topped the mountains.

No matter.

Coran left the hut and shuffled down to the dock. Oh, Telmé would love this indeed. Lok’hai, here! How long had it been? At least it was Lok’hai and not someone expecting a grand holiday getaway, not now, not with those two due up from Thasyin!

“Hallo!” he called when he reached the gondola.

The lone figure was standing motionlessly at the prow. Although he had not seen one in years, Coran knew a Lok’hai when he saw one. The religion tended to wax and wan among the Naboo, sometimes emerging as the new vogue for the young. He had never really understood it, only knew it had something to do with self-placement, meditation, and lots of inward thinking and outward flowing or some other nonsense. This one, like the others that used to come up here, was clad head to toe in solemn, earthy green so faded it could almost be gray. A thin veil covered her face, blurring her features except for her eyes, which watched him with utter calm.

“Hallo,” Coran said again, knuckling his forehead. “I s’pose you’ve taken that vow of silence, then?”

The hooded head nodded once.

“Right, right.” Coran shifted a bit. He never liked that about the Lok’hai. They were easy guests for a lake master, being so quiet and isolated and respectful, but it made him feel a little foolish. At least the Vowed Ones were allowed to whisper to the common folk when need be.

“Well, come on out,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you, but your lot aren’t any trouble.”

The Lok’hai, so motionless, seemed to dissolve into fluid as she stepped up onto the dock. She was so small, almost like a child. But Coran had never seen a child with those eyes. They watched him from beneath her hood, large and dark, calm and emotionless.