For three straight days, the sun over Aethel rose to the exact same theatrical sight: Saira, knees buried deep in the scorching sand, leading the morning service for the Cult of the Clam-stone.
“O sacred sphere of Eternal Matrimony!” Saira chanted, fanning the glowing pink orb with two massive palmetto leaves.
“We greet thee!
We buff thee!
We assure thee that the divine suitor’s sudden, quiet absence is merely a sign of his, brooding, ocean-sized shyness!” At the base of the driftwood altar, Crabby sat perched on a flat stone.
His red kelp necklace was slightly askew, but he maintained his vigil as Supreme Keeper of the Sacred Shell, using a tiny pincer to scrape a barnacle off his left leg while his human boss completed her daily morning genuflection.
Having thoroughly polished the fifty-pound pearl with fresh rainwater, Saira stood up, smoothed down her hopelessly frayed skirt, and dusted the yellow sand from her knees.
“Consistency, Crabby!
That is the secret to maintaining a high-society romance across species boundaries,” Saira declared, pacing the ridge of the dune.
“When Eagre finally emerges from his aquatic sulking chamber, he will see that his betrothal gift has been treated with the solemnity of a crown jewel.” She paused, shading her eyes with a hand to scan the sparkling turquoise horizon.
There was no sign of the sea-god’s silver, scaled tail or glowing fins-only the usual lazy sea-gulls gliding through the warm afternoon breeze.
“Still processing his emotions, poor dear,” Saira sighed sympathetically.
“A divine entity of his stature is simply overwhelmed by the weight of true, unbridled passion.” As she turned to began her afternoon perimeter check of the beach as usual, something dark and sodden caught her eye near the surf line.
Washed up on a bed of tangled brown kelp, half-buried in the wet sand where the foam lapped softly against the shore, was a large, waterlogged leather mass.
It was a sleek, contemporary travel duffel, studded with modern zippers, reinforced nylon straps, and bearing a thoroughly soaked, once-elegant designer logo.
Saira’s eyes went wider than two full moons.
She let out a high-pitched, aristocratic gasp that startled a nearby crab right out of its burrow.
“My luggage!” Saira shrieked, clutching her face with both hands.
“Crabby!
The tide has delivered my personal effects!” She sprinted down the dune with zero regard for decorum, her boots splashing wildly through the shallow surf.
She dropped to her knees beside the heavy leather duffel bag, dragging it out of the foam with a triumphant, breathless grunt.
It was indeed her primary travel bag from the doomed voyage-the very one that had been swept overboard during the storm three weeks prior.
The leather was stained and smelling heavily of brine, but the heavy-duty waterproof zippers had surprisingly held fast against the crushing pressure of the sea.
“Oh, the structural integrity of high-end modern gear!” Saira squealed with delight.
From the top of the dune, crabby slowly scuttled down the sand to inspect the wet mass.
He tapped one of the metal zipper pulls with a pincer, testing its density, before climbing up onto the leather flap to watch the grand opening.
Saira grabbed the main zipper tab and yanked it open with a satisfying, screeching ZIP.
She threw back the heavy leather flap, eager to reclaim the refined treasures of her civilized past.
She reached inside, her hands rummaging through the soggy contents, and pulled out the first major salvage item.
It was a waterproof plastic case, dripping wet with seawater.
Saira snapped open the plastic latches and tipped the contents out onto her lap.
Clatter-clatter-clack.
Dozens upon dozens of ivory, translucent resin, and polished brass gambling dice spilled out across her knees and onto the wet sand.
Tucked right beside them were three plastic-coated decks of premium poker card, slightly damp around the edges but perfectly intact.
There were loaded six-sided dice, weighted high-roller cubes, intricate ten-sided gaming dice, and custom-marked card decks straight from the VIP rooms of the mainland’s most exclusive casinos.
Saira stared at the pile of dice and playing cards for two silent seconds, her mouth slightly open.
“Ah,” Saira said smoothly, clearing her throat and adopting a posture of supreme, lofty innocence.
“My…
architectural calculation tools!
Essential for determining spatial probability, card-based structural modeling, and stress-load rations in high-density buildings.” Crabby picked up a weighted die in his right claw and a queen of hearts card in his left pincer, turning them over and giving Saira a single, long, unblinking look with his left eye stalk.
He knew a rigged casino set when he saw one.
“Moving on!” Saira said hastily, sweeping the cards and dice back into the case and digging deeper into the duffel bag.
Next came her wardrobe.
Saira pulled out a heavily soaked pair of modern high-waisted designer jeans, a sea-stained oversized graphic hoodie, a skirt, three pairs of colorful athletic socks, designer blazer and a sleek, squished baseball cap featuring a embroidered logo.
“Jackpot!” Saira cheered, holding up the dripping oversized hoodie like it was a grand royal garment.
“Civilization has returned to Aethel!
No longer shall I roam these shores looking like a shipwrecked castaway!
I shall greet my betrothal in high-society athleisure!” She immediately threw the heavy, waterlogged hoodie over her torn blouse and pulled the designer blazer on top for good measure.
It weighed at least fifteen pounds, smelled intensely of wet cotton and rotten kelp, and dragged in the sand behind her, but Saira held her head high, feeling like the Empress of the Archipelago.
She scooped up her plastic case of loaded dice and cards, jammed the baseball cap onto her head, and marched back up the sand dune toward the shrine, her heavy wet cloths leaving a thick dragging trail in the sand.
“Crabby!” Saira announced, setting the open case of dice and laying out a fan of playing cards right beside the glowing pink pearl on the driftwood alter as a new sacred offering.
“We are upgrading the shrine!
Not only do we have the Divine Clam-stone, but now we have the Holy Cubes and Parchments of Probability!
When fish-boy returns, I shall teach him the refined, aristocratic art of high-stakes beach poker!” She removed the baseball cap, and carefully placed it on top of the giant pearl, stepping back to admire the newly styled deity.
“Look at that,” Saira breathed, dabbing a tear of pride from her eye.
“Distinguished.
Romantic.
Cosmopolitan.” Crabby climbed back onto his flat rock, looked at the pink pearl wearing a baseball cap next to a pile of loaded dice, and let out a long, silent, crustacean sigh before going back to his kelp.