The shells are so lovely that I can’t help but gather all of the ones that I find. There’s one that gleams iridescent in the light, and another spiky blue one that has a tiny hole bored through the center that would make a lovely necklace. Like a greedy child, I grip the edges of my dress to act as a sack, using it to hold all the shells as I wander about. Perhaps we can go to a market and I can sell my finds for a few coins at least. I’m sure people farther inland would pay for such charming oddities. They’d make great decorations, and I immediately start to think of all the things people could make with them. Bowls. Spoons. Candle-holders. Shiny bits could be sewn into the neck of a tunic—
“Well, well, well!”
The voice is so raspy and unfamiliar it makes me jump. Several of the shells tumble out of my skirt and land on the sands at my feet. I turn, eyeing the man that’s snuck up on me while I’ve been distracted with my finds.
It’s a stranger, no more than ten paces away from me, and far too close to make me comfortable. The man is a peasant from the look of things, with a scraggly graying beard and weathered clothing. His face is lined and deeply tanned, and when he leers at me, he’s missing a few teeth. “Aren’t you pretty.”
“My thanks,” I say, though I’m not thankful at all. Then, I put my lying skills to work. I crane my head, trying to peek over his shoulder. “Did you pass my husband? He was just here.”
“No one here on this beach but you and me and the boys,” he says, taking another step towards me.
I take a step backward, still clutching my skirts. The boys? I scan the shore quickly and sure enough, there are two other grown men—both larger than I am—watching from nearby, their eyes covetous. I’m a woman alone, which is problematic…but I’m also dressed in what’s clearly a slave garment.
“You’re wrong,” I correct, keeping my tone cheerful. “I’m positive my husband is nearby. You’d know if you saw him. He’s a sea-ogre, and quite a fierce one.”
“That his turtle?”
“Yes it is.” I’m relieved they noticed, though I’d prefer if Akara came out of the water and chased these men off. They’re making me uncomfortable.
Or she could eat them. Truly, I wouldn’t mind that either.
“Call for him,” the bearded man says, and there’s a gleam in his eyes I don’t like. “If he’s nearby, I’m sure he’ll answer.”
I haven’t seen Ranan since I stepped onto the beach, though. He keeps avoiding me as if he hates me, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not sure how sea-ogres treat their wives normally but surely better than this? I don’t have any authority to complain, though, and so I’ve ignored it. But my heart sinks as the man takes another step towards me.
If I call for Ranan and there’s no answer, these men are going to snatch me…or worse.
“RANAN,” I yell, as loud as I can.
We wait. I hold my breath, hoping for his crested head to appear. There’s no response, though, and as the moments slide quietly past, my anxiety rises.
The bearded man glances behind me. “Jos, ready the boat. Kep, you know what to do.”
Rough hands grab my arms, and I drop my shells to the sands, screaming.
Chapter
Seven
RANAN
“RANAN.”
The woman screams my name, and I fight back a surge of irritation as I swim through the waters of the cove, back toward where I left her. I went up and down the coast, looking for a human settlement. The hut near the water’s edge made me think there would be a city nearby, but all I’ve seen are a few rude farms that look far too poor to take on another mouth to feed, and a few travelers—all male—that eye me as if they’d like to rob me.
I can’t leave the woman with them. They’ll have her on her back before my back is turned. And while she irritates me, she also prayed to the gods that I would save her, and I’m loath to put her back in the same position. There has to be a place I can leave her safely. An inn of some kind, or a shop. Somewhere where I can give her a few necklaces to sell and send her on her way.
But when I find nothing, I head back to the water’s edge and slip into the waves so I can think. The sea always helps me clear my thoughts, and as I swim through the rolling blue waters, a large fish moves past, a fish much larger than should be in these waters. It reminds me of the human woman and her vow to offer a sacrifice to the god Vor.
She wants to thank him for bringing her to me.
I don’t know what to make of that. I’ve treated her badly ever since she arrived and yet she still wants to thank the gods. Her situation must have been terrible for her to enjoy my company. I think of how she was chained with the other slaves, how she’d mentioned that she was going to end up in a brothel, and I feel a twinge of guilt. What happens if I leave her on the shore to her own devices?
But I can’t be responsible for her, I tell myself. She doesn’t belong with me. What happens to her after we part ways is in the hands of the fates.
Even so, I follow the large fish and make note of where it dives when it heads into the reefs, just in case I come after it later. If she doesn’t have a chance to make her sacrifice to Lord Vor, I’ll make it on her behalf, I decide. It’s the least I can do.
Now I suppose I had better see what she’s screaming over. Probably a crab of some kind. Served many sea-ogres, my arse. I’m the only sea-ogre she’s ever met. She’s a liar and I despise liars. My mood sours again, I surface from the waves and stride towards the shore, only to hear another scream.
It’s her—Vali.
“Don’t touch me!” she cries.
I scan the beach, my senses on alert, and spot multiple figures on the sands. She’s found other humans, it seems, her dark, long hair easy to spot. She’s closer to Akara than I am. You told her to stay close, I remind myself. I stride towards her location, scowling, just in time to see one of the men grab her by the front of her dress and rip it down her body.
She plants a fist in his mouth and kicks at the one holding her, screaming with outrage.
My temper soars, too. Who do these men think they are that they can grab a woman and attack her? There is a scatter of shells near their feet, evidence that she was minding her own business.
I snarl as I approach, storming toward them and flexing my four arms to look as intimidating as possible. They’re so focused on Vali’s flailing arms and legs that they have yet to notice me…which only pisses me off more. “What do you think you are doing?”
They turn to look at me, and as they do, their eyes widen. The one clutching Vali by the waist drops her immediately and she falls to the sand, her breasts spilling out of her ripped garment. She cries out, remaining where she is, and glances up at me. There’s a trickle of blood coming from her nostril, and the sight of that incenses me.
They hit her? They came upon a pretty female on the beach and attacked and hit her? Are all humans such monsters?
“Why are you touching my wife?” I snarl at them, moving to stand in front of all three fishermen.
“We didn’t know she was yours,” the oldest—the one that ripped her dress—stammers. “We thought she was an escaped slave. A free prize for anyone.”
“And because you thought she was a slave you attacked her?” I march up to the bearded one, glaring down at him. “Explain this to me.”