Page 56 of Music of the Ocean

A trio of artisans worked in smooth synchrony, passing a work in progress among themselves, each adding detail with tools customized for their anatomy. One was a humanoid woman with tattoos along her forearms. She used a heated wand to fuse seams at the edge of a sleeveless vest.

Another was a tall rail-thin man with three legs and four arms. His hair was colored in alternating stripes of gold and black, floated around him like a banner as he worked.

The third, whose entire lower body fanned out into a skirt of feathery membranes, was smaller than the others, with a wide, flat face and large black eyes. The membranes twitched as he cut precise lengths of fabric from a roll.

“Shall we?” Indigo asked, gesturing toward the shop. “You need clothing, and I know the owners well, since I shop here.”

“I guess I do, but I can’t pay, of course. That’s something we need to talk about, too. I’m used to working.” Saxby shrugged. “I expect to work. Need to, you understand? Sitting around all day doing nothing will drive me nuts.”

“I do understand, but give yourself time to settle and learn life here, please. I know you are a lieutenant, and I am sure the city could use your skills, but you do not have to follow that career if you do not wish.”

Indigo guided Saxby over the threshold, his hand on Saxby’s lower back. Inside, the shop was a riot of color and texture. Hanks of woven kelp hung from the ceiling, each dyed in a different hue, from luminous green to the deep, shifting purple that matched the city’s dawn.

Sheets of tough, translucent polymer were stacked on racks, and a trio of mannequins floated in the center, each dressed in layered, flowing tunics.

All three paused their work when Indigo and Saxby entered.

The woman straightened, then gave a polite wave. “Hey! I didn’t know you’d be coming by today.”

Indigo returned the wave, then gestured at Saxby. “This is my mate, Saxby Delmar. He gifted me the name Indigo. He needs a wardrobe.”

The woman with the tattoos smiled, then beckoned them closer. “I like it. I’m Divi. These are my mates and co-owners, Rul and Yash.”

The man with the gold-and-black hair nodded. “Welcome. I’m Rul. We have a lot of options for new arrivals.”

Yash, the smallest one, eyed Saxby with a speculative glance, then quickly gathered several samples from a nearby rack. “You’ll need something for everyday and a few outfits that are more dressy, since you’re Indigo’s mate. Is it true you’re from the surface?”

Saxby frowned. “Well, from another planet. But yeah, I guess I was.”

Divi considered him for a second, then reached for a measuring tape. “I’ll need to take measurements. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Saxby said.

Indigo nodded. Divi knew that new mates could be overprotective and was making sure Indigo was okay with her touching Saxby. Which was smart, since he was so interconnected to the city and the planet.

No one wanted to see what he could do if he lost his temper. Not that he would, not over something like this. But he did appreciate her asking, just the same.

Divi’s gaze flicked from Saxby back to Indigo, her smile taking on a note of careful diplomacy.

There was a choreography to these sorts of introductions—unwritten laws about touch and proximity, especially where new mates were concerned—and Divi had always excelled at reading the currents of social tension.

She paused a heartbeat longer than necessary, allowing Indigo full opportunity to either object or indicate his assent. Indigo caught the gesture and returned it with a nod, a signal of trust but also a warning. Boundaries existed, even among friends, and he expected them to be honored.

Divi’s caution did not go unnoticed by the three other occupants of the workshop. Rul stilled his hands and watched out of the corner of one eye. Yash set down his fabric scissors and retreated a step, giving the interaction a respectful berth.

The workshop, for all its clamor and color, seemed to draw in a breath and hold it, waiting for the first move to be made. Indigo’s awareness sharpened at the unease he was causing. He regretted it but was unsure how to stop it.

He did his best to project calm, but he tracked Divi’s every motion. A subtle tension pulled at his jaw. Divi, for her part, seemed to understand all this. She kept her movements deliberate, her hands visible at all times, and her tone light and professional as she addressed Saxby directly.

“You’re a little taller than most of the new arrivals,” Divi said, her voice carrying just enough volume to reestablish the cadence of ordinary conversation. “And you’re more muscular.”

“I worked out fairly regularly on my old ship,” Saxby said as he undressed to his underwear—oblivious to the undercurrents but not to the scrutiny—squared his shoulders, and offered a small smile. “When I first came aboard, my old captain said I was built like a fence post.”

Indigo stiffened.

“Which he shouldn’t have said, and I shouldn’t have gotten pissed about it, but I did. I made sure he couldn’t say that for long.”

Everyone froze.