The Disjointed Tales Of Renryre Island

04-1: A Little Too Much Salt

She wasn't interested in weak men. She was keeping her eyes open for someone different. Someone with the right attitude. And perhaps someone who could take her away from Rhytheport. But deep down she knew it couldn't happen. In thirty-something years, no one had left Rhytheport. It just wasn't possible.

"Morning, Tally," came the voice from the gatehouse.

"Good morning to you, Maz," she said, forcing a smile.

Maz had worked in the pans for as long as she could remember. She had too, really, at least since she could walk. There wasn't much skill to her job, but the men had joked that she was a natural, and her life in the pans had begun early.

"Need anything?" asked Maz.

"Got a ship and enough money for me to get out of this godsforsaken place?"

If Maz had a ship, he would no doubt have offered to whisk her away years before.

"I got some tools? Might not help with your flight, but in the mean time you could get some work done."

"I'll take a brush, a chisel, a hammer, and a couple of cloths. Got some rusty plates need work."

Maz handed her the supplies, and she soon began her work as the tide began to fall.

The pans stretched a few miles along the coast. During the high tide they captured the water in shallow pools, and during the low tide they let it bake in the sun. A series of iron plates captured the water as it evaporated, allowing it to collect and gradually run off into bottles, leaving a layer of dried salt in the pan. The bottles needed to be prepared as the tide began to fall, and removed before it returned. The plates needed constant attention, as the iron rusted quickly, poisoning the water if it wasn't cleaned frequently enough.

Most towns along the coast would boil their water over a fire, but Rhytheport had a distinct disadvantage. Being on the edge of a desert, there was nothing to burn. Firewood was a luxury, as valuable as the water itself. Flamed meat was reserved for special celebrations, a feast most usually couldn't afford. The people of Rhytheport had learned to use the sun and the salt for their cooking needs too; the only two things they had in abundance when the fisherman came in empty handed.

"Morning, Tally," called a voice as she began work on one of the pans.

"Good morning to you, Jollo," she replied, already annoyed by his ridiculous grin.

Jollo was a fellow panner. Not a bad guy really, in that innocent, boring, and completely harmless sort of way. Except that he persisted in sniffing around her.

"Fine day isn't it?" he said. "And a perfect tide too."

It was a perfect tide, the sea dropping just as it began to get really hot. Gave a full day's worth of sun to boil the water. They were able to stockpile extra water and still sell more of it for a little less when the tides were good.

"Only if you like spending the whole day in the sun."

Jollo took a deep breath and puffed his chest out.

"All in a day's work. Town needs us, we do the best we can."

For ourselves, thought Talyreina to herself. Sure, she sold water, but it wasn't exactly to help the locals. Yes, the panners were integral to Rhytheport, making certain there was always enough drinkable water... but a job was a job, and she was there for the coin.

"Fancy meeting me in the tavern tonight?" asked Jollo. "I hear Deklow got something special in from Helen's Bay."

Silly man. Drinks from Helen's Bay weren't cheap.

"I would love to," said Talyreina. "But I can't afford it at the moment."

"Please, Tally, don't worry about the money. I would love to buy you a drink."

Silly man.

"Alright, you've convinced me." She flashed him a smile. "I'll see you there. But you best get back to work now."

Jollo skipped away like an undignified idiot. Talyreina began preparing the bottles along the pans, her feet sinking into the ground. It was still early, and the damp sand was cool. It wouldn't last long. She sang to herself softly as she worked. Not about handsome princes and heroic warriors, nor even about silly men buying her drinks, but about the fabled towns of the mainland, where trees grew wild, where water flowed in wide rivers, and where trade kept the markets filled with goods unheard of in Rhytheport. The mainland was a myth, she was certain, despite the tales repeated by the older generations. But she didn't care about reaching the mainland, she only cared about getting away from Rhytheport.

Talyreina sat down to take a short break, taking a sip of water from one of the collection bottles. The water was hot, and far from refreshing. She hated it, and she was tempted to spit it out, but experience had taught her otherwise. She just wished the pans cleaned it better. Poorly filtered, the water was used in producing the local ale, when there was enough of it, and also for preparing food. It was drinkable, but it still tasted like salt. Everything tasted like bloody salt.

Such was the daily routine for Talyreina. Sun. Salt. More salt. And on special occasions, an ale in the local tavern.

Talyreina's Tale continues in A Little Too Much Salt part 2 >>>