“Faris,” Willow called from the shore for the third time. He did not look at her. His attention was a bit preoccupied. He sat in a small boat out on the oasis. A large net rested in his tight grip. Next to him was an older man, lean and tight muscled. The top of his head was balding with a crown of black hair displaying it. His name was Caspian, but everyone in the village called him Cas. He grasped the other side, watching the water with a keen eye. Together they held the net beneath the gentle pool.

  When Cas gave the word, they pulled a net brimming with fish into the boat. Silver and green fish wiggled against one another, hoping to slip out of their sudden imprisonment. None succeeded. Below the boat, dozens of fish scattered in panic. “You would think some of them would catch on by now,” Cas said to himself, watching the fleeing fish. Turning to Faris, he asked, “Ever seen that many lake trout before?”

  Faris shook his head, though he had been through a fish market before. The stench still haunted him some mornings. “How many nets do you take a week?” he asked.

  “Three,” the old man answered, grabbing the oars.

  Glancing at the fish beneath the surface, he asked, “Aren’t you gonna drain your supply?” Taking too much game killed a village. They had to learn to use what they could and let breeding replenish their meals.

  Cas gave a wry smile. “No chance of that. Don’t you know where you are?”

  Faris shook his head. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have almost died of thirst.” That got a laugh from the old man, but Faris was being earnest. If he had not found this oasis, the buzzards would have feasted on his drying corpse days ago.

  “We have a saying in these parts. All rivers empty into the Underground Sea. There’s enough fish to feed the entire world if they wanted to cross the desert to join our feast.”

  At once, Faris’s eyes widened. He tried to hide his surprise, but he could not believe it. He had heard the name only once. The great Ibn stumbled across it in one of his many travels. Before his encounter, it was a fairytale. According to his texts, it was a fisherman’s paradise. He said that each day’s nets overflowed with the sea’s bounty. “I’ve come that far?” he asked.

  “It would seem.” They each took an oar, rowing back to shore. Cas’s home awaited them. It was a simple clay hut no different from anyone else’s. Bound palm leaves formed the roof. It was just big enough for four people. There were four rooms total. Three for individual quarters with the fourth serving as the common area. Only Willow and Cas lived there. Faris did not bother to ask who was meant to have the third room. It was none of his concern.

  When Cas’s boat reached the shore, Willow ran up to greet them. “Wow,” she exclaimed, hair bobbing as she moved. “That’s the best catch in weeks.”

  “It’s no more than we usually take,” her father corrected.

  Her nose crinkled, thinking it over. “No,” she insisted. “There’s more this time.” She flashed a smile at Faris. “I knew you brought good luck.”

  “Don’t know about that,” he muttered, considering the misfortune of his own life. If she believed he was a sign of good fortune, they had rotten luck. He still wasn’t sure if finding this oasis in the middle of a desert was a blessing or not. He dug through his memories, remembering all he could. Those that lived by the Underground Sea were direct descendants of the town’s founders, who named the village Desert’s Paradise. Their population was on the smaller side, considering that few wished to cross the desert to live by the lake. They were modest people, lacking the extravagant lives of those on the other side of the sand sea. These were hardworking people. Everyone toiled from the sun’s first rays to the last bits of fading light.

  “Don’t get underfoot,” Cas ordered his daughter. “We have a lot to do. These fish won’t skin themselves.” He waved his hand to shoo her away, but she was not deterred.

  “Father,” Willow said, grabbing Faris’s arm. He could not help noticing her warmth pulsing against his elbow. “You’re working poor Faris too hard. He needs his rest.”

  Since dragging himself into their village, the wanderer spent several days abed. His weary body needed nourishment and rest to recover from his brush with death. When he awoke, he found this plain beauty at his side, her toothy grin staring down at him. From the moment they met, the girl made it her personal business to nurse him back to his full strength. He had not been doted on so since boyhood. Every cough brought her back to his side. Her eyes never left him.

  “Willow,” Cas replied. “There’s no room in this village for a lazy lout. If he stays in bed any longer, he’ll become a fat sluggard. Out of indignant rage, I’d drive him out of the village as I would a rapid cur.” He huffed. “Why should we work while he eats like a woman with child?”

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  Though not fond of the comparison, Faris knew it was better for everyone if Willow left his side for a time. Being near her kept stirring up uncomfortable feelings. “Willow,” he said. She turned to him with a glowing smile. “I know little about fish. This is a perfect opportunity for me, learning from someone as knowledgeable as your father.” Her smile fell. Another feeling arose. “Just for a little while. Once I’ve finished this day’s tutelage, I will come find you.”

  She tried to force a grin, but it was empty. “You heard him. Hurry along girl,” her father chastised. “There’s work to be done.”

  She glanced at Faris for a moment, considering disobedience in spite of everything, before nodding. “See you tonight Faris.” In spite of himself, he watched her walk away, allowing the strange feelings to stir inside his chest.

  “Come along lad,” Cas ordered, turning their attention to the fish. “We have some bloody work ahead of us.” This was not an exaggeration. For hours, Faris had blood and fish guts covering his hands well past the wrists. The work didn’t bother him. Cutting up flesh was a simple task. A quick knife jab to the face brought the wriggling bodies into submission. Afterward, they cleaved off the heads. They ripped off the scaly skin and pulled out the bones. Every scrap of meat ended up in bowls.

  As they worked, various villagers stopped by. They spoke fondly with Cas, who answered with a cheery grin. When the pleasantries were over, each villager would grab a bowl and return to their own hovel. Cas asked nothing in exchange for the fish flesh. No one offered any form of payment. Curious, Faris asked after a young man ran off with a bowl, “Do you participate in a barter system or do you have some form of currency?”

  At this, Cas stopped cleaning the bones. When they began running low on fish, his mentor started washing fish bones and collecting them in a basket. While he was recovering, Faris watched as Willow and Cas crafted different bone items: buckles, hairpins, knives. He was surprised at their ingenuity. Not once had Faris looked at a bone and thought he’d like to wear it. Hands still in the water, the older man laughed after considering Faris’s question.

  “Perhaps everything works that way where you come from, but we’re a little different here.” He gestured to the sea. “The gods blessed each of us with gifts. Our greatest blessing of all is the sea and the fish come to us from the earth. Out in the desert, all we have to rely on is one another. Life is too hard to worry about who owes one another and how much is needed to settle the debt. Everyone does their best to contribute, helping anyone they can, but sometimes, you have to believe that your neighbor will show you a good turn one day, even if you have to wait.”

  Charity, Faris realized. This was an odd anomaly in his travels. It was not uncommon for priests to five open-handed to the poor and hungry without any thought of earthly reward. Not once had he found a village built on charity. Without gold or an equal exchange, it seemed unlikely that any commerce could function. Yet this village had existed. With their brief conversation concluded, they went back to work. Faris paid more attention to those coming for their daily portion of fish. He couldn’t help wondering what gifts they brought to the table. How would they reward Cas’s kindness?

  “Thanks for the help,” his mentor said as they finished. All of the bowls were taken by their respective recipients. Only the baskets of bones and one bowl of fish remained. “My joints grow wearier by the day.” Cracking his knuckles, he mused, “I suppose I’ll have to join the elders in time, let the youths take care of me.” Picking up the bowl and one basket, he flashed a sarcastic grin. “Free meals. Maybe a young woman to wait on me hand and foot.” Faris gathered as many as he could of the remaining baskets. Together, they returned to Cas’s hovel.

  “Did you bring me a present?” she asked, stepping out the door to meet them.

  “Our portion,” her father said. “What have you been up to while we worked in the sweltering sun?”

  “Finishing up a few bone amulets for Madam Isla,” she explained. “I was about to take them over to her.”

  “Leave that to me,” he insisted, extending the flesh bowl, “while you cook up some of this fish.”

  “Not even a please or thank you?” she asked with a playful grin. She took the bowl anyway. “Awful bossy. Trying to show off for our company.” Turning to Faris, she asked, “Care to help?”

  He looked at his mentor. During his last tutelage, he never moved if his teacher didn’t explicitly give the order. The old man shrugged. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t distract my little girl. Can’t have her burning our meals again.”

  “I haven’t burned anything since I was a child.” She spun around, hair whipping behind her.

  “She likes you, you know,” her father observed before following, leaving Faris alone.

  He didn’t need the old man to explain what he already knew. A blind man could see as much. As a boy, Faris had seen many fair women moonstruck by a dashing man. Though he knew no two women were the same, most had the same signs regarding the heart’s desires. Whenever a woman showed consistent affection for a man, whether through word, action, or glint of the eye, it was no coincidence.

  Standing outside, he looked around the oasis village. Desert greeted him as far as the eye could see. From the heart of the sandy sea, he had no idea where the nearest road rested. For the first time in forever, the urgent call of the road was a faint whisper. Perhaps if given time, his ears would grow deaf to the beckoning. Over the past few days, he hadn’t thought too hard concerning his feelings for the tiny, insignificant village. Life was simple without a single worry about what tomorrow would bring. All the food and water he could ever need. Now, standing in the door, he had to face a sudden realization.

  I like it here. Working his fingers to the bone by the lakeside.

  “Faris,” Willow called. “Can you help me get the fire started?” With a contented sigh, he entered the peaceful hovel in the village far from those shadowy eyes he feared.