The water was cold and gray, and it was thick like soup.
Rudra went down through it with his eyes open. He could not see far. The light from the stars was gone after a few feet, and below that there was only gray. Grass stems drifted past his face, torn loose from ground that was not there anymore.
He kicked down. There was no bottom.
He should have been afraid. He knew the sea, and he knew what it meant when a man went into water with no bottom at night. But he was not afraid. Something in him had gone quiet and easy the moment the water closed over his head.
It was not the Soother's easy. It was older than that. It was the feeling of standing on a deck in a big swell with your knees soft, and knowing the ship.
Deep Water.
He had never used it. He had held it for weeks like a man holding a letter he did not want to open.
Now the water opened it for him.
