Lake Rodney Sailor Song

The man drifted in silence, thoughts weaving between the conversation he'd shared with Khusobek and the suggestion Eset had offered. His lips quirked into a faint smile, humor breaking through the haze of contemplation. I must admit, the idea of putting my talents to use beyond scrubbing the mazoi's training hall holds a certain appeal, he said, voice lightened by a low chuckle that sent ripples through the water around him.

He glanced back over his shoulder, prepared to meet her reply, but found instead that she had turned away. It was nothing at first—he might have left it unremarked, assumed her thoughts had taken her elsewhere—until her voice broke the quiet, hitting him just as thoroughly as any physical blow.

The dog froze mid-stroke, the haste in his turn toward her sending him underwater. He emerged an instant later, spluttering and gasping, coughing out a sharp intake of water as he blinked furiously against the sting in his eyes. He hadn't even heard the last of what she had said.

I'm sorry?