The other trawlers were already in the water when Zigana mounted Gitta and helped Jolen climb up behind her. She clicked her tongue and tapped her heels against the mare’s side, the same routine they did every time they entered the surf to shrimp. Only this time, Zigana’s soul sang with a mixture of fear and elation. Fear because of the creature that sullied the shallows and had taken Solyom, elation because she relived a golden memory of childhood—when Jolen managed to sneak away from her nurses and join her on Gitta’s back as they trawled for shrimp and bellowed sea shanties at the top of their lungs to the accompanied chorus of shrieking gulls.
Water rolled over their legs, spooling out threads of images in her mind’s eye, a tapestry of the Gray with all its life both benevolent and malevolent. Jolen grasped her waist and laughed behind her before raising her voice to sing one of those long-forgotten shanties.
“I bid my lass farewell, good day,”she sang out and Zigana answered with the refrain in lower pitch.
“Raise up the mast, main sail, me lad.”
They harmonized together and were quickly joined by the other trawlers as the shanty drifted across the waves.
“And set my feet onto the Gray,
Raise up the mast, main sail, me lad.
A trollop’s kiss for which I’d pay,
Raise up the mast, main sail, me lad
From ship’s good coin earned on the Gray,
Raise up the mast, main sail, me lad.
I’d rather sail than haul the hay,
Raise up the mast, main sail, me lad
Count the mermaids that swim the Gray,
Raise up the mast, main sail, me lad.
Red sky at morning, white horses play,
Drop down the mast, main sail, me lad
Storm’s a coming, black on the Gray,
Drop down the mast, main sail, me lad.
Ride hard the waves and set to pray,
Drop down the mast, main sail, me lad
To kindly gods who sing the Gray,
Drop down the mast, main sail, me lad.”
When they finished that shanty, a shrimper took up another and they began again, singing until it was time to return ashore and rest the horses. Jolen hugged Zigana from behind, nearly crushing the breath out of her.
“Thank you for that,” she said. “You made me remember happiness.”
Her comment dampened Zigana’s own euphoria, but she squeezed Jolen’s fingers with hers and said nothing.
When they came ashore, Odon was waiting to help Jolen off Gitta.
She offered him a smile. “Hello, Odon. It’s been a long time.”
He bowed, expression neutral, tone revealing nothing. “My lady.” His gaze flickered to Zigana, and in his eyes, she saw concern for her. “Stay longer if you wish. I’ll load everything up. Dorag’s boy can drive your cart home.”
“But…”