Free The Red Sea by Edward W. Robertson Page A

wet fish, as intangible as sophistry.
    He had seen these stains before—inside Riddi, the woman who'd been netherburned. He'd taken them as an odd symptom of the burns. However, attempting to treat a netherburn with more nether actively made the condition worse. In Larsin's case, Dante was unable to do anything at all, for good or for ill. After ten minutes of mental strain, his grasp on the shadows was as clumsy as a dead limb.
    He stepped back from the pallet, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's no use. I can't help him."
    He turned and walked out of the doorway into the blinding afternoon sun. Speech drifted from the house. Footsteps rustled. Blays joined him in the grass.
    "Er," Blays said. "So that's it?"
    "I can't help him. It's almost like he's netherburned. Whatever's wrong with him, the shadows can't touch it. I can't believe we came all this way."
    "But he's not netherburned, is he?"
    "I don't think so. It's odd, though. Riddi had similar symptoms. I assumed the netherburn was what killed her, but maybe it was masking something even deadlier."
    "If this is that unfamiliar to you, maybe you're missing something. You can't give up this fast."
    Dante untucked his shirt, flapping its hem to dry his sweat. "I tried everything I know. Whatever this is, it's beyond me."
    "How odd." Blays folded his arms. "I don't think you've ever admitted something's beyond your power. Why are you so quick to give up on this?"
    Dante was spared having to respond by Winden, who emerged into the clearing, the steady wind ruffling her brown hair. Around them, bugs were singing, but her face had gone as stolid as a tombstone.
    "You can't help him."
    Dante shook his head. "I can try again tomorrow. After I've rested. But I'm afraid it won't do any good."
    Her eyes dimmed. "This outcome will be disappointing to many."
    "Why? Who is he to you? The people he sent to Gask, why did they give up their lives for his?"
    "Years ago, when he first came here, he brought the trade back, too. Iron tools and steel blades. For that, he was made part of the family of Kandak. Later, he helped drive off the Tauren, too. He was good to us." Winden tugged the bracer up her left forearm. "But he was no good to you."
    Dante snorted. "Are you always this blunt?"
    "Do you find it better to hide from truths?"
    "The truth is he was neither good nor bad to me. He couldn't be either, because he wasn't there. So guess why I came here?"
    "To learn why he left."
    He smiled ruefully. "Wrong. I came here to make him well. To show him what I had become without him—and to rub it in his nose."
    Winden laughed. "But you couldn't. Good haid."
    "Haid?"
    "One of our words. It is like…" She gestured as if reeling in string. "When mean feelings are thwarted. You should be happy for the chance to be corrected by your failure. But it only makes you feel worse."
    Dante creased his brow. "That's a big concept for a small word."
    "Regret, it has many forms. It's important to know the differences." Winden nodded back at the black building. "We stay here tonight. And you will try again in the morning."
    Dante had little desire to stay. He had no interest in the explanations or apologies he expected Larsin to start making, especially if it became clear Dante couldn't help him and he was on his deathbed. But between the fighting, the hiking, and the expenditure of all the nether he could safely command, he was exhausted.
    Thankfully, Larsin was, too, and slept through the afternoon. Winden passed the remainder of the day beneath a thatched shelter in the trees, grinding roots on a stone table. Dante wandered around the woods examining the insects. There were your typical ants and spiders and such, but most of the species were new to him. Some of the creatures were very slightly new—a perriwen beetle that was iridescent blue rather than matte black—but others had no analog to anything he'd seen, such as the thumb-sized red insect that walked on six tiny snapping claws.
    Blays had a rare