“It speaks Siblin,” Lowen said to them.
“Maren taught her,” Isidor told him.
Both he and Winter had known Lowen’s reaction would be like this, had thought the same when they met her, but it still wasn’t easy. Lowen was looking at her all over.
“Beautiful as all the tales,” Lowen muttered. He glanced at Winter. “Can it not sing?”
“When we were leaving the straight, another siren came onto the black rocks,” Winter said. “Soule saved us. She says she sang us back to her.”
Lowen was staring at him now, an incredulous look on his face.
“Well, you boys are still alive,” Lowen commented a little sarcastically.
“As was Maren until he died of a poisoned wound from an accident,” Isidor told him, the man’s eyes shifting to him. “And he was with her most of her life. He raised her.”
Lowen shoo
