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The path home from Chandara was long and winding. Bix and her companion, Arthur Denison, had stayed in the emperor Khan's city for several seasons, long enough to start feeling like there was no other home to return to. There was no end to the stories and mysteries of Chandara; truly the city was a Boon Sloth gift that kept on unwrapping itself. Eventually, memory by memory, Arthur started to miss the people and the library of Waterfall City. As for herself, Bix longed to hear the latest western dromaeosaurian compositions and feel the road under her feet again. These became the seeds that eventually blossomed into the decision to begin their journey back home. The emperor himself gifted Bix a beautifully bound collection of Chandaran recipes to delight her cousins with. Arthur's gift, a fine journal made to fit into a feather-adorned pouch in his new belt, was almost filled with sketches and observations before they reached Sauropolis again.
The capital city welcomed its visitors with the same warmth with which it had sent them on their way, making it an easy stop, not a destination. A week flew by in the flurry of theatre performances, concerts and public academic arguments, but soon restlessness grew again. They had planned a detour south next, to the Temple of the Demisaurians, where Arthur could spend a few days sketching the monuments while Bix conversed with the ceratopsian lorekeepers. It was tempting to go on from there, following the coastline, but the northwest called them. Already summer was leaning towards autumn, and they wanted to be back in Waterfall City before the pleasantly warm weather turned.
To be between two excellent journeys was a blessed state, Bix mused. Strolling down the canalside of Sauropolis and taking in the sumptuous patterns of the flower arrangements was certainly pleasant. But what made a journey worthwhile was the company. She listened to the little silences where she was accustomed to hearing Arthur's footfalls, suddenly feeling like an unfinished melody.
A busy-looking messenger on Saurolophus-back stopped her and pulled her from her thoughts.
"Ambassador Bix? I've just left a delivery for you at your lodgings. A Mr. Arthur Denison signed for it."
The wide saddle seemed too big for the slight woman. The ornaments draped over the Saurolophus, perfectly matching its blue and yellow striped skin, looked familiar. The brilliant blue feathers that lined the hood of the messenger offered the crucial clue.
Bix stood on her hindlegs and extended her right forelimb in the Chandaran custom. "Breathe deep, messenger. You have come a long way."
The human mirrored her gesture with her hand. "I'm on imperial business, ambassador. I do not count the distance."
"Please take my fondest tidings to the emperor with you." Bix felt a pang within her. To be reminded of Chandara was to miss it and its many wonders. "I recommend you both taste the pomegranate cider in the Hadrocrest Theatre House before you head back home."
The messenger smiled, and her Saurolophus companion honked enthusiastically. "I think we shall. Farewell, and safe journeys."
Bix hurried to the small rooms she and her companion shared at the inn. Arthur opened the door for her. Bix could see right away that his eyebrows spelt puzzlement. What had the emperor of Chandara sent them? The road to Chandara was still newly opened, and deliveries were few and precious.
"Ah, Bix, good." Arthur made way for her. "I'm glad you're back early. We've been waiting for you."
"We?" Bix peeked into the rather small meeting room, where someone was sitting on the edge of her bench, as awkward as a human on saurian furniture could look.
The stranger dropped down onto her feet. She greeted Bix with a courtly oviraptorosaurian bow. The baggy trousers and billowy sleeves, not to mention the hood on her head, gave her the shape of a raindrop. Her short black hair peeked out from under the hood. She was quite young, perhaps a dozen long Chandaran summers, and had curious eyes and a wide, snub nose. "I'm Nea Vong, daughter of Anna Vong, the Chandaran minister of poesy and court balladeer. It's a pleasure to meet you, ambassador Bix."
"She's brought us a letter from Hugo Khan himself," Arthur said, showing Bix a scroll covered with beautiful saurian calligraphy.
"And me," Nea added. She fidgeted. "I've brought me. The emperor hopes you might be able to help me with a problem."
Arthur and Bix glanced at one another. They well remembered how seriously the Chandaran emperor took every wish of his subjects.
"I would speak to the great marine reptiles of Dolphin Bay," Nea announced. "But... I am neither an ambassador nor a water-breather."
Bix saw immediately the reason for Arthur's hesitation. Dolphin Bay was neither in the direction of the temple they had intended to visit, nor anywhere near Waterfall City, where they eventually had to return. But they were loath to disappoint the wise emperor, let alone the balladeer's daughter looking at them with pleading eyes.
"It's not a journey we had planned to take, but perhaps we might arrange a detour for your sake, Miss Vong." Arthur turned to Bix, quite serious as he contemplated their suddenly changing plans. "What do you think, Bix? Have you visited these marine reptiles before?"
"Arthur Denison, you forget I'm no water-breather, either," Bix reminded him. It was charming that Arthur seemed convinced her ambassadorial duties extended so wide, but truthfully her best and wildest journeys had been taken with him.
Nea approached them, step by step, like a curious Struthiomimus. "The emperor recalls a study you wrote while in his city, Mr. Denison. An account of your return from the underworld, and a submersible you travelled in..."
Arthur's eyebrows shot up comically, like the wings of the emperor. "Well, we don't have it here, but we do have most of my notes and drawings."
The thought of rebuilding their submersible swept them along, and before Bix and Arthur quite knew it, the small detour had become a new journey of its own to plan and prepare for. The resources of Sauropolis turned out to be far vaster than what they had drawn upon to build their submersible the first time. Bix felt a pleasant itch within; a chance for a new adventure, unexpected yet welcome. When she faced young Nea Vong, she saw the same hope shining on her face, and knew they had met their latest travelling companion.
Bix spent the autumn months composing careful messages to be delivered via dolphins to the southern plesiosaurs and mosasaurs. As the marine creatures of Dinotopia communicated partly through movement in the water, most of the negotiations would lean on meeting them in person. She was surprised to find an eager student in Nea, who swam in the bay every day, learning new dolphin calls and dances with every dive. By the end of the harvest festival, she sang through the water like a young porpoise, somewhat artless but clear.
Arthur threw himself into the design and reconstruction of their submersible, which he was determined to turn into a faster model than their last. As this journey would take them far from the shore, they also had to have enough room onboard for provisions. Privately, Bix wondered how far they could sail before they ran into the jagged rocks and swirling currents that had sunk so many ships upon Dinotopia's shore. She had confidence that the dolphins, guardians of the coastlines, would give them ample warning beforehand.
When she swam with Nea, paddling steadily while Nea dove and surfaced like a young dolphin, she realised this visit to the marine reptiles meant more to the young human than she had let on. After a little prodding, Nea confessed she was right.
"My wish to the emperor was to live with the plesiosaurs," Nea explained. "I've always been drawn to the water, and it's soon time for me to decide whether I want to train in the Chandaran arts under the ministers of the court and become a balladeer like my mother. But ambassador, the truth is I dance the best when I'm in the water, and when I sing, I want the dolphins to hear it. If the marine court is willing, I would love to train to entertain it with my artistic efforts."
It was a laudable dream. Bix told her so, moved by the clear and bright vision of the future Nea painted for her. Here was a hatchling who had truly chosen her element. Whether she would prove herself worthy of it was yet to be seen.
In their moments together, stolen morning hours between sleep and the late breakfast people preferred in Sauropolis, Bix told Arthur of the water-dance language of the dolphins; they were not a patient people, but nor were they given to holding grudges. With the dolphins, a visitor was always granted a second chance.
"If Nea Vong will give it to herself, that is. I have a feeling she wants to make an impression from the start. I can teach her the correct dances and dolphin-calls, but she's the one who's going to have to perform them. I'm not nimble enough for an underwater negotiation--"
Arthur raised his hands. "And I'm too old for anything of the sort. I'll keep careful record in the submersible while you negotiate."
"Too old? What nonsense. You're nowhere near a hundred, and can wade a full day through swampland," Bix argued, knowing age wasn't Arthur's true concern. He had peculiar notions about what was proper sometimes, notions not based on any logic or sense Bix could fathom.
Arthur made a comical sound, like a small bellows. "Well. Perhaps my faithful travelling companions have occasionally let me borrow their youthful vigour."
The aromatic Sauropolitan coffee was so good that it took Bix a moment to truly digest the compliment. "Why," she mumbled, and would never confess her tongue to have been tied for a blink, "you flatter me. I'm no hatchling, either, you know."
"You're far too wise to be one, my friend," Arthur agreed, with grave sincerity. He picked up one of his drawings. "What do you think of this flipper I devised? I can't seem to shake the Dunkleosteus influences."
Bix took a moment to admire the serious focus drawn on his expressive human face, and pushed the coffee bowl aside to make way for a discussion on different qualities and theories of locomotion that stretched well into the afternoon, and would have gone on if it hadn't been for Nea Vong, who came looking for swimming company. She let them know, with the bright, absolute knowledge of youth, that they argued like her mothers, and seeing as there was no end to such arguments, they could pick it up at a later time.
Arthur was rather flustered by her assessments. Bix considered that they would soon have to share the confined space of the submersible for some time, and she allowed Nea to lead her away. Arthur could use the space and solitude to work through his strange notions of impropriety in peace.
Autumn was ending by the time the three of them were ready for the journey, but as they were heading for the warm southern seas, Arthur reassured Bix that they would not feel the chill. It seemed half the city had turned up for their experiments in the bay, but in the end they managed to sneak out in the solace of the moonless night. The lights of the submersible cut a clear path through the dark waters. No matter how many comments Nea might have had about their arguments, they had led to a design that was well-balanced and thoroughly tested. Bix and Nea did most of the steering for the first leg of their journey, letting Arthur fill page after page of his journal with observations of underwater vegetation and sea turtle swimming patterns.
The dolphins came to greet them when they had surfaced in order to eat breakfast in the rosy morning light. Upon seeing their sleek, grey forms, Nea promptly dropped her honeycake, took off her hood and leapt out of the submersible to meet them in the water. It was a promising start; Bix could see the ambassadors were impressed. They were a pair of stern male dolphins with seaweed-woven chains of office around their bodies. Pearls gleamed along the chains as they danced in reply to Nea's enthusiastic greeting.
Bix looked at Arthur and realised he hadn't taken out his journal. He appeared fascinated by the waterbound negotiations for reasons other than scientific curiosity.
"They seem interested, at the very least," he observed, but it clearly wasn't the topmost thought in his head.
Bix indulged him. "Oh, yes. If I read that correctly, one of them just mentioned sending word to Barnacle. She's rumoured to be over a thousand years old, and held in high regard amongst the plesiosaurs. It's a great honour if she hears Nea's case."
As if she had heard her name mentioned, Nea swam back to them, out of breath and overjoyed. "Did you see that, Bix? Mr. Denison? I'm to be escorted to the Coral Caves! Can the submersible keep up with the dolphins?"
Arthur assured her that it would, and Nea graciously accepted the offer to hang onto the seaweed chain of one of the ambassadors. He very nearly bucked her off his back with a leap before diving under the surface, and Arthur and Bix had to hurry to close up their vessel and prepare for a more controlled submersion.
Bix clicked her beak when they were alone in the submersible. "Can I ask you something, Arthur? And have your honest answer?"
"Of course." Arthur didn't take his eyes off the dolphins they were following.
"Did I or did I not catch a gleam in your eye just then that meant you wanted to be in the water, swimming with the ambassadors like Nea?"
Arthur took his time answering. The sides of his mouth twitched for the longest time before he finally allowed the smile onto his face. "Bix, Bix. This is why Nea Vong teases us."
Bix tilted her head. "Because we are honest with one another?"
"No, my dear. Because we know each other so very well." He cleared his throat; of what, Bix didn't know. "I'm... glad you're here to share this journey with me."
Bix had made an affectionate saurian trill before she could even think of it. Human words came a little slower. "The pleasure is mine. I've found I rather like breathing together with you."
Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but the dolphins gestured for them to slow down and surface for breath. They had reached the pearlescent gate to the marine reptile court, and complex negotiations lay ahead of them.
Afterwards, Bix often wondered what Arthur had been about to say. He never brought it up again, not after they had marvelled at the coral splendour and seen the thousand-year-old Ceresiosaurus dance her challenge to Nea Vong, not even when they finally reached Waterfall City again and found it no less of a home after their absence. Perhaps it didn't matter. Breathing was instinctual; it didn't require words.
*
It was not quite night when Bix made her way home from the Museum of Linguistic Curiosities. The days seemed to stretch longer in the museum with the arrival of every new student, but she didn't mind. The fire was low and cheerful behind the elaborate wrought iron screen, and the sweet, earthy aroma of recently brewed tea wafted into her nostrils the moment she nudged the door closed behind her. It was warm enough to make the creak in her joints soften, and she hurried to the study with the ease of a much younger Protoceratops.
"Good evening, Bix," Wordsworth greeted, appearing out of dusty air as was his custom, top feathers bouncing. He was sprightly even for a Byronosaurus, and meticulous about the preening of both his own feathers and the study. When Bix and Arthur had met him in Chandara he had been little more than a hatchling; Arthur had even given him his name, upon request. To work in the Waterfall City library had been a dream of his, and he extended his enthusiastic work ethic to their home. The three of them had been more than happy to invite Wordsworth to nest with them. It did one good, Bix mused, to have youngsters around. Wordsworth kept them on their toes, for he could spring a word game into any lull in the conversation, the same way Oriana wove music into every waking moment of her life. Arthur and Bix were blessed in their nestmates.
"A good evening to you, too," Bix said, letting fondness lower the warble of her words. "The tea smells absolutely wonderful. Is Arthur having a nap?"
It was unusual for Arthur not to greet her at the door. They both came and went following their own scholarly paths, which could be untraceable indeed, but took joy every time those paths crossed.
Wordsworth tilted his narrow head so that the beautiful wattles under his chin wobbled. "He took his supper up into the observatory room. I haven't seen him since. Mr. Denison doesn't like it when I inquire after the dirty dishes." He clucked his tongue like a human.
"Ah. Well, he's due a bit of company then. Would you mind taking a bowl of tea up for me?"
"I'll do it," Oriana said, smoothly entering the conversation as she walked into the study. Bix had known many humans who had mastered saurian languages, and what they all had in common was a musical disposition. Oriana had a true talent in the trills of the troodontids, and would often delight the Archaeopteryces of the city with her poem recitals. Bix only corrected her grammar when no one else could hear them.
Oriana poured the steaming tea into Arthur's cup and Bix's favourite bowl, and they ascended the winding stairs together. Neither of them were as spry of step as they once had been, but the observatory was dear to Arthur and the many stairs a mere trifle. Wordsworth, of course, simply hopped up and glided down, sometimes making a detour through a window.
The fire up in the observatory had died down to embers without Wordsworth's careful tending. Only one stub of a candle sputtered on the desk. The room bathed in silvery night light instead. Moonlight brought out the different colours in Arthur's hair, moustache and beard, the lighter stripes most humans tended to develop. Oriana wore hers like an ornament, as indeed she should, for they accentuated the waves of her hair most pleasingly. Arthur insisted on counting his at first, an utterly bizarre notion and thankfully soon forgotten.
Arthur's pen was still, and looked to have been for quite some time. He gazed out of the window, one curled finger pressed against his moustache, and his eyes were looking somewhere far further away than the Mosasaur Harbor outside.
"Where have you ventured without your journeying companions, Arthur?" Bix asked in the precise human dialect she favoured in his company.
She was rewarded with a slight smile as Arthur turned to them. "Somewhere we've yet to visit together."
"Wordsworth and I have been trying out new tea blends again," Oriana said, setting down his cup. She didn't pick up the empty one from the desk. They all picked up and washed up after themselves, despite Wordsworth's attempts to keep everything in the house as perfectly shelved and filed as in the library.
"Oh, thank you. It smells--"
"Like Khasra at sunset," Bix finished for Arthur, and could read the memory of it on his soft, expressive face.
Oriana made a pleased noise. "It doesn't make you miss your cousins, I hope."
"It makes me remember them." Bix hoped her voice didn't hold a wistful undertone. Travelling across the desert to meet her distant relatives was for younger saurians than her, but all her memories were sustaining ones, clear and vibrant in her mind. As the joints of her legs stiffened, the gears in her brain picked up the slack. What wondrous sights and feelings the mere aroma of dried Fimli orange peels could summon up!
Perhaps Arthur wasn't the only one who journeyed in his mind.
"It was very kind of you, Oriana," Bix added, belatedly, but with no less feeling.
"Thank Wordsworth. He thought of the fresh mint." Oriana set Bix's bowl on the low table by the fire and, after kissing Arthur's temple, took her leave.
Bix settled onto one of the soft cushions, and stretched out her tired limbs. "Join me, Arthur, and tell me where you've been. No, leave the chair. I don't want to crane my neck like a Brachiosaurus to look at you."
"These cushions are no good for my back," Arthur complained, even as he pulled the plumpest one closer to the fire. "I keep telling you, it's hardly a dignified manner for a man to sit."
"Plenty of humans seem to disagree," Bix pointed out. "What is undignified about the ground? Do you perhaps judge me for being so much closer to it than you?"
Arthur laughed, a low and pleasant sound, like an Ankylosaurus scratched just right. "Your tongue only gets sharper with age, my dear Bix."
"Thank you," Bix said, savouring the compliment. She took a sip of the still steaming tea, careful not to burn said tongue.
"I meant-- Ah, perhaps that was what I meant, after all." Arthur shook his head at some strange notion of his. His tone was fond, and so was his palm when he laid it on Bix's crest.
They enjoyed the first few sips of tea in a silence too thick with memories for words. Bix thought of her cousin Ishten and his marvellous herb garden, with mint so strong a snoutful of the scent refreshed the whole body. She thought of drinking orange juice downhill from Scutemus at sunrise, the easternmost place in all of Dinotopia. She thought of the weight of Will's first hatchling on her back, the small, soft fingers clutching at her crest where Arthur's fingers were stroking now.
"I was remembering Boston, before you climbed up," Arthur said at length. He rose to put away his empty cup, but his hand soon returned to lie affectionately on Bix's crest.
"You haven't mentioned it in a long while. Not since you wrote the book," Bix pointed out. A fleeting worry surfaced. Any Dinotopian knew that those who arrived on dolphinback were given to melancholia and bitterness, if memories of their past lives continued to haunt them. Far better to forget and embrace the new. Arthur had proven himself an exception to the rule, because as well as he had nested in his new home, he still remembered, and wanted to go on remembering.
It didn't seem to do him much harm, Bix consoled herself. Her Arthur was exceptional in so many aspects. For him, memories could become a source of strength.
Arthur's eyes gleamed. "I'm sure I'm remembering it in the most golden of lights. Still... the fireworks on Independence Day were grand, the highlight of my every summer. I haven't seen the like since. That sudden blooming of light against the velvet sky..." He blinked rapidly and looked away from Bix. "Don't mind me, old girl. I'm being sentimental, ridiculously sentimental. I wish I could take you to see them, that's all."
Bix felt like Arthur had laid the memory over them both, a warm blanket they could share. "Why do you shy away from sentiment when it so becomes you, you silly man?"
"Bix," Arthur said, almost like a warning, although far too soft for the effect. He still wouldn't meet her eyes. His hand rested on the side of her crest, near her brow bone.
"We can share the sky now, and the lights as well," Bix suggested.
Arthur's gaze wandered up to the ceiling, and the dome of glass above them. He did so love it up here, with his telescopes, close to the stars. Like son, like father.
"But you're going to have to help me up afterwards," Bix said sternly, before throwing herself on her back on the cushions like a hatchling, squirming to find a comfortable position. This, she would have to admit, was rather undignified, but she had never placed as much importance on that as Arthur. Being silly once in a while made for a light and happy heart.
Arthur laughed at her. "Oh... oh, why not." He hesitated for a while before lowering himself down next to her, slowly and carefully. His limbs were longer and took more a-righting. For once, he wasn't wearing his shoes indoors, and his socked feet stretched towards the warmth of the hearth.
The constellations shone down onto their faces, as clear as letters on a page. Downstairs, Wordsworth had joined Oriana in a troodontid duet.
"The orange peel in the tea reminded me of our trip to the Outer Island," Bix said, when the silence had once again lingered long enough for comfort. "The easternmost shore, do you remember that?"
"The first sunrise in Dinotopia," Arthur agreed. "Yes. What beautiful sights we've seen, you and I."
”And what we have yet to see.” Bix adjusted her tail and sighed in contentment. "It may be impossible to go to Boston, but we've still got a journey or a dozen in us yet. I can feel them, taking shape in the back of my mind. When the museum rests well on all four feet..."
"When this study of mine is finished." Arthur smiled. The moon and the stars were in his hair, touching it silver.
They lay in starlight, retreading their steps into the past, planning their ventures into the future, breathing deep together.
*
Bix stirred awake a few moments before the dawn light. Her round bed had for months been set just on the other side of the room from Arthur's sleeping alcove, and she had come to know the way he breathed in sleep, enough to know a nightmare from a dream, and true sleep from a light doze. Arthur was awake, but there was something else; he gasped, as if facing something wondrous.
With some difficulty, Bix rose and made her way to Arthur's side, nudging his hand gently with her own forelimb. "I'm here. Breathe deep, my dear."
"Oh, Bix. Oh, sweet Christ." Such pre-Dinotopian phrases had started to surface more and more of late. Arthur cleared his throat, but still seemed to find it hard to catch his breath. "I couldn't-- My heart's beating so very fast."
Bix fretted, wishing she could blow air into his lungs herself to help him breathe. He looked fragile, his fine hands so thin, his eyes sunk into their dark sockets. Bix didn't like seeing him like this, without his fancy spider-silk jacket, his white hair a cloudy mess instead of a well-combed feather crown. Arthur placed such importance on appearing dignified.
Arthur reached for the glass of water always by his bed and drank greedily. He blew a shivery sigh in relief. "That's better."
"You were having a bad dream?" Bix leaned both her forelimbs on the edge of the bed, needing to brace herself to keep upright. Her legs were so wobbly these days. Two of them on the ground weren't enough for proper balance.
"No... a good one. A wonderful one." Arthur's eyes were still sharp, and they were on her with a purpose shining in them. "I was on a journey... I was leaving Dinotopia, leaving it behind."
"You were dreaming of returning to Boston?" Bix couldn't help how choked she sounded. The thought of losing her Arthur to the memories of his past made her crestfallen.
But Arthur shook his head against the pillow and touched his knuckles to the side of her face in reassurance. "I was not returning. I was... I was going somewhere new."
Relief shot through Bix like a bolt of lightning. She trilled in her own protoceratopsian dialect: You dear, silly man. "But there is nowhere in all of Dinotopia we haven't travelled together."
Outside, a Lambeosaurus trumpeted the rising sun. Arthur's breath rattled in his throat. "Bilgewater. Can you... can you get a word to Bilgewater? I must know, Bix. I must know if the ships are still there. If they're still waiting."
The memory of the small town of Bilgewater was slow in trickling into Bix's mind. The galleons awaiting their ascendence, awaiting the end of the world, when their ships would sail the sea of stars. She remembered fondly the cheerful crew under Marlinspike's guidance, all of them fond of singing at the top of their lungs. Bix had had no idea the place had left such a strong impression on Arthur, but now that she thought about it, he had spent long afternoons in intense conversation with Marlinspike, while she herself was practising with the crew's choir.
"I'll find a Dimorphodon," she started, but Arthur halted her with a sudden gesture.
"No, no, on second thought, I couldn't bear the wait. I must leave for Bilgewater as soon as possible. Today. I must go today."
Bix took less than two blinks to make her decision. "Then go we must. Someone from the library will help us gather supplies and pack up our things. I'll write a note to the museum while you get dressed. Then we'll see about breakfast."
Arthur was anxious to get her attention, she could see that, but she was thinking far too fast now, her head filling with plans. It was rejuvenating to be heading out again. It had been so long, and neither of them had even noticed. Their life in Waterfall City had for years followed a steady, satisfying path. Together, they had almost succeeded in drinking dry their shared well of wanderlust.
"Bix..."
"This is rather exciting. I think I shall have a whole ring loaf to myself, to mark the occasion."
"Bix--"
"Perhaps one of those marvellous crispy leafcakes as well. Do you think we could pack some to take them with us? I imagine they would taste delicious by the fireside."
"Bix!" Arthur grasped her forelimb. His eyes were wide now with something almost like alarm. "You don't-- You don't have to come with me. Everyone in the museum will miss you so if you leave. Wordsworth and his pupils, Barthia's Ceratopsid Choir... I couldn't take you away from them on my whim."
Bix had already turned to opening the curtains, letting the sunrise paint the room in warm, hopeful colours. "Your journeys are mine, Arthur Denison. I should hope I've proven that to be true by now. No more arguing. Up you get. We have a lot to do."
The word of their imminent departure went around faster than even Bix had expected. By mid-morning, half of the museum's curators had dropped by, and provisions were brought to their door in abundance. Bix bid so many fond farewells that she felt rather bowled over, and had to take a long moment to compose herself before she could sketch a message to be sent to her relations, and another to Will and Sylvia, to accompany Arthur's long letter. Their children lived close by, so there was no need for a separate letter, thankfully.
For his part, Arthur seemed reluctant to pack, lingering over his books and scrolls and instruments until finally picking only a few. Bix caught him weighing several beloved volumes in his hands before resolutely shelving them again. His satchel remained light.
When they left Waterfall City behind, a crowd of well-wishers saw them off to the Wing Ambassadors. Arthur was quiet, focused on some inner motivation of his. On the first day of their journey, they didn't speak. There was no need for it. But when Bix started to hum a brisk walking song, Arthur's rumbling voice effortlessly joined hers.
Bix found herself missing Oriana and the sweet melodies she had coaxed out of the both of them. She had kept her voice all the way to the end, giving her last performance at the Opera Hall the evening before she slept contentedly through her story's end. Arthur had grieved so, and his grandchildren had lived with them for a whole year afterwards to keep him company. At Arthur's insistance, the key had been taken down from its place of honour above the fireplace and tucked under Oriana's jacket to rest near to her heart as she slept. Bix, like most saurians, didn't often think about what might await after life in Dinotopia was over, but she wanted to think that Oriana had found a new door where the key fit, wherever she was now.
The fields surrounding Bilgewater were much the same as they remembered them, although there were some changes to irrigation methods that Bix made a note of. Most new theories, on agriculture as well as everything else, first took shape in Waterfall City, and trickled out from there. But on occasion, change blew in with the eastern winds instead. The same wind was at their backs now, the afternoon sun shining from between the clouds; it was a good day to travel, for late autumn. Bix breathed in deep of the aroma of soil and oak leaves.
"I can see the canopy of Bilgewater now," Arthur said. He was breathing heavily, but kept up a brisk pace.
"Yes, so can I. They're flying new flags from the crow's nest. I don't believe I recognise those colours." The pack was heavy on Bix's old back, but she ignored the aches of her body. Her mind rejoiced at being on the road with Arthur again.
The earth trembled underneath her, a powerful hum that went straight to the bones like a good melody. Bix's heart leapt and shuddered. She didn't know if it was trepidation or exhilaration that shook her.
Arthur took long strides and kept his gaze on the ship-town ahead. Had he noticed the trembling of the earth? Or had Bix imagined it?
"Bix," he said, very softly, "I didn't pack anything for the return journey."
"I know." Bix wanted to lean into him, but she resisted the urge so as not to slow him down. "Neither did I."
They walked on, keeping the same pace. The clouds closed in.
A gust of wind swept at them, and another powerful tremour shook the ground. Bix planted all four feet down, focusing on keeping balance. She couldn't hold Arthur up when he stumbled and halted. He took a few faltering steps, his walking stick digging deep into the path. Fortunately, their approach had been seen from the crow's nest, and soon a strapping human woman in a fancy blue jacket had caught Arthur's arm, inquiring if Mr. Denison was feeling well.
He wasn't. Bix saw his face was ashen, and when the earth trembled again, the aftershock went through his body instead, leaving the woman to hold up his whole weight until the others could reach them.
"I'm quite all right," Arthur gasped. Proving it untrue, he collapsed heavily onto the back of a young Saltasaurus.
"The wind's picking up," the woman who had helped him said. Bix recognised her now as Goldsworthy Marlinspike's granddaughter, Celestial Captain Ambrosine. As was the locals' wont, her gaze constantly wandered upwards. "It's shaping up into a storm unlike any before! We must hurry up and get him inside. Are you all right to walk, ambassador?"
Although she was exhausted, Bix nodded, and trotted alongside the Saltasaurus. She had no eyes for the skies, only the rising and falling of Arthur's frame, the proof that they still breathed together.
Inside the galleon hulk there was an expectant chaos, like the moment before the opening of a grand festival, everyone running up and down the narrow stairs. There were too many voices, reflecting too many extremes of emotions. Bix couldn't follow them all, not even with Ambrosine's bellowing orders weaving through everything like a golden thread. Bix saw to it that Arthur was bundled up well in the sleeping cabin and his walking stick was placed within his reach. Then she allowed herself to curl up onto the large, comfortable pillow on the floor. Outside, the storm shook the bowsprit awning, the rain beating on the sides of the galleon, and it seemed to her she could feel the trembling ground, even up here. Ropes were thrown and tied, billowing sails secured, victorious chanties kicked off to a fine start. She felt like they were truly aboard a ship instead of a town. It was a new and bewildering experience.
Bix couldn't keep her old eyes open, not even for Arthur. She didn't know when the chaotic present melted into equally hurly-burly dreams.
The wind had calmed down by the time she awakened. The songs continued, a chorus rising from the lower decks. Arthur was awake. His breath came slowly and with great care, but his eyes were bright.
"It's night time," he said, before she could ask. He knew her well enough to see the thought form in her head.
Bix listened. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a sweet, clean smell that wafted into the galleon. "We've slept right through dinnertime, then. Are you hungry?"
Arthur shook his head against the pillow, then seemed to reach a decision and sat up with a groan. His voice was thin and reedy as he struggled to breathe enough for words. "Help me find my clothes, would you, my dear? I can't seem to remember who took my coat."
You gave me a dreadful fright, Bix thought, but swallowed the words, meaningless against the joy of seeing him up and talking in his polite fashion again. Together they found his spidersilks and his warm coat, and Bix nudged the well-worn walking stick into Arthur's hand, hoping it would be enough.
Her worries flew away with the night wind as soon as they reached the foremast platform. A flurry of familiar faces surrounded them; all were glowing with expectation. Eager hands reached out to them, offering help, sharing food, touching with friendly affection. The many-coloured lanterns were lit all along the platform and up to the crow's nest. They danced merrily in the high wind, but their light never flickered. Captain Ambrosine herself gave Bix a smart bow, and she took Arthur's arm, escorting him to the large telescope, taken out of the navigator's cabin where Bix had last seen it. Old Goldsworthy Marlinspike had a back so bowed he hardly had to bend down to peer through the telescope. He alternated between gleeful exclamations of his own calculations proven correct and instructions to the eagerly bouncing Yi Qi messenger by his side. A heavy sofa had been brought up and fastened well to the platform, and the captain did her utmost to let Arthur sink into it with dignity. He straightened his collar with trembling fingers, and smiled as he gave his thanks to her. His eyelids were getting heavy, and his breathing heavier, but his back was straight.
Bix refused help, and joined him on the sofa with a contented sigh. To their left, the choir started a somber, low-pitched hymn. Above the rain the sails will flutter, they harmonized, and were suddenly joined by a young boy's voice, as clear as the finest bell: o aether, won't you make the sails flutter, the starry fields keep calling so.
Bix found herself humming along. We who hear the call from heavens, o ship so sweet to guide us to heavens, above the rain our hearts yearn to go.
"Are we underway?" Arthur whispered. He was close enough for Bix to hear him. "Bix, did we make it to the star galleon in time?"
She couldn't hear his breath anymore. It had grown so soft and slight, lost in the magnificence of the night around them. The smallest things were the most precious, and so very hard to let go. Bix swallowed the bitter taste of fear from her throat, and let the tears spill down her face.
"Look up, my dear. Look where our travels have taken us."
The starlight caught his eyes, and he gasped, fingers tightening around her forelimb. "Oh, Bix, Bix-- The belt of Orion! It curves ahead of us!"
She leaned closer, nuzzling under his arm to share his warmth. It would flee, as the light was fading from his eyes, becoming nothing but cold reflection. "Thank you for sharing it with me," she mumbled aloud. This last journey we take together, her heart sang, knowing it to be true. Awash with the light of the aether and the guide of the constellations, she listened to his steady heart halt at last, leaving hers to finish the journey for the both of them.