Hachia’s slate blue eyes gave away what she was about to do before she’d moved to do it, and Zak had time to dodge back and out of the way as she reached a hand into the rain barrel and countered his splash.
The two of them laughed and forgot their pretenses for a moment, splashing water at each other and giggling like children. Zak found it hard to disengage, both with his actions and his eyes. Hachia had done it once again, and he was annoyed at himself for going along with it. She was being a pain and stealing his attention, and he knew her well enough to know what that meant.
“That’s clean water, you vandals!” Bartrand stomped over, puffing out his chest and curling his huge arms in exaggerated anger. “Are you expecting us to drink the salt tonight?”
“Never again,” said Zak, furrowing his brow. “It’s not exactly my idea of fun.”
“Then knock it off,” said Bartrand. “Salt and stone, it never ends with the two of you.”
Bartrand glared at them for a couple of seconds. He was a soft-hearted man, and Zak wasn’t surprised when the glare melted into a subdued grin.
“See, Bartrand knows the run of things,” said Hachia. “He’s about business. Always with his eyes on the ship, and his mind on the ocean.”
Zak shook his head.
“My mind was on the ocean,” he said. “Just... in a different way.”
He didn’t mention that it was on what the ocean reminded him of, of the expanse of lost potential. The ocean was the Worldmaker’s bed, according to both the native Arkaian religion and the newer interpretations of the teachings of the Legacy Temple.
The ocean was special, deeply entwined with the cycle of life, creation and being. His mother and father, both unknown to him, were sleeping in its depths. His mentor, Jonalan, the person who’d done more for him than anyone else, was now a part of it, buried under the deceptively plain blue surface.
“It should be on the sky as much as the sea today,” said Bartrand. His voice was low, slow, and deliberate. “Today’s a lucky day.”
“You always say that,” said Zak.
Bartrand gave him a look and a smile, and Zak found himself oddly convinced by the man’s confidence. He let out a small chuckle, and was halfway into letting loose with another quip when he saw something that stopped him.
Over the side of the ship, a school of prism fish swam by, each one the size of a man’s face, with curved, rainbow-colored fins on either side that were considered to be an expensive delicacy in Malnia. He snapped and gestured with his fingers, drawing the attention of the others.
“By the stones!” shouted Bartrand. “Get a net and get down there! I’ll holler at the Under Prince to loop the ship around.”
Zak nodded, already moving into position near the aft of the ship. Hachia didn’t waste time, either, pulling one of the larger nets from the outer storage cabinets and double checking the fold for tangles.
“Same as usual?” she asked, flicking strands of sandy hair out of her face to meet Zak’s eyes.
“It looks like it could be a huge haul…” said Zak. “Better take a deep breath before going under.”
She rolled her eyes. It was good advice, but so commonly given as to have become almost a throwaway statement, run into the ground on every fishing ship upon which Zak had served.
“We have to time this just right,” continued Zak. “I’ll nip at the edges of the school until it’s good and bunched up, and then push it your way. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Alright,” said Hachia. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Zak held up a hand, waiting while their captain, Under Prince Demetro, slowly turned the ship around. The water was crystal clear, and it was no trouble for him to keep the fish in view. He could just barely see the faint blue reflection of Methrakia, the middle moon, in the water, larger than Krexellious and faster moving.
“Almost,” murmured Zak. “Get ready!”
He took several steps back, giving himself room. As the ship started back toward the fish, Zak charged, running forward at the railing. He hopped onto it without losing speed and hurled himself into a dive, sighting the spot on the water directly in front of the school’s path. A thrill went deep through him as he twisted and turned through the air.
He hit the water with only the slightest of splashes. To the fish, it may as well have been a skystone impact, all of them rushing away from the source of the disturbance. Zak’s momentum carried him through the water on one side, sending them against the ship and toward where Hachia would be with the net.
The world under the surface of the water was defined by a cool, blue silence. Zak loved it as much as anything, from the way his body moved, slowed and subdued by the water, to the almost limitless extent of the unknown presented by the deeper depths.
One of the fish veered off slightly to the right, as if testing the safety of that path of escape for the entire group. Zak kicked his legs and shot up next to it, steering it back into the greater group.
He could see Hachia ahead, having tethered one end of the net to the ship and holding the other in her hands. She had a graceful swimming style, her midsized breasts loose in the shirt she wore, not having had enough time to put on her usual swimming tunic. Speed swimming was not Hachia’s specialty, which was why Zak so often had her holding the net.
The fish didn’t realize what was about to happen until it was almost too late. Unfortunately, Zak had underestimated the size of the school, and overestimated the size of their net. Hachia closed around the fish in a slow circle, but even kicking at her hardest, fish were beginning to bleed out from the openings.
Zak pumped his arms and legs, cutting through the water over to where the other end of the net attached to the ship. They usually left it like that. Too many hauls had been lost by an accidental break in the net or clumsy handling. Prism fish were far too valuable to risk catching freehand.
But they were also extremely mobile, and that was all Zak had on his mind as he watched them rushing out of the net by the dozen, moving faster than Hachia could contain them. He undid the knot, taking the far end of the net in his hand, and swam toward her.
It pulled their trap closed almost immediately, faster than most of the prism fish could react. The saro vines woven into the edges of the net automatically looped into each other, sealing it up into a bundle held tightly enough to keep the fish from escaping.
Zak looped back down, swimming backward and bumping into Hachia as he gave the job a final look over. She rubbed one of his shoulders affectionately and flashed a tiny, secretive smile. Zak couldn’t resist. He grabbed her and pulled her against him, stealing an underwater kiss. She responded by pressing her body against his eagerly as both of their lungs began to burn.
They parted after a second or two and Zak nodded toward the surface. Hachia waited, watching him and turning the moment into another contest, another back and forth of egos.
Zak didn’t take the bait, feeling as though the kiss and the prism fish were victory enough. He kicked his legs and took off toward the surface first, getting his head out of the water a half second before his lungs began to actively revolt. Bartrand was at the edge of the ship, along with Demetro, and both of them watched him expectantly.
“Probably about two hundred, maybe more,” said Zak. He grinned up at both of his crewmates, meeting Demetro’s gaze for long enough to read the suspicion in the eyes staring back at him.
I still can’t tell if he knows about the two of us, even after months of me and Hachia sneaking around.
“We’re near one of the unclaimed Lower Islands,” said Bartrand. “Makes sense for the two of you to swim out and see if there are any around the shallows.”
Zak nodded. Hachia surfaced next to him and he shot her a look, feeling as though a bit of her competitiveness had spread into him.