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Chapter 7

Sardin casted the net on the right side of the canoe and waited for several minutes while Herring watched the waves. Two hours had passed and not a single fish got caught. Herring picked up his fishnet and tossed it to the other side of the canoe.

“That's it for today.” Sardin enunciated as he stood to pull out the fishnet.

“Says the man that it was a good day to go fishing.” Herring half mocked as he pulled out the last of the fishnet.

“You gave away a great mackerel, which is rare to catch.” Sardin remarked.

“Piros gave it away, I wanted to sell it.”

“But you went out to fight in the tournament and you fell for the bait.” The old fisherman recalled.

“You would've done the same for 300,000 rories.” Herring retorted vehemently.

“I would, if the tourney wasn't a ruse.” Sardin replied, “May I remind you that slave owners have used that tactic to lure strong fighters to trap them and enslave them.” Herring rolled his eyes at Sardin's rant. “I once encountered a stowaway with large muscles. He had a tattoo on his back and an earring, and he also confessed that he entered for the prize without knowing that the price was him.”

Herring took out the oars and rowed away and ignored him, or at least feigned to ignore what Sardin told him.

“The tournament wasn't a trap.” Herring said as he rowed.

“What makes you so sure?” Sardin questioned.

“I have an eyewitness.”

“Who? Haeji?” Sardin guessed.

“You'll have to see for yourself, if you'll excuse me.” Herring rowed away. The elderly fisherman didn't buy his bluff, he was convinced that the young lad was hiding something. Sardin waited for a couple of minutes before he followed Herring to Meno.

Herring also knew that Sardin was the kind of person that likes to investigate during his leisure. Sardin can consider himself a wise fisherman, but deep down he was a sneaky busybody.

Once Herring arrived on the dock, he tied one end of the rope to a post and the other to one of the seats of the canoe. Sardin had watched Herring fade into the city as the older fisherman stood up as the canoe dithered beneath his feet and rowed closer to reach the dock. By the time Sardin had tied the canoe, Herring took a route and perused the market. Kiosks of pottery, embroidery, clothing, beads, instruments and grains were flanked in rows as there a smaller group of people.

The sun descended at its hottest as the merchants hollered for water and its price. Sardin had looked for Herring around the city block before a man carried a large pot that doubled the size of his torso and a little splash of water escaped the brim of the pot and fell on the dry soil while the man walked to a kiosk.

The brief distraction made Sardin's throat dry up from the thirst and lost sight of Herring.

Sardin's eyes darted to find him amidst the bustling group of people that crossed from side to side forming lines to get something to drink. The elderly fisherman had to wriggle his way through some of the strangers that were waiting line to cross.