“We won’t make much progress through that,” the mate warned his passenger as he pulled hard and steady on the oars. The boat moved away from the Grömsketter, out into the open water of the valley. “And not for very long, either. As soon as we’re in among the weed it will be like trying to row through mud.”
“Then we will back out and try another place.” Ehomba stood in the bow, one foot on the small foreseat, his right arm hanging at his side and the left resting on his knee.
True to the first mate’s word, they soon found themselves surrounded by thick green water plants, the little boat struggling to make any additional headway despite Terious’s most strenuous efforts.
“This is the best I can do,” the mate declared.
“Row us back out, then.” Ehomba’s sharp, experienced eyes scanned the mass of weed and saw nothing. It stank of salt and the open ocean. “We will try another patch.”
They did not have to. A dark, slick shape was rising before them. Decorated with leafy structures that perfectly mimicked the surrounding seaweed, trailing streamers of glossy green the exact same size and shape as kelp roots, it regarded them out of black, pupil-less eyes that were gently bulging ovals lustrous as black star sapphires. The small slit of a mouth was a tiny oval set over where one would expect to find a chin, except there was none; the rest of the face was smooth and shiny as the seaweed it counterfeited. Gills on both sides of the neck revealed themselves only when they rippled to expose momentarily the pink beneath.