Nemissa stared down at the waters from the precipice of the rocky crag. Castlehaven’s shore was not a welcoming place. There were not stretches of warm sands and easy tides. Those who fished here were as sturdy as the outlying stone which bordered the ocean. She had fished in the rivers near her home, but it was not the same process at all.
“You don’t need to learn everything,” the Baron had said. “But understanding the daily toil of our people is good.”
Nemissa had squared her shoulders. “If I’m to start, why wouldn’t I finish?”
He had not dismissed the idea. She was certain her new husband would not mind either way, as long as she had learned something. She pulled her long, long curling hair back from her face, binding it behind her back as she continued to view the pearl of her new oyster. The sea.
She turned to the Master Fisherman, who had arrived with his journeymen. She pictured herself, figuratively and eventually, among their ranks.