(21/02/24 - 18:04)
Uma pushed the door of Shakky's bar open and walked in. The evening crowd was already settled. 4 pirates at the round table near the window were mid-argument over a map they had spread across the surface. A pair of bounty hunters nursed drinks at the far end of the bar. A merchant Uma vaguely recognized from the Grove 13 market sat alone near the door eating from a wooden bowl.
The merchant looked up when Uma entered. He looked at the bandaged forearm, the wrapped calf, the bark gash that had mostly closed but was still visibly fresh along Uma's jaw, and the damp linen still hanging around his neck.
The merchant went back to his bowl without comment.
Shakky stood behind the bar. She looked at Uma over the rim of her cigarette as he walked toward the hook where his apron hung.
"You are 5 minutes late," Shakky said.
"4." Uma replied.
Shakky looked at the bandage on his calf. "You are dripping on my floor."
Uma looked down. A faint dark spot had soaked through the gauze and was marking the stone. He grabbed his apron from the hook.
"It will stop in an hour," he said embarassed.
"It will stop now," Shakky replied. She reached under the bar and produced a folded strip of clean linen. She held it out without looking at him, already turning to serve the bounty hunter at the end of the bar.
Uma took the linen. He wrapped it over the gauze, tying it tight against the outside of his trouser leg. The dripping stopped.
One of the pirates at the round table looked over his shoulder at Uma.
"You fought a fish again?" the pirate asked.
"Naturally" Uma said. He picked up a serving tray.
"How many."
"Around 13."
The pirate turned back to his map chukling.
Rayleigh came in at half past eight. He took his usual stool, accepted his usual glass from Shakky, and sat in his usual state of doing nothing in particular. When Uma passed behind him collecting empty mugs, the old man spoke without turning.
"How is the training?" Rayleigh said.
Uma set the mugs on his tray.
"I moved to the trees," Uma said.
A pause.
"And the water," Uma added.
Another pause. Longer.
Rayleigh picked up his glass. He took a slow sip. He set it down.
"Mm," he said with a nod.
Uma carried the tray back to the bar. Behind him, he heard Rayleigh say something to Shakky in a low voice. He could not make out the words.
Shakky laughed. It was a short, sharp sound, genuinely amused rather than polite.
Uma filed it away and got back to work.
(21/02/24 - 23:00)
He walked back to the warehouse in the dark. The bark gash on his jaw was gone. The forearm bite had sealed. The calf was still tender but held his weight cleanly.
He unwrapped the damp linen from around his neck. He folded it. He would let it dry overnight.
He sat on the edge of his cot in the dark warehouse and closed his eyes.
He thought about the 13th fish. The one on his right flank. The fraction of a second before impact when something had registered.
He thought about the section of bark at 18 meters that he had known was hollow before he touched it.
He thought about Rayleigh's exact words. You will understand why it works once it starts working.
He was starting to understand.
He lay back on the cot and let his body do its work.
(22/02/24 - 10:00) (Monday February 22, 1524)
The morning supply run took them east through Grove 11. The crowds were thin on the Monday morning paths. Most of the previous night's violence was sleeping it off in taverns or bleeding quietly in alleys.
Uma walked with the linen blindfold folded and tucked into his jacket pocket. Koro walked beside him carrying an empty canvas sack.
A noise pulled Uma's attention to the left.
Down a narrow side path between 2 ship-hull storefronts, a group of 5 pirates surrounded a merchant. The merchant was a compact man in his forties with a handcart loaded with dried fish. He had both hands raised. One of the pirates was already rifling through the cart. Another held a cutlass loosely at his side, pointed at the merchant's stomach.
Koro slowed. Uma slowed beside him.
The pirate with the cutlass looked up and saw the 2 of them. He took in Uma's height, then Koro's everything, and his confidence wobbled visibly. He looked at his crew. His crew looked back at him.
"Keep walking," the pirate said. It came out less steady than he intended.
Uma stepped into the side path.
The pirate swung the cutlass in a wide, aggressive arc to establish distance. The blade passed through empty air. Uma had already stepped inside the swing's radius. He drove his elbow into the man's face. The pirate's head snapped backward and he dropped the cutlass.
It hit the wood with a flat clang.
Uma looked at it.
He reached down and picked it up, curious to see if it's handy to use swords.
The moment his fingers closed around the grip, something rearranged itself. Not a thought. More like a physical fact presenting itself. The weight of the blade was wrong for its length, cheap iron, poor balance, the center of mass sitting too far toward the tip. His wrist registered the information without being asked and made a small automatic correction in his grip, shifting his thumb forward along the handle to compensate.
The remaining 4 pirates rushed him together.
Uma moved.
He was not good. The form was rough, the footwork barely existed, and on the first exchange he brought the blade up in a guard position at the wrong angle and took a glancing hit across his forearm from a short club that should have been completely avoidable.
He noted it. He did not repeat it.
By the third exchange he had adjusted the guard angle. By the fifth he was moving his feet instead of just his arms. One of the pirates threw a low feint and went high. Uma read it half a second late and caught the follow-up on his shoulder instead of blocking it. He stepped into the pirate's space immediately after and drove the pommel of the cutlass into the man's sternum. The pirate folded.
45 seconds after picking up the cutlass, all 4 were on the ground.
Uma straightened up. He was breathing harder than the fight should have warranted. The cutlass form had burned mental energy as much as physical, the continuous rapid recalibration of an unfamiliar weapon in real time.
Koro stood at the entrance to the side path. The Fish-Man had not moved. He was watching Uma with an expression that was difficult to read, somewhere between recognition and something older and quieter.
The merchant stood between his cart and the wall with his hands still half raised.
"You can lower your hands," Uma told him.
The merchant lowered his hands.
Uma looked at the cutlass. The blade was notched and the edge was uneven. It was a poor weapon by any standard. He slid it through the left side of his belt anyway.
They continued to the market.
Koro said nothing for the first several minutes. Then, without looking at Uma, he spoke.
"You made the same error 3 times in the first 10 seconds," Koro said.
"Twice." Uma replied.
A pause.
"Twice.." Koro agreed.