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Cliopher looked out at the dark water, at the glimpses of color from the reef under the foam and dazzle of the surface.
As it turned out, he had not yet met a challenge he would not face, so long as he had the time to prepare. Even if it was foolish. Even if he hated it.
Fitzroy’s hand found his on the edge of the vaha.
Cliopher turned to smile at him, laughing a little at the sight of the snorkel mask over his fanoa’s eyes. He couldn’t laugh too much though, he was wearing the same thing.
“Are you ready?” Fitzroy asked, his hand coming up to grab at the snorkel mouthpiece dangling awkwardly from the mask, unconnected to a tube.
Cliopher had told Fitzroy that he trusted him and his magic, that he trusted that he could hold the spell on them without concern. Fitzroy had given him big sad eyes and said that he had missed creating little magic artifacts.
Cliopher checked his own mask, checked the mouthpiece, checked the rope harness Fitzroy had wound and tied around his bare form before they set sail from Loaloa that morning. The currents were strong, and it would be safer for Fitzroy to grab at the rope than to attempt to grab at Cliopher’s arm if something happened. He could not quite tell if he could feel Fitzroy’s magic cradling him, but he did not need to feel it to trust in it. He always trusted in Fitzroy, but the rope harness was . . . nice.
“Ready,” Cliopher said, and he fit the mouthpiece into his mouth.
They slipped into the water together, hand in hand.
Cliopher had to remind himself to breathe sometimes as they swam around each other under the surface, exploring the shallow coral depths. All of his years of swimming told him to hold his breath when he felt water against his face.
They surfaced together. After so much time spent under the water, it felt unbearably loud above the waves.
Fitzroy spat out his mouthpiece to say, “Are you doing alright, Kip?”
Cliopher nodded. He could not bring himself to speak, to add to the noise of the world. He held out his hand to Fitzroy, who quickly fit his mouthpiece back into his mouth, and then the two of them ducked back into the water.
They swam down.
Cliopher did not know where the rip current that had stolen him away was exactly. Perhaps it wasn’t always there; certainly Buru Tovo would not have taken him to dive for pearls had he known of it.
They swam down.
They passed below the reef and Fitzroy paused. Cliopher waited with him, staring down into the abyssal deep. The coral above them seemed to glow white. Cliopher saw the silver fish again, darting this way and that.
They swam down.
The pressure was terrific. Cliopher wasn’t sure how he was still breathing, even with the mouthpiece, except that he knew he was, he knew that he must be. They were below the nefalao clams that held the flame pearls, the water so dark a blue, and even darker beneath them. It was cold and silent and dark and lonely -
Fitzroy’s hand tightened on Cliopher’s.
Cliopher brought his free hand up to his chest, pressing the rope into his skin.
Fitzroy’s hand was warm in Cliopher’s grip like a brand, and as he pressed close in the dimness of the deep ocean, every touch felt like a lick of fire.
Cliopher rested his forehead against Fitzroy’s shoulder.
Eventually Cliopher tipped his head back to look up at the sun overhead, at the light filtering down through the water.
Eventually they started to swim up, back to the layer of the reef where the nefalao clams lived.
It was odd to search for the clams without the urgency of held breath. It was odd to go from clam to clam, looking.
Cliopher showed Fitzroy how to stroke the clams to get them to open calmly, and to carefully feel for the pearls inside. They found gold pearls and -
Cliopher tilted his hand, watching the play of white on gold of a flame pearl. He looked up as Fitzroy swam up to him, and Fitzroy opened his hand to show the same, little sense though it made for the two of them to find flame pearls so easily and so close together.
They tucked the flame pearls away in a small pouch Cliopher had tied to his harness so they wouldn’t need to worry about losing hold of my pearls as they swam, and they headed slowly for the surface.
Cliopher helped Fitzroy climb up onto the vaha, and they tucked away the snorkel masks and Fitzroy’s enchanted mouthpieces. They lay flat on the vaha’s deck together.
The world felt too loud, too bright.
“So, you dived and found a flame pearl,” Fitzroy said. “Two even. Now what? What will you do with them?”
Cliopher considered. He had been considering it since they started planning this.
He still remembered Fitzroy’s words when they came this way on the return from the Sky Ocean: that he would rather have a thousand common, ordinary white clam shells, because they could find those together, and because Fitzroy couldn’t return the gesture.
They had found these together. He had found one, and Fitzroy had found the other.
Buru Tovo might perhaps have said that the way they did it was cheating, but then he might not. He had almost lost Cliopher here. And even if Buru Tovo did think that . . . Cliopher had pioneered and advocated for so many systems to allow others to do what they had not been able to do without support.
Still.
It was hard to dredge up the words. Cliopher still felt the silence of the water lingering inside himself, and he didn’t want to break that by speaking. “I think I’ll give the one I found to Mardo, for the next efela nai.”
Cliopher didn’t need the flame pearl.
He dove for it because he felt he must, because he’d felt that lingering undoneness all these years since he was twelve, as time and time again he looked at the task and turned away. He had done it now.
He had known from his first dive that he would never be a pearl hunter, but he had learned. He had done it all - except for this one last thing that all the pearl divers of the Western Ring strove to do. And he had done it now.
Cliopher rolled onto his side and shuffled over so that he was curled up against Fitzroy, ignoring the way the wet rope harness chaffed at his skin.
“I don’t want to ever go dive for pearls again,” Cliopher said to the side of Fitzroy’s chest.
“You didn’t have to dive this time.” Fitzroy shifted them slightly so he could wrap his arm around Cliopher.
“I did,” Cliopher said. “There’s more than one way to find a flame pearl, but I had to find one myself, even just this once. But you were right. We’ve both seen more than enough flame pearls.” Cliopher closed his eyes. “And you? What will you do with the flame pearl you found?”
“Oh, I’ll give it to Mardo too,” Fitzroy said. “A nice matched pair for him to do as he wishes with.”
“Thank you,” Cliopher said, “for coming with me. For helping me.”
“Thank you for letting me help,” Fitzroy said. “You scared me, you know, the last time we were here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s who you are,” Fitzroy said, “and I knew that much already when I appointed you to be my secretary. More so when we agreed to be fanoa.”
“Mmmmm.”
Cliopher listened to the wind and the waves and the birds calling. The world settled around him, no longer too loud, no longer too bright.
“Ready to head home?” Fitzroy asked.
Cliopher pressed his face harder against Fitzroy’s side for a moment, then he nodded and pulled back. “Let’s go home.”