like human sweat than the clear summery smell of the captain. And there was the sour drink, even more than what he caught from the captain. And… something acrid. Confusion, perhaps. Something that smelled of deceit and indecision, conflict and fear. Callo was to be watched.
He heard hesitation, then dragging steps as Callo moved back toward the fire.
Serapio realized he was indeed hungry. He had gone without food before, for days sometimes when his father had forgotten him or when his tutors thought hunger would teach him a necessary lesson, so he was used to the empty feeling, the knot in his belly. But he was pleased when Callo came back. The man paused a few paces away and proffered the bowl in his outstretched hands, as if he feared getting too close.
“Oh, mother waters,” the woman cursed, grabbing the bowl from the man and closing the distance between them. “Here.” She thrust the food at him. He took it. “And with my apologies. But…” She sighed, sounded burdened and embarrassed. “Best you eat on the ship, eh? You’ve got the crew spooked, and they’re superstitious enough without someone like you showing up in the moonlight like a specter.” She pulled gently at his arm. She wanted him to follow her.
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