Passage - Lois McMaster Bujold [136]
“Hey, Boss!” Hod called through the front hatch. “More visitors!”
Dag locked his oar and walked forward to the roof edge. He looked down to see the top of Berry’s blond head bob through. She stopped as if stone-struck; the tin cup in her hand fell to the deck with a clank and rolled disregarded, spilling a last mouthful of tea.
The handsome young man looked up at her with recognition in his gray eyes and, Dag would swear, a flash of horror.
“Alder!” Berry shrieked, and flung herself forward to wrap around the startled fellow nearly from top to toe. His arms hesitated in the air, then closed around her to return the hug. “Alder, Alder!” Berry repeated joyously, her face muffled in his shoulder. “You’re alive!”
19
Berry’s radiant joy seemed to light up the air around her; in contrast, Alder’s roiling ground darkened in consternation. Dag set his feet apart and stared down, hand on his jaw, fingers spread hard across his lips. What is this? Hod grinned uncertainly. Whit abandoned his steering oar and came to Dag’s side to peer over, his eyes widening in a suddenly set face.
“Hawthorn, Bo! Fawn, come on out here! I’ve found Alder!” Berry called.
Alder’s hand made a futile gesture and fell to his side; he stretched his mouth in a smile as Hawthorn came bolting out of the hatch with a yell of glee. The boy might have hugged Alder if Berry hadn’t already held that space with no sign of giving it up; as it was, he danced around the pair, whooping. Fawn and Bo followed at a less violent pace. A curious Remo dodged the crowd by hoisting himself up from the back deck and strolling forward to watch.
As the cries of greeting swirled around Alder, his skiff mate looked up and spotted Remo. “Alder!” he gasped. “There’s a Lakewalker on this here boat! We have to leave off. You know Crane don’t want us to mess with no Lakewalkers.”
Alder stared up at the row of spectators lining the edge of the cabin roof. He drew a short breath. “No, Skink—there’s two. That tall one’s haircut fooled me at a distance.”
Berry grinned widely at him. “Three, actually. Dag and Remo’ve been in my crew since Pearl Riffle, and Barr, um, signed on later. They’re all real tame, though—you don’t have to be scared of ’em.”
Alder gulped. “No, not scared, but—I guess you won’t be needing a pilot, huh?”
“No,” agreed Skink loudly. “These folks don’t need us. Come on away, Alder.”
Alder swung to his companion. “No, you don’t understand. This girl here”—he waved at Berry—“she’s my betrothed. Was. Is. From back at Clearcreek. Did you come all the—no, yes, of course you came from Clearcreek. Had to have. We can’t… hire on this boat, Skink.”
Skink said uneasily, “Right, that’s what I said. What you want t’ do, then?”
Hawthorn interrupted urgently, “Alder, where were you? Where’s Papa and Buckthorn and the Briar Rose? Where’s the other boat hands that was with you?”
Berry stood a little away from Alder, wrenched unwillingly from her elation by these harder questions. “Oh, Alder, why didn’t you come home? Or write, or send word up the river with someone? It’s coming on eleven months since you left. We’ve been worried sick about you all!”
Alder’s lips moved wordlessly. He swallowed and found at least a few: “I’m so sorry, Berry. The Briar Rose sank in a storm near here last winter. I was the only one as got off. Some fellows from”—he glanced at Skink—“from a hunting camp up in the Elbow picked me up off the shore, nearly dead. I was sick for weeks—lung fever. By the time I got better, there was no sign of the boat but a few boards caught in a towhead. The river took the rest.”
“Are you sure?” asked Berry anxiously. “They might have got downstream of you and thought you was lost—no, they would have sent word somehow…” Her breath went out of her in a long sigh.
Hawthorn’s hopeful face crumpled; Berry folded him in one arm. His back shook. “Shh, Hawthorn,” she said, hugging him tight. “We always