An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 22: Tide
It’s the swelling of the stomach that he recognises. From the villages where the fields had been scorched and the animals slain. Towns where mother’s breasts were sore and dry, and babies didn’t recover from what should have been mild winter colds.
Roza seems unaffected, though her hands are gentle and her voice quiet as she patters on about other things. Although he knows that Elvira can’t understand a word, she seems to be listening anyway.
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us.”
It takes a moment for Beka to come back to the conversation.
“I knew.”
Roza turns to him. Her expression is fluctuating, as though she can’t decide whether to be shocked or angry, or whether she should express either in the presence of the girl. A word sits between her lips, but she doesn’t quite manage to get it out.
“Wh...?”
“It’s one of Lilia’s exercises. He splits his own arrows mid-air. He fixes them instead of wasting them, or making new ones.” Roza gapes, and apparently has no response. After a minute, he adds; “I watched, a few times. He couldn’t explain to me how he did it.”