Verse XVI

  It was a fine party, of that Marhyd would never deny. There was a handball game over in the far corner that she was betting over, and far above the common waters, the choir was weaving a beautiful four-part harmony of notes and words to spread across the breadth of the hall. Its delicate tones filtered down through the fathoms to soften the waters until the sounds of conversation faded into its echoes. Conversation remained a close and personal thing, in spite of the throng. Near at hand, the buffet table offered platters replete with freshly shelled clams and ripe pod fruit. The Queen and her sister were holding court with their respective subordinates in the rear, on either side of the throne of which Anyis so rarely made use. The Mitera was just now floating in with one of her little temple darlings at her flukes. The younger leondra had the look of a mer who did not know what she was allowed to do in the moment and was afraid to ask.

  Yes, it was a fine party, with but one exception: there was no sign of Rhiela. Nor was there any sign of Marai, either, but few mers noticed that. Marhyd was not the only mer to know how much her daughter disliked large schoolings.

  It had taken a while, but finally most of those present had noticed the absence of the princess. Much faster had the news of her indisposed nature spread, thanks to subtle and strategic comments from the ministra where the right ears might catch. She hoped that the private party was worth the effort. Her temples still throbbed lightly from that headache. She took a yellow-speckled sweet pod from the nearest platter and had a bite, letting the sharp, vaguely spicy aroma soothe her brain.

  "Your Wisdom?"

  For as much as life would let it be soothed. Over the years, she had grown to wonder if the seas themselves had it in for her. In this moment, the thing getting in the way of her peace of mind was a soldier with short, curly hair. "Yes, Lieutenant Grett?" she asked.

  "There has been an incident, Your Wisdom. One of your assistants was found..."

  A mere three-beat later, and a massive shout broke through the thrum of song and the buzz of chatter. The boom of outrage pressed outward, disrupting everything within the walls of the great chamber, and even the handball game paused. It was followed by a great deal of cursing and a call for Duchess Aysmin.

  Verse XVII

  Adventure, Rook had decided, was everything Baba had warned her about, and a mite more besides. She winced as Ardy passed by with the still form of the hunter's mother draped over her shoulders. The ministra played rough -- everyone always said as much -- but to see it like this... yeah, that was disturbing.

  Her right shoulder jerked and rolled in a tic that she never could quite dispel. Nerves, that's all it was. Nerves. Had to stay cool, she told herself. No one else was all a-jittery. She snuck glances around, studying her companions as they swam on. Their faces looked grim in the pale lamplight. Ah, bubbles. There wasn't much she wouldn't give to look half as cool as Sera or Ardenne right at that moment.

  Or the princess, for that matter. The golden mer was leading the way with their remaining glow-lamp in her hands. Its soft light shimmered and faded at odd beats, in a classic sign that its colony of glow-snails was starting to get tuckered out. Rhiela shook the lamp cage from time to time to stir them up, but they were losing it fast. That Marai mer had already left with the fresher lamp, too, heading in the opposite direction on Sera's little errand.

  What was up with that, anyway? No one had said a thing, not about Marai or about where they were going -- not even about what they'd be doing once they got there. Yeah, yeah, they were in a hurry, but it was still annoying to get left in the dark like that. Of course, they were all almost in the dark right now. As the princess hurried them on to wherever, the last remants of the glow-snail colony were slipping away.

  "How much farther?" Sera's voice broke the hush.

  "Just a little more," answered Rhiela. "But the lamp's about spent."

  Rook felt it was as good a time as any to chime in. "I can help yer with that, Yer Highness."

  The others stopped to look back her way in surprise. Had they all forgotten she was even there? Maybe. Probably. She'd have to be offended about it later. More important things to worry about right now.

  "Unless you have a fresh lamp hidden away," said the princess, "then I do not see how."

  "Gimme a moment and then yer all be amazed," Rook promised. She brought her hands together like an open clamshell with the palms toward her face. In the fading light, she could barely see them in outline. Before they vanished completely, she painted them with her mind's eye, picturing lines of runes flowing along each finger and onto the palms. She mentally placed the threads to connect them, setting the syntax and form so that the grammar was properly defined. After a beat of concentration, Rook willed the spell to life.

  Nothing seemed to happen at first, and panic choked the water in her gills. If she said a thing, though, the others would know she was a screw-up and a failure. She pushed grammar again with her mind, brushing up a line or two as she was determined to show all her companions differently.

  A small sphere of light popped into place within her cupped hands. The princess let out a surprised squeak while Sera nodded appreciatively.

  "Nice going," the red mer said. "Can you do anything else?"

  "Er, ah, not much, really," Rook admitted. "Just a beginner, an appren'ice, yer see. Other stuff's gonna need more prepping, runes writ out, don't'cher know." There was no need to mention that she had never personally gotten this spell right before. Not without the runes down in front of her and at least a ten-beat to get it all together. But it was like Baba had always told her. Success came to those who worked hard and needed harder.

  Verse XIX

  The soldier barracks occupied a shell-work dome atop a pebbly hillock near the base of the palace cliff. Its walls were thick and sturdy, comprised of thousands of smaller, duller shells instead of the large and translucent sections favored by everyone else who had ever lived in a manoa home. The outer layers could take a hit, could let the currents pass in between with little fuss, but they were worthless for letting the light in. Evenly placed day-ports allowed illumination to filter in from the firmament, but mostly the soldiers of the Bryndoon Home Guard did without whenever they were in the barracks.

  Within the greater dome, each pod had a smaller internal dome for their quarters, and only the one lamp to light it up. Even the worst of slugabeds felt uncomfortable lying in the darkness for too long. Personally, Strella suspected it to be a ploy, a trick to ensure that the soldiers never felt too comfortable so that they would willingly go anywhere on any orders if it meant time in the light of day.

  Though at the moment, her cousin did not seem to mind. Tachi's attack of the nerves had, even with the help from Shalar, grown into one rotten headache with painful, blinding speed, and so the spiky-haired mer settled into her hammock with a relieved mutter of contentment. After determining that her bond-sister would not be going anywhere else that day, Strella quit the barracks on her swiftest stroke and went in search of the sergeant.

  It did not take long; Shalar min Shandra was waiting for her at the cliff entrance. "She is doing better?" the sergeant asked.

  "She'll survive," grunted Strella. Unwelcome experience assured her that much, though she would never speak such ill of her cousin.

  Unspoken it was, but Shalar still heard. "I always thought of fate-bonding as a funny custom," said the mer. "A thing the Houses did for alliances and such. It is not all happiness and fellowship, I see."

  Strella grunted again. "If she were not my bonded sister in fate as declared by the prestra, I do not know if I'd ever school with Tachi," she admitted. "Not as she is now, at any stroke."

  "Life is odd like that. Come," said Shalar with a wave of her hand. "Let us make one last circuit of the party together. It has mostly settled down, I think... hm?"

  A thick rumble of noise rolled through the palace's main passageway, a maelstrom of shouts and confusion such as only many mers speaking at once might achieve. Individual words were lost to the blend of anger and outrage within it. All that could be said was that it did not bode well.

  Strella suddenly envied her cousin her headache, mainly for its convenient excuse to not be involved with whatever in all depths was going on.

  "Shalar!" came one coherent shout. Lieutenant Grett separated from the throng in the main hall and stroked over as they entered the chamber. "And... oh, you," the curly-haired mer continued, barely acknowledging Strella before continuing. "We have situations."

  The sergeant pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Of course we do. How many, and which would you like me to take care of, lieutenant?"

  To the side, Strella did her best to float at attention and not make any sudden moves. The guard officer did not look to be having the most festive of hours.

  "First," said Grett. "Someone has broken into Her Wisdom's inner offices, the ones we aren't normally allowed into. I don't know why, and I'd rather not know, but..."

  "Rank has its duties," said Shalar.

  "And mightily rank they taste," agreed the lieutenant. "I'll be holding the tide between the ministra and Duchess Aysmin for the rest of the day while they argue over how many guards are needed to hunt down the perpetrators."

  "What of the other issue?" Shalar had a hand on one knife. "I assume that shall be my responsibility?"

  The lieutenant nodded. "Yes. Her Holiness arrived shortly before it all went muddy and sunk to the depths, and she was looking to speak with the princess. Only, no one's seen fluke nor scale of Rhiela this entire hour, and she's not in her private chambers as everyone assumed. We would arrange a search squad, but..." A wave towards the chaos behind her spoke Grett's answer for her. "It may be a while."

  Shalar's grin was one of commiseration. "I have an idea where to find Rhiella. I can't say where, exactly, but she and Marai have a private spot somewhere in the rear tunnels where they have been, ahem, studying regularly for the past few weeks, near as I can tell. I've seen them on the way back a few times now."

  "Fine. Go track them down." Grett made a sign of dismissal with one hand. "And, ah, you..."

  "Strella, ma'am."

  "Yes, you. Go with Shalar. Do as she says. And, ah..." The officer winced as another loud shout sounded from the hall. "Try not to add any more mud to this mess, the two of you."

  *

  If there was a specific word for the feel of the waters in the deeper tunnels of the cliff, Strella's vocabulary lacked it. Why should she know of such things, she thought. Darkness, confinement -- those were not for a manoa on the rim of Valden, blessed to live mere fathoms below the firmament and ever a fresh current. Better to leave the darkness and heaviness of the depths to those who would toil there. By her House was she born to the freedom of the high shallows.

  Sadly, the tunnels did not know this, and the sergeant did not care. The brown-haired mer now slapped handfuls of ugly brown weed-mash on her flanks and arms. "It glows in the dark," Shalar explained. "Not much, just enough to know where your partner is if you stay close."

  "Why not take a lamp?" she grumbled.

  "This lasts longer and doesn't give away our position from a distance, the way a brighter light would," the senior mer replied. "Dunno what else is down there -- and hopefully there isn't anything -- but if we come across the scoundrels who attacked the ministra's office, I want to be the surprise."

  Strella accepted the wad of mud and weed dubiously. She watched it slide around her fingers and leave glimmering traces. "Understood, sergeant."

  For much too long a time, beats turning to full verses, the dappled shine of the senior guard's flanks was the only thing Strella could see. Shalar did not seem to have the same issue, navigating passageways and abandoned chambers with great facility, as if sound, current, and taste would help a mer track in the darkness. Perhaps it could. Perhaps this was a skill they taught to the advanced ranks of guard. Strella couldn't see herself bothering to learn it. Then again, she couldn't currently see her own self without the glimmer-weed mash.

  "Wait." The command traveled on a narrow whisper of bubbles. Shalar had stopped in mid-stroke, her head turned to the right. "Do you see?"

  Amazingly enough, Strella did. A light, shining brightly in the darkness. Whether a lamp or something else, its luminescence traveled far. A vague shape of a mer could be seen near it.

  No, several vague shapes.

  "Like I was saying, a brighter light reveals yourself as much as anything else," Shalar whispered. "Stay to the wall and no swift motions. Their lamp cannot show us from this distance."

  "What do we do?" Strella dared her own string of bubbles.

  "Wait, follow, see."

  Verse XX

  Just as Sera was beginning to think they were never going to find the exit to those damned tunnels, never to see the light of the firmament again, a haze of brightness peeked around the next turn. A bigger tease she had never seen, not even in the dancing circles of Mezzegheb. And like a caravanner with more pearl than good sense, she let that teasing sight draw her onwards with its promise of something, anything, brighter than the murk she'd been swimming through.

  "Here!" The princess's cry curled into a ringing giggle as it lifted its way into the grotto. The place was bright with the glow of the mid-day firmament which now poured through in broad cascades from the openings overhead. For a beat, even Rhiela seemed dazzled by the play of light over the floor tiles. "Ah... I do not often visit so close to the noon hour, but it truly is glorious, is it not?"

  Rook let out a low whistle. "Wowee..." Her light still nestled in her palm, all but forgotten as the orange mer lost herself in the moment. Its glimmer was caught and scattered by the nearby tiles.

  Sera had to admit that it was an impressive sight to behold. Tell the princess that? Not on her life. The cave was twice the size of the biggest noble house beneath the grand tent of Mezzegheb, and was spacious enough for the most claustrophobic of mer equmara. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the tile work and the da?s. Those presented an immaculate image that did not jive with the sense of abandonment that hung over the place. Rhiela's prattling made it out like the princess had just found this place by accident a few weeks ago. That would've been enough time for some cleaning, perhaps, but something this elaborate would require regular maintenance or else succumb to the tides of neglect. There was a lot more at work her than just the labors of some spoiled dabbler.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  *

  Ardenne was too occupied to pay attention to the scenery at first. Laying her mother gently upon the da?s, she stretched her arms and considered the openings in the cavern above. If they had cords or straps to secure Diana's limp form, then she'd have felt better about crossing the several fathoms to safety. At least the waters of the grotto were still, with only the barest hint of a current.

  "Hey, look at this!" The princess had the green mer by the arm before the words even reached the ears, elbows crooked together with more intimacy than Ardenne could find comfortable. Before she could wriggle out of Rhiela's clutches, the golden mer had dragged her across the waters of the cave, over shifting patterns of colored tiles, before pulling up in front of a circle set in the floor. Looking up, the hunter found herself face to face with...

  Herself. Mirrors were a precious item in the Mere Sangolia, and Ardenne had never been one for enjoying her reflection, but she could realize that much at a glance. To Rook and Sera, following close behind, the resemblance would be even more striking. Stone followed flesh line for line. The curve of the face, the way the nose came up to meet the arch of the eyebrows, and that hair... Caught in the light from the firmament, the rare stone of vivid green gave up a hue that perfectly matched her own.

  Sera grabbed Rhiela's arm, wrenching the princess away from her hold on Ardenne. "Okay, little chum," hissed the rogue. "What's this all about? Not a sculptor could do this swiftly, but then that'd make this the biggest coincidence in the nine muddy seas."

  "I don't know, honest! I found this place one day, and then Marai found you, and--"

  The red mer tugged and lifted until Rhiela dangled by the wrist. The golden mer struggled to get her flukes moving properly as she struggled. "Think we're all funge-brained, huh?" Sera demanded. "Think this little show or whatever is going to get us to do, to do..." A three-beat pause. "Well, whatever it is your royal whimsy requires? Why..."

  "Unhand her."

  That was a voice to stop an argument cold. It was strong, decisive, and the way it rebounded across the vastness of the chamber showed that its speaker would brook no nonsense. Truly was it a voice of command. The only problem was that none among their little group had a voice like that.

  A mer had emerged from the tunnels and was now floating above the limp form of Ardenne's mother. This mer wore the formal tunic in the red and gold of the Bryndoon guard, and a simple band of cartilage wrapped in the same color of cloth held brown hair in check. One of a pair of long knives hung at her flank. The other was in her hand, and with it she gestured towards Diana.

  "If you value this mer's life, do no harm to Her Highness."

  "Want Floaty min Goldyscales here?" Sera asked. "Go ahead. Take her. Didn't want her along anyways. We'll just take Messra Diana and be on our way." The red mer had a scowl on, but Ardenne knew her well enough now to recognize the hint of worry. Sera recognized this mer, and so did the hunter: Shalar of the long knives, possibly the best fighter in Grett's pod. And there were no convenient orcs nearby to distract her away this time.

  *

  Shalar watched in surprise as the red mer shoved the princess in her direction. Caught by surprise, Her Highness flipped head over tail, coming to rest in the waters halfway between them. Then, as Rhiela began sputtering and shouting indignations in a most un-hostage-like manner, the sergeant had to wonder just what sort of situation she'd floated into.

  Behind her back, she made a furtive signal to the recruit, Estrella, still hidden in the shadow of the tunnel mouth. Keep back, it meant. Watch. If they were lucky, Shalar thought, then this situation would be over without the need to kill anyone.

  Verse XXI

  Agitations.

  Turbulence.

  Waters, disrupted.

  Sleep, disturbed.

  The watcher in the dark did not know how long it had lain in rest. In the still, dark spaces behind the cliffs of Bryndoon, time lost all importance. The passage of day and night meant nothing as long as its purpose was served.

  Watch.

  Wait.

  Sleep.

  The wicked song.

  The colors which could not be.

  The colors which should not be.

  It felt the ripple of the waters, the force of voices raised in argument. The agitation of emotion roused it from the torpor of ages, and from its well of darkness, hidden in the high corners of the cavern, it saw.

  Mers

  Wicked mers.

  Mers in the forbidden rooms.

  The light was high.

  Wicked glory revealed.

  Mers.

  Red and orange.

  Brown and gold.

  Green.

  Green.

  The watcher was not a creature of much thought. That suited neither its nature nor its task, and as such it had been laid aside long ago. It had been set there to watch, to act, to punish.

  Green.

  Wicked mers.

  Green and Gold.

  Treachery.

  Collusion.

  Punishment.

  Verse XXII

  "...so if you think you can get rid of me that easily, Crabby min Lobster-Head, let me tell you..." The princess was well into her rant by now, with one arm akimbo and the other outstretched. Her pointer finger wagged at Sera, sweeping back and forth through the water in a distracting meter. It kept Sera and Ardenne fixated on her, and so neither noticed when the shadows above them began to descend.

  Rook saw, and the little orange mer's scream was a knife to the ears.

  Rhiela turned to find the face of nightmares glaring down at them. Slimy and slick, with eyes hidden in wrinkled folds of skin, this face was dominated by a circular, jawless mouth lined with row after row after horrible row of teeth. As the maw came closer, it warped and stretched, splitting around the edge to form stubby tentacles which reached towards her face.

  And then Rhiela was sprawled upon the tile floor, several tail-lengths away. Her side ached from the force of the blow that had come out of nowhere to knock her out from the current of danger.

  In the waters she had so suddenly vacated was the guard, Shalar min Shandra. Shalar of the long knives and the interesting tales whenever a young princess would visit the barracks. Shalar whose presence in the palace meant safety and security.

  Now, the brown-haired guard floated in her place. Shalar's face was the portrait of agony as the creature buried serrated tentacles into her shoulder. The twin daggers that had helped make her name in the Bryndoon Home Guard slashed and stabbed, finding scant purchase in the thing's scaleless flesh before sliding away.

  Mucus sloughed off the monster in sheets, pouring down like mud from the Mires. It was vaguely mer-like, this thing with about the right proportions in body and tail, and ugly grey skin that was almost clear at the extremities. Knotted muscles were barely visible beneath it. As blood spouted from Shalar's wounds, the wisps of red were caught by two flailing appendages that might have been arms. Specks of red were caught in the slime and disappeared soon after. Teeth and tentacles worked to provide more precious life-stuff to devour.

  The blood-drinker. Rhiela knew what this was. Every child of the palace, possibly of the entire harbor, had heard the tales of a ghost that would come in the night to sip the blood of naughty children. "It's the hag!" she cried, the words leaping from her mouth of their own volition.

  And that was how it noticed her again.

  *

  "The hag!" came the princess's voice. The wave of sound shocked Ardenne into action, and she was streaming through the water even as the abomination threw the body of Shalar Long-Knives to the floor and turned its attention to Rhiela. The green mer lunged forward, piercing its flank with her spear tip. The creature shrieked and batted at her with its arms. Its slime left burning traces across her skin.

  Ardenne pulled away, and Sera was beside her, slashing and carving with her two daggers. Together they flanked the hag, keeping its attention divided. It was the only thing to do, Ardenne realized. If it focused on killing them one by one, then they were as good as dead.

  *

  From the shadow of the passageway, Strella watched with a horrible clenching in her gut, a knot of fear that tied her to the spot and would not let her go. In the depths of her mind, she could hear her mother's scolding. What had they sent her to Bryndoon for, if not to fight for the princess? To defeat her enemies and see them destroyed? To be a hero and shining example for the daughters of the House of Hillia?

  All those expectations, and not one had mentioned grey-skinned abominations able to rip more experienced and skilled fighters to pieces.

  Strella's hand made it to the hilt of her sword. She could feel the leather-wrapped end of metal beneath her fingers. That was as far as she got before the fear throttled all thought of heroics from her mind.

  Impotently, she watched. It would be a long time until she could properly move again.

  *

  From a safe distance, Rook could only watch as others saved the princess. But what could a mer do, right? It wasn't like she had a weapon, or knew how to wield one to save her own scales. Old Baba'd not taught her a single spell what might be useful for... well, it was hard to say if the old mer had ever imagined a time anything like this in the particulars, but in the general sense there had to be something. In the back of her head, Rook knew old Baba was right not to, that there might not even be a thing that could work here, but that didn't mean diddle here, now did it?

  The possibilities flashed through her mind. Light spell? Not much use in a well-lit cavern. And honestly, she wasn't even sure if the monster had eyes to blind. Couldn't see them beneath the folds of its face, at least. The other little grammars she'd studied were equally useless here, even if she could get them to working. With her luck, she was just as likely to flub the grammar and make a muddy mess of things. Just look at the hash she'd made of the pot-warming spell...

  Her freckles stretched as she grinned. Sometimes a mistake was a success in disguise, as Baba might say.

  *

  Why do this? Sera wondered. Not like the little chum owed her a depths-taken thing, and all common sense demanded she turn tail right now. The whole situation was muddy as could be, if the Guard was already out and about. It was past time she took to the high currents and found her way to Megael or one of the others to report.

  Ardenne's fault, she decided. The hunter had launched herself into this mess, and Sera hadn't had the wit to just leave when the chance was provided.

  Her hands and wrists burned from where the hag's mucus had touched, and she found herself wishing for a good pair of gloves. Slash, slash, stab, she went -- nicking at the misshapen arms, keeping the hag busy as the green mer went for its vitals with her spear. For what good it did. They could only guess at the state of an abomination's innards, and so far the spear hadn't found anything worth stabbing a second time.

  "Gang yer way!" came the yell. Sera moved aside just in time to see Rook push a sphere of... something straight in the hag's face. Whatever it was, it roiled and bubbled from the inside out. As it passed, the red mer could feel curls of heat peel away from it. Her eyes widened.

  The waters nearest the sphere shook as they boiled and cooled. The hag felt the vibrations first, snapping at this new threat with the force of instinct. Stubby tentacles furled around the sphere, and it was sucked into the circular maw in a heartbeat.

  All this time, the hag had not made a single sound, but now a keening arose from its throat. Shrill and unnatural, it pierced the waters. A solid stream of bubbles jetted from its mouth with such force that the hag was thrown to the floor some distance away. The flesh around its throat was changing color, blanching and losing its sickly translucent sheen. Sera had seen something like this before.

  The hag was cooking from the inside out.

  "Atcha..." Rook muttered. The little orange mer shook her hands in the current to cool. "Almost lost it there for a moment. All yer all be okay?"

  Ardenne nodded as she scraped caustic mucus from her arms with a handful of grit. "What, what did you do?"

  "Well, er... yer recall how I botched that pot spell at Baba's place a few days back? I went and used the same bit 'a grammar on a rock and botched it on purpose this time."

  Sera watched as the hag writhed upon the tiled floor. Much of its upper body had turned dull white by now, and only the tail continued to thrash. After a moment, that too slumped inertly to the floor.

  "Good job," was all she could think to say, but Rook preened at those simple words all the same.

  Verse XXIII

  Where was her voice? As Rhiela cradled the body of the guard, she sought the words, any words, and found nothing. For all the beautiful song she had produced earlier in the day, all the expressions of kindness and cheer she had given to her guests in passing, when it came to say something important she had... nothing much at all... nothing worth saying... nothing.

  Shalar's eyes fluttered. Her head rocked slightly, tried to turn, but the damage to the shoulder would not allow it. The tentacles and fangs of the hag had dug deep into the muscle, severing tendons and carving a gash all the way to the bone. The soldier's torso was covered in blotchy red traces from where the caustic mucus had burned away skin. By now the waters surrounding them were pink with blood, and the taste choked the royal gills.

  Yet, the brown-haired mer ignored the pain just enough to turn her head to Rhiela. Dull eyes opened, and a shadow of a smile passed across her face. "Are... hurt..." The words barely escaped the lips.

  She found her voice, just enough, to say, "No, no. I'm fine. I'm not hurt."

  "Good..." Shalar's body shook. "My duty, Your Highness..."

  Rhiela waited, prayed. No more words were to come. The princess held her most loyal guard close to her chest. When her voice returned to her once more, it was as a heartfelt wail.

  *

  Sera watched the princess go on for a moment, then checked the body of the hag. Yep, still dead, she noted with satisfaction. The abomination was now a dull white from head to tail, except for a shinier spot around its chest. She stuck it with her knives a few more times to be extra certain, twisting the blades for good measure.

  "Time to get," she whispered to Ardenne as she helped the hunter shoulder her mother's weight. Together they lifted Diana up to the top wall passage, with Rook guiding them. The hole was not very deep, only a tail's length in all, and suddenly her nose was grazing the firmament.

  When the royal brat and her favored maid had spoken of the exit, they had not mentioned just how shallow the waters were at this height. Intellectually, Sera knew that the firmament rose and fell on an orderly schedule, but she had never mugh thought about it. Now, not knowing if the tide was low or high on this day seemed far more important. There was hardly enough froom for a mer to move under it, and her skin felt hot this close to the firmament's light. Strange currents dragged grains of sand back and forth to scratch at her face. Sera held a hand up to the shimmering surface above, so enticing in its nearness, and pushed it through.

  Brrr.

  And pulled it back, her hand chilled. Few mers had anything to do with the firmament, and she could understand why: too warm below and too chill above. There had been an odd sensation of waters so thin they might not be there at all, but for the currents that played across her skin and made it itch. She had never felt anything like it, and she would rather not feel it again.

  The three of them rested for a moment while Sera got her bearings. Once she was satisfied that she knew the right way to go, she waved to the others to follow.

  "You are not leaving me behind." The words wobbled in the weird currents, but their source was all too obvious. The head of the princess stuck up out of the hole. The rest of the royal busybody soon followed.

  "Yes. Yes, we are, Your Highness," Sera replied, stressing the last word with all the sarcasm she had left in her. "Had your adventure, had your fun. Had your big rescue, too. It's over now. You don't come with us. Got enough trouble as it is without you."

  "That... that thing was an abomination."

  "So it was, little chum, so it was."

  "And no one knows where the abominations come from."

  "Also true." Sera's mouth slanted sharply. "Might I say that your perspicacity astounds me."

  "Thank you," said the princess, ignoring the tone. "So I need you to help me find the source of these things and stop it."

  "Nothing doing."

  "Then you leave me no choice." The princess brandished one of Shalar's long knives, placing it theatrically against her bare throat. "Take me along, allow me to have justice for my faithful servant, or I'll cut it myself. Then you'll be blamed for the assault, the murder, and I am not sure what else, but the Home Guard will never stop the hunt."

  "Like if we kidnapped you..." Sera blew the bubbles from her gills. "You're taking yourself hostage? Seriously?"

  "I'll do it!"

  Ardenne spoke up. "No, you won't. Because then you won't have justice. You won't have revenge. You won't have made a lick of difference, and that's what you really want, right? To go and do things that will make you feel worthy. To not feel like a kept fish in a pretty net." The hunter's voice faltered when she realized all eyes were on her. "Er, right?"

  "Yes... yes," said the princess. She lowered the knife from her throat and presented it hilt-first to the red mer. "Messra Sera min... I am sorry, but I do not now your full name."

  "Sera. Nothing more, nothing less."

  "Messra Sera," Rhiela continued formally. "I request the honor of swimming by your side. I shall be leaving the palace one way or another, and I would rather it be in the company of friends."

  "Yeah, friends. Sure." The red mer shook her head. If she said yes, there'd be no turning back. The guard would be out in force, all pods, and some of those mers wouldn't stop for explanations until after someone was dead. On the other hand... that perverse little voice in the back of her head pointed out, Think of the chaos!

  Everyone knew that Queen Anyis was barely capable on a good day, and with the sole heir vanished, the Houses would be in a sharkish frenzy as they vied for power. Keep the princess out of sight for long enough, and they might even call for a full council of regents. Half-remembered bits of Schola Myral's lessons on civics swam through her head. Yes, a full council would mean that the viceroy of Mezzegheb would have to leave her cushy little palace, and then...

  Sera grinned. It was a gamble, right enough. Wouldn't be too pleasant, either. Even less pleasant for the princess, though. The grin widened into something equally unpleasant.

  "Well then, little chum. You can come along if you can keep up." With that, she was off, skimming close to the firmament as she swam in the direction of the Mires. The princess raced after.

  Verse XXIV

  "Are you sure we've got the right spot, sis?"

  "Sera's little friend was very precise," Jumella said as she squinted up at the distant heights. They were well into the second hour of the afternoon, nearing the evening hours. The shadows clung tightly to the base of the cliffs, not daring to stretch an inch into the light of day. Blurry as her vision was at that distance, watching the edge of the heights was preferable to looking down at the muck not far from where they were moored. It was not quite the Mires, but it was too close for comfort. Her scales were already beginning to itch.

  On the rocks behind them was anchored a float, small enough to be handled by two mers but large enough to carry someone injured. From what the two of them had heard, the space would likely be needed. Messra Berenice had not balked at letting them have it, either -- something about favors owed to someone who owed favors to someone else who either owed Sera or else employed her. No further details had been offered, and Jumella doubted she could make sense of such a muddy mess of tangled kelp.

  And then there was the matter of the old mer. Baba Rill had met them on the way out, at the far end of the Queen's Passage, with a package of her own and a short message. Jumella shook her head at the memory. She was missing too many pieces of this mosaic.

  "Sighted!" yelled her sister. She waved towards the heights, where a group of mers was hugging the firmament. They were descending quickly.

  "It's time to pack up, then." Jumella checked the lines of the float, then recited the short chant as Berenice had taught them. The float responded immediately, billowing as its inner folds filled with water.

  She held the leads as Jumilla helped Ardenne secure a brown and silver mer into the rigging. At a mere glance Jumella could not say what was wrong with Messra Diana, and she feared she wouldn't like the details. "Where to?" seemed the safer thing to ask, by far.

  The hunter's face was pulled long and tired, her flukes heavy in the water. For a beat, Ardenne did not respond to the question. Then, turning about with an inertia not borne by the weight of the waters, the green-haired mer simply said, "The Mere Sangolia. It is time I brought my mother home."