SALTED
Salted Series: Book 1
1st edition - Deleted Chapters
LENNY
Lenny Dolan never asked for a Salted life. No one smart ever did.
But unlike those poor wretches stolen from the surface and dragged into the depths, Lenny didn’t have anything with which to compare his Salt existence. Born in the realm beneath the waves, he knew of no other life until his owner raised him up and gave him a profession.
None of Lenny’s fellow catchers bothered to stir when he woke screaming from a night terror, two hours past. Each recognized the cries associated with guilt’s icy stabs and the shaded memories of those they hauled back into lives of Salt slavery.
Lenny shivered in his hammock crafted of worn trawler nets. Fear is for runnas not catchas. Don’t run from it. Become it.
He tossed the molded blanket aside and swung his stunted legs free of the bedding. Lenny winced at the cold onslaught when his bare feet grazed the cavern floor. He did not pull away. Once his feet numbed, he slunk through the maze of sleeping bodies.
Lenny had grown quite good at slinking over the years, admittedly not hard for one of his stature. He tested the hinges of the rotted driftwood door. It threatened to fall off but held. He thanked the Ancients for their mercy and slipped out of the shack.
Morn had not yet graced Crayfish Cavern. Some might have risked a torch to ward off the near absolute dark and light their way to the docks. Lenny did not. Doing so would only attract unwanted attention from whichever taskmaster had drawn the early watch. Not to mention the accompanying ten lashes for being outside of quarters without leave. Instead, he used the glittering stalactites, high in the stony ceiling, to guide him. Like countless glittering stars, they winked at him as if to warn they kept watch where taskmasters’ eyes could not follow. Declan Dolan had taught his son the use of them as a pup. They had yet to fail him.
Lenny caught a dank smell in the air, rife with the blended stench of body odor, vomit, and excrement. He recognized it for a fresh slave crop come down the Gasping Hole. Not for the first time, he wondered why the taskmasters didn’t have the newest catches cleaned upon their arrival. Soon enough the lucky amongst them would earn a Selkie suit. The others…
He snorted the scent away and continued on. Even now, with no one to see, he avoided the boardwalk. Bad habits led to accidents and Lenny sought no more of those. He waddled alongside the boardwalk, trading the slave stink for that of seaweed hung to dry from the tops of six-foot racks.
Barrels lined the dock, each of them brimming with fresh ocean crops—Atlantic cod and haddock, littleneck clams, mussels, and oysters. All awaited surface delivery for the Boston fish markets.
Lenny’s stomach grumbled at the sights and smells of the fresh and untouched food. He hurried past, lest temptation overpower his sensibilities, not stopping until he reached the oldest dock. Its wooden beams remained in drastic need of a repair that would never come. He hopscotched over the barren spaces toward the dock edge, leaned over the side to look down.
The cavern ceiling gave the ocean waters an eerie, greenish glow. Three-foot waves struck the thick, barnacle-encrusted pillars. Lenny felt a giddy rush as they shook the rickety wooden pier. The receding tide beckoned him come hunt, then another series of waves rushed to shake the pier anew.
Lenny reached behind his shoulders for the soft and fuzzy hood draped down his backside. Smoky grey and adorned with white circles of varying sizes, it hung from what Drybacks would say resembled a one-piece wetsuit. Donning the hood, he pictured the Salted form given to him—a tiny Ringed Seal.
Lenny’s transformation began.
He felt the hood elongate, covering his face, blinding him. His sleeves and leggings tickled past his bare feet and hands, warming them. The sealskin grew further, cocooning his legs into a single tail. He knelt and lay prostrate before his upper body weight toppled him. He felt his feet splay sideways, toes curling to form two hind flippers.
His already pudgy stomach bulged and grew into a fat, seal belly. The white circles of his former hood scattered across his back like a light touch meant to tickle. They shifted in size—some grew to the size of dish plates, others shrank to the size of coins.
He felt his sleeves cover and tighten against his human hands like mittens. They morphed into fore flippers and sprouted nails from tiny digits at the end. His nose and mouth grew into a cat-like muzzle. Whiskers burst from his cheeks. His ears retracted to leave two holes on either side of his seal head.
Lenny opened his seal eyes as the transformation from human to seal completed. He dove into the near freezing North Atlantic water headfirst. The water should feel frigid, he knew, but his seal body’s blubbery layer kept the cold at bay.
A school of cod drifted nearby. Lenny gave chase. One he nipped in his mouth before the doomed fish recognized him for a threat. The others he swam down, hooking them with claws sharp enough to hack through glacier ice.
The school unnaturally changed direction.
Lenny halted mid-swim. With a shift of his head, he spun to face whatever predator stalked him now. He saw a chimney of bubbles churn below frothy white circles near the surface where he entered not moments ago. Looks like I’m not the only hunta this mornin’.
He caught the scent of his owner’s seahorses on the current. The thought occurred to him one might have escaped, but their stable door beneath the docks remained tightly latched.
His seal instincts suggested he surface and head for shore. Lenny dove deeper.
Slap!
The noise came from the surface; a sea otter, floating on its back, used its tail like a paddle to propel it forward.
Endrees. Lenny realized his mistake too late.
A grey shadow with light rings across its back sped up from the depths. Its skull collided with his stomach stealing his breath away.
Lenny swiped at the other Ringed Seal.
His opponent batted away the weak attempt. It weaved behind, collared him by the nape with its pincer-like jaws.
Felt like an early mornin’ swim, huh? a man’s hard voice growled in Lenny’s mind like one of his own thoughts. Against the rules and five lashes for a first offense. How many times ya done this now? Eight?
Ya’ve only caught me eight, Lenny directed his thoughts to the other seal.
Eight times too many.
The sea otter dove to their depth and swam circles around the two seals.
Get away from me, Endrees, said Lenny to the otter.
It replied with a series of trills. Then it flipped to its back and swam alongside him, just out of reach.
Endrees, Lenny’s captor spoke. Go to shore.
The otter stuck out its tongue but obeyed the command and swam away.
Good riddance, Lenny said. Ya oughta drown that sea rat.
The other seal bit down harder. With a quick tug, it dragged Lenny inland. A catcha watches…waits in the shadows to make sure the goin’s safe. Otherwise he’s the one bein’ caught. Ya supposed to have at least two ways of escape. Ya forget that?
I was in the water, Lenny argued. There’s a thousand different directions I coulda swum.
If ya got no plan of where to go it don’t matta. Ya neva gonna be big Len, so ya gotta be fasta--
--or smarta if ya wanna live, Lenny interrupted. I haven’t forgot.
The other seal said nothing more as they neared the shoreline shallows.
Lenny poked his head out of the water to learn who his captor had wrangled to release them both. A pair of sausage-sized fingers grabbed his upper seal lip before he could see anything. The fingers yanked up and then swept the entire seal head backward like removing a costumed mask. The seal head changed to an average hood again before draping down Lenny’s backside.
He felt his seal claws retract into fingers as the flippers melted back into sleeves. His tail split in two, the remains of it shrinking up and against his ankles. Lenny shivered, now without the seal’s blubber to shield him. He glanced up to see who had released him.
Paulo Varela, a bred-and-born product of slave owner selection. The crayfish tattoo on his neck marked him as belonging to August Collins. Its claws seemed to reach for his jaws as he yawned. His normally dark-gold Selkie coat glistened black, now soaked by ocean water. Paulo wiped the last bits of sleep from his eyes. “Heya, Len. Did you have to get up so early?”
Lenny ignored him, just as he ignored Endrees hissing at him from atop a nearby boulder. He waded up the stony shore as Paulo went deeper to release the other Selkie.
"Don’t walk away from me, son,” the captor’s voice transitioned from thought to spoken word.
Lenny turned around.
A grizzled, middle-aged dwarf had replaced his seal opponent. The little man stood no taller than Paulo’s waistline and, like Lenny, wore the smoke-grey suit with embroidered white circles marking him as a Ringed Seal. His hardened, lumpy face appeared marred by a drunken chiseler who had left the numerous scars for sport, and the corners of his hazel eyes wrinkled into crow’s feet the longer he stared at Lenny.
Declan Dolan pointed at his son. “How many times ya gotta see others whipped before ya smarten up, boy?”
“Pop,” Lenny said. “We’re catchas—”
“That don’t make ya no betta than those bound for the Block,” Declan said. “Ya still a slave! Master Collins can do with ya what he wants. That includes sellin’ ya.”
Paulo snorted. “August would never do that. Lenny’s the only thing that keeps you from running.”
“Oh, yeah?” Declan said. “So what if Master Collins decides the lash isn’t keepin’ his catchas on the straight and narrow? Maybe he takes one of Lenny’s ears to remind him how important it is for slaves to listen. Better yet, Paulie, what if he takes ours to make sure we keep Lenny followin’ the rules? How’d that be?”
Paulo instinctively reached for his ears and massaged the crystal-studded earrings.
“Sorry, Pop,” Lenny said. “It won’t happen again.”
“Mistakes and apologies don’t keep ya safe in the Salt, boys. No more than they will on land,” Declan said. “Now come on, the both of ya. Ya been called up.”
Lenny straightened. “Did someone run off in the night?”
Both young catchers looked to Declan for confirmation. Neither received an answer. The elder Dolan limped alongside the boardwalk with his pet otter close on his heels.
Lenny noticed Paulo’s earrings twinkle just before the thought transmission came through. We’re going out.
Pop didn’t say that, Lenny directed his thoughts back.
Paulo grinned. He didn’t say anything. We’re being sent out, Len. I can feel it.
Lenny couldn’t. Even so, no arguments to combat Paulo’s enthusiasm came to mind and Lenny could not recall a scheduled whipping, hanging, or keel-raking today.
Why else would we be summoned?
Declan set them at a brisk pace, despite his short legs and limp, and they passed the Block in no time. Soon the same denizens Lenny had smelled earlier that morning would fill the empty cages. Their pleas for help and freedom mixing alongside an auctioneer’s voice.
Paulo elbowed Lenny. “I wonder if August will send Ellie with us.”
“I keep telling ya to forget about her,” Lenny said.
“You suggest a Brazilian give up on love? Might as well ask me to not breathe.”
“Ya were bred-n-born in New Pearlaya,” Lenny countered. “Ya neva been to Brazil.”
Paulo shrugged. “Maybe not, but my mother said it’s important to remember our roots so we might find our way home someday.”
Declan turned north up the long and winding sandstone path leading to the Collins’ mansion.
Lenny gazed at the stone castle carved from the cavern’s very walls as they climbed the steep hillside. Declan once told him their owner chose the building site as another wise reminder. Not just to his slaves, but for anyone bidding on them down at the docks. With such a lofty perch for a home, August Collins wanted it known he looked down on everyone.
This is our home, Paulie. Lenny thought to himself.
After the long climb, Declan led them around the mansion and through the kitchen’s prep area. House slaves unworthy of a Selkie coat busied about their morning chores, feeding the cook flames. Lenny would later swear he saw eel crackling over a fire through an open kitchen door. He had only tasted the bacon of the sea once, and crumbs at that, but had never forgotten it.
The house slaves bowed their heads when the three catchers walked through their midst.
Moments later the trio reached the gallows platform. Its position had been erected just outside and below August’s personal chambers. Some rumored it done so he could witness the hangings without leaving his bedside. But this morning the owner of Crayfish Cavern had already risen. He and his much thinner son, Oscar, sat on the stone veranda sampling the first course of breakfast—skewered clam and boiled kelp.
Though still dreadfully early, both Collinses had dressed in regal Harp Seal to befit their station. The luxurious sheen off the pearl-white coats sparkled as it caught the torchlights house slaves held to illuminate their very different faces. August might once have been sharp-jawed like his son. Now his face resembled a blown-up puffer fish, just like the rest of his body.
Lenny scowled up at them.
August missed the disdainful look. Nothing escaped his overseer, Byron Fenton. The wiry, former catcher stood just behind his master and his thin lips pursed. He gave a slight jerk of his head in warning for Lenny to move along.
Lenny followed Declan’s lead into the nearly barren courtyard. He half-expected a score of catchers. He found two.
One wore the tan hide of a Sea Lion. The boy had not reached his teen years, yet his gaunt features spoke plain he had witnessed more pain in his short life than most on land ever would. He had yet to shed a boy’s natural excitement, however, and he stood straighter seeing Lenny Dolan and his father approach.
The other—Ellie Briceño—stood near the gallows. As big as Paulo, she too bore the Elephant Seal suit to befit her size. Unlike the others, her natural human skin still fought to retain some semblance of a tan. She had lived ashore once, Lenny knew, and had not yet resided long enough beneath the waves to have her color sapped.
Lenny still hadn’t figured out how long ago her surface life had been stolen, but he knew she didn’t like being asked about it.
Both allowed way for Declan to stand at the forefront. Only when Lenny's father stopped did Byron Fenton step forward to address the unusually small crowd.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Fenton rapped his waist-high, razor-shell cane on the stone parapets. “Word has reached our master’s ears of a proven, elusive runaway by the name of Marisa Bourgeois. She is rumored uncatchable, among other things,” said Fenton skeptically. “Our wise master does not believe such claims. He has taken up wagers that any runner can be captured. You lot will prove him correct!”
Fenton bowed his head and closed his eyes as if meaning to pray. His eyelids quivered, earrings flashed.
A moment later, Lenny and the others had a picture of a girl in their minds. No older than eighteen in appearance, black skinned with green, cat-like eyes, she wore a shaggy, chocolate-brown Cape Fur Seal coat.
Lenny wracked his brain for any conceivable advantage the suit might give her. Nothing came to mind. The Cape Fur held no speed, strength, or even temperature benefits others offered.
“A job of this magnitude carries with it an equally sizable reward,” Fenton continued. “Our generous master offers a thousand anemonies to the crew who brings her back!”
Lenny turned to his father. Pop, has August eva given a reward before?
Declan’s earrings sparkled once. No.
A thousand anemonies! Lenny kept the thought to himself. That could buy our freedom.
The glow of earrings from the catchers speaking to one another teased a smile from even Byron Fenton.
“As you may have heard,” Fenton continued. “Other crews have already been sent…sprinters to scour the reefs and patrol the coasts, divers to the deepest of depths, and brutes to turn over the outposts. Your task will be a different one—” Fenton hesitated and gave a sideways glance to both his owners.
Lenny’s heart quivered. Pop, he spoke only to Declan. What’s goin’ on? Why’s Fenton actin’…strange?
Ya gotta learn to see on ya own, Declan replied. Listen…think.
Lenny looked around the other catchers. A crew’s bein’ sent out. But it can’t be this group. If our families go with us, what’s to keep the lot of us from runnin’?
August strutted to the edge of the veranda. “Ahem. I’ve called you all here today for a most especial reason. While it's true others have been sent, I’ve selected this crew for the most important assignment! Oscar, my boy,” August waved his son join him. “If you’re to learn the family stock-in-trade, the best teacher is experience. It’s to you I gift this elite team.”
Lenny didn’t like the look Oscar gave the catchers at all. He liked the way Oscar lingered on him even less. It had not been so many years since Lenny had dodged rocks thrown from high atop the hill aimed at his head.
“They’re mine to lead?” Oscar asked.
August chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm. “Er…well, co-lead, as it were.”
“But, Father. I should be the captain!”
Lenny had the urge to laugh then. He thought better of it. Serves the spoiled pup right. Let him learn what it’s like to follow.
“You have the final say,” August assuaged his son’s doubt. “But you’ve never hunted before. The co-captain I’ve chosen will aid your lead.”
Oscar’s gaze fell on Declan. His upper lip curled. “And who will that be?”
August grinned. “Lenny…Lenny Dolan.”
But unlike those poor wretches stolen from the surface and dragged into the depths, Lenny didn’t have anything with which to compare his Salt existence. Born in the realm beneath the waves, he knew of no other life until his owner raised him up and gave him a profession.
None of Lenny’s fellow catchers bothered to stir when he woke screaming from a night terror, two hours past. Each recognized the cries associated with guilt’s icy stabs and the shaded memories of those they hauled back into lives of Salt slavery.
Lenny shivered in his hammock crafted of worn trawler nets. Fear is for runnas not catchas. Don’t run from it. Become it.
He tossed the molded blanket aside and swung his stunted legs free of the bedding. Lenny winced at the cold onslaught when his bare feet grazed the cavern floor. He did not pull away. Once his feet numbed, he slunk through the maze of sleeping bodies.
Lenny had grown quite good at slinking over the years, admittedly not hard for one of his stature. He tested the hinges of the rotted driftwood door. It threatened to fall off but held. He thanked the Ancients for their mercy and slipped out of the shack.
Morn had not yet graced Crayfish Cavern. Some might have risked a torch to ward off the near absolute dark and light their way to the docks. Lenny did not. Doing so would only attract unwanted attention from whichever taskmaster had drawn the early watch. Not to mention the accompanying ten lashes for being outside of quarters without leave. Instead, he used the glittering stalactites, high in the stony ceiling, to guide him. Like countless glittering stars, they winked at him as if to warn they kept watch where taskmasters’ eyes could not follow. Declan Dolan had taught his son the use of them as a pup. They had yet to fail him.
Lenny caught a dank smell in the air, rife with the blended stench of body odor, vomit, and excrement. He recognized it for a fresh slave crop come down the Gasping Hole. Not for the first time, he wondered why the taskmasters didn’t have the newest catches cleaned upon their arrival. Soon enough the lucky amongst them would earn a Selkie suit. The others…
He snorted the scent away and continued on. Even now, with no one to see, he avoided the boardwalk. Bad habits led to accidents and Lenny sought no more of those. He waddled alongside the boardwalk, trading the slave stink for that of seaweed hung to dry from the tops of six-foot racks.
Barrels lined the dock, each of them brimming with fresh ocean crops—Atlantic cod and haddock, littleneck clams, mussels, and oysters. All awaited surface delivery for the Boston fish markets.
Lenny’s stomach grumbled at the sights and smells of the fresh and untouched food. He hurried past, lest temptation overpower his sensibilities, not stopping until he reached the oldest dock. Its wooden beams remained in drastic need of a repair that would never come. He hopscotched over the barren spaces toward the dock edge, leaned over the side to look down.
The cavern ceiling gave the ocean waters an eerie, greenish glow. Three-foot waves struck the thick, barnacle-encrusted pillars. Lenny felt a giddy rush as they shook the rickety wooden pier. The receding tide beckoned him come hunt, then another series of waves rushed to shake the pier anew.
Lenny reached behind his shoulders for the soft and fuzzy hood draped down his backside. Smoky grey and adorned with white circles of varying sizes, it hung from what Drybacks would say resembled a one-piece wetsuit. Donning the hood, he pictured the Salted form given to him—a tiny Ringed Seal.
Lenny’s transformation began.
He felt the hood elongate, covering his face, blinding him. His sleeves and leggings tickled past his bare feet and hands, warming them. The sealskin grew further, cocooning his legs into a single tail. He knelt and lay prostrate before his upper body weight toppled him. He felt his feet splay sideways, toes curling to form two hind flippers.
His already pudgy stomach bulged and grew into a fat, seal belly. The white circles of his former hood scattered across his back like a light touch meant to tickle. They shifted in size—some grew to the size of dish plates, others shrank to the size of coins.
He felt his sleeves cover and tighten against his human hands like mittens. They morphed into fore flippers and sprouted nails from tiny digits at the end. His nose and mouth grew into a cat-like muzzle. Whiskers burst from his cheeks. His ears retracted to leave two holes on either side of his seal head.
Lenny opened his seal eyes as the transformation from human to seal completed. He dove into the near freezing North Atlantic water headfirst. The water should feel frigid, he knew, but his seal body’s blubbery layer kept the cold at bay.
A school of cod drifted nearby. Lenny gave chase. One he nipped in his mouth before the doomed fish recognized him for a threat. The others he swam down, hooking them with claws sharp enough to hack through glacier ice.
The school unnaturally changed direction.
Lenny halted mid-swim. With a shift of his head, he spun to face whatever predator stalked him now. He saw a chimney of bubbles churn below frothy white circles near the surface where he entered not moments ago. Looks like I’m not the only hunta this mornin’.
He caught the scent of his owner’s seahorses on the current. The thought occurred to him one might have escaped, but their stable door beneath the docks remained tightly latched.
His seal instincts suggested he surface and head for shore. Lenny dove deeper.
Slap!
The noise came from the surface; a sea otter, floating on its back, used its tail like a paddle to propel it forward.
Endrees. Lenny realized his mistake too late.
A grey shadow with light rings across its back sped up from the depths. Its skull collided with his stomach stealing his breath away.
Lenny swiped at the other Ringed Seal.
His opponent batted away the weak attempt. It weaved behind, collared him by the nape with its pincer-like jaws.
Felt like an early mornin’ swim, huh? a man’s hard voice growled in Lenny’s mind like one of his own thoughts. Against the rules and five lashes for a first offense. How many times ya done this now? Eight?
Ya’ve only caught me eight, Lenny directed his thoughts to the other seal.
Eight times too many.
The sea otter dove to their depth and swam circles around the two seals.
Get away from me, Endrees, said Lenny to the otter.
It replied with a series of trills. Then it flipped to its back and swam alongside him, just out of reach.
Endrees, Lenny’s captor spoke. Go to shore.
The otter stuck out its tongue but obeyed the command and swam away.
Good riddance, Lenny said. Ya oughta drown that sea rat.
The other seal bit down harder. With a quick tug, it dragged Lenny inland. A catcha watches…waits in the shadows to make sure the goin’s safe. Otherwise he’s the one bein’ caught. Ya supposed to have at least two ways of escape. Ya forget that?
I was in the water, Lenny argued. There’s a thousand different directions I coulda swum.
If ya got no plan of where to go it don’t matta. Ya neva gonna be big Len, so ya gotta be fasta--
--or smarta if ya wanna live, Lenny interrupted. I haven’t forgot.
The other seal said nothing more as they neared the shoreline shallows.
Lenny poked his head out of the water to learn who his captor had wrangled to release them both. A pair of sausage-sized fingers grabbed his upper seal lip before he could see anything. The fingers yanked up and then swept the entire seal head backward like removing a costumed mask. The seal head changed to an average hood again before draping down Lenny’s backside.
He felt his seal claws retract into fingers as the flippers melted back into sleeves. His tail split in two, the remains of it shrinking up and against his ankles. Lenny shivered, now without the seal’s blubber to shield him. He glanced up to see who had released him.
Paulo Varela, a bred-and-born product of slave owner selection. The crayfish tattoo on his neck marked him as belonging to August Collins. Its claws seemed to reach for his jaws as he yawned. His normally dark-gold Selkie coat glistened black, now soaked by ocean water. Paulo wiped the last bits of sleep from his eyes. “Heya, Len. Did you have to get up so early?”
Lenny ignored him, just as he ignored Endrees hissing at him from atop a nearby boulder. He waded up the stony shore as Paulo went deeper to release the other Selkie.
"Don’t walk away from me, son,” the captor’s voice transitioned from thought to spoken word.
Lenny turned around.
A grizzled, middle-aged dwarf had replaced his seal opponent. The little man stood no taller than Paulo’s waistline and, like Lenny, wore the smoke-grey suit with embroidered white circles marking him as a Ringed Seal. His hardened, lumpy face appeared marred by a drunken chiseler who had left the numerous scars for sport, and the corners of his hazel eyes wrinkled into crow’s feet the longer he stared at Lenny.
Declan Dolan pointed at his son. “How many times ya gotta see others whipped before ya smarten up, boy?”
“Pop,” Lenny said. “We’re catchas—”
“That don’t make ya no betta than those bound for the Block,” Declan said. “Ya still a slave! Master Collins can do with ya what he wants. That includes sellin’ ya.”
Paulo snorted. “August would never do that. Lenny’s the only thing that keeps you from running.”
“Oh, yeah?” Declan said. “So what if Master Collins decides the lash isn’t keepin’ his catchas on the straight and narrow? Maybe he takes one of Lenny’s ears to remind him how important it is for slaves to listen. Better yet, Paulie, what if he takes ours to make sure we keep Lenny followin’ the rules? How’d that be?”
Paulo instinctively reached for his ears and massaged the crystal-studded earrings.
“Sorry, Pop,” Lenny said. “It won’t happen again.”
“Mistakes and apologies don’t keep ya safe in the Salt, boys. No more than they will on land,” Declan said. “Now come on, the both of ya. Ya been called up.”
Lenny straightened. “Did someone run off in the night?”
Both young catchers looked to Declan for confirmation. Neither received an answer. The elder Dolan limped alongside the boardwalk with his pet otter close on his heels.
Lenny noticed Paulo’s earrings twinkle just before the thought transmission came through. We’re going out.
Pop didn’t say that, Lenny directed his thoughts back.
Paulo grinned. He didn’t say anything. We’re being sent out, Len. I can feel it.
Lenny couldn’t. Even so, no arguments to combat Paulo’s enthusiasm came to mind and Lenny could not recall a scheduled whipping, hanging, or keel-raking today.
Why else would we be summoned?
Declan set them at a brisk pace, despite his short legs and limp, and they passed the Block in no time. Soon the same denizens Lenny had smelled earlier that morning would fill the empty cages. Their pleas for help and freedom mixing alongside an auctioneer’s voice.
Paulo elbowed Lenny. “I wonder if August will send Ellie with us.”
“I keep telling ya to forget about her,” Lenny said.
“You suggest a Brazilian give up on love? Might as well ask me to not breathe.”
“Ya were bred-n-born in New Pearlaya,” Lenny countered. “Ya neva been to Brazil.”
Paulo shrugged. “Maybe not, but my mother said it’s important to remember our roots so we might find our way home someday.”
Declan turned north up the long and winding sandstone path leading to the Collins’ mansion.
Lenny gazed at the stone castle carved from the cavern’s very walls as they climbed the steep hillside. Declan once told him their owner chose the building site as another wise reminder. Not just to his slaves, but for anyone bidding on them down at the docks. With such a lofty perch for a home, August Collins wanted it known he looked down on everyone.
This is our home, Paulie. Lenny thought to himself.
After the long climb, Declan led them around the mansion and through the kitchen’s prep area. House slaves unworthy of a Selkie coat busied about their morning chores, feeding the cook flames. Lenny would later swear he saw eel crackling over a fire through an open kitchen door. He had only tasted the bacon of the sea once, and crumbs at that, but had never forgotten it.
The house slaves bowed their heads when the three catchers walked through their midst.
Moments later the trio reached the gallows platform. Its position had been erected just outside and below August’s personal chambers. Some rumored it done so he could witness the hangings without leaving his bedside. But this morning the owner of Crayfish Cavern had already risen. He and his much thinner son, Oscar, sat on the stone veranda sampling the first course of breakfast—skewered clam and boiled kelp.
Though still dreadfully early, both Collinses had dressed in regal Harp Seal to befit their station. The luxurious sheen off the pearl-white coats sparkled as it caught the torchlights house slaves held to illuminate their very different faces. August might once have been sharp-jawed like his son. Now his face resembled a blown-up puffer fish, just like the rest of his body.
Lenny scowled up at them.
August missed the disdainful look. Nothing escaped his overseer, Byron Fenton. The wiry, former catcher stood just behind his master and his thin lips pursed. He gave a slight jerk of his head in warning for Lenny to move along.
Lenny followed Declan’s lead into the nearly barren courtyard. He half-expected a score of catchers. He found two.
One wore the tan hide of a Sea Lion. The boy had not reached his teen years, yet his gaunt features spoke plain he had witnessed more pain in his short life than most on land ever would. He had yet to shed a boy’s natural excitement, however, and he stood straighter seeing Lenny Dolan and his father approach.
The other—Ellie Briceño—stood near the gallows. As big as Paulo, she too bore the Elephant Seal suit to befit her size. Unlike the others, her natural human skin still fought to retain some semblance of a tan. She had lived ashore once, Lenny knew, and had not yet resided long enough beneath the waves to have her color sapped.
Lenny still hadn’t figured out how long ago her surface life had been stolen, but he knew she didn’t like being asked about it.
Both allowed way for Declan to stand at the forefront. Only when Lenny's father stopped did Byron Fenton step forward to address the unusually small crowd.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Fenton rapped his waist-high, razor-shell cane on the stone parapets. “Word has reached our master’s ears of a proven, elusive runaway by the name of Marisa Bourgeois. She is rumored uncatchable, among other things,” said Fenton skeptically. “Our wise master does not believe such claims. He has taken up wagers that any runner can be captured. You lot will prove him correct!”
Fenton bowed his head and closed his eyes as if meaning to pray. His eyelids quivered, earrings flashed.
A moment later, Lenny and the others had a picture of a girl in their minds. No older than eighteen in appearance, black skinned with green, cat-like eyes, she wore a shaggy, chocolate-brown Cape Fur Seal coat.
Lenny wracked his brain for any conceivable advantage the suit might give her. Nothing came to mind. The Cape Fur held no speed, strength, or even temperature benefits others offered.
“A job of this magnitude carries with it an equally sizable reward,” Fenton continued. “Our generous master offers a thousand anemonies to the crew who brings her back!”
Lenny turned to his father. Pop, has August eva given a reward before?
Declan’s earrings sparkled once. No.
A thousand anemonies! Lenny kept the thought to himself. That could buy our freedom.
The glow of earrings from the catchers speaking to one another teased a smile from even Byron Fenton.
“As you may have heard,” Fenton continued. “Other crews have already been sent…sprinters to scour the reefs and patrol the coasts, divers to the deepest of depths, and brutes to turn over the outposts. Your task will be a different one—” Fenton hesitated and gave a sideways glance to both his owners.
Lenny’s heart quivered. Pop, he spoke only to Declan. What’s goin’ on? Why’s Fenton actin’…strange?
Ya gotta learn to see on ya own, Declan replied. Listen…think.
Lenny looked around the other catchers. A crew’s bein’ sent out. But it can’t be this group. If our families go with us, what’s to keep the lot of us from runnin’?
August strutted to the edge of the veranda. “Ahem. I’ve called you all here today for a most especial reason. While it's true others have been sent, I’ve selected this crew for the most important assignment! Oscar, my boy,” August waved his son join him. “If you’re to learn the family stock-in-trade, the best teacher is experience. It’s to you I gift this elite team.”
Lenny didn’t like the look Oscar gave the catchers at all. He liked the way Oscar lingered on him even less. It had not been so many years since Lenny had dodged rocks thrown from high atop the hill aimed at his head.
“They’re mine to lead?” Oscar asked.
August chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm. “Er…well, co-lead, as it were.”
“But, Father. I should be the captain!”
Lenny had the urge to laugh then. He thought better of it. Serves the spoiled pup right. Let him learn what it’s like to follow.
“You have the final say,” August assuaged his son’s doubt. “But you’ve never hunted before. The co-captain I’ve chosen will aid your lead.”
Oscar’s gaze fell on Declan. His upper lip curled. “And who will that be?”
August grinned. “Lenny…Lenny Dolan.”
LENNY
Me? A captain?
Lenny reeled, barely hearing the ongoing dispute between August and Oscar.
“But, Father! I’ll be a laughingstock when others discover I’ve been made to follow a nipperkin.”
“No, no, no.” August shook his head and his jowls with it. “I’ve made certain, uh, assurances that won’t happen. Fenton…if you’d please.”
At Fenton’s whistle, two strangers joined them on the veranda. The first, a balding white man, had a grimness about him that reeked of a former taskmaster, the kind who enjoyed extended punishment rather than a quick drop.
Lenny studied and hated the man all the more for the garb he wore: a sleek grey and charcoal-spotted Leopard Seal, the most prized Selkie coat of all. By the look of him, this stranger had killed to acquire it.
August winked at his son. “Oscar, this is Henry. I’ve hired him as your guardian. He’ll also be happy to take anyone’s tongue who may think to laugh at you. Isn’t that right, Henry?”
Henry unsheathed a black dagger from his boot. For a moment he held it aloft, staring at its blade like nothing but its deadly gleam existed. Then he picked at his fingernails with its tip. “Oui, monsieur,” he said so low Lenny scarcely heard.
Oscar clapped. “Fantastic. What about the rest of them? What do they do?”
August beamed at his son. “Curious, eh? That’s good instincts, son. The hallmark of a great catcher! Lenny will teach you to track and coordinate your crew’s movements. And Racer…he will be your speed.”
Paulo’s earrings flashed. Racer? He’s never been outside the cavern.
Lenny gave the youngest among them a doubtful glance.
The boy seemed dazed by the news. Yet he lifted his chin when he noticed Lenny watching.
Why send a pup? Lenny wondered. Racer’s pop knows the currents betta.
August cleared his throat. “Paulo and Ellie will be your brutes—”
“I know what the big ones do,” Oscar said. “What about her?”
Lenny followed Oscar’s point to the other stranger who had accompanied the balding man, Henry. She had slipped into the shadows, her back flat against the wall. Unlike her owner, she seemed to take great interest in her surroundings. Ebony-skinned and at least half Henry’s age, her suit—a Ribbon Seal’s—rivaled her face for beauty. Cream in color, it had white bands snaking around her body; one hemmed her neckline, others wrapped around her shoulder sockets. Another looped her waist like a belt.
Oscar’s lingering gaze worked up and down her bodice. “What does she do for me?”
Henry took his blade away from picking at fingernails. “She ‘eez your translator and—”
“Nothing more,” said August, stepping between his son and Henry. “She belongs to Henry, son. And he retains all rights to her.”
“Chidi,” said Henry. “’er name is Chidi.”
“Right,” August turned back to Oscar. “Chidi. Anyway, I’m simply leasing their services to see you’re well provided for. Henry boasts the girl knows a host of languages.” August cast a severe look in Henry’s direction. “And for the price, she had better.”
August gave Fenton a dismissive wave to carry on.
“Captain!” Fenton barked. “Step forward.”
Lenny did so. “Aye, sir?”
“Do you accept the charge of this crew and swear their safe return, as well as your own?”
Like I could say anything but aye.
Before Lenny could answer in the affirmative, he noticed August Collins’ earrings flash. Slave, heed these words with all that you hold dear. My son’s safety is paramount. Should any ill befall him…
Lenny dared to look up.
Oscar remained smug, unaware of the threats Lenny received.
Protect him at all costs, said August. Even from himself.
“Aye, sir,” Lenny said aloud, more in answer to August than Fenton.
The overseer wet his lips. “Very well. It’s been suggested by certain sources the girl will be found visiting Dryback aquariums. No one knows what the girl seeks, however. Find her out. Bring her back. And receive your just reward. A word of warning…” Fenton paused. “Take notice your loved ones shall be kept behind. By the laws of New Pearlaya, should any slave not return—”
“Let my loved ones pay the price,” Lenny said along with every member of his crew.
Fenton nodded. “Set off for the surface at once. We will see to it young Master Collins meets you there. Declan!”
“Aye, sir?”
“Take this group ashore. See them well-provisioned, then return to me.”
Declan bowed his head. He turned on his heel and limped away from the courtyard, his sea otter again following close behind. Lenny fell in with them, leaving the others to visit the slave shacks and say their goodbyes.
“This Silkie, Bourgeois,” Declan said once clear of any listening ears. “I heard her name thrown around the trade towns. Lotta other crews have went after her: Selkies, Merrows, even Orcs. Don’t matta which goes on the hunt. All of ’em came back empty-handed.”
“What’s so special about her?”
“Depends on who ya ask. I heard a Merrow say some highborn made her his bed slave. Said he wanted the pleasure of her company one more time before hangin’ her. Me? I think August and a bunch of ownas wanna see her caught. This girl’s been on the run for a long while to hear ’em tell it. A runna gets away and other slaves don’t see ’em brought back and hung…”
“It gives the rest of us ideas,” Lenny finished.
Declan nodded.
“Pop, if she’s so good at escapin’, why don’t August send ya after her? Ya used to be the best catcha in all the Salt before…” Lenny stopped himself.
Declan sighed. “There’s always someone betta, son.”
Lenny refused to dispute his father’s favorite standby. Anyone else in the Salt could call Declan Dolan the greatest catcher that ever lived, but the wounded Selkie would not permit it from his own son.
They descended the path in all-too-familiar silence. When they reached the Block, Lenny saw the slave cages had been unlocked. He heard a whip crack echoing to the west, past the fish and oyster farms.
“They’ll be here soon,” Declan said, settling on the rickety moss-covered steps leading up the auction platform. His otter bounded up them and into her master’s lap. Declan gave her head a good rubbing. Then he looked at his son. “Ya ready for this?”
Lenny shrugged.
“That answer won’t do no more,” said Declan. “Bein’ a captain means ya gotta have all the answers.”
“What about when ya don’t?”
“Especially when ya don’t.” Declan said. “A captain sets the tone, ya know that. If he don’t have the answers, his crew makes up their own. That’s no good for nobody.”
The silence returned between them. Despite himself, Lenny could not will his voice to break it. His father had said his piece and would not say more unless to give some advice Lenny had heard half a hundred times before.
It’s always been this way between us. Why should this morn be any different?
While Declan showed the sea rat affection he never showed his son, Lenny puzzled over the morning’s strange events. The most important being why had August named him captain? True, Lenny had the pedigree and a flawless record for capturing runaways but he had never captained before. August Collins had other, more qualified catchers. Why not them instead? Lenny could make no sense of the decision.
“I dunno why he’s sendin’ ya out with Oscar,” said Declan finally, almost as if he read Lenny’s thoughts. “But keep ya guard up. Rememba that worthless stuff I been tellin’ ya all these years.”
Lenny nodded, already hearing his crew approach.
Paulo and Racer came first, the pair of them jawing back and forth about what to spend their reward on first. Initially, Racer argued they would visit a tavern to celebrate. But when he learned Paulo desired a Leopard Seal coat most of all, Racer decided he needed one too.
Ellie lumbered behind them. The freelance newcomers came last, accompanied by August’s master of the docks and auctioneer, Tieran.
“Oi, Declan,” said Tieran. “Your lot goin’ up?”
“Aye.”
“Righ’ then! Have your brutes hitch these to their backs.” Tieran kicked the sealed barrels of fish into the water one after the other. “And swim ’em up for me. Save me and the sea’orses a bit of time and work.”
Paulo glared at Tieran. “We’re catchers, not delivery pups.”
Tieran reached for the coiled jelly whip hanging at his side. “Wha’s that? You gettin’ smart, boy?”
Lenny bristled. “He’s smart enough to know ya can’t order him around. We’re catchas.”
Tieran spat. “There’s no such thing as a smart slave. Been sellin’ 'em for years so I know better than most.”
Declan stepped forward. “Smart or not, slaves do what they’re told. Get in the water. Both of ya.”
Tieran used his forearm to rub the dripping snot off his nose. “That’s righ’. Do yourselves a favor and listen to your gimpy captain there. Go on now,” he motioned to the water. “Be good lil’ sea doggies else I deem it wise to fetch the skin off your backs.” Tieran’s eyes shifted to Ellie. “Or maybe I oughta do for this cow instead?”
Listen to my Pop, Lenny cautioned as Paulo stiffened.
Why? Paulo asked. Tieran’s a talker, not a taskmaster. And he threatened Ellie.
Lenny sighed. He’ll have ya flogged for disobeyin’. Maybe keel-raked.
Paulo narrowed his eyes at the auctioneer. Don’t matter. He won’t live to see it.
Tieran noticed the slave earrings glittering back and forth. He took a step back. “Oi, Declan,” his voice shook. “T-tell your brute to stand down.”
A splash came from the waterside. A large, bulky seal head porpoised from the water. Come on, Paulo, Ellie’s voice echoed in all their minds. Let’s see if you can beat me topside.
She swam toward a harness, took the bit in her mouth, and yanked a pair of barrels below the surface as she dove.
“’Ow remarkable.” Henry purred. “Ze light touch of a woman can be, no? Come, Chidi!”
The shy girl joined her master’s side. Both donned their hoods and dove before completing their transformations. Racer followed, his fingers fumbling at his hood with nervous excitement. The Dolans prodded Paulo away and dove in last.
They followed the churning trail of bubbles left by the other three through the dark tunnel. Near the exit of Crayfish Cavern, the water changed from black to grey to blue. Lenny surmised the dawn had come at last by the slight rise in water temperature. Remaining together, father and son ascended thirty feet, surfaced for air, and swam west for the shoreline, a nautical mile away.
Lenny watched the ocean floor steadily rise and change from slimy stones to soft sand. Hermit crabs scuttled to find shelter from the seal shadows cast over them. He raised his seal head to take a deep breath.
Declan seemed to sense his unease. Who are ya?
A Dolan, Lenny answered.
And what’s it mean to be a Dolan?
We look after our own, Lenny said. And we bring back runnas.
Why?
The family mantra ran like blood through Lenny’s very being. ‘Cause to run means ya care for no one. A real man don’t leave others to take his punishment.
That’s right, Declan said. Captain.
Co-cap--
Master Collins made ya captain, Declan insisted. Ya catch this Silkie and bring ya crew back safe. That’s ya job.
The shoreline came quickly. Lenny beached himself, half in the sand, half in the Salt.
Their contact, a local fisherman slave, had just freed Paulo of his Salted form. The fisherman released Paulo’s seal hood, and waded toward the Dolans. He grabbed Lenny’s seal lip, lifted up and back.
I’ll find her, Pop. Lenny felt the familiar changes sweep across his back. The cold rushed in. Grabbed hold and wakened his soul to a life on land. I’ll catch her. Bring her back. Then I’ll buy our freedom.
His change complete, Lenny trudged out of the Salt.
Lenny reeled, barely hearing the ongoing dispute between August and Oscar.
“But, Father! I’ll be a laughingstock when others discover I’ve been made to follow a nipperkin.”
“No, no, no.” August shook his head and his jowls with it. “I’ve made certain, uh, assurances that won’t happen. Fenton…if you’d please.”
At Fenton’s whistle, two strangers joined them on the veranda. The first, a balding white man, had a grimness about him that reeked of a former taskmaster, the kind who enjoyed extended punishment rather than a quick drop.
Lenny studied and hated the man all the more for the garb he wore: a sleek grey and charcoal-spotted Leopard Seal, the most prized Selkie coat of all. By the look of him, this stranger had killed to acquire it.
August winked at his son. “Oscar, this is Henry. I’ve hired him as your guardian. He’ll also be happy to take anyone’s tongue who may think to laugh at you. Isn’t that right, Henry?”
Henry unsheathed a black dagger from his boot. For a moment he held it aloft, staring at its blade like nothing but its deadly gleam existed. Then he picked at his fingernails with its tip. “Oui, monsieur,” he said so low Lenny scarcely heard.
Oscar clapped. “Fantastic. What about the rest of them? What do they do?”
August beamed at his son. “Curious, eh? That’s good instincts, son. The hallmark of a great catcher! Lenny will teach you to track and coordinate your crew’s movements. And Racer…he will be your speed.”
Paulo’s earrings flashed. Racer? He’s never been outside the cavern.
Lenny gave the youngest among them a doubtful glance.
The boy seemed dazed by the news. Yet he lifted his chin when he noticed Lenny watching.
Why send a pup? Lenny wondered. Racer’s pop knows the currents betta.
August cleared his throat. “Paulo and Ellie will be your brutes—”
“I know what the big ones do,” Oscar said. “What about her?”
Lenny followed Oscar’s point to the other stranger who had accompanied the balding man, Henry. She had slipped into the shadows, her back flat against the wall. Unlike her owner, she seemed to take great interest in her surroundings. Ebony-skinned and at least half Henry’s age, her suit—a Ribbon Seal’s—rivaled her face for beauty. Cream in color, it had white bands snaking around her body; one hemmed her neckline, others wrapped around her shoulder sockets. Another looped her waist like a belt.
Oscar’s lingering gaze worked up and down her bodice. “What does she do for me?”
Henry took his blade away from picking at fingernails. “She ‘eez your translator and—”
“Nothing more,” said August, stepping between his son and Henry. “She belongs to Henry, son. And he retains all rights to her.”
“Chidi,” said Henry. “’er name is Chidi.”
“Right,” August turned back to Oscar. “Chidi. Anyway, I’m simply leasing their services to see you’re well provided for. Henry boasts the girl knows a host of languages.” August cast a severe look in Henry’s direction. “And for the price, she had better.”
August gave Fenton a dismissive wave to carry on.
“Captain!” Fenton barked. “Step forward.”
Lenny did so. “Aye, sir?”
“Do you accept the charge of this crew and swear their safe return, as well as your own?”
Like I could say anything but aye.
Before Lenny could answer in the affirmative, he noticed August Collins’ earrings flash. Slave, heed these words with all that you hold dear. My son’s safety is paramount. Should any ill befall him…
Lenny dared to look up.
Oscar remained smug, unaware of the threats Lenny received.
Protect him at all costs, said August. Even from himself.
“Aye, sir,” Lenny said aloud, more in answer to August than Fenton.
The overseer wet his lips. “Very well. It’s been suggested by certain sources the girl will be found visiting Dryback aquariums. No one knows what the girl seeks, however. Find her out. Bring her back. And receive your just reward. A word of warning…” Fenton paused. “Take notice your loved ones shall be kept behind. By the laws of New Pearlaya, should any slave not return—”
“Let my loved ones pay the price,” Lenny said along with every member of his crew.
Fenton nodded. “Set off for the surface at once. We will see to it young Master Collins meets you there. Declan!”
“Aye, sir?”
“Take this group ashore. See them well-provisioned, then return to me.”
Declan bowed his head. He turned on his heel and limped away from the courtyard, his sea otter again following close behind. Lenny fell in with them, leaving the others to visit the slave shacks and say their goodbyes.
“This Silkie, Bourgeois,” Declan said once clear of any listening ears. “I heard her name thrown around the trade towns. Lotta other crews have went after her: Selkies, Merrows, even Orcs. Don’t matta which goes on the hunt. All of ’em came back empty-handed.”
“What’s so special about her?”
“Depends on who ya ask. I heard a Merrow say some highborn made her his bed slave. Said he wanted the pleasure of her company one more time before hangin’ her. Me? I think August and a bunch of ownas wanna see her caught. This girl’s been on the run for a long while to hear ’em tell it. A runna gets away and other slaves don’t see ’em brought back and hung…”
“It gives the rest of us ideas,” Lenny finished.
Declan nodded.
“Pop, if she’s so good at escapin’, why don’t August send ya after her? Ya used to be the best catcha in all the Salt before…” Lenny stopped himself.
Declan sighed. “There’s always someone betta, son.”
Lenny refused to dispute his father’s favorite standby. Anyone else in the Salt could call Declan Dolan the greatest catcher that ever lived, but the wounded Selkie would not permit it from his own son.
They descended the path in all-too-familiar silence. When they reached the Block, Lenny saw the slave cages had been unlocked. He heard a whip crack echoing to the west, past the fish and oyster farms.
“They’ll be here soon,” Declan said, settling on the rickety moss-covered steps leading up the auction platform. His otter bounded up them and into her master’s lap. Declan gave her head a good rubbing. Then he looked at his son. “Ya ready for this?”
Lenny shrugged.
“That answer won’t do no more,” said Declan. “Bein’ a captain means ya gotta have all the answers.”
“What about when ya don’t?”
“Especially when ya don’t.” Declan said. “A captain sets the tone, ya know that. If he don’t have the answers, his crew makes up their own. That’s no good for nobody.”
The silence returned between them. Despite himself, Lenny could not will his voice to break it. His father had said his piece and would not say more unless to give some advice Lenny had heard half a hundred times before.
It’s always been this way between us. Why should this morn be any different?
While Declan showed the sea rat affection he never showed his son, Lenny puzzled over the morning’s strange events. The most important being why had August named him captain? True, Lenny had the pedigree and a flawless record for capturing runaways but he had never captained before. August Collins had other, more qualified catchers. Why not them instead? Lenny could make no sense of the decision.
“I dunno why he’s sendin’ ya out with Oscar,” said Declan finally, almost as if he read Lenny’s thoughts. “But keep ya guard up. Rememba that worthless stuff I been tellin’ ya all these years.”
Lenny nodded, already hearing his crew approach.
Paulo and Racer came first, the pair of them jawing back and forth about what to spend their reward on first. Initially, Racer argued they would visit a tavern to celebrate. But when he learned Paulo desired a Leopard Seal coat most of all, Racer decided he needed one too.
Ellie lumbered behind them. The freelance newcomers came last, accompanied by August’s master of the docks and auctioneer, Tieran.
“Oi, Declan,” said Tieran. “Your lot goin’ up?”
“Aye.”
“Righ’ then! Have your brutes hitch these to their backs.” Tieran kicked the sealed barrels of fish into the water one after the other. “And swim ’em up for me. Save me and the sea’orses a bit of time and work.”
Paulo glared at Tieran. “We’re catchers, not delivery pups.”
Tieran reached for the coiled jelly whip hanging at his side. “Wha’s that? You gettin’ smart, boy?”
Lenny bristled. “He’s smart enough to know ya can’t order him around. We’re catchas.”
Tieran spat. “There’s no such thing as a smart slave. Been sellin’ 'em for years so I know better than most.”
Declan stepped forward. “Smart or not, slaves do what they’re told. Get in the water. Both of ya.”
Tieran used his forearm to rub the dripping snot off his nose. “That’s righ’. Do yourselves a favor and listen to your gimpy captain there. Go on now,” he motioned to the water. “Be good lil’ sea doggies else I deem it wise to fetch the skin off your backs.” Tieran’s eyes shifted to Ellie. “Or maybe I oughta do for this cow instead?”
Listen to my Pop, Lenny cautioned as Paulo stiffened.
Why? Paulo asked. Tieran’s a talker, not a taskmaster. And he threatened Ellie.
Lenny sighed. He’ll have ya flogged for disobeyin’. Maybe keel-raked.
Paulo narrowed his eyes at the auctioneer. Don’t matter. He won’t live to see it.
Tieran noticed the slave earrings glittering back and forth. He took a step back. “Oi, Declan,” his voice shook. “T-tell your brute to stand down.”
A splash came from the waterside. A large, bulky seal head porpoised from the water. Come on, Paulo, Ellie’s voice echoed in all their minds. Let’s see if you can beat me topside.
She swam toward a harness, took the bit in her mouth, and yanked a pair of barrels below the surface as she dove.
“’Ow remarkable.” Henry purred. “Ze light touch of a woman can be, no? Come, Chidi!”
The shy girl joined her master’s side. Both donned their hoods and dove before completing their transformations. Racer followed, his fingers fumbling at his hood with nervous excitement. The Dolans prodded Paulo away and dove in last.
They followed the churning trail of bubbles left by the other three through the dark tunnel. Near the exit of Crayfish Cavern, the water changed from black to grey to blue. Lenny surmised the dawn had come at last by the slight rise in water temperature. Remaining together, father and son ascended thirty feet, surfaced for air, and swam west for the shoreline, a nautical mile away.
Lenny watched the ocean floor steadily rise and change from slimy stones to soft sand. Hermit crabs scuttled to find shelter from the seal shadows cast over them. He raised his seal head to take a deep breath.
Declan seemed to sense his unease. Who are ya?
A Dolan, Lenny answered.
And what’s it mean to be a Dolan?
We look after our own, Lenny said. And we bring back runnas.
Why?
The family mantra ran like blood through Lenny’s very being. ‘Cause to run means ya care for no one. A real man don’t leave others to take his punishment.
That’s right, Declan said. Captain.
Co-cap--
Master Collins made ya captain, Declan insisted. Ya catch this Silkie and bring ya crew back safe. That’s ya job.
The shoreline came quickly. Lenny beached himself, half in the sand, half in the Salt.
Their contact, a local fisherman slave, had just freed Paulo of his Salted form. The fisherman released Paulo’s seal hood, and waded toward the Dolans. He grabbed Lenny’s seal lip, lifted up and back.
I’ll find her, Pop. Lenny felt the familiar changes sweep across his back. The cold rushed in. Grabbed hold and wakened his soul to a life on land. I’ll catch her. Bring her back. Then I’ll buy our freedom.
His change complete, Lenny trudged out of the Salt.
Your Free Book Is Waiting...
Click the book to get started
