interesting species.
A loud wave drew his attention back to the ocean. The flatness of the plain must allow the water to encroach hundreds of yards during high tide, which explained the abundant tidal pools so distant from where the waves currently expired.
Jason looked back the way he had come. The lurker remained out of sight. He could hardly believe that he had finally ditched the creature, at least temporarily.
“You there! I need to see your permit.” Jason turned. A soldier was drawing near, walking briskly. He wore the same armor as the men who had apprehended Jason after he fled from the Eternal Feast at Harthenham.
Resisting the reflex to run, Jason watched the man approach.
“Your permit,” the man repeated officiously. He had a crooked nose and stood half a head shorter than Jason.
“I don’t have one. I’m not bothering anything.”
“Be that as it may,” the man replied importantly, “nobody sets foot on the floodplain without the proper documentation. Everyone knows that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then we have a problem.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been here before. I’m just coming up from the south, looking for work. Is this Ithilum?”
“Of course it is.” The soldier stroked his chin, sizing up Jason, his stance becoming a bit more casual. “You wear strange apparel.”
Jason used a planned response. “My uncle was a tailor. He liked to experiment.”
The soldier gave a nod. “Times are hard. Tell you what. Trespassing on the floodplain carries a hefty fine, but if you would rather hire me to escort you across for a fraction of the fee, I might oblige you.”
“How much?”
The man regarded him shrewdly. “The fines can reach upward of a hundred drooma.”
“How about twenty?”
By the soldier’s expression, Jason knew he had offered more than expected. “A man who offers twenty can often afford thirty.”
Jason produced one of the small drawstring bags Tark had given him.
“Not here,” the soldier muttered under his breath, glancing around.
“Oh.” Jason put the bag back in his pocket. “Sorry.”
“Act like you’re showing me a document.”
Jason pantomimed taking a piece of paper from his pocket.The soldier stepped close to him and pretended to take it. He nodded at the imaginary permit and handed it back.
“Twenty-five?” Jason tried.
“Thirty is much less than a hundred,” the soldier pointed out, “and you’ll get to avoid prison.”
“I need something to live on until I find work.” Jason had plenty of money for now, but didn’t want to give the impression that paying thirty was no sacrifice.
“Fair enough. Come with me. Pretend we’re talking.”
“Why don’t we just actually talk?”
“Good idea.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Tell me about your work,” Jason said.
“I’m stationed out here to prevent poaching. This tideland is an important resource. If any vagrant could wander out here and pilfer shellfish, soon none would remain. The harvesting must be controlled.”
They were walking past a circular pool. Leaning over it, Jason could not see the bottom.
“That one’s deep.”
The soldier nodded. “Those are tide wells. Specialists dive deep to retrieve rare delicacies. Dangerous job. Fierce predators prowl the deep ones. In fact, some of them intersect far underground. There’s a whole system of tunnels and grottos.”
“Really?”
“Sure as I’m standing here. See those two pools?” The soldier indicated the ones he meant, which were separated by maybe fifty yards.
“Yeah.”
“They’re connected. Some of the divers try to make it from one to the other. I’ve seen two divers succeed, and one drown in the attempt.”
Jason had his hand in his pocket. He managed to open the drawstring bag and work several drooma into his palm. Based on the soldier’s previous reaction, he figured it would be better to pay without displaying his bag of money. “What sort of predators are down there?”
The soldier
A loud wave drew his attention back to the ocean. The flatness of the plain must allow the water to encroach hundreds of yards during high tide, which explained the abundant tidal pools so distant from where the waves currently expired.
Jason looked back the way he had come. The lurker remained out of sight. He could hardly believe that he had finally ditched the creature, at least temporarily.
“You there! I need to see your permit.” Jason turned. A soldier was drawing near, walking briskly. He wore the same armor as the men who had apprehended Jason after he fled from the Eternal Feast at Harthenham.
Resisting the reflex to run, Jason watched the man approach.
“Your permit,” the man repeated officiously. He had a crooked nose and stood half a head shorter than Jason.
“I don’t have one. I’m not bothering anything.”
“Be that as it may,” the man replied importantly, “nobody sets foot on the floodplain without the proper documentation. Everyone knows that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then we have a problem.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been here before. I’m just coming up from the south, looking for work. Is this Ithilum?”
“Of course it is.” The soldier stroked his chin, sizing up Jason, his stance becoming a bit more casual. “You wear strange apparel.”
Jason used a planned response. “My uncle was a tailor. He liked to experiment.”
The soldier gave a nod. “Times are hard. Tell you what. Trespassing on the floodplain carries a hefty fine, but if you would rather hire me to escort you across for a fraction of the fee, I might oblige you.”
“How much?”
The man regarded him shrewdly. “The fines can reach upward of a hundred drooma.”
“How about twenty?”
By the soldier’s expression, Jason knew he had offered more than expected. “A man who offers twenty can often afford thirty.”
Jason produced one of the small drawstring bags Tark had given him.
“Not here,” the soldier muttered under his breath, glancing around.
“Oh.” Jason put the bag back in his pocket. “Sorry.”
“Act like you’re showing me a document.”
Jason pantomimed taking a piece of paper from his pocket.The soldier stepped close to him and pretended to take it. He nodded at the imaginary permit and handed it back.
“Twenty-five?” Jason tried.
“Thirty is much less than a hundred,” the soldier pointed out, “and you’ll get to avoid prison.”
“I need something to live on until I find work.” Jason had plenty of money for now, but didn’t want to give the impression that paying thirty was no sacrifice.
“Fair enough. Come with me. Pretend we’re talking.”
“Why don’t we just actually talk?”
“Good idea.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Tell me about your work,” Jason said.
“I’m stationed out here to prevent poaching. This tideland is an important resource. If any vagrant could wander out here and pilfer shellfish, soon none would remain. The harvesting must be controlled.”
They were walking past a circular pool. Leaning over it, Jason could not see the bottom.
“That one’s deep.”
The soldier nodded. “Those are tide wells. Specialists dive deep to retrieve rare delicacies. Dangerous job. Fierce predators prowl the deep ones. In fact, some of them intersect far underground. There’s a whole system of tunnels and grottos.”
“Really?”
“Sure as I’m standing here. See those two pools?” The soldier indicated the ones he meant, which were separated by maybe fifty yards.
“Yeah.”
“They’re connected. Some of the divers try to make it from one to the other. I’ve seen two divers succeed, and one drown in the attempt.”
Jason had his hand in his pocket. He managed to open the drawstring bag and work several drooma into his palm. Based on the soldier’s previous reaction, he figured it would be better to pay without displaying his bag of money. “What sort of predators are down there?”
The soldier
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