Kindred Straits: Daughters of the Storm, #1

By Benjamin Schwarting

A typhoon's wrath can be weathered with friends.

 

Olenka is running away, and nothing is going to stop her: not monks, not monsoons, not even the crushing depths of the ocean itself. For too long she's been dreaming of a life on the high seas, somewhere far beyond the temple's suffocating walls. A sirena's life filled with mystery and adventure and freedom.

 

But freedom comes at a price.

 

As Olenka quickly learns, the bustling boardwalks of Sotay Wharf harbor more than silks and spices. Wicked things haunt these waters: hungry sharks searching for careless minnows. If she's going to have a chance of navigating these treacherous straits, she'll need a crew. An experienced crew.

 

But experience also comes at a price.

 

Clueless and afraid, Olenka stumbles into Daisay, a fast-talking sirena captain, and her ragged band of almost-pirates. With the temple's bushi tracking her on one end, and a ship of kaizo hunting her on the other, are Daisay's seasoned spears just the help she needs to survive? Or will the crew's checkered past add another weave to the net already closing in around them?

 

What readers are saying about Kindred Straits:

 

"I enjoyed the story telling and all the characters. VERY strong female cast ...A gritty adventure and I loved all of it!" —Rae Kaup, Shut Up and Book Up

 

"I really liked this book! ...The main characters were all super interesting…The growth in the main character was great to read…I really loved this story and I'm pretty excited to read more of this series! I love how it can stay a standalone but I'm definitely enjoying everything about it enough to want to learn more." —StoryGraph Reviewer

 

"I…LOVED…THIS…BOOK! The world building is original, the characters are lively, the plot is engaging, and the writing is awesome!" —StoryGraph Reviewer

 

"I really enjoyed this start to the Daughters of the Storm series … I'm glad I was able to go on this journey and I enjoyed the characters." —Goodreads Reviewer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Williams & Rose Publishing LLC
• Release date: Jul 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781952853036

Book preview

CHAPTER 1: THE COMING TIDE

THE DECORATIVE METAL side of the temple shrieked as Olenka’s fins slid across it. The whole Temple of Light was built like an immense, conch shell: its walls as smooth and bright as nacre, its conical shape twisting upward to Heaven. Olenka had always hated the gaudy thing, but, conveniently enough, that great silver swirl in its facade passed directly beneath the windows to the Sant’s chambers.

It was the perfect escape route, but crushing depths, it was slick. Even crouched on all fours, she was barely able to keep her webbed feet beneath her. And the noise! Tides be good, it made so much noise! She pled to the sea around her that no one would hear, frantically muttering under her breath for the great, gracious depths to swallow up the treacherous sounds of her escape…

…but it was no use.

She would have prayed for Heaven’s aid, but she doubted Heaven had much mercy for blasphemous little minnows trying to outswim their fate. Especially not ones who were fated to serve Heaven. To deny the caste established by your kudori mark was heresy, but Olenka didn’t care what the lines on her brow supposedly foretold. The conclave could go swallow seawater, for all she cared. She’d finally had enough. She was done with monks, done with Sant training, and done letting the silly little pattern on her silly little forehead anchor her to a future she hated. So, believing she had nothing to lose and everything to gain, Olenka was running away. Sure, she’d run off before, but this time was different.

This time, she was not coming back.

This time, she was going to the surface.

With nothing but rage to fill her sails, Olenka crept forward as best she could. She moved slowly on her rump and heels, utterly unaided by the divine, and cringing at the squealing temple wall selling her out with each screeching centimeter she descended. Treacherous snake of a building. Even the architecture was against her, it seemed. If she didn’t hurry, every kataw in the great hall would wander around back to investigate why the Temple of Light was wailing like a stuck plaloma. She’d be found out before she even left the temple. How embarrassing. She hadn’t had an escape attempt that bad since she was a guppy…

But at last, she came skidding to a silent, blessed halt at the ornamented rim of the temple’s roof. She studied the stone street below. Her eyes darted back and forth as she anxiously tried watching every window and doorframe and corner all at once. As far as she could tell, nothing had moved. The holy city was still asleep. Well, the lower half at least. Who knew what was happening topside. Certainly not Olenka.

All around and above her, the polished stone expanse of Lunsod sa Dagat filled her view. It was not a city of buildings, but of bridges, spires, and tunnels. Everything had been carved directly into the bedrock of the island hundreds of years ago. It sat so deep within the sea that most sunlight was swallowed up by the depths, but still the holy city shown. The light of Pa Naing illuminated thousands of swirling wall etchings that decorated every stone surface like an endless, electric blue tattoo. Beyond the buildings, she could see the distant shimmers of the shield, that great bubble of light keeping the crushing depths at bay. The sea stone, Pa Naing was its proper name, was seated in its altar beneath the temple powering it all.

Grudgingly, she had to admit the magic of it. A single drop of the Silver River sent to save them from the ancient Yokai Calamity? An underwater city kept dry by a spherical wall of Heaven’s light? She supposed it was all rather fantastic. Romantic even. But these damp halls and spires were all Olenka had ever known, and whatever magic they held made no difference to her.

A beautiful prison was still a prison.

It was the world beyond Pa Naing’s shield that called to her. She’d never seen it for herself, but there was a whole ocean just past that wall of light. She’d heard so many stories, gawked at so many tapestries, read so many scrolls. Coasts of ivory sand and lush jungles, cresting waves where pods of plalomas leapt into the sun and brave crews sailed to the ends of the horizon, crowded boardwalks filled with all the treasures Bantay Tubig hands could craft. Olenka was going to see it all.

But, just as she was stirring up the courage to leap down to the street below, her worst fears were realized. Through the open window above her, Olenka heard the silver doors to the Sant’s chambers squeal open.

Olenka? Are you finished, child?

Her heart leapt up into her constricted esophagus. What was Sant Madee doing back already? She’d gone to attend the dawn conclave, hadn’t she? Those squabbling monks should have bought her an hour easy.

Olenka? the Sant called sweetly. Child are you… Oh, merciful Heaven, not again…

She heard Madee rummage behind her desk, then pat over to her closet, and then finally slip back out to the silver staircase. That was it. The tide was officially coming in now. Madee would inform the monks, who would inform her parents, who would inform the army of bushi, who would all proceed to lose their waterlogged minds until they found her. Then, once again, she’d be escorted back to the Sant’s chambers where she would be forced to recite sutras and mantras until her head went blissfully, painfully, obediently numb.

Not this time, Olenka swore.

With Heaven and Pa Naing as her witnesses, Olenka would get out of Lunsod sa Dagat or drown trying.

With renewed determination, Olenka studied the precarious path before her. It was a full two-meter drop to the street. Normally, it took Olenka a tide or two to muster up the courage to make that last leap, but she had no time to fret the fall now. What was there to be scared of anyway? It was just a little drop. She’d only broken her foot that one time, and it felt like it had healed by now. Sure, it still clicked every once in a while, but it didn’t really hurt anymore…

Olenka clenched her teeth, closed her eyes, and pushed off the ledge.

Closing her eyes was a stupid idea.

She crashed down to the stone street, crumpling like an uncoiled bundle of rope as her heels slipped out from under her. She yelped as her head cracked against a nearby barrel and the small of her back banged against a pile of bamboo poles. She kicked angrily at the wreckage, pulling her white temple gown free of the poles’ snagging tips. What was all this chum even doing back here? Olenka would have screamed the dirtiest, harshest word she knew, but alas, she didn’t know any dirty, harsh words. Profanities were one of the many boardwalk treasures reserved for those beyond Pa Naing’s glittering walls, something only the lower castes would ever debase themselves with. As her mother always said: a kataw’s lips must be kept as clean and pure as their kudori.

Yet another reason to get out of this wretched blue bubble…

As soon as she made it to Sotay Wharf, Olenka promised herself that she would learn the saltiest, filthiest, sirena-est expletive she could wrap her lips around. Then, with no one to tell her no, she would scream it across the sea so loud it would ripple all the way back down to the temple and make the monks puke into their morning teacups.

Despite the pain in her back, Olenka grinned at the image. She stumbled up to her webbed feet, rubbing her head and adjusting her hairpin as she got her bearings. The streets were still clear, but they wouldn’t be for long. She could already hear the monks buzzing around in the temple to her back, ready to surge out after her in a tide of golden robes and holy indignation.

So, the typhoon within lent her fins strength, and Olenka ran as fast as she could.

***

How much did ya spend on that buwisit, anyway?

Diwala ignored Daisay’s foul-tongued rebuke as she unfastened the bamboo container from the strap at her hip. She popped off the fitted top and reverently laid it on the table in front of them. She slid her finger inside as far as the webbing would allow and pulled out a little glob of coconut fat and smeared it all along the blue flesh of her forearm. The tattoo was still a little red around the edges, but the fresh, black ink shone bright and clear against her azure skin. Even clearer on the white underside of her arm. Her heart was still pounding with the adrenaline of the needle’s kiss, and the sting of her own touch made Diwala grin.

Just you be thinking about it, Daisay continued, shaking her head so all the shells in her matted locks jingled with her displeasure. Add it all up, sister. How many barya went into all them scribblings, eh? Twenty silver scales? Thirty? Seems like every time we’re making port you go rushing off to that spikey urchin to be getting stabbed all over again!

Diwala’s grin broadened, and she rotated her arm to get a better look at the back. The tattoo was perfect. It was like razor coral woven into a pattern so intricate and elegant it would be fit for any temple tapestry. And it varied in improvised, chaotic beauty. At times it could be smooth as a lotus petal, or as graceful as a tongue of flame, and most importantly, it was always as crisp and sharp as the sirena kudori that crowned her warrior’s brow. And now it was finally finished. It flowed from the shaved sides of her head, down her neck and across her shoulders, then all the way down to her wrists. It connected her sirena kudori to the hands that held her sirena’s spear. Could she have offered Heaven any greater prayer than the one now etched into her flesh?

Tadame is the best there is, Diwala stated, "and her work is worth ten times the barya I have given to her. I would gladly give her more if she would accept it."

Daisay huffed and readjusted on her stool, the blue of her hips peeking through the strained stitches of her fish-skin vest. Uzai waste, if you’re asking me, little sister.

"I was not asking you, Diwala said and then gestured to the stack of empty plates and cups in front of the sirena captain. Besides, is this not the rock calling the barnacle hard? How much have you spent on krok cakes and rice wine, hmm? Add that up if you can."

Now, don’t be getting all salty with me, Daisay snapped. I just think all that doodling was looking better on ya when it only went down to the elbow, that’s all. Daisay popped a krok cake into her mouth, a few clumps of the fried rice clinging to her teeth as she grinned. Gotta know when to quit, see? A little temperance might be going a long, long way.

"Temperance? Diwala scoffed. You are like a whale!" And Di spread her mouth as wide as she could, gagging on the imaginary school pouring into her cheeks.

The gnarled sirena feigned offense. You be minding that buwisit barbed tongue of yours! Daisay snapped, and then threw back another cup of rice wine. She clenched her teeth at the burn before slapping the bamboo cup rim-down on the table. "I drink like at least three whales, thank you."

Daisay cackled like a gull at her own joke, but Diwala just shook her head in disgust.

And you eat like a whole frenzy of sharks, Diwala assessed as she scanned their cluttered table. She hadn’t eaten a bite herself, and yet she counted five empty plates stacked up around her, each of them slimy with extra helpings of coconut syrup.

Keeps me strong! Daisay said with a wink. What’s all that chum on your arms doing for ya, huh?

"This chum, Diwala explained, shows that I am strong."

Is that right? Daisay mused, and Diwala could see the sheen to her tipsy gaze, the flush brushing her creamy cheeks right where they met the sharp, cobalt branches of her sirena kudori. All it shows me is that you lost a fight with a squid! Daisay roared with laughter, and made an inky, squelchy noise in her cheek as she flicked a few drops of rice wine at Diwala.

Di rolled her eyes at her captain and fastened the coconut butter back to her hip. Sometimes Daisay seemed more kaizo than sirena, but Diwala could tolerate it. She may have had a pirate’s tongue, but Daisay was a brave captain and loyal to her crew: always willing to swallow her pride for the good of the banca. That was a rare attribute to find on the Great Sea. And despite her current temperament, Daisay actually had quite a way with words when it mattered. Her seemingly endless list of connections had gotten them far. Much farther than Di could have gotten on her own. They were, after all, sitting under the exclusive canopy of Sotay Wharf’s northern dock. Only the strongest sirena and siokoy crews were welcome under the big tent.

Ya know, Daisay said, suddenly somber. I was thinking of maybe gettin’ one for myself someday… Daisay pulled aside her matted hair, the shells woven into the sea-stained locks tinkling brightly as she pointed to the bare, blue skin of her right shoulder blade. Right back there, I was thinking.

Diwala shook her head. "What happened to it all being an uzai waste? Do your opinions drift away so easily, sister?"

Nah, ya don’t understand, Daisay explained. "I said yours were an uzai waste. I’d actually be getting some ink worth gawking at, ya hear me? Something pretty. Maybe an octopus, eh? Or a big tora face? That might be nice… Whatcha think, little sister?"

I think those glowing cheeks are pretty enough on their own, Diwala said, and she leaned forward to pat Daisay’s flushed face. The captain sputtered in rage, throwing Di’s arrogant hands back across the table.

Lightning upon you and yer buwisit claws! Daisay snapped before bursting into tipsy giggles that nearly knocked her off her stool. As much as she hated encouraging her, Diwala couldn’t restrain the single chuckle that slipped her lips.

You are truly a tribute to our noble caste, Di said with a voice as stiff as driftwood.

Noble, huh? Daisay scoffed and threw back her last shot of rice wine. "Well, with you around, someone’s gotta keep things civil. Chilly as the abyss, I’m telling ya. Daisay smacked her lips as her unfocussed eyes drifted away toward the crowds deeper beneath the canopy. Hmm… chilly, she mumbled. I keep telling ya…"

Things wound down after that. The two sirena laughed and scoffed at each other’s weak jokes and weaker jabs. They ordered another round of rice wine and pretended to be enjoying themselves, but Diwala was growing too restless for acting. Her hunter’s eyes began to drift through the dark, smoky docks, taking in the rumbling swell of the many crews muttering into their bamboo cups.

In the back, boisterous packs of siokoy were crowding one of the samay lawas, occasionally slapping a friend’s tattooed shoulder to try and knock him into the shark pool. Others were actively holding back their overly exuberant first-season comrades. But every so often one of the wiry guppies would wriggle free and dive into the shark pool, eager to add a tooth to his meager necklace. None lasted very long. They always splashed right back out onto the boardwalk panting and quivering: sometimes nursing scratches from the shark’s abrasive skin, and always to a chorus of laughter from the surrounding sirena crews. No one had lost any fingers today, though. At least as far as Di could see. It must not have been a very big shark.

She suppressed the urge to go dance the samay lawas herself, to show these short-finned fools what a real hunter could do, and instead turned to scowl at her captain. Daisay would want to spend a few more hours in drunken revelry, but Di’s itching fins were ready to move on. Their last job had been a good one, but not great. Jun and Kei would be finished prepping the banca by now. It was time to find a new contract and set sail.

You have checked the board? Diwala asked abruptly, not bothering with any kind of subtle transition to the subject.

Daisay frowned at the mention of work but sighed. She sobered up a little, accepting the inevitable topic with a grunt and crack of her back.

Yeah, I went and checked on it, ya buwisit shark…

And? Di pressed.

And it was all the usual chum! Daisay grumbled. "Rice runs from Koh Loi, extra hands on a tuna barge, some lagoon salvage job down south… Bah. Daisay stuck out her tongue and shook her head. I want something with teeth, little sister. Ya hearing me?"

Teeth, huh? Well, the samay lawas are right over there, my captain, Diwala teased, tossing a thumb over her shoulder. Daisay went visibly ill as she glanced at the raucous siokoy testing their courage.

Filthy, that. What’d that poor shark ever do to them, eh? Uzai siokoy… Daisay spat at the dock floor, shaking her head as she gazed out at the morning sun beyond the big tent. Hmph. Maybe I’m needing some new contacts. Can’t squeeze no blood from a crab…

What about that salvage job? Di asked. Is there any potential for–

No! Daisay threw a dismissive wave at Diwala. Are ya not hearing me, sister? We ain’t gettin’ nowhere reeling at these puddle pup jobs. Eels and mudskippers. Every last one of ‘em…

Diwala swallowed, a little nervous that Daisay was about to spiral away down the whirlpool of her depression. The captain was like a lightning storm when she drank: fiery or gloomy, nothing in between. Maybe her grey clouds just needed a little spark to get her going…

It is nearly noon, Di offered, and I am certain the banca is ready to cast off by now. If we hurry, perhaps we can catch the cargo contracts for the holy city.

Daisay scratched her chin and nodded. The cargo contracts were nothing special, just a few coins for ensuring the kataw’s wares found safe passage to Sotay’s merchants, but there was always the chance for gossip. When you rubbed fins with city fish, you never knew what treasures you might uncover.

It’s been a while, ain’t it, sister?

And Di could see the sparks coming back to Daisay’s eyes.

The day is warm, tongues are loose, Diwala said with a wicked grin, and my captain’s wits are as sharp as her kudori.

Daisay rolled her eyes, but it was all for show. The hook was firmly set. Diwala could see the hunger glittering in her captain’s teeth and cheeks and eyes. A hunter had to know where to hit her prey, and Daisay liked her praise as drippy-sweet as her krok cakes.

Alright, ya suckerfish, don’t overdo it, Daisay said. She slapped a few coins down onto the table, and the two sirena walked out into the sun of Sotay Wharf.

CHAPTER 2: DIKYA

OLENKA’S WEBBED TOES slipped against the wet tunnel floor, and she went tumbling against the rock wall. She banged her elbow and bruised her shoulder, but somehow managed to catch her fall in the gloom.

She had left the city proper, and, with it, the glowing wall etchings that filled Lunsod sa Dagat with Pa Naing’s brilliant blue light. Most kataw feared to navigate the dark honeycomb of tunnels that wove into the island’s bedrock, but not Olenka. She needed to stay out of sight. As the child of promise, the whole city would easily recognize her.

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate…

They didn’t know her face, nor did many of them know her name, but, sure as sand, they would all know her kudori. More importantly, they would all know that she was not where she was supposed to be.

So, with no other options, Olenka had been forced to brave the caverns since she was just a guppy.

Lunsod sa Dagat was an architectural wonder. The island itself was an ancient, collapsed caldera, and the city was seated in the sheltered shadow of its central lagoon. The holy city’s complicated array of spires, tunnels, pillars, and bridges were entirely contained within the dazzling blue shield of Pa Naing, and since the wall of light kept things watertight, Lunsod sa Dagat was actually half-above and half-below the waterline. It made a surreal reflection of spires pointing both toward the heavens and the abyss: something you might dismiss as a trick of the ocean’s mirroring surface until your eyes began picking out the differences between the two asymmetrical halves.

Since the city was carved from the volcanic bedrock, many streets ran up against the porous network of natural and artificial caverns that permeated the island’s core. Through dozens of clandestine excursions, Olenka had grown quite familiar with the tunnels. She’d spent years of her childhood mapping them out in her mind, keeping a mental record of all their tricks and turns. They were her sanctuary from the crowds, a place so cold and creepy that solitude was a guarantee.

Normally, she could slip through the murky labyrinth like an eel negotiating a reef, but today was different. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep track of her steps. Every other dive into these caves had just been for fun. They had been small, temporary acts of rebellion: little trips to help her feel alive, a chance to see the blood drain from Sant Madee’s face, an extreme game of hide-and-seek between her and the city’s bushi…

…but not this time.

This time, she was not coming back. This time she was not going to be found. Somehow that had made a difference, and the damp, empty walls were all starting to look the same. The way was dark and convoluted, cold and very lonesome, and as much as she hated to admit it, Olenka was beginning to lose her way.

Also her nerve. She was losing that too.

After backtracking from her fifth dead end, Olenka finally managed to regain her bearings. She realized that she was actually at a critical junction: a split in the path that would either continue to skirt the city or dive deeper into the heart of the mountain. Deeper would certainly be sneakier, and there was a ladder back there: a hidden backdoor far away from the eyes of the city. She had found it long ago, but even now the thought of its glowing rails still sent chills through her fins. The path there alone was a thing of nightmares. One particular stretch of the tunnel sidled a hole so treacherous and terrifying she’d named it Naraka’s Gullet.

And yet, the ladder itself was somehow worse.

The silver rungs went straight to the top of the mountain: nothing but meter after meter of brutal, vertical, arm-numbing, finger-blistering, head-spinning ascent. She’d only completed the climb once, and the cramped, dizzy shaft had nearly proved her grave. Olenka had sworn then to never attempt the climb again.

She decided it was a promise worth keeping.

So, what options did that leave her? She paused to consider the maze before her, running through the web of corridors in her head. She could try to make it to the surface side of the city. There had to be passages that led to the docks up there. Somewhere… She weighed the risks, running through the possible snares along the way. The more she thought about it, the more impractical it all became.

Olenka cast the idea aside with a frustrated grunt. The Temple of Light was fixed to the very bottom of Lunsod sa Dagat: a great, silver barnacle crusting the city’s belly. While topside tunnels were the easiest path to the docks, she was no more familiar with the upper city than she was with the world beyond Pa Naing. She’d have to ask directions, have to travel down main roads and bridges, have to pass checkpoints of bushi…

No.

She’d be caught in an instant.

Olenka folded the skirts of her temple robe under her thighs as she sat down on the cold, stone floor. This was going to take some thought. If she wasn’t going to get to the surface through the city, then that left only one option…

The sea.

As a Bantay Tubig, Olenka was born to swim, but things weren’t that simple. At the bottom of the city, she was hundreds of meters underwater. She was closer to the great trench than the beaches above. Sure, whole schools of Bantay Tubig made the swim to the surface every day, but they were experienced divers with stretched lungs and seasoned limbs, their webbed toes and fingers accustomed to pulling at the currents of the deep. They were brave bushi and strong siokoy and swift sirena, all great warriors who had grown up with the coasts and the tides to teach them.

Meanwhile, Olenka had grown up in a prayer shawl…

She chewed her cheek as she played with the tassels of her robe. She could try the dive and hope for the best. Maybe it was just a matter of courage. Maybe drowning in the sea would be better than living like a mollusk. It was hard to say. She didn’t know what it was like to drown. What she did know, however, was that attempting the dive in her current clothing would be nothing less than suicide. Even the strongest swimmers could never make it to the surface dragging a full temple robe behind them. Short of making the swim nude as a shucked clam, swimming would require a change of wardrobe.

Which would mean going out into public.

Which would mean getting caught.

Olenka growled and threw herself down against the tunnel floor, sprawled out in a puddle of tinkling gold bracelets and lacey white cloth. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, watching the blotches of light bloom and twirl like coral polyps flitting through her vision.

Maybe this was a stupid idea, she mumbled, but then she frowned. Of course, this had been a stupid idea. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Go do something really stupid, something daring and risky and extreme. She had known this was going to be the single stupidest thing she’d ever done in her whole, stupid life…

But what she hadn’t considered was that it might not work.

And just when her doubts had reached their peak, right when she was ready to let the chilly floor send her moping and shivering back to the temple, Olenka heard something.

She bolted upright as a clang echoed through the damp tunnels. She rubbed the blotchy stars from her eyes and scurried up to her fins, trying to pinpoint the source of the racket. There was another crash down the tunnel to the left. It sounded like wood slapping against stone. As she listened, she could make out voices as well. Who could possibly be back there? No matter how many times she braved the caves, she always managed to find someplace new.

So, given the circumstances, Olenka did what any sensible runaway would do.

She went to go snoop.

***

"Hurry it up! Get that dikya loaded! We were due at the docks half an hour ago!"

Olenka crept forward against the damp wall, listening to the workers yell at each other. There were three of them, all kataw by the look of their swirling kudori. They were hauling crates and barrels and watertight chests down a carved tunnel filled with glowing wall etchings. She followed them slowly, peering around the bend to see where they were taking their wares. The tunnel opened up into a wide cavern with false pillars sculpted into the walls. A seawater pool that glowed brighter than any lantern filled most of the cave’s floor, leaving a rim of dry rock around the edge used for loading and unloading. Every surface, both above and beneath the water, was filled with flowing lines of electric blue light. Pa Naing’s markings decorated the ceiling, twirled up and down stalactites, and illuminated the aquatic tunnel at the far end of the pool leading to the sea beyond.

We’d have had it loaded three times over if Galit hadn’t jumped banca on us, one of the kataw workers sneered, tossing a barrel toward the pool. How long has it been now?

At least a week, a second worker grumbled. He caught the barrel and passed it down to the last kataw standing in the pool underneath an enormous shipping dome. "And the monks still haven’t sent us a replacement."

The shipping dikya was suspended over the pool from a crane mounted against the cavern wall and braced on a set of moveable wooden stands. Olenka had heard about dikyas, but she’d never actually seen one of the shipping domes before. From what she could tell, it was just a reinforced bamboo frame overlaid with an airtight layer of metal plates. The outer rim bristled with big, rusty hooks, a few of which were laden with massive teardrop ballasts. The third kataw worker was stuffing barrels and boxes up into the dome to give them dry passage to the surface.

To the surface! Olenka realized, and her heart leapt into her throat.

A splash caught Olenka’s eye, and she noticed that there was a pod of plalomas slipping around the pool too. The creatures were shaped a bit like enormous fish, but she knew better. They breathed air like Bantay Tubig, and their tail fins were horizontal. The plalomas chirped and squealed and danced playfully in and out of the grove of stalagmites at the edge of the pool, enjoying their freedom until the workers were ready for them to help haul the shipping dome.

"Will you two hurry it up? the third kataw growled as he slipped back out from under the dikya. Heaven help me… If you drag your fins any slower, I’m going to start getting barnacles down here!"

The kataw on the surface rolled his eyes as he hefted another chest up onto his hip. "Maybe we should drag a bit. Give the monks a few really late shipments to complain about, eh? It might show them how bad we need a replacement."

Do you even hear the chum you’re spewing? the kataw at the edge of the pool snapped. If the monks get desperate, they’ll just hire a siokoy replacement! You really want to work with one of those bottom feeders?

The first kataw scoffed as he passed the crate. Can’t be worse than working with Galit. That itchy-finned fool drank like a fish.

Oh, I know! And his breath? The second kataw gagged. Heaven as my witness, I thought he’d thrown a fistful of sand in my eyes first time I talked with him.

The third kataw grunted as he took the crate. "You puddle pups don’t know the half of it. Late last season, some of the dock workers topside started reporting inaccuracies in our ledgers. Said we kept missing barrels of rice wine. The kataw slipped the crate up onto his shoulder and crammed it away into the dikya’s dome. Turned out that thirsty fool had been stealing a cask from each of the temple’s bimonthly shipments."

"A full cask?" the first worker gasped.

Twice a month, the third kataw said, true as the tides.

Jaws of Naraka… the second swore. No wonder he was always breathing fire…

The third nodded, leaning up against the dome to rest. We started taking the barya out of his pay, but the uzai eel slipped away topside before he paid the temple back for a third of what he drank… He’s probably halfway to the Bharatian Peninsula by now.

Heaven help him, the first kataw