Page 21 of Depths
“Giant squid is a fine answer; after all, this is theoretical,” I replied, “but I am curious as to why you’d choose that. Since we are getting to know each other.”
Stavros tilted his head as he looked at me. “Well, if they were eaten, there’d be less evidence. If I fed them to a mythical creature, fewer people would believe it. If the mythical creature isn’t real, I could still shove their body into some nook in the cliff so it wouldn’t be discovered.”
His thorough explanation was so wrong and yet … so right. I found myself moving Stavros up the ladder of contestants until his name hovered on a rung near the top. He could potentially be a spymaster, or at least he seemed a decent alternative to the squeamish Humberto. I wasn’t certain which part of his answer I admired most, but I gave him a grin that spoke for me.
His eyes flickered back down to the table, but the small grin on his face told me he was pleased with himself. That was slightly adorable.
Humberto chimed in with a tap of his hand on the table. “Well, then, if we’re doing whatever we want, I’d hire one of the mobile island people to squish them.”
“Oh, good one.” Stavros nodded his approval. “I’ve heard pressing is a painful way to go.”
“Well, I mean, they’re so huge, I can’t imagine it would take long,” Humberto replied, a bit smug. “But, like you said, it gets rid of the evidence. Though in all honesty, Your Majesty, you can publicly execute enemies whenever you feel like it, so I don’t suppose you’ll ever need these little tricks.”
I nodded along, but for the millionth time that week, I was left feeling woefully ignorant, not about methods of execution—my supposed father had been the spymaster before Quinn—but about this strange new world I now inhabited. I’d never heard of the mobile islands. “Tell me more about the island people,” I prompted.
“I mean, they’re triple the size of giants. That’s probably the one good thing that your mother did; early on, she got them all to move north of Kremos. Before that, it was a nightmare. Imagine a giant, so big that the tip of his head is an island, suddenly stomping about in your neck of the sea. When I was a kid, a friend of mine lost his house and parents to them. Dead awful.”
Stavros started to chuckle, and both of us furrowed our brows to look at him. He quickly reddened and sputtered, “Oh, I thought you were exaggerating. Making a pun.Dead awful?I—I—” His eyes hit the table again.
“No puns.”
I interrupted before the awkward tension could build more. “I honestly didn’t know about the island people.” Perhaps my own ignorance would be enough of a distraction. Men loved to be experts, right? “I’ve never seen one, though I’d love to.” I blinked a few times, not quite enough to be considered batting my eyes but definitely more than necessary.
Humberto’s lips thinned, but he took my conversational bait, swallowing it whole. “Oh, you think you want to, but their feet could crush all of Palati here, your castle and the surrounding area. Some people say they’re responsible for that huge crevice near Nowhere, the one with his supposed squid in it.” Humberto jerked his head toward Stavros.
Well, that hadn’t quelled his bitterness as much as I wanted. I tried quickly to steer the conversation in a new direction, since the tension radiating from Humberto had become palpable. “I definitely think your answers to that question will firmly plant you both in my mind in comparison to the other tournament contestants. How about we follow up with something more typical? What were your parents like?” I looked at Humberto since Stavros had answered the prior question first.
He waved a striped arm dismissively. “My parents were alright. Bit thickheaded, but you get a lot of groupthink in cardinal fish.”
“Can you tell me about your people?” I asked, trying not to let fascination creep into my tone.
Humberto launched into a tale. “Well, we didn’t live in the reef that long. My parents moved us into a private conch, trying to get a bit of separation from all the other fish shifters, you know? As nocturnal people, we typically sleep during the day, and it gets awfully noisy in Reef City. Anyway …”
He continued speaking as a maid came in with some refreshments for the three of us. She had bowls of cooked shrimp and bright cups of bubbles flavored with mango, my new favorite drink.
Humberto continued, “School was my favorite, but it’s also quite exhausting for shifters because you have to learn to swim in fish form with your school, and then you have to shift to human to go to school and learn all the things you need for a trade. Ten hours a day can get old quick.”
“It sounds like an exhausting childhood,” I told him.
He shrugged before snagging a shrimp and sucking it into his mouth. “When you’re young, you don’t know any better. You do as you’re told.”
“True enough. What did you decide on as your trade?” I asked as I lifted my teacup, a cup that had clearly been scavenged from a wreck. It was delicate china but had a small chip in the base. I smiled encouragingly at Humberto before taking a sip of my drink, but I wasn’t sure he even noticed. He’d been given rein to talk about himself, and his shyness had clearly worn off.
“First, I thought I wanted to be a teacher. Signed up as an apprentice and everything. Then, I watched those little shits get drunk in front of me in class, not even caring, and I decided sard that!” He set his mango bubble down emphatically to emphasize his point. The poor little cup looked like it was ready to break as his thick striped fingers squeezed it aggressively.
“Yes, children can be quite awful,” Stavros agreed.
Interesting. Two men had joined my tournament but had little interest in children. So fatherhood wasn’t a priority. Were they interested in power? Wealth? Stavros fell a few rungs as I tried to puzzle them both out while maintaining conversation.
“Your parents?” I asked Stavros.
He smiled softly. “They’ve been gone so many years I hardly remember them.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s not a problem. They were around long enough to teach me what was important.”
“And that is?” I nudged aside my plate, more interested in our conversation than food.
