Selkies' Skins
Chapter Eight part 2
Here and Gone
“Oilspill.” Kirsty's voice was dull and flat. "That's going to be a pain to clean."
Her father nodded, resting his hands on her shoulders from behind her, gazing at the glaring dot of fire. "You know what this means."
"That you definitely won't be going with me to the station."
He nodded again, then retrieved a quill and parchment from his desk, writing down the coordinates. "Be good for Byron, won't you?"
"Of course, Da."
Finnol nodded, then quietly left the study. Kirsty could hear him walking down the hall to the mudroom, and the squeak of rubber as he put on his response gear. Closing her eyes, she could picture him in the yellow suit easily, though it did not suit him. Perhaps a minute later, at the most, she heard the door open and shut, and she knew he was gone to the Cosantóir.
A gentle tap sounded on the doorjamb. When she turned around, she saw Olan, wild dark hair framing his face in bushy masses that eerily resembled seaweed, and onyx pupil-less eyes regarding her.
"What's the alarm about?"
It sank in that Banu's cries had joined the din, and continued after the painting's calls and the klaxon had subsided. She pointed to the map.
"Oil spill out in the Atlantic. So Da's gone to help deal with it."
"Alone?"
"Doubt Da will be alone. He'll likely meet up on the way with the Merrow family and the Andersen's." She paused a moment, considering the likely trajectories of the others whose home ports she knew offhand without the need of looking up. "Possibly a few other seawitches. Then, of course, the Cowans will have their disaster response crews out. Let's have a look at the weather."
She went to one of the many shelves, tracing her finger over a small silver and gold globe, etched with an accurate map of the planet, then blew over it lightly. On removing her finger, it began to spin slowly, and clouds began to form and pass over the surface. Olan flinched back warily, then approached when nothing struck out at him.
He tapped warily, and Kirsty shook her head.
“It won't hurt you. It's just an enchanted item to show the current weather patterns. Handy thing when planning voyages, but not good for predicting weather.”
With a tap of her wand, she planted the coordinates of the spill onto the globe, and it stopped spinning. She frowned at the size of one of the fronts in the northern sea, and sighed.
“At least the spill is on what looks like the trailing edge, and not the leading edge of a storm system. Biggest problem will be the Tritons, if I'm remembering Da's map of known locations rightly.”
“So, Lady Kirsty... What do we do here?”
“Here?” She looked at him, and her voice dropped to a whisper and flattened. “A dhath ar bith... Nothing at all... Just fish from shore with the nets, help Byron tend his sheep, keep the Lady company and bring her anything she desires, see to any that wash up on the shore, or go fix Mrs. Kitsch's water problems if she sends word.”
A tap of her wand, slightly harder than needed, wiped the globe of its clouds, and Olan winced at the contrast of the sharp sound with the silence that had followed her statement.
“Let's get back to bed Olan...”
He nodded, following quietly and shutting the door, making no comment on her clenching fists or her paleness. Instead, he slipped up the stairs and into the room he was sharing with the other Selkies.
“Well?” Connor whispered, after the door clicked.
Olan continued looking at the doorknob, not quite ready to raise his eyes to the tangle of limbs, discarded skins, blankets and pillows on the floor of their erstwhile lair. Banu had begun with his soft snores again, but the stirring next to Connor's voice told him that Mani had not gone back to sleep yet.
“In the morning. Hopefully she won't start having nightmares about this too.”
“Do... You think we should ask her if she wants to come and den with us tonight?” Mani whispered.
“I think she might take offense right now, though she could use the contact.”
Her father nodded, resting his hands on her shoulders from behind her, gazing at the glaring dot of fire. "You know what this means."
"That you definitely won't be going with me to the station."
He nodded again, then retrieved a quill and parchment from his desk, writing down the coordinates. "Be good for Byron, won't you?"
"Of course, Da."
Finnol nodded, then quietly left the study. Kirsty could hear him walking down the hall to the mudroom, and the squeak of rubber as he put on his response gear. Closing her eyes, she could picture him in the yellow suit easily, though it did not suit him. Perhaps a minute later, at the most, she heard the door open and shut, and she knew he was gone to the Cosantóir.
A gentle tap sounded on the doorjamb. When she turned around, she saw Olan, wild dark hair framing his face in bushy masses that eerily resembled seaweed, and onyx pupil-less eyes regarding her.
"What's the alarm about?"
It sank in that Banu's cries had joined the din, and continued after the painting's calls and the klaxon had subsided. She pointed to the map.
"Oil spill out in the Atlantic. So Da's gone to help deal with it."
"Alone?"
"Doubt Da will be alone. He'll likely meet up on the way with the Merrow family and the Andersen's." She paused a moment, considering the likely trajectories of the others whose home ports she knew offhand without the need of looking up. "Possibly a few other seawitches. Then, of course, the Cowans will have their disaster response crews out. Let's have a look at the weather."
She went to one of the many shelves, tracing her finger over a small silver and gold globe, etched with an accurate map of the planet, then blew over it lightly. On removing her finger, it began to spin slowly, and clouds began to form and pass over the surface. Olan flinched back warily, then approached when nothing struck out at him.
He tapped warily, and Kirsty shook her head.
“It won't hurt you. It's just an enchanted item to show the current weather patterns. Handy thing when planning voyages, but not good for predicting weather.”
With a tap of her wand, she planted the coordinates of the spill onto the globe, and it stopped spinning. She frowned at the size of one of the fronts in the northern sea, and sighed.
“At least the spill is on what looks like the trailing edge, and not the leading edge of a storm system. Biggest problem will be the Tritons, if I'm remembering Da's map of known locations rightly.”
“So, Lady Kirsty... What do we do here?”
“Here?” She looked at him, and her voice dropped to a whisper and flattened. “A dhath ar bith... Nothing at all... Just fish from shore with the nets, help Byron tend his sheep, keep the Lady company and bring her anything she desires, see to any that wash up on the shore, or go fix Mrs. Kitsch's water problems if she sends word.”
A tap of her wand, slightly harder than needed, wiped the globe of its clouds, and Olan winced at the contrast of the sharp sound with the silence that had followed her statement.
“Let's get back to bed Olan...”
He nodded, following quietly and shutting the door, making no comment on her clenching fists or her paleness. Instead, he slipped up the stairs and into the room he was sharing with the other Selkies.
“Well?” Connor whispered, after the door clicked.
Olan continued looking at the doorknob, not quite ready to raise his eyes to the tangle of limbs, discarded skins, blankets and pillows on the floor of their erstwhile lair. Banu had begun with his soft snores again, but the stirring next to Connor's voice told him that Mani had not gone back to sleep yet.
“In the morning. Hopefully she won't start having nightmares about this too.”
“Do... You think we should ask her if she wants to come and den with us tonight?” Mani whispered.
“I think she might take offense right now, though she could use the contact.”
~~~~*~~~~
Previous Contents Next
Live Journal
Dreamwidth
Copyright 2012 Teresa Garcia
Like the story? Vote here at Top Web Fiction.
Got a question? Ask it and maybe the answer will be revealed in the story, or in a comment if not part of the story. Spy a typo? Please let me know!
Live Journal
Dreamwidth
Copyright 2012 Teresa Garcia
Like the story? Vote here at Top Web Fiction.
Got a question? Ask it and maybe the answer will be revealed in the story, or in a comment if not part of the story. Spy a typo? Please let me know!
