“What do you think, long bruther?” He nodded in the direction of the little fishing boat. “Is his an empty boast?”
“I was admiring his catch.” Ehomba gestured at the glistening mound that weighed down the boat. “All small fish, all silver of side. Very difficult to see under normal conditions. When looking down into the water from the deck of a boat, it is hard to separate such a school from sunlight. But in these conditions, with the surface absolutely calm and undisturbed by wind, they would stand out much more clearly to a man with a net.”
Simna’s brows furrowed. “So the man is a good fisherman and brave to boot. What of that?”
“While he has been working and talking I have been studying everything on his boat. Though more than a little windy himself, I think he is no natural master of wind. He does not have the look. But there is no mistaking the confidence he has in his seamanship.” Raising his voice, he called out to their visitor.
“Gatherer of fish, that is a most unusual bottle I see resting by your tiller. Though large and well blown it does not appear to hold drink, or anything else. Yet I espy something moving within. What does it contain?”
So startled by this unexpected inquiry was the fisherman that he dropped the net he was hauling in, letting it splash back over the gunwale. Once back in the water its contents, writhing and convulsing, wildly finned their way to freedom.
“It’s only a bottle, sir. You have—remarkable eyes.”
“From watching over my herd, looking out for predators. What is in the bottle?” Everyone on board the Grömsketter was watching Ehomba now. Men and women who had been resting in the shade rose from their places to crowd the railing.