#marselen

“Something I remember, from before we were taken.” Marselen’s voice is thick with emotion. “The-- my people give hospitality to all who arrive on the island. It is small and remote, and the water is the only way trade and news comes.”

“Also slavers,” Grey Worm mutters.

Marselen tilts his head. “They would come whether we gave hospitality or not, and this way, we have satisfied the obligations the Lord of Harmony has placed upon us.”

Grey Worm frowns. “To violate guest right is truly heinous.”

“In addition to the slavery? Indeed.” Marselen’s lips twist in a not-quite smile.

Grey Worm reaches out, touches his shoulder. “It will never happen again. We will see to that. Not just for us, but for your sister and brother.” Marselen nods, squeezing Grey Worm’s hand before departing to order preparations for dropping anchor.

The Naathi gathered on the beach greet them like old friends long unseen, and share breadfruit and salt. Somebody hands Grey Worm a cup of something. He does not recognize the taste, but it is cool and refreshing after weeks of flat water and dried meat.

After they have been greeted and fed, a woman of middling age approaches them. “What is your business here?”

“For some of us, it is return, to a land from which we were cruelly taken,” Marselen replies.

The woman stares at him for a long moment. “Your face is familiar to me. You had a brother and sister.”

Marselen nods, his eyes bright. He describes what he remembers of his village, and the woman confirms the details.

“It was razed to the ground, and naught of it stands. But we took in those who were left, made them part of our houses and homes.” She takes Marselen’s hand in both of hers. “And if it is something you wish, we shall welcome you and your men the same way.”

“That is a generous offer, my lady,” Grey Worm replies. “We hope to prove worthy of belonging, perhaps after we earn our keep.”

She looks skeptical. “We grow or make most of what we need. The rest we trade for when a ship passes by. What else could you offer?”

Grey Worm shows the hilt of his dagger. “The gentle ways of your people are known to me. We will not ask you to take up arms yourself, but rather let us do so on your behalf.”

The woman looks out at the water, where ships crowd in the harbor so closely the shimmer of water can barely be seen. “How many men have you?”

“Many, many hundreds. Perhaps thousands. Our numbers were vastly reduced before we came here.”

She looks thoughtful. “With protection and ships, there are things we can do again without fear.” She holds her hand out to Grey Worm, and they clasp arms.

As they watch the rowboats ferry Unsullied from the ships, the woman turns to him. “Tell me, what was your impetus for coming such a distance?”

“I met somebody from Naath. If the land she was from was a fraction as beautiful, clever, and strong as her, I would be content to live there the rest of my days.”

She pats his shoulder. “Do you miss her?”

He thinks for a moment. “I do, but being here helps lessen the ache.”