Mandall came in quickly, staggering under the weight of the sack he was carrying.
Thann shoved the door quickly shut, slapped the bar home, then turned and signed to Isaho to bring her father the homecoming water. Xe snugged against xe’s malbond, basking in the waves of well-being that rolled off Mandall, the sudden burst of joy from Isaho, the quieter pleasure from Bazekiyl as she set the shirt aside and came to give Mandall a welcoming nuzzle. So much better. For the moment the war was pushed back and the family was almost whole again.
Isaho came from the room they’d set up as a kitchen, walking slowly, eyes intent on the glass she held with both hands. It had an inch of water in it, clear water without sediment, drawn carefully from the top of the cistern Mandall and his cousin had built from scraps of tin, salvaged lumber, and pipe when the water plant had fallen to the mountain guns and every drop had to be carried from the city springs.
“A glass for coming home, Baba.” She glanced toward
Thann, who signed xe’s approval, then smiled shyly up at her father.
He bowed with grave courtesy, sipped at the water. “Water shared is water blessed.” He handed the glass to Bazekiyl.
“Water shared makes a home though there be no roof on it.” She sipped, handed the glass to Thann.
Thann signed, +Water shared is a bond given by God.+ Xe passed the glass to Isaho.
The child drank the swallow left. “Water shared makes the circle whole.”
Isaho sidled up to her Baba and leaned against him as he worked the knot loose and opened the sack. He patted her absently, went on talking as he worked. “Juwallan’s oldest mallit Luzh stumbled across a way into an old grocery store when he was digging around for wood. Didn’t want it to get out, so that’s why Juwallan said it was a wood hunt when he called me at work. We got most of the food cleared out and stowed away before a scout from the Zendida Clan spotted us. More than food, too. I got some spools of thread and some needles for you, Bazhy, hammer and nails for me. Ahh, that does it.”