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Authors: Alan Dean Foster
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outlines and its rocky slopes acquired more and more detail.
The swift currents that flowed around and through the split-topped seamount made it difficult for corals, cnidarians, mollusks, or echinoderms to secure a grip on its precipitous flanks. A few who were hardy and determined managed a foothold. The rewards for those who succeeded were great, as the currents brought acre-feet of food swirling helplessly past waiting mouths and trolling tentacles.
Even fewer lifeforms succeeded in colonizing the crevice that split the seamount’s double crown. Powerful currents kept it scoured almost bare. These drew rather than discouraged the vast schools of fish that congregated in its vicinity. Slamming up against the base of the mount, deep-sea currents were forced upward, carrying with them a torrent of nutrients that sustained whole communities of visiting and resident pelagics. As clan patriarch Jeralach had pledged, hunting promised to be spectacular. Reflecting their leader’s optimism, the clan’s hunters had brought along especially large carrynets with which to tow the hoped-for haul back to Sandrift.
The seamount was not generally hunted because to reach it required a two-day swim across open ocean from Sandrift’s home reef system. Swimming for two days was easy enough. But spending nights out in the pitch darkness of open water, with no visible bottom, was sufficiently intimidating to dissuade all but the boldest hunters. Jeralach proudly counted himself among the latter. There was some debate as to whether it was safe enough to bring along eager young apprentices.
“Each of us will travel with tethered glowfish,” Jeralach had explained. “They will provide enough light so that even if someone wanders away from the others, they will not pass from sight.” He held up a tunicate that had been effusively enchanted. Showing a delicate mauve tint, the circular opening at the top of the otherwise transparent creature was pointed toward the northwest. “This was collected by me the last time I visited Splitrock. It has been imbued with meticulous charm by the subshaman Aseleaph so that no matter how it is held, its mouth faces always toward its home. It will be our good and reliable guide to the seamount.”
The magicked ascidian Jeralach flaunted would eliminate the problem of finding Splitrock in the open ocean. That was the difficult part of the expedition. Young Chachel and the other apprentices knew that returning home following hunting would present no comparable difficulty. Marking the position of the light that moved across the mirrorsky, they need merely swim westward until they struck coral. From any location on the reef walls even a child could find its way back to Sandrift.
As finally constituted, the foraging expedition included fifteen experienced adult male and female hunters as well as an additional six apprentices and a trio of curious cuttlefish. Together with several of his best friends, Chachel was honored to be included among the select group of chosen youths. The fact that his parents comprised part of the hunting team only magnified the pride he felt in participating.
Leaving the aggravated feather star in peace to find its own way back to the reef, he kicked hard to catch up to the rest. The pair of fishing spears strapped to his back had come loose and the shafts were rubbing against his skin. He had not bothered to tighten the lashings because he expected that the weapons would soon be put to good use. Behind him, the feather star filled his wake with a litany of tiny curses that made Chachel smile. At fifteen, there was very little that failed to make him smile. Life beneath the mirrorsky was good, and he had no reason to think it would ever be anything but so.
Though Jeralach was the nominal leader of the expedition, having visited the seamount before, he was not in charge. The hunting expedition had no formal leader. As soon as they arrived, decisions were reached through consensus,
The swift currents that flowed around and through the split-topped seamount made it difficult for corals, cnidarians, mollusks, or echinoderms to secure a grip on its precipitous flanks. A few who were hardy and determined managed a foothold. The rewards for those who succeeded were great, as the currents brought acre-feet of food swirling helplessly past waiting mouths and trolling tentacles.
Even fewer lifeforms succeeded in colonizing the crevice that split the seamount’s double crown. Powerful currents kept it scoured almost bare. These drew rather than discouraged the vast schools of fish that congregated in its vicinity. Slamming up against the base of the mount, deep-sea currents were forced upward, carrying with them a torrent of nutrients that sustained whole communities of visiting and resident pelagics. As clan patriarch Jeralach had pledged, hunting promised to be spectacular. Reflecting their leader’s optimism, the clan’s hunters had brought along especially large carrynets with which to tow the hoped-for haul back to Sandrift.
The seamount was not generally hunted because to reach it required a two-day swim across open ocean from Sandrift’s home reef system. Swimming for two days was easy enough. But spending nights out in the pitch darkness of open water, with no visible bottom, was sufficiently intimidating to dissuade all but the boldest hunters. Jeralach proudly counted himself among the latter. There was some debate as to whether it was safe enough to bring along eager young apprentices.
“Each of us will travel with tethered glowfish,” Jeralach had explained. “They will provide enough light so that even if someone wanders away from the others, they will not pass from sight.” He held up a tunicate that had been effusively enchanted. Showing a delicate mauve tint, the circular opening at the top of the otherwise transparent creature was pointed toward the northwest. “This was collected by me the last time I visited Splitrock. It has been imbued with meticulous charm by the subshaman Aseleaph so that no matter how it is held, its mouth faces always toward its home. It will be our good and reliable guide to the seamount.”
The magicked ascidian Jeralach flaunted would eliminate the problem of finding Splitrock in the open ocean. That was the difficult part of the expedition. Young Chachel and the other apprentices knew that returning home following hunting would present no comparable difficulty. Marking the position of the light that moved across the mirrorsky, they need merely swim westward until they struck coral. From any location on the reef walls even a child could find its way back to Sandrift.
As finally constituted, the foraging expedition included fifteen experienced adult male and female hunters as well as an additional six apprentices and a trio of curious cuttlefish. Together with several of his best friends, Chachel was honored to be included among the select group of chosen youths. The fact that his parents comprised part of the hunting team only magnified the pride he felt in participating.
Leaving the aggravated feather star in peace to find its own way back to the reef, he kicked hard to catch up to the rest. The pair of fishing spears strapped to his back had come loose and the shafts were rubbing against his skin. He had not bothered to tighten the lashings because he expected that the weapons would soon be put to good use. Behind him, the feather star filled his wake with a litany of tiny curses that made Chachel smile. At fifteen, there was very little that failed to make him smile. Life beneath the mirrorsky was good, and he had no reason to think it would ever be anything but so.
Though Jeralach was the nominal leader of the expedition, having visited the seamount before, he was not in charge. The hunting expedition had no formal leader. As soon as they arrived, decisions were reached through consensus,
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