The child stopped her struggles, her screaming diminished to a series of sniffles.

Reyna laughed comfortably, took the lower corner of his overrobe and used the lining to wipe her eyes, then her nose. “There. Isn’t that better?”

“‘spa, ‘nas,” she said. “Poess’m? Oidat’s tor? Tis su?”

“I don’t understand a word of that, beb6.” He smoothed the hair out of her mismated eyes; it was a waterfall of black silk and softer than anything he could remember touching. His heart turned over. “You are a mystery, oh diyo. Well, let us see, let us see…”

He tapped his forefinger between his brows. “Reyna Hayaka. That’s my name. Do you understand, bebe?” He tapped again. “Me. Reyna.” Moving slowly so he wouldn’t startle her, he touched her forehead, his finger trembling, then spread both hands in what he hoped was a universal, query sign. “You. Name?”

She gurgled, a happy sound that tickled his insides, curled one small grubby hand into a fist, then used her other hand to straighten out her forefinger. She poked herself in the chest. “Faan Korispais Piyolss,” she chanted, a lesson she’d learned so completely she didn’t have to think.

Reyna nodded, his many black plaits swinging and slipping with the movements of his head. “And does your friend have a name?” He pointed to the cat-monkey. “Name?”

“Nainai,” she said, nodding vigorously. “Ailiki. Eym mahsar.” She shook her hair over her face again, looked slyly through the strands, her body shouting mischief. “Reyna,” she said, then giggled.

“Diyo, you are quick, little honeychild.” He chuckled. “You know you aren’t supposed to go round calling adults by their use names. Someone taught you manners and did a good job of it.” He gazed, over her head at the River, so wide here near the estuary that the far bank was a faint fuzzy blue line. Wide and empty. “Speaking of which, my honey, how did you come here and where’s your mother, hmm?” He tucked his hand under her chin and lifted her head so he could look into those bi-colored eyes. “Mama?”