Waterfire Saga, Book One: Deep Blue (A Waterfire Saga Novel) (16 page)

“H-how…how do you…” Neela stammered.

“
Know?
Why, I’ve seen you, darling. In your room. Alone at night. Cutting and sewing dresses you’ll never wear. Stashing them in the back of your closet. Suma knows about that, by the way. Watch out for her.”

As Rorrim continued to speak, Neela’s face changed. Her expression became vulnerable and raw, and Serafina knew Rorrim was getting to her, too. He’d turned Neela’s heart inside out for anyone to see, just as he’d done to hers.

Then Neela abruptly shook her head, as if clearing sea foam from her ears. “Nice try, lumpsucker,” she said. She swam down the hallway and kept searching.

Watching her, Serafina rallied and almost freed her tail, but before she could, Rorrim said, “I wonder if we can go deeper. Yes, there’s something right there…oh, it’s
very
deep. Ah! Here we go!” There was another popping sensation in her back and then: “Lovely! Fear of failure! It has such a wonderfully sharp flavor to it. You’re terrified of proving yourself a disappointment, aren’t you? I can see why. Your mother is—forgive me,
was
—an incredible leader. Strong, smart,
so
dedicated. You’re
nothing
like her, darling. Not at all.”

Serafina felt weaker. Rorrim was right—it was pointless. Everything was pointless. It didn’t matter if she broke free or not. Why should she even try? She would only fail.

Rorrim prodded her spine again. “This will soften soon. Fear rots backbones like cavities rot teeth.” He smiled, his eyes glittering, then said, “And you, my dear, are
full
of it.”

“Principessa!” a voice shrilled.

Serafina looked up. It was Josephine. She was walking toward Serafina and she was furious.

“Principessa, tell your friend to stop being so annoying! She’s making a spectacle of herself and taking everyone’s attention off
me
!”

“Not
now
, Josephine,” Rorrim warned.

“Yes,
now
, Rorrim,” the vitrina said, stamping her foot. “Nobody’s looking at
me
! Everyone’s looking at
her
!” She turned to glare at Neela.

Neela was far down the hall of mirrors. She was waving her arms over her head, trying to get Serafina’s attention. As soon as she had it, she pointed to a mirror on the wall and gave her a thumbs-up. Then she cupped her hands to her mouth. “Don’t
listen
to him, Sera! You faced down Alítheia! You faced down Traho! Fight this tube worm!” she shouted.

Neela’s words were like a powerful undertow, pulling Sera out of her torpor.
She’s right,
she thought.
I
have
faced worse things than Rorrim.
She straightened her back, picked up her head, and shook off the hopelessness that had descended on her. With a great, wrenching cry, she pulled herself free of the silver.

“Swim, merl,
swim
!” Neela yelled.

Sera did. She raced down the hall to her friend. When she was only a few feet away, Neela dove through the mirror she’d been pointing to, shouting, “Follow me!”

Serafina put on a burst of speed, ready to dive after her, but Rorrim was right behind her, surprisingly fast for a man of his size. He grabbed her hair and yanked her back. The pain was electric. She screamed and tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip.

“Not so fast, little princess. You’re mine now.”

Blu flashed into her mind. She saw him as Traho’s soldiers shot the spear through him. She saw him trying to cut the line attached to it. Then she remembered the dagger Grigio had given her. In a flash, she pulled it out of pocket, reached behind her head, and sliced through her tresses.

A split second later, she shot through the mirror, leaving Rorrim Drol holding a handful of hair.

“U
M…SO, NEELS,”
Serafina said, looking down at her tail fins, which were submerged in a low, wide stone bowl, “the Iele live in a toilet?”

They were in a tiny grotto, no more than three feet by four. They’d tumbled out through a narrow mirror in the wall and Sera had landed tailfirst in the bowl.

“Wow. I think something went wrong,” Neela said, jammed painfully between the toilet and the wall.

“You think?” Serafina said, pulling her fins out of the bowl. She gave them a shake. “Yuck.
So
gross.”

“Sera, your
hair
!” Neela said.

“That bad?” Serafina asked. She glanced into the mirror and winced. “Oh, wow. That bad.” The edges were all different lengths. Some chunks grazed her chin, others were up around her ears.

“What happened?”

Serafina explained.

“No one has hair like that except swashbucklers,” said Neela. “You’ll attract attention.” She sang a prax spell—an illusio—and Serafina’s long hair was temporarily restored. “That should hold you for an hour or so. Now, where exactly are we?”

The door was closed. They could hear voices and the sound of clattering dishes coming from the other side.

Neela opened it cautiously. “It seems to be a café,” she said, swimming out of the grotto. Sera followed her.

The two mermaids looked around. The place was bustling. Bright morning light filtered in through the windows. Merfolk were sitting at tables or at the bar, eating breakfast. A mermaid wearing a red jacket glanced at Serafina and Neela, then returned her attention to her bowl of seaweed. Serafina pointed at a large plate-glass window. It had the café’s name on it.

“The
Old
River?” she said. “Nice going, Neels. We need the
Olt
River.”

Neela squinted at the letters. “Oops.”

“You have no idea where we are, do you?” Serafina asked.

“Well, I’m fairly confident we’re in, or close to, a river.”

“Really? What gave it away, detective? Couldn’t be the café window, could it?”

“Ha. So funny, Sera. What gave it away is the smell of freshwater.” She sneezed. “It always does that to me.”

Just then, a graceful turtle swam past them.

“Let’s ask him where we are,” Neela said.

“I don’t know Tortoisha,” Serafina said.

“I don’t either. I’ll sing a loquoro,” said Neela. Loquoro spells enabled a mermaid to temporarily understand another’s language. “Excuse me, sir,” she called out after she’d cast it.

The turtle stopped and turned around—v-e-r-y slowly. Neela knew that turtles did
everything
v-e-r-y slowly. He raised his head and looked at her with his large eyes.

“Hello,” she said brightly. “Do you know what town this is?”

The turtle frowned. He scratched his spotted head. Blinked. Thought hard. Took a deep breath. Blew it out. Scratched his head again. Flapped his flippers. Then, finally, he spoke.

“Z-d-r-a-s-t-i,”
he said slowly.

“Does he know? What did he say?” Serafina asked.

“He said
Hi
,” Neela replied.

“
Hi?
All that for
Hi
? It’ll take a
week
to find out where we are! Forget this. Let’s ask someone else.”

Neela shook her head. The mermaid in the red jacket was looking at them again. “We’re attracting attention. Let’s get out of here.”

As they opened the door, they heard more voices.

“Shipwreck silver! Right off a gogg yacht! All first-rate!”

“Songspell pearls! Transparansea pearls! Best quality! Cast to last, folks!”

“Keel worms here, plump and juicy! Ribbon worms, sweet and slimy!”

The café was on the town’s main current and a morning market was in full swing. Its stalls were hung with all manner of goods. Foodmongers sold freshwater fare: braids of marsh grass, frog eggs, pickled crayfish, candied water spiders, and leech puffs. Saltwater importers displayed clams, mussels, scallops, walrus cheese, and the long, twining egg cases of whelks. There was a secondhand clothing stall and salvage stalls selling anything that could be scavenged from a shipwreck—dishes, clothing, lanterns, teapots, knives and swords, even the skulls of terragoggs for those who liked to collect them.

“Voice too small, ladies? Lift it up and push it out with our patented voice enhancer!” a merchant called. “Totally discreet! Results guaranteed!”

As they swam down the main current, Serafina could see that the town they were in was poor and sprawling, nothing like Cerulea. It was a shabby place, made up of found things. The freshwater mer, living so close to the terragoggs, had an abundance of one thing no matter how poor they might be: garbage. And they made good use of it. Serafina and Neela swam down the current, saw a shop built from oil drums, another from plastic buckets. Others were made from wrecked boats, stacked tires, or shipping containers that had fallen off freighters. Roofs were shingled with flattened tin cans or plastic bottles. Down at the end of the current was a department store that had been built from a sunken oil tanker.

“Sea cucumbers—still oozing!” a peddler called.

“Gooseneck barnacles—crunchy and sweet!” another cried.

And then the mermaids heard another voice, right behind them: “They’re coming.”

Neela whirled around. It was the mermaid from the café, the one with the red jacket. Her tail and torso were white with brilliant orange patches, the colors of a koi fish. She had almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. Her black hair was coiled into two knots on top of her head. She carried an embroidered silk bag over one shoulder. A sword in a scabbard was slung over her back.

“They’re coming,” she repeated. “You should get out of here.”

“Who’s coming?” Serafina asked.

“
Moarte piloti.
That’s what the locals call them. It means
death riders
. Traho’s men.”

“Who are you?” Neela asked warily.

“My name’s Ling. I’m from Qīngshuĭ in Qin.” She called to a manta who was gliding above them and spoke to her in perfect RaySay. Then she asked something of a school of anchovies in Pesca. Finally a stickleback told her what she wanted to know.

“Fifty of them. On hippokamps,” she said. “Three leagues off, but coming fast.”

Neela’s fins began to prickle. “You speak a lot of languages,” she said.

“I’m an omnivoxa,” said Ling.

Neela knew that omnis, who could speak every dialect of Mermish, and communicate with most sea creatures, were very rare. The prickling in her fins grew stronger. She suspected that Ling was more than some random mermaid from Qin.

“You haven’t even disguised yourselves,” Ling continued. “They’ll pick you out in no time. Even with that really bad haircut.”

“Um, thanks,” Serafina said. “Guess the illusio wore off.”

“How did you know who we are?” Neela asked brusquely.

“Because you stick out like sore fins. You’re wearing dresses that probably cost more than most people here make in a year. That, and Traho’s wanted signs. Your faces are everywhere. There’s a price on your heads. Twenty thousand trocii each. Every bounty hunter and his brother is after you. If I recognized you, they will too. You’ve got to get out of here. I’m going to get some food, then hit the northbound currents, and find a cave till the death riders blow by. I suggest you do the same.”

“Do you know where we are?”

“Are you
serious
? You don’t know where you
are
? You two are hopeless,” Ling said, shaking her head. “Radneva. In the Black Sea. The D
u
n
ă
rea
River is about a two-day swim from here. Then it’s another two days, maybe three, to the Olt.”

“But how do you—” Serafina started to say.

“Know where you’re going?” Ling finished. “Because I’m going there, too.” Then she quietly sang the Iele’s chant.

As she did, Neela’s fins flared. Her suspicions had just been confirmed. Ling had heard the chant. She’d had the same dream. The Iele had called her, too.

“I’m the
One who sings all creatures’ songs
. Vrăja summoned me, just as she summoned you, Daughter of Merrow,” Ling said to Serafina. “Which one are you?” she asked Neela.

“One whose heart will hold the light,”
Neela said, giving Ling a dark look.

“Of course,” Ling said cheekily. “How could I have missed that?”

Neela glowered at her. She didn’t want this. She didn’t like it. It scared her.

“Forgive me for not shining my light at this particular moment. We’ve had just a teensy bit of a bad time. Nothing much, really. Just an invasion and a kidnapping. An attack by speargun-wielding thugs. Had to swim for our lives a few times. Got stuck in a mirror with a psycho. Maybe I’ll get my glow back tomorrow,” she said waspishly.

Ling gave her a solemn look. “You’re going to have a worse time if you don’t come up with a disguise and get out of here….” Her voice trailed off. Her face took on a distracted look, as if she was listening to another conversation.

“What is it?” Neela asked. “Do you hear something else?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe it’s just mackerel chattering.” She frowned. “It sounds like laughter, though. Strange.”

“It’s the monster,” Serafina said gravely. “I hear it too.”

“But I’ve never heard it when I’m awake. Only in my nightmares. That means…”

“…it’s getting stronger,” said Sera.

“Yeah,” Ling said grimly. “I guess it does. Hey, see you at the Iele’s maybe.” She started to swim away.

Sera put a hand on Neela’s shoulder. “I know what you’re feeling, but we need to go with her. She’s one of us, Neels,” she said.

Her words struck a chill into Neela.
One of us
. Part of her still wanted to believe that none of this was real. Part of her still hoped that someone—her uncle Bilaal, her father, or one of the praedatori—would ride in on a big white hippokamp and tell her that it was all over, that Traho had been captured and everything was okay and she didn’t have to face a dangerous journey, a bunch of freaky witches in a dark cave, and worst of all, that thing in the waterfire. Meeting Ling made that a lot harder.

“Neela?”

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s go,” Neela said, her voice trembling a little.

“Wait, Ling! We’re coming with you,” Serafina called out.

In her head, Neela heard the Iele’s chant. She heard the gray-haired witch calling.

“One down, three to go, Baba Vrăja,” she whispered.

She and Serafina hurried to catch up.