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trees. Noisy birds flitted in and out among the branches, calling and squabbling at each other. There was no sign at all of other humans.
    Miner's fever was getting worse and his arm felt as if it were on fire; he slumped beside Ennek hopelessly. Maybe there were healing herbs nearby, something he could use to help himself and Ennek, but Miner didn’t know anything about healing and he was just as likely—maybe more so—to poison them both. He needed to find shelter and figure out a way to get some sustenance into Ennek. He needed to get them decent clothing and something to cover his collar. He needed to do a better job of setting his wrist. Most of all, though, he needed to make sure that Ennek remained safe, that he recovered from his stupor. But right then, even getting up and laboriously bringing Ennek more water seemed like an impossible task. Miner lay down beside Ennek, wrapping his body around Ennek’s shorter one, and worked at the tangles in Ennek’s hair again.
    After a while, he started to speak. He knew the other man couldn’t hear him, not really. But he remembered when he was Under, and when he’d had brief flashes in which he could see and hear. One of those times it had been Ennek he’d seen: Ennek as a boy, with his face smudged slightly with dirt and his eyes wide as cuprinus coins. Ennek had spoken to him then, the first time in 300 years someone had addressed Miner. “Are you awake?” Ennek had asked. And although Miner couldn’t answer and he’d been sucked back into the depths of Stasis immediately after, those three words had remained with him, echoing inside his swirling head, providing an anchor for the remains of his sanity. Ennek couldn’t hear him now, but perhaps some ghost of Miner’s voice would reach him somehow and comfort him.
    “I wish you had met my mother,” Miner said. “Her name was Celsa. She was very tall with hair that was almost white. She used to sit by the fire in the evenings and my sisters would brush it for her. Her nose was a little too sharp and her chin was too square, but somehow she was beautiful anyway. Maybe it was the way she moved, as if nothing could stop her, as if she were the equal of anyone she met. My father used to say that it was a shame she wasn’t born a man, for she’d have made a fine soldier.
    “She didn’t talk very often. Not like my father—he would tell stories and laugh. He could strike up a conversation with a complete stranger and in minutes they’d be close friends. Mother was more reserved, but she watched, and she never missed anything. And when we were children, if one of us was hurt or upset, she always knew, and she’d stroke our heads—see? just as I’m stroking yours—until we were calm again. My father had a quick temper, but I don’t remember her ever once raising her voice and I’m quite certain she never struck us.”
    A fly landed on Ennek’s slack face and Miner shuddered and shooed it away.
    “When I told my parents that Eudoxia and I were going to marry, Celsa drew me aside and held my hands and asked me whether this marriage would truly make me happy. I think she knew…. I loved Eudoxia, I sincerely did, but not…not like I love you. She was almost like a sister. But I wanted a family of my own and somebody…somebody to hold at night. To hold me. It wasn’t fair to Eudoxia, I know that now, but I honestly thought I could be a good husband to her. I told Celsa that I would be happy and she kissed me and wished me well.
    “My mother was so happy when my daughter was born. Marsa. She had my mother’s eyes and that firm chin, and even though she was only an infant I could tell she was as strong as Celsa, as watchful. She was…oh, En, she was so beautiful!” He was almost glad for once that Ennek was unconscious and couldn’t hear his voice break.
    “I think…. When I fell in love with Camens, I think my mother knew. Not the specifics, of course, but…. She’d look at me and her face would be