The Wager Luminal
A Fisherdwarf, And Something More
Old Karl has been here since before Iona II was a girl of nine, that’s what he says, which means he’s pushing 110 at the leastways. He makes his living picking clams from the mudflats and drying stockfish on the cold winds that blow down from the north. The people of Gideon’s Port say old Karl’s salt-touched; that he’s been so long on the deep that the water’s got into his veins and brain and voice. Sometimes, they say, he dreams the dreams of great krakens in the deep, or hiccups seagull songs. He’s a bit odd, is what I’m getting at, here.