Arese might be telling the truth and she might be lying; in a way, it didn't matter.If he agreed to help her, it gave him a chance to find the answers he sought, even if she was steering him away from them.If he told her no, it was pretty certain he was staying on this island for eternity.TWO When he smelled blood, Mere-Glim turned in the deep waters of the Marrow Sump, trying to find the source.Blood wasn't an unusual smell in these waters; bodies were dumped here every day, many still feebly struggling against death.But this blood was not only fresh, it had a certain rotten scent he'd come to know all too well.He closed his eyes and flared his reptilian nostrils, and when he identified the current that carried the smell, he struck out along it, his webbed hands and feet propelling him swiftly through the clear waters.It took him only a few moments before he could see the erratically twitching figure trying to reach the surface.By the time he reached her, the life was dimming from her eyes.He wasn't sure if she ever actually saw him.
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Blood still roiled in clouds from her nostrils and gaping mouth.He reached around her from behind and kicked purposefully toward the surface, but by the time he reached it, she had gone limp.
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He took her into the skraw caves along the shoreline anyway, and laid her out on the little bier his coworkers had made from woven cane and grass for the dead to rest on.In the sunlight she'd looked old, worn, with black bags beneath her eyes and hair like lank kelp, but here in the phosphorescence from the cave walls she appeared younger, more like the ten or fifteen years she probably actually was.On Umbriel, people were born as adults, and those born to be skraws, to tend and harvest the sump, had nothing that resembled a childhood.He heard others approaching and looked over his shoulder to see his friend Wert and a young skraw named Oluth.Wert knelt and studied the woman's face for a long moment, his own visage more long and doleful than usual.
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