Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Ranan picks up the fish flopping on the turtle’s back and then pulls one of his knives from the loops on his leather straps. I study them, noting that there are several loops and the knives themselves look to be made from large sharp teeth, some from hard scales, and some look like they were crafted from thick flakes of rock. All of them look rather deadly, and when he cuts open the fish with a single stroke, I realize they’re sharp, too.
With expert, quick movements, he slices the fish and guts it, tossing the innards over the side of the turtle. A moment later, he cuts a large, thick chunk of pink flesh out and holds it up to me with one of his many hands. Oh.
I take it gingerly and try not to wrinkle my nose. Parness was farther inland, too far from the shore for fresh fish, and the ones we got from the river were smelly and unpleasant. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” I say to Ranan, knowing that he’s going to hate my question. “But I truly don’t know how to cook without a fire of some kind. Can you advise me?”
He narrows his eyes at me. A moment later, he carves a second chunk from the fish and shoves the entire thing into his mouth, eating it raw.
Oh. Oh my. My nostrils flare and I swallow hard, because I’ve never had raw fish, and I’m not sure I’m prepared to eat such a thing. Growling stomach or not, food has to go down when one eats it, and right now my throat is locked tight. “I’ve never had raw fish,” I whisper, as if a quieter protest will somehow make him less irritated with me. “Won’t we get sick?”
He takes another chunk from the fish and eats it, staring deliberately at me as he chews. It feels like a dare, a challenge. If I’m to be a sea-ogre’s wife, I have to learn to eat like a sea-ogre, don’t I? Bracing myself, I take a small, nibbling bite, expecting it to taste horrendous.
It’s…quite nice. The flesh is tender and flavorful, and I pop the entire thing in my mouth with a noise of surprise. “I didn’t realize it’d be so good.”
He cuts off another piece and holds it out to me. “Never ate fish with all the other sea-ogres, eh?”
He’s determined for me to admit that I’m a liar. But I just smile sweetly at him and lick my lips. “Never.”
Ranan rolls his eyes, and I can tell I’ve annoyed him again. He carves up the rest of the fish for me and disposes of the ends and innards over the side of the turtle once again and then rinses his hands in the water. His feet are huge but powerful as he grips the side of the shell where it slopes, whereas I practically have to lie upon my belly just to rinse my hands, because otherwise I’ll fall off into the waters below.
But I follow him to the edge and rinse my hands, and when I nearly tumble in (just as I suspected), he grabs the back of my dress and holds me steady. “Thank you,” I say, ignoring the fact that the fabric ripped in his grasp. It’s not his fault. “Will you teach me how to fish so I can get a large one for Lord Vor?”
Ranan doesn’t answer me. He studies the waters instead. “We are going to shore.”
“We are? Is that why your turtle is moving?” When he doesn’t answer, I prod, “Are we going someplace in particular?”
He shrugs, not looking at me. “Near a human settlement.”
“Oh, so you can sell your jewels? Do you need help with that? I’m happy to assist. I’ve gotten pretty good at haggling.” I give him a cocky smile. “I once talked the armor off a soldier headed to war.”
Ranan snorts, the sound full of derision. It’s clear he doesn’t believe me. “Stay here until we make land.”
As if I have anywhere to go?
It’s a long, lazy morning.
I have to admit, I’m not used to those. Mornings as a slave are full of early starts and endless chores. Even before, when I wasn’t a slave, I had to take care of my father’s house and feed the chickens. There’s nothing for me to do here, though, so I sit and admire the scenery, watching the view change from alarmingly rocky cliffs to sandy shores. I soak up the sunshine and finger-comb my hair, and it feels both odd and pleasant to sit around and do nothing. It’s jarring, of course, but…still nice.
Ranan works as Akara swims. He fills the strange-looking cage with more seaweed to dry, testing strands and removing ones that have crisped up in the sun. He weaves them into a long length that he stores away, and frowns at me when I ask what he’s doing. Then he works on sharpening his strange little knives and disappears into the waves again, swimming alongside the turtle for a time. He fills a barrel with a sand-based filtering system that pulls the salt from the water and makes it potable and keeps refilling it throughout the day so we both have drinking water.