“Notice the nose, the eyes,” she said. “She resembles me, does she not?” He started to speak, cleared his throat, managed to say, “Somewhat, yes. But . . .”
“That’s because we were related, Aufors. Distant cousins to be sure, but both she and I were of Stephanie’s line.” Almost she started to tell him what lineage that was, but swallowed the words. He’d never believe that!
He stared, licked his lips, swallowed deeply and painfully. “How do you know about my mother?”
“I know because I was told. More important, I know because Dovidi could only have been born to two parents who were each of Stephanie’s line. Just as I could have been born only to two such parents.”
He barked laughter, without humor. “The Marshal? Tell me another tall tale.”
“The Marshal is not my father. He fathered a number of children on my mother and all of them died. I lived. I should have realized what that meant a long time ago. My mother must have had a lover.”
“Awhero said he … Dovidi would be able to breathe, down there,” he said.
“That’s true,” Genevieve agreed. “Though I don’t know how she knew.”
“During their trip, he fell in the pool, or wriggled in, and she saw him swim. She says he has gills . . .”
“Like gills, yes. But not just that. Other things, inside, that let us go down, very deeply, as the harbingers do.”
He gave her a quick, frankly curious glance, started to say something, then stopped, shaking his head.
“You want to see,” said Genevieve. “But I can’t show you. The skin doesn’t open unless I’m under water.”
“And . . . Dovidi is . . .”
“Dovidi is your son. As we both know. As you should never have doubted.” Try as she would, she could not keep the outrage from her voice.
He struggled to his feet in sudden agitation, her anger stirring his own. “It’s late to tell me that. You said . . . when we met in Barfezi you said you’d been taken prisoner in the caverns. And you said there’d been someone . . . someone on the boat with you. A presence. You said, you couldn’t really remember. When Awhero said he, Dovidi, was part fish I thought … oh, I thought . . . you should have told me before we were married . . . shouldn’t have let me find out . . .”
She shouted, “Told you what? Let you find outwhat?”
“About . . . you know. Your . . . difference. Your . . . abilities.” She took a deep breath and counted slowly to ten. “My mother made me swear never to tell anyone until the ability was needed, and the first time I ever needed it was when I dived off that stone into the sea with Dovidi in my arms. I suspected about Dovidi only after he was born, and I didn’t really know until we were underwater. And you will recall that I suggested we wait to get married, but you insisted, and you will also recall that during the entire time since I have had something Icould tell you, we have been separated by a war, an ocean, a desert, an army, or this . . . this stupidity!”
He sat down, glaring at his feet. “You should have told me. I mean, how long have you known you could do this?”
“How long have I really known? About four days. Covenantly daughters don’t swim. They don’t go in the sea or in rivers or pools. Except for the pools under Langmarsh House, I’ve never been in water deeper than a bathing tub. So, when I took that leap away from those men, I only hoped. I didn’t know.”
He shook his head wearily, too far sunk in doubt to be able to swim out of it.
She aped his head shake, speaking between her teeth in irritation.
“Aufors, we don’t have time for this. Tell me, do you value your life?”
“Of course,” he snapped, angry again. “Though perhaps . . .”
“Perhaps nothing! You are going to have to believe in me. In a moment, I’m going to walk out of here to tell the Chieftain and the Prince and my un-Father where they can find the great store of life-stuff they’re looking for.”