By Garrett P. (Putman) Serviss
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Her habit of talking to herself had once again landed her in trouble. “Look, I am sorry. That was rude. But I told you that I haven’t the Gaelic and don’t know all your customs. I’m foreign. Take pity on me. ” Hexy repeated, feeling suddenly feverish. She hadn’t thought of her brother for months and suddenly his name and image were everywhere around her. Another tear slipped from her eye and she raised a hand to wipe it away. “That’s…that’s a nice name. It was my brother’s. ” The stranger watched her hand as she rubbed at her cheek.
The first time he’d seen her he’d thought she was a giant seaworm come to attack him. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Her name was Syr. She was a finwoman and she was unbelievably bonnie. Her name was a bit heathenish, but after they were married he’d call her Sarah after his grandmother. His father would like that. Ian smiled his welcome with blue-tinged lips and plunged his hand into the sea. But the face that rose out of the water was not his beloved’s. It was dark and saturnine, and half-hidden in a tangle of wild black hair.
Have a good time. I’ll see you later this evening,” Hexy said, picking up one of the oil lamps on the downstairs whatnot and turning up its flame. “Do you think it will rain? ” Jillian asked, peering over her shoulder at her dainty slippers in a vain attempt to see if the seams in her stockings were straight. They were. Her stockings were always perfect. “It is April in Scotland,” Hexy reminded her. “The odds of rain are about fifty percent. ” And she didn’t want to let it go. It would be wrong for Jillian to wear the coat right now.
A Columbus of Space by Garrett P. (Putman) Serviss