to the boat. ‘Here’s why.’
The trap was ruined. Most of the wooden slats which formed its sides were caved
in and those that weren’t dangled loose. If Hort hadn’t been expecting to see a
Nya trap he wouldn’t have recognized this as something other than a tangle of
scrap-wood.
‘It’s been like this for over a week!’ the Old Man snarled with sudden ferocity.
‘Traps smashed, nets torn. That’s why those who call themselves fishermen cower
on the land instead of manning their boats!’ He spat noisily over the side of
the boat.
Was it also why his mother had insisted Hort give the Old Man a hand?
‘Row for the docks, boy. Fishermen! They should fish in buckets where it’s safe!
Bah!’
Awed by the Old Man’s anger, Hort turned the boat towards the shore. ‘What’s
doing it?’ he asked.
There was silence as Panit stared off to the sea. For a moment Hort thought his
question had gone unheard and was about to repeat it. Then he saw how deep the
wrinkles on his father’s face had become.
‘I don’t know,’ the Old Man murmured finally. ‘Two weeks ago I would have said I
knew every creature that swam or crawled in these waters. Today … I just don’t
know.’
‘Have you reported this to the soldiers?’
‘Soldiers? Is that what you’ve learned from your fancy friends? Run to the
soldiers?’ Panit fairly trembled with rage. ‘What do soldiers know of the sea?
Eh? What do you want them to do? Stand on the shore and wave their swords at the
water? Order the monster to go away? Collect a tax from it? Yes! That’s it! If
the soldiers declare a monster tax maybe it’ll swim away to keep from being bled