Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(34)

He allowed her to lead him back the way he had come.

Once on board, he reached a hand in to feel the contents of his bowl. All unfamiliar except for the imperfectly round cakes he assumed to be corn. He pulled a long scale-covered creature out and held it up.

“A fish?”

“The Cuecolans call them shushu. These have been smoked.”

“Smoked” meant nothing to him in particular. He was not a gourmand by any stretch of the imagination. Food, when it came, was simply a necessity to keep him functioning. He took no delight in flavor and method and texture. He held the fish to his mouth and bit into its side. Scales cut his lips and the roof of his mouth. Alarmed, he ran his tongue over his bruised flesh.

“You like them?” she asked, humor in her voice.

“Yes, I think. But they are difficult to eat.”

She snorted. “Your Cuecolan is terrible. You speak Trade?”

“Yes.”

“Let us talk in Trade, then. So, Obregi has no seas?”

He shook his head no. The fish was strange but good, and now that he was eating, he was ravenous.

She laughed a small, relieved laugh. “You’re just a man, then.”

He paused, the fish already halfway to his mouth. It was a statement she had made, not a question, so he said nothing and let her assumption go unremarked. He took another bite.

“The way you came up out of nowhere just now, I thought for a minute…” Her words drifted off. “You see strange things at sea sometimes. A black bird that turns into a man in a black robe would not be the strangest.”

“What would be?” he asked, curious.

“Women with fish tails and a voice that can change a man’s will,” she said, and her tone told him that she was making fun of herself.

He took another fish, this time biting off the head instead of starting on the side.

“Seven hells,” she said, laughing. “Has no one taught you to eat a fish?”

The thing was slick in his mouth, the bones trying their best to slide between his teeth. “No.”

She tapped his arm. “Give it to me.”

He handed it over as he swallowed the bit in his mouth.

“Sit,” she commanded, and he followed her quick steps over to the paddle benches. Whatever she did, she did fast, and then she handed him back the fish. “I’ve cut it in two. Watch for the bones. They can stick in the throat. But the white flesh is good. Eat that part first.”

“White flesh?” he asked.

“My mistake,” she said, sounding apologetic. “Just pick the meat from the bone. Can you do that?”

“Of couse.” It took him a moment to figure it out by touch, but soon he was using his fingers to pry the flesh free. It was soft and melted against his tongue. So much tastier than the scales and bones.

“Here.”

She handed him something else. It was one of the shell creatures that had been in the bowl with the corn cakes and fish. She had opened the shell, and it sat in two pieces in his hand, just like the fish had. He reached in with his fingers.

“No,” she said. “You suck an oyster down. No hands. Just your mouth.”

He held the shell to his lips and sucked. The oyster slid down his throat in a salty wash. It was even better than the fish and easier to eat.

“Another,” she said, and he took a second oyster. He could feel her eyes on him, watching. Deciding.

After his fifth oyster, he held up his hand to say no more. He reached inside the bowl that sat on the bench between them and took a corn cake. He broke it in half, the crumbs falling between his fingers, and offered her a piece. After a moment she took it.

“My name is Xiala, but you can call me Captain,” she said, chewing.

“I am Serapio.”

“You can see.” It was another non-question.

“Shapes, shadows, and light. Movement. The rest is scent, taste, touch.” He did not tell her about the crows or about his god.

“You’re good at it.”

“Better than most that are not blind.”

“And the cloth on your eyes, it’s just for show?”

“No. And yes.”

She made a sound like she understood. “I had a dagger like that.” She took another bite, chewing loudly. “You scare the crew.”

“I know.”

“They’re good enough men, strong. But I’m in a particular situation.”

He said nothing, only waited. Finally, she seemed to make a decision. “You know what I am?”

“The captain?”

The canoe creaked as she leaned back against the ledge. “Good,” she said, a grin evident in her voice, “but I mean the other thing.”

“Teek.”

“That one. They’re scared of that, too.”

“I heard them chanting for you.”

“Aye,” she acknowledged. “But two days ago some of those men were happy to blame my being Teek for turning the salt bad.”

“What changed?”

“Not sure. Balam? Cacao in their hands? A belly full of good food?”

“Callo?”

“Him, too.”

“So it could change back.”

“You are a smart man, Obregi.”

“Observant.”