The coastline was enormous. That was the problem. From the cliff above the Mediterranean, the Apprentice could see blue water in every direction. Ships moved against the horizon. Villages broke the shoreline. Coves disappeared behind headlands. Farther south, sails clustered around a city large enough to be seen through the morning haze. The Apprentice pointed. “There.” The Harbormaster did not look. “The great port?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because everyone goes there.”

The steel arrived before sunrise. Basket after basket. Dark pieces of metal wrapped in straw and carried through the courtyard until the floor beside the forge nearly disappeared beneath them. The Apprentice stared at the pile. “So much.” The Swordsmith said nothing. A representative from the warrior house stood nearby watching the delivery. He seemed pleased. “We brought more than you requested.” The Swordsmith crouched beside the first basket. “That was wise.”

The Apprentice opened the notebook. Pages of dates. Wind direction. Water temperature. Bird activity. Currents. Previous catches. Places where we had found nothing. She laughed. “You wrote down where there weren't fish?” “Especially there.” “Why?” “Empty water is expensive.” That quieted her. Two hours later, we had not dropped a single line. The Apprentice was becoming restless. “We've passed miles of water.” “Yes.” “We could have been fishing.”