In the morning, there was no rush to things. Although they planned to resume travelling, Sammy couldn’t comfortably keep pace to reach the port in one day, so it would be a more leisurely two-day affair.

Sammy and Julie shared little kisses, cheeky words, and teasing touches in bed before finally rising. That also meant they missed the parents for breakfast, the meal shared with Ma and Pupu simpler without needing to dodge as much hospitality. Not that Pupu wasn’t hospitable, but she and Ma had spoken a lot, so she knew Sammy’s condition.

Afterwards, they readied to set off and soon, packs in hand, they stood by the front door to say their goodbyes.

Sammy went first, speaking broken Paschimi that hopefully made sense. “Very thanks. Julie comfortable, make me happy. Take more money.” As she finished, she offered a small bag of coins.

“No, no, I can’t,” Pupu said, holding her hands up.

But Ma laughed and patted her back. “They’re rich foreigners from Schtat, take it.”

Pupu’s hesitation softened at those words and she slowly reached out. Sammy closed the last of the distance, leaving the bag in Pupu’s grip. Ma whispered in her ear, and she said in Schtish, “Thank you.”

Sammy smiled, then led Julie outside to give Ma some privacy for their goodbye.

Ma wryly smiled, understanding Sammy’s intention, and didn’t want to disappoint. Now just Ma and Pupu, they naturally looked at each other. Ma saw hints in Pupu’s eyes. After so long of doing what they did, they knew the hints well.

But Ma wasn’t quite the same as when they’d met Sammy.

“You know, those two are wife and wife,” Ma said in Mahnorn.

However, “wife” was the word for “married person” in a higher pitch, so Pupu frowned, assuming Ma misspoke. “Julie is a person?” she asked, pitch going low.

Ma broke into a grin. Sammy had told them how, to most, it simply didn’t make sense for two women to be lovers, their minds either ignoring it or fitting the two into the mould of man and woman. Then again, Ma often wondered how their own many lovers had never questioned—like those women also knew, but couldn’t believe, living in the lie Ma told them.

Pupu’s confused face adorable, Ma leant in for a kiss, Pupu’s eyes fluttering closed, lips pursed, yet Ma left their kiss on her cheek. “You know, my body is a woman’s body. Do you still want my kiss?”

When Ma pulled back, Pupu’s face looked even more adorable. Seeing some doubt, Ma held Pupu’s hand and brought it to their chest, left unbound this morning. There wasn’t much softness there, especially with their muscles underneath, but there was a softness, Ma seeing in Pupu’s eyes that she felt it.

“I’ll be back in a few days after seeing them off. If you still want a kiss then, I’m willing to give it,” Ma whispered, voice light and playful, feminine.

With that said, Ma left.

The group exchanged no words on the way to the horses, no more than necessary said to get them saddled up and out of the stables. Even on the road, Ma didn’t speak but to check Sammy was comfortable with the pace, then set their gaze forward.

Sammy and Julie didn’t mind the silence, so they waited until the morning break. While Julie brushed hers and Sammy’s horses, Sammy walked over to Ma and asked, “Is there anything you wish to talk about?”

Ma leant against a tree, face blank, eyes glazed. None of that changed when she spoke. “I am pervert. Ah, not pervert like Alfen, but like Hufen.”

Sammy tittered, covering her mouth. “Oh really?”

Ma’s hand slowly rose to touch their chest, scrunching the thin fabric of the shirt. “I made Pupu touch show her I body is woman, but her touch still here. It different from my touch.”

Sammy glanced over, then bit her lip to keep in the laugh. “I think you should put on a coat.”

After frowning for a moment, Ma looked down and caught on, their laughter flowing freely. “I bandage so long, nothing to wear. But it nice like this. Easy to breathe,” they said, growing quiet by the end and then taking in a deep breath.

No more was said, but Ma did put on a thin coat before they set off again. As they went, Sammy told Julie what she’d discussed with Ma, including why Ma now wore a coat. There were no secrets between wife and wife.

While Julie didn’t always have interesting remarks on these topics, she did have one this time: “Ma hasn’t been with anyone since Goyani, right? No wonder she’s horny.”

The matter-of-fact way Julie spoke, it utterly broke Sammy, wiping tears from her eyes. They had to stop until she pulled herself together, but then she told Ma what Julie said and they had to wait another minute for Ma to settle down.

“Mrs Julie is right. I’ll sort out myself tonight,” Ma said, voice light.

The rest of the morning passed without any more issues and they stopped for lunch at a traders’ stop. It was busy, but Ma arranged a short stay in a room for wife and wife, giving Sammy privacy to change her cloth. Since it was paid for, Ma brought up lunch when it was ready and they all ate there. Closer to the coast, the thick soup had a fishy taste, Sammy saying to Julie it was likely dried and salted and then turned to broth; Ma idly confirmed it at the end, amused at this wife’s broad knowledge.

Still not needing to rush, they only travelled for half the afternoon before stopping at a small town. Despite the size, it saw a lot of traders, so there were places to stay for them and their horses, especially at this early hour.

“I think stay here so Sammy rest well. We go on, maybe no rooms,” Ma said.

Julie usually didn’t comment on these matters unless asked, but this involved pampering Sammy. “Here sounds good.”

Sammy looked between the two, smile lopsided. “Well, since you both are in agreement, I shan’t object.”

Julie picked up on the teasing tone, but didn’t care. “Should we find somewhere to eat? We have time to walk around, so you should eat something good for you.”

“Hmm, lunch was quite salty,” Sammy mumbled to herself, then said aloud to Ma, “Do you know where would serve chicken rice porridge?”

“Chicken rice porridge… sabao mannock?” Ma asked.

Sammy clapped her hands together. “Yes, that’s it. I only ever saw it written down and wasn’t sure how to say it. Sabao mannock….”

Ma chuckled, shaking their head. “Lets put horses stables and I find good shop. Kind of breakfast food, but any time is breakfast for money.”

A plan put together, they led their horses to a stable at the edge of town, then found an inn close by to leave their packs. After Sammy took a few minutes to freshen up, they wandered through the town.

The architecture reminded Julie of when they first arrived in Alfen. There was some Lapdosian influence, the buildings squarish and made of brick, but these bricks were larger, and while the roofs were also mostly slate, they weren’t as pointed or so broad that they stretched over the road. The more Julie looked, it almost reminded her of Sonlettier, even the poorer-looking houses sturdy, using roughly-cut stone blocks instead of bricks.

Eventually, Ma pointed out a butcher with a lot of poultry for sale. They chatted with the burly man for a bit, a couple coins changed hands, and he mentioned a couple of taverns that bought good chickens.

“You really are a seasoned traveller,” Sammy said with a smile.

Ma grinned back. “No, this part of job. Food very different place to place, my job people very picky, so I learn to find food.”

The day still young and taverns unlikely to run out of food, Sammy thought of something to pass the time. “Shall we see if there’s any theatre going on?”

“Oh, you did say,” Julie mumbled.

Ma scratched their chin. “Wife and wife not go see yesterday? What you do all morning?” they asked.

“Shopping, mostly,” Sammy replied.

Ma nodded. “We busy, huh? No time for theatre so far.”

“Well, we haven’t stayed in many towns either,” Sammy said.

Looking around as they walked, Ma said, “On coast, word for theatre person almost same as for fisherman’s wife. The theatre here very fun. Women dress as men, even kiss. Women kiss women okay in theatre. Lie, not real. When I come to coast first time, I think about be theatre person, but they theatre in day and I need work. Not much for fisherman’s wife do until fish come.”

Sammy nodded along, listening keenly to the insight her books couldn’t give. “Theatre is important to you?”

Ma held out their hand and wobbled it. “For children, much learn from theatre. It makes us friends too. No can theatre alone. Theatre tells us be kind different from book. See someone sad very different to read or hear word. Theatre also very old, like metal hit many times. We not write it down. The theatre persons decide story together, different from story the parents tell, different from story parent-parents tell.”

Turning to Julie, Sammy said, “How interesting, no?”

Julie wasn’t quite so used to learning from Ma, but had grown used to Ma’s quirks of speaking and, while not as enjoyable as listening to Sammy, she thought Ma had a similarly infectious enthusiasm. “Yeah,” she said.

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Ma carried on, telling them some differences of culture around theatre in the Alfen countries they’d travelled through, all the while keeping an eye out for where a performance would be held. Their intuition was soon proven right, an area marked out in the centre of the town beside the market.

It wasn’t by any means a grand stage or hallowed ground, but, sometimes, the pillars of a culture were subtle things. Slabs of stone were laid out, about ten strides along by four across, as high as a step on a staircase. A few children were playing on it, running back and forth. Standing next to it, a group of women huddled, some old, some young, tall and short, a touch of colour to their clothes. Older girls acted as minders for the young children, keeping them in the open area in front of the stage, idly chewing on a snack made of ground coconut and cocoa—the bitterness made sure the young children didn’t ask, yet still had a pleasant texture, albeit an acquired taste.

Ma walked over without hesitation, chatting first with the older girls and then the women. When she came back, she said, “It is children theatre, but good story. You want to watch soon?”

Sammy looked at Julie and Julie lightly shrugged, not minding how they spent the time, so Sammy said, “I think we do.”

Before it started, Ma snuck off to pick up some of the coconut and cocoa snacks; they were rolled into balls and came with thin bamboo sticks to eat them, served on a plate of woven coconut leaves. Sammy stabbed a ball and tried it, quickly stabbing another to feed Julie. Ma softly smiled at their flirting and snuck one for themself before wife and wife ate them all.

The children were herded up, older girls standing to the side with sharp eyes, and the women beside the stage filed on.

What Sammy had read about were the grand plays put on for royalty and nobility, full of drama and wit. However, the play today was a little simpler, Ma’s muttered translations reminding Sammy of a fairly common fable among Hufen cultures, albeit the women not pretending to be animals.

The story as told in Schtat followed a squirrel who hoarded so many nuts they lost track of them all, having to work through the winter to survive, while the dormouse only took what was necessary, sleeping peacefully through the winter. How accurate the depictions were aside (and that Schtat didn’t really have seasons), it boiled down to telling children not to be greedy, with some notion of cherishing the present and not aspiring to live beyond their means.

That story only had two characters and they didn’t even meet. The play the women put on fleshed out the story to a full cast, mostly named by their professions—a Mr Baker, a Miss Weaver—and made it into a melodrama. The “squirrel’s” wife complained about how he only ever worked and his daughter cried when he refused to take her to the festival. “Winter” came, their money running out after his business went bust, his friends turning their backs on him, saying such rich things as, “I’m no friend of a man who has to beg to feed his family.” And when he finally turned to the church for help, he was informed afterwards that the donations that fed his family came from the “dormouse”, his little brother that he had insulted throughout the play for being lazy and having such a common job. So the play ended with the brothers hugging, an apology made and accepted.

But that was only half the story, the crowd of children cheering and booing along, every bit the pantomime. Ma didn’t translate what the children shouted out, but Sammy had the impression that this wasn’t their first time watching it and, somewhat knowing what children were like, guessed they were telling the “squirrel” to be nicer to his brother and not to make his daughter cry.

With everything wrapped up, Ma asked, “What you think?”

Sammy turned to Julie, both with somewhat bemused smiles. “It was certainly interesting,” Sammy said, and Julie quickly nodded.

“You come back later and I take you see Keran theatre. It is very flashy. They dance and music and masks. One theatre, it is everyone knows. The Royal Storyteller sits on chair and tells story. Very funny, like old man on road.”

Sounding like the kind of theatre she had read about, Sammy nodded, saying, “That would be wonderful. If possible, we certainly shall return.”

Ma smiled. “I hope so.”

Although still early, they found a tavern already serving dinner. Ma put in an order for sabao mannock and some other things as appetisers.

Frowning, Sammy asked, “A cocoa drink?” a subtle bitterness to the smell.

“Capay. Ah, coffay?” Ma said.

“Coffee?” Sammy said.

“Yes, coffee,” Ma said, nodding, then gestured at the plate. “This is, mm, bread that little sweet. On coast, it is children dip in father breakfast coffee. I not do it, but see it lots here, look cute.”

More difficult than usual, but Sammy followed what Ma said. “My, that does sound adorable,” she said, her long eyelashes hiding her eyes as she looked down at the cup, smile tender. After a few seconds, she turned to Julie. “If we have a child, wouldn’t that be a nice breakfast routine?” she asked.

Julie’s breath hitched, a half-remembered conversation flicking in her mind. Her hand subconsciously touched her abdomen. “We’re both women,” she mumbled, reminding herself more than Sammy.

Sammy chuckled, her hand joining Julie’s. “Do you remember Amélie and Sarah? There are certainly children lacking parents if we decide on it, but that is a matter for after our journey.”

The pressure off, Julie let out a relieved sigh, thinking it through. The two of them in a quiet cottage, a pair of children at the table, sneakily dipping their bread in Sammy’s coffee while she pretended to read—it was a nice thing to imagine. “It would be nice,” she whispered.

At least for now, there were no children, but wife and wife happily tried the bread rolls dipped in coffee, liking it.

When the sabao mannock was eventually served, Sammy looked on with keen interest. The sticky rice had been dyed a vibrant yellow and the shredded chicken was pale from boiling in broth rather than baking or grilling. Sharp smells mingled in the air, ginger from the meat and fish from a sauce and citrus from a fruit.

“Rice not taste much, but Sammy, no sauce,” Ma said, pointing out the small bowl. “It very salt.”

“Thank you,” Sammy said, choosing to flavour her chicken with the fruit instead. From what she knew, it was often translated as either orange or lemon and she soon understood why, the orange-like appearance hiding a lemon-like sourness, but lemon and chicken was something familiar to her, brought by Formadgian nobles to Schtat. The spice of ginger only added to that, similar to a half-fried garlic garnish favoured by southern Sonlettians for grilled chicken.

While the flavours were intense, Sammy mellowed them with some rice, washing it all down with a sip of coffee now and then. Alfen cuisine truly was distinct, she thought. It was no wonder the ambassadors had been known to complain when they thought no one was listening.

However, that wasn’t the same thing as thinking it was better. After all, something both the rich and poor of Hufen knew, there was comfort in roasting a bunch of vegetables with fatty meat, blending the flavours, everything coming out soft and easy to eat. Sammy hoped to have such meals on their journey north.

As for Julie, she drowned her rice in the fishy sauce, not as adaptable and finding it hard to swallow the sticky rice by itself. Ma chuckled at the wife’s struggle, going up to order more coffee for wife and wife.

After the meal, Julie asked, “Tired?”

Sammy softly smiled and squeezed Julie’s hand. “Well, we do have something to talk about.”

Ma noticed the strange mood on the way back to the inn, but thought nothing of it, the affairs of wife and wife none of their business.

“Would you join us?” Sammy said to Ma.

Now, Ma knew two things: it wasn’t that kind of invitation, and wife and wife liked to show off. Between those two “extremes” was a vast space that Ma could only imagine. They quickly nodded, full of interest and no reason to turn wife and wife down.

Sammy picked up on the enthusiasm, but chuckled, letting Ma have indulgent thoughts for the time being.

The room was on the small side, bed just wide enough for two to sleep comfortably. Other than that, there was a side table with a candle, some nails if the guest wished to keep track of time. Nowhere else to sit, Sammy and Julie took the bed at Ma’s insistence.

Silence didn’t have time to settle. “Ma, we are very thankful for your help this far,” Sammy said.

Ma swallowed the lump in their throat. “No thank, this job and you pay much.”

“It’s not just your job. We liked the stories you told us and we like you as a person,” Sammy said, perhaps intentionally choosing teasing words.

If so, Ma was certainly teased. “I like wife and wife very much too,” they said, tone adding an ambiguity to their words.

Which Sammy immediately doused. “A shame we are so young you could almost be our mother,” she said.

Ma winced, their thoughts collapsing, all the sharper for knowing she’d been caught. “It is easy to forget, wife and wife so mature,” they mumbled, trying to ease their own pain more than excusing themself.

Sammy didn’t linger on it, jumping straight to the matter. “Would you want to continue travelling with us to the Corrupted Lands?”

Yanked in another direction, Ma took a few seconds to fumble through Sammy’s words. “That is… Corrupted Lands?” they asked, using the Lapdosian term for it.

“Yes,” Sammy said.

Ma bowed their head and thought carefully for a while.

“We only need your answer by the time we board, so there is no rush,” Sammy quietly said.

But Ma shook their head. “No. I want to, but there things I want here. I not much help over sea.”

A few of the things Sammy spoke with Julie about flitted through her mind, but she put them aside. “Okay.”

In the silence after Ma left, wife and wife readied for the night, then settled into a comfortable position to sit together. “So that’s that,” Julie said.

“Indeed. It really will be just the two of us, no need for a guide,” Sammy said, her voice soft and rich.

Julie warmed as if trained, familiar with the kinds of words Sammy spoke in that tone. Her heart beat a little quicker, heavier, conscious of Sammy’s arms wrapped around her waist, only now remembering that she was supposed to be pampering her wife.

But it was too late.

“I’ve been thinking, we have read Sofia’s story so many times by now, would you like to hear one I came up with?” Sammy asked.

Julie swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Well, it’s about a princess, and she is betrothed to a common woman after a lottery drawing goes wrong,” Sammy said, her gentle story winding through the twilight hour. To Julie’s surprise, it was a tame story, yet certainly Sammy’s with how the princess liked to tease her beloved. At the end, Sammy rested her chin on top of Julie’s head and asked, “Did you like it?”

“Mm, it was wonderful,” Julie whispered, truly meaning it. How wonderful it was to hear Sammy speak so much and on such a tender subject, the blurry line of love and companionship between young women.

Night and day passed once more, bringing the group to the port city in the later hours of the afternoon, navigating the bustle of closing shops and packing up stalls. It wouldn’t normally have been so bad, but Sammy and Julie had to bring their horses closer to the docks. Still, they were both used to it, Ma no stranger to the coastal cities either. Once the horses were put up in a stable, they trawled for cattle ships, Ma chatting to the sailors they passed until a ship was found, captain plied with his preferred Formadgian coins.

It felt so routine, Julie thought, a far cry from when she and Sammy first crossed to Dworfen, even the sea breeze not smelling so fresh. Then again, they were in a city, natural to breathe through the mouth here.

The empty silence of nothing else to say accompanied them to an inn. Grilled fish and vegetable soup was for dinner, Sammy insisting on chocolate for dessert, saying, “I don’t know when I’ll next be able to treat Julie to some.” Neither Julie nor Ma could argue with that.

However, when the food was finished, Sammy had one last thing to bring up.

“Ma?” she said.

Ma smiled, putting down their tankard, a haze to their eyes knowing that they had no need to spend the next day travelling. “Yesh?” they said with a slight slur.

Sammy’s gaze fell on the table between them, and she spoke in Lapdosian for Ma to better understand, slipping in Schtish words to make up for her smaller vocabulary.

“I know I pushed you to open up to Goyani, but, the more I thought about it, the more I realised I only did that because I was uncomfortable with your queerness. I couldn’t understand how you could be happy, so I wanted you to be like me. But I understand now that I was no different to the people who call my love for Julie a sin. I don’t need to understand your happiness to know I want you to be happy. So please, you know what makes you happy best.”

By the end, Ma looked more sober, almost sombre, gently nodding along. Then they gave a simple reply in Schtish: “Mrs Sammy cares a lot.”

Sammy tittered, covering her mouth. “If being queer means our families disown us, then let us be our own family,” she said.

“Yes, let me have so cute little sisters. Or you want be nieces?” Ma asked, scratching their chin.

Sammy and Julie looked at each other with a little smile. “Sisters, I think,” Sammy said, Julie nodding. “That would make you our big sibling. It sounds strange to say it like that, but queer is just another word for strange after all.”

Ma chuckled. “Big sibling, huh? Maybe because I Alfen, that not sound strange,” they said.

“Wonderful. It’s settled, then,” Sammy said.

As if waiting for the perfect moment, Julie said, “Thank you for everything, big sibling.”

Ma lowered their head, eyes hazy once more. “It was nothing.”