Read Drowned for Free Online Page A

compartment of rusting metal walls, bolted into the ground. I pull open the door and climb inside the dark building.
    It smells, obviously. At first, the stench was unbearable, but now I guess I’ve grown accustomed to it. There’s a constant drip-drip-dripping here, just like in the sleeping compartment, as this building is also underwater when the tide comes in. Though my arm ends about a hand’s length below my elbow, the stump is useful for many things. I’ve gotten pretty good at using my stump to support the shovel when I dig in and using it to heft over my shoulder, even without fingers to grip it.
    I guess I should be grateful there’s only one of these to clean. We used to have two craphouses, but the other washed away, so now we have only one for 496 people. Well, the royals have their own, supposedly, in the palace, but I’ve never been there. One craphouse for 496 people is pretty, shall we say, crappy, considering that the craphouse is one of the few places on the island where a person can be completely alone. Some people, like Mutter, who hates everyone, will brave the stench and stay in there for half a tide, just so he doesn’t have to see anyone. Others will pee in the tide pools or defecate wherever they please, and though that is illegal, no one says anything. There are far worse offenses in our world.
    There’s a little seat with a big hole in the center of the room, and though I fill it with sand before the tide comes in, sometimes excrement will come loose and end up everywhere when the tide goes out again. So I’ll need to shovel it back into place, then add in more fresh sand, make sure the seat is clean.
    I try to imagine myself in the castle, wearing long pink robes that stay dry, as I shovel the wet sand and excrement. I’ve come to realize that the only way to make it through this job is by daydreaming. I imagine myself sleeping on that giant seashell bed and feasting on good food and smelling like something other than seawater and crap.
    The only problem is that my daydreams often wander to Tiam, and thoughts like that can kill a girl.
    By the time I’m done and step outside into the sun again, there’s a line of three people waiting. Luckily it’s no one who’s going to give me trouble, like Ana or Mutter. Fern is there, legs together, hopping about. The other two, Mick and Vail, twins who are fishermen, look through me.
    I fold my crap-crusted shovel in a tattered cloth and pack it into my bag. Then I start over to the east side, where the tide pools are. But I notice that, strangely, the shores are empty of people. On such a small island, when the shores are empty, it means only one of two things: the tide is coming in, or an assembly has been called. It’s impossible that the tide is coming in; the horn announcing low tide hasn’t yet blared. When I walk to the sleeping compartment and see Tiam peeking through one of the rusted holes in the metal, I know that Ana has called an assembly. The king does not like these, but he is never around to dissolve them, and so they go on, maybe once every hundred tides or so. When I approach, I can hear voices inside, raised in argument. Keeping my distance from Tiam as I know my stench is unbearable, I whisper, “What? Something bad?”
    He turns to me, his face serious. “I guess. I don’t know.” He throws up his hands. “If only I could be in there.”
    We can’t because we’re not yet adults. When we’ve reached our sixteenth seasons, our voices will matter. Right now, we’re forbidden from assemblies. But that hasn’t stopped us from watching everything from the outside; the walls of this place are so full of holes, we might as well be present. I can still remember my father striding among assembly. Back then, I didn’t understand much of what they were quibbling about, but still, Buck Kettlefish was a force. He always had a voice, and a strong one. People listened to him. Now they are looking for someone to listen to, but