Baru threw down the strigil. Her confusion made her angry and anger made her want to act. She’d been distracted too much by women lately. A fling could be justified tactically: to show them all how little she cared, how untroubled she was by Hu’s loss.

“Fine,” she said, “fine, come here.”

*   *   *

XE smelled of work and the wind off the sea. “Do you kiss?” she asked, pragmatically: some people did not.

Baru answered her. They struggled pleasantly against the wooden privacy screen. Xe’s height was a lovely challenge: Baru could bite the strong lines of her throat. Her diving costume was, of course, designed to come off easily, in case of an underwater snag. She tried pinning Xe against the cedar screen, as Hu had pinned her on the tent’s groundcloth: Xe’s breath rose eagerly.

“Here,” she said, guiding Baru’s hand, “like this—yes. Ah.”

A perfectly satisfying groan. Heat against her hand. Xe’s hips gave her a rhythm and let her carry it onward. The strong muscles of her hips and ass worked beneath the fat, and Baru felt that joyful work in her fingers. Xe began to whisper passion in Urun, in Stakhi, as if driven out of Aphalone by her pleasure; when Tain Hu had done that it thrilled Baru like nothing ever had.

Yet Baru was disappointed by her own detachment. Xe had such grace. Such a unity of form. She could not be separated: the line of the hip up across the long smooth stomach, over the breast, arched through the firm shoulder. Lovely. But all very distant. She was a gentler lover than Hu, steady and rhythmic and very responsive to Baru’s touch, which should have been wonderful, but only made Baru self-conscious of everything she did. Xe was very warm. Baru felt a great fondness for her, and a low, limitless sadness at what must happen soon: some separation, some grief.

She tried to fantasize to make the sex better, which seemed entirely perverse. Why was nothing happening? She had met a lovely diver of an exciting older age. They had shared a day of light tension, and a bath, and an admirably forward proposition. What a thrill.

No: none of it worked.

Now she lay on her back on the saltgrass, staring up at the aurora, as Xe’s hair brushed her thighs. She felt like she had spent a very long time fumbling with a knot. “You’ve gone away again,” Xe said, from below, “haven’t you?”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” Baru twitched in mortal embarassment. “I’m sorry—it’s just not—oh, it’s me, I’m not working right.”

“It’s all right. It’s not easy for some women.” Xe crawled up beside her. “I was too forward with you. I made assumptions. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Baru said, miserably, “it’s me. It was easy for me last time.”