Anger had spiked low in her gut, and Silverfish had grabbed the bars. “I don’t care what it sounds like to you, or even if you did know him. You say you’re wealthy? I say you’re riffraff. One of the Landless, if I had to guess.” There was a flash of indignation in his eyes. “I don’t expect someone like you to understand what loyalty is.”
“And you do?” he’d asked quietly.
She had stormed out after that. But his words continued to trail her in her shadow, written in the crinkles of her palms, murmured under the susurrus of the sea. They followed her down into the depths now, cold and dim and haunting.
“ Every man carries his sins a different way.”
Roach stopped swimming and pointed to an outcrop of rocky reefs below. It was crusted with coral, spindly stalks of pink and blue like small waterlogged trees. Silverfish swam toward it and eagerly reached for the nearest oyster, but Roach grabbed her wrist. He met her eyes and shook his head, pointing again. She followed his finger and accidentally let a few air bubbles escape.
The reef was crawling with cleverly camouflaged rockfish. One bite from them could send someone into shock. Under the waves, that was a death sentence.
Roach was already hauling her back up. Her lungs were starved, so she reluctantly followed until they broke the surface.
“Damn it.” Roach slicked back his wet hair, water sliding down his face. “Those rockfish weren’t there last time I dove.”
“So we just avoid them,” Silverfish said. “We can be careful.”
“It’s too risky.”
Silverfish closed her eyes tight. This was their last diving stop until they reached Moray; she couldn’t afford to let the opportunity go.
Protector and Punisher, she thought, beginning the familiar prayer to the Kharian gods her father had called upon his whole life, Trickster and Temptress, Lord of Earth and Lady of Sky, clear my eyes and clear my mind, for I know not what I do.
“Sil,” Roach warned. “I know that look. That’s your I’m-reckoning-with-the-gods look.”
She opened her eyes and grinned. “Last one down gets to shuck.”
And with that, she took another breath and plunged back into the water.
Kicking her legs hard and fast, she descended to the reef. It was difficult to see them, but the slightest motion gave the rockfish away. They blended so well with the rock that she had to make several second and third guesses as to where the rest of the school was hiding.
Ignoring the strain of her heart, Silverfish reached for a small yet easily accessible oyster. She pried it off the reef and tucked it into the small pouch wrapped low around her hips. A dark shape beside her made her start, but it was only Roach. He shot her a reproachful look before he began to carefully harvest.
The sea was alive around her, full of motion and shadow, from swaying kelp to the flash of small fish darting by. She wasn’t fooled; she knew all too well the hidden dangers around her, the potential for death amid all this life. She kept an eye out for brinies, a type of poisonous mollusk, as well as a small breed of jellyfish found in these waters that, with one sting, could paralyze someone for up to five hours. One of the Bugs had drowned that way last year.
As she reached for the meatier-looking oysters, the rock beside them shifted. Not a rock at all—a rockfish, motionless among the coral.
Silverfish jerked back, heart pounding. Damn it.
But these were the biggest oysters she’d found. She had to take the chance.
With her chest tight and vision beginning to darken, Silverfish’s hand hovered over the oysters. The rockfish was still; she couldn’t even make out its eyes. Was it better to do it fast or slow? What would provoke it less?
The rockfish shifted again. Fast, then.
She grabbed the oysters and pried them off, one in each hand.
The rockfish struck.
Crying out soundlessly, Silverfish spun away as she clutched the oysters to her chest. Roach was there in an instant to pull her back to the surface.
“Fool!” he panted as soon as they could gulp down air. “Did it bite? Are you hurt?”
Silverfish moved her left hand and hissed. There was a slender red line on the side of her palm that was rapidly swelling. It felt like fire. “It didn’t bite, but it grazed me.”
“We need to get you back before the effects take hold.”
She nodded and clumsily pushed the oysters into her pouch with her right hand, her left already too numb to use. A graze like this wasn’t fatal, but the numbness would spread, putting her out of commission for at least a few hours.
Swimming back to shore was difficult. Roach took hold of her waist as Silverfish paddled with her right arm, and together they were able to crawl onto the beach. She tumbled to the sand, breathing heavily.
“I’ll get the other Bugs to help carry you,” Roach said. Silverfish used her right hand to grab his wrist before he could stand.
“Wait,” she wheezed. “Shuck them. Please. Before the captain sees.”
Roach hesitated, but the desperation in her eyes was enough to convince him. He opened her pouch and took out the five oysters she had managed to harvest, going back to his discarded clothes to find a shucker.
“If your lungs seize up, you only have yourself to blame,” he grumbled as he sat and began to open each oyster. He showed her their insides as he worked. She grunted in both pain and frustration when she saw only small, standard pearls in two of them, and bared her teeth when the next two had no pearls at all.
Then Roach paused, gazing down at the fifth and largest oyster. He met Silverfish’s frantic gaze, a grim smile on his lips.
“Congratulations,” he said, raising the oyster for her to see.
And inside: the price of four weeks of debt.
With the help of Roach and some of the other Bugs, Silverfish made it back on board the Brackish, ignoring Captain Zharo’s taunts the entire time.
“Too eager for those pearls, Silverfish?” he’d rumbled as they rowed back to the ship. “Can’t imagine why.” He laughed at his own wit, the same grating, coarse laugh that always pulled her shoulders up to her ears. “Don’t think this lets you off easy. You best be recovered by your next shift, else I’ll add another week or two to the board.”
Just wait, you bastard, she’d thought, touching the round, smooth pearl hidden in her pocket.
After a couple of hours in her hammock and partially recovering feeling in her left side, she was able to shuffle into the galley later that night, where Cicada was on duty. He grinned at her from behind the grimy counter, a pot of something boiling behind him on the stove.
“Glad to see you up,” Cicada said as he roughly chopped some withered onions. His long black hair was rolled into locs, and tattoos of white dots studded his dark brown face in half-moons under his eyes. “Rumors going about saying you was a goner.”
“It’s only a scratch,” she muttered, showing him her bandaged hand. It was still throbbing, but at least she could move it. “I need to feed my charge.”
“Sure thing. But first…” He poured her a glass of what looked to be heavily diluted lupseh, a popular type of alcohol found in the Lede Islands. How he’d managed to get it, let alone sneak it on board, she had no idea. He pushed the glass toward her with a wink. “Don’t tell Cap.”