A bent copper pin dangled from the hemp string, bobbing three inches above the swirling green pool.
Kaelen Vance leaned back against a smooth granite boulder, resting the polished willow branch across his knees.
A warm afternoon breeze rustled the willow leaves, scattering dappled sunlight over the clear mountain water. Down in the depths of the pool, five fat silver-carp swam lazily past the bare metal pin, completely uninterested in biting.
Kaelen took a bite of a sweet dried persimmon and smiled.
Hookless fishing was the pinnacle of mortal leisure.
Normal fishermen complicate everything with live worms, sharp hooks, and splashing nets, Kaelen thought. Then they have to clean the fish, scale the fish, and fry the fish. If you leave off the hook, the fish stay happy, your hands stay clean, and the timer never stops ticking.
For six uninterrupted days, he had sat beside the mountain pool.
While Morvane’s four treasurers snarled at each other in the city and eighty guards stood choking on skunk-cabbage oil at the customs depot, Kaelen had done nothing.
