report the disappearance. You already know what they told me. Drowned in a
squall! And us still months away from the storm season. …”
Hakiem waited until the fisherman had lapsed into silence before he spoke.
“Could it have been… some creature from the deep? I don’t pretend to know
the sea, but even a storyteller hears tales.”
Omat regarded him steadily. “Perhaps,” he admitted carefully. “I wouldn’t risk
the deep waters here in daylight, much less at night. Gods and monsters are both
best left untempted.”
“Yet you risked them today,” the storyteller persisted, cocking his head to one
side.
“The Old Man was my friend,” the fisherman answered flatly. “But if it’s
monsters you want for your stories-then I suggest you seek after the two-legged
kind that spend gold.”
“What are you saying, Omat?”
Although they were already sitting close, Omat shot a furtive glance about the
room to check for eavesdroppers. “Only this,” he murmured. “I saw a ship out
there-a ship that shouldn’t have been there… shouldn’t have been anywhere.”
“Smugglers?”
“I’ve seen smuggler ships before, storyteller,” the fisherman snarled. “We know
them and they know us-and we give each other wide berth. If the Old Man were
fool enough to close with a smuggler ship I’d have found him dead in his boat or
floating in the water beside it. What use would a smuggler have for extra
bodies?”
“Then, who?” the storyteller frowned.
“That’s the mystery,” Omat scowled. “The ship was far off, but from what I could
make out it was unlike any ship I’ve ever seen, or heard of. What’s more-it