The frigid water slapped against her hand, which continued to throb. Her feet were growing numb. Had she waded in far enough?
“Nothing is happening,” Quick pointed out.
Jinn grimaced. “I know.”
He let out a grunt and gave the rope a slight tug. “How long we wait?”
That was a good question, one to which Jinn did not possess the answer. Perhaps she ought to make the wound deeper. “A bit longer.” While the two volumes of Creatures of the Shallows had contradicted each other on several points, they were both agreed when it came how to draw a merrow. Jinn eyed the knife, light gleaming off the severe edge. “The knife is afraid,” she murmured and then shook her head. “Knives don’t have feelings.” She paused. “Well, knives don’t magically reappear in bags, either.”
“Can Quick open eyes now?”
She jumped at the sound of his voice. “You still have your eyes shut?”
Quick opened his eyes. “Was getting dizzy.” He gave the rope another tug, and Jinn nearly lost her balance. “Sorry.” He gave the rope some slack.
Ten minutes passed, each colder than the last. Perhaps the wound had closed itself and was no longer bleeding. With her back to Quick, Jinn lifted her hand and examined it. White and wrinkled, her finger was no longer bleeding, so she took the knife and cut into the wound again. It should have smarted, but her hand was almost too cold to feel anything but the pressure of the blade slicing in. Now she was certain the dagger was terrified, as it began to shake of its own accord and nearly wrenched itself from her grip. Jinn’s fingers slipped out of the fabric she held it with, and the haft came in contact with her bare flesh again. In the back of her mind, Jinn was impressed with the need to get out of the water at once, and could even feel her legs trying to move without her permission. She resisted. Her blood dripped into the water, which darkened.
“Jinn,” said Quick. “You hurt?”
She was ready to cast the knife into the water as far as she possibly could, but stopped when the darkness in the water spread far beyond where her finger continued to drip.
If she had thought that the water could get no colder without freezing, she was sorely mistaken. She gasped a painful breath and heard Quick do the same behind her. The water churned before her, and the rope around her waist received a firm tug.
“Come back,” Quick cried.
Jinn ignored him and tried to wade out farther, though her legs did not obey, seemingly frozen to the spot. A thrill went up her spine as a great ripple formed a mere three feet from where she stood. The blood-red water parted, and a man emerged.
He was tan of skin with eyes darker than night. His hair was a brown so deep that it might be as black as her own, and it blew out behind him in a breeze that Jinn could not feel. “You have called me, Jinn,” he said in a rumbling voice, folding his arms over his naked chest, a tail flickering to the surface briefly before sinking again. It was not a question.
Somewhere behind Jinn, Quick whimpered. “Bad man.”
The water spirit bared his white teeth in a grin. “No, Quick. I am not the one who pursues. His form is mine – for now.” He began to move closer, but looked down at Jinn’s blade and stopped. “I will answer three questions.”
Her mouth and lips were as dry as paper, and when she spoke to the merrow, her voice was a strained croak. “My questions are—”
The creature held up his hand to stay her words. “I know all that was and all that is. But you, Jinn, know what is to come.” His dark eyes pierced hers. “Answer me one question, and I will grant you a fourth answer.”
Jinn swallowed, hard. Would it be wise to give this creature any information? What if it was a trap? Trembling, Jinn replied, “We’ll see.”
That did not seem to please the merrow, but he nodded grimly and spoke in his rumbling voice, “The one you seek is safely in the clutches of peril.”
She frowned. “What does that even mean?”
The merrow ignored her. “The one who seeks you is blinded by the very curse that blinds your way. And the object you seek would be your salvation and the grief of many. I am the One Who Knows.” He uncrossed his arms and looked at Jinn, expectation written across his face.
“Might I have a moment to think on the matter?”
He hesitated and then nodded once before looking past Jinn at Quick. “A simple, pure soul. You may have three words of advice at no cost.”
Quick made a bleating sound and tugged in vain on Jinn’s rope. “No need. No need.”
The water spirit paid him no mind. “You would do well to separate yourself from the one you ought to love most but love least. You would do better to unite with the one you will hate. You would do best to run as far and as fast as you can from both. I am the One Who Knows.” He looked at Jinn again, perhaps reading her thoughts.
What a bunch of rubbish. I wounded myself for this?
Again the being spoke. “If I were to speak plain, would not I alter your course? You know the future, Jinn, daughter of another man. It is not my job to interfere with what is to be.”
Now Jinn found herself clenching her fists, even the one around the knife. “Yes, I know the future. Some of it. But there are holes in it. If you had let me choose my own questions, I would have asked why this was and how to see around whatever is causing it. Come on, Quick. Help me to shore.” She started to turn her back on the merrow, but at once thought the better of it, and began backing away.
The creature scowled. “If you had been listening, you would realize that I have already answered your questions. And even if you did not like what you heard, that is no excuse to deny me payment.” He glared at her, his eyes darkening.
Jinn shuddered. “All right. Your payment.” Jinn held out the knife for the creature, but he shook his head. “What? It’s a perfectly good knife.”
“But it is not yours.”
“Nothing I have is mine,” said Jinn. Mother had told her this many times. “I have nothing to offer besides this.” The creature was unmoved. “You who know everything surely must have known this when you were giving so-called answers to my unspoken questions.” Now her whole body was trembling, not with cold or terror but with rage, rage at the difficulty of the last few weeks, at Mother’s ridiculous demands, and her own failings. The knife in her hand grew warm, almost hot, and it was impressed on Jinn’s mind that she ought to tread carefully with the wild creature.
At length she unclenched her left fist and gave herself a shake, as a dog ridding itself of fleas. “All right. How about I tell you one thing about the future for payment?”
Already the merrow was shaking his head. “That would cost you three.” He held up that many fingers, as if he were talking to a slow, small child.
Jinn grimaced but nodded. “All right. But like you chose, I will choose what I tell you.”
The creature opened his mouth as if to object, but closed it again, and nodded. He did not seem pleased, but perhaps she had bought herself some respect.
“Quick,” Jinn told her brother, “watch him.”
Quick whimpered. “B-bad man, Jinn. Bad merrow.”
“Do as I said, please.” Without waiting to see if Quick was complying, Jinn closed her eyes and peered into the merrow’s future. So many paths, all of them tangled. This would take ages to sort through. But what else did she have to barter with? Surely this had been the merrow’s plan all along? Jinn chose one thread, one that was as blue as the lagoon had been before her blood had polluted it. She latched all of her concentration on to that, and strained as the future fought her. Finally, head pounding, Jinn could make out two merrows splashing in the water, both quite unlike the man who stood before her, but she knew one was he, and after some focusing, she was able to discern which one. At first it seemed that the two merrows were playing, but the one that was before her drew a knife and drove it expertly into the other’s ches
t. Gray blood gushed out of the wound, and the wounded merrow collapsed into the water and moved no more. “You will defeat another of your kind with a knife,” Jinn said. “He will die. You will prevail.”
She did not open her eyes to see the merrow’s reaction to this, but clenched them more tightly shut still and peered ahead again. The next thread she chose was leaf-green. Again she latched all of her concentration on to it and fought against whatever force was trying to prevent her from gripping the future. The merrow sat alone on a log beneath some greens, its tail spilling over into the water. There was no one else in sight. Jinn perceived that he was triumphant yet sad. The future image called out to his kin in a strange high-pitched wail and then dove beneath the water. No one ever answered. “I’m not sure what this means,” she told the merrow, her eyes still closed, her head pounding.
“Perhaps I will. Tell me.”
Jinn grimaced. “You seem to be all alone. You are sad, very sad about something. You call out for someone, but they do not answer.” She chanced a peek at the merrow, but his expression was unreadable.
“One more,” he reminded her.
Quick whined. “We go now?”
“Soon, brother.” Jinn closed her eyes and sought another random thread. There was a brilliant red thread spinning and whirling throughout all the others. It felt…familiar somehow. She tried to catch it, but it was tangled up with a black thread in one big knot. With a groan she focused on the black thread with all of her might and was surprised to find a hole. One moment, the merrow had an expansive choice of futures, but this part was empty. Death. Jinn swallowed and wondered if she could lie to the creature, but instead she shook her head and searched after another less complicated thread – a silver-and-green thread, the shortest and least tangled of the ones that the black thread kept brushing against. In the thread she saw herself, much to her surprise. The merrow was angry, his tail splashing the surface of the water. She saw his future self lunge and—
Her concentration was broken by the merrow’s voice, “Well?”
Blood pounding hard through her veins, Jinn lost the thread and opened her eyes. “The future is a difficult thing,” she said, her voice stronger than she felt. “You have so many threads, and they’re all so entangled and confusing, I don’t—”
“Tell me what you saw.” The merrow’s tail swished, reminding Jinn of the time she had upset a stray wildcat that had wandered into the caves.
Again she tried to compose herself, pausing far too long to obscure the fact that she was hiding something. “One of your possible futures ends in darkness,” she said, hoping that would be enough.
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”
Jinn nodded. “It’s all I’ve got.”
The merrow’s tail did not splash the surface of the water before he lunged at Jinn, too quick almost to be seen. His fist closed around her throat and he squeezed it slightly. “You. You’ve brought this darkness upon my kind. The curse that seeks you now seeks me.”
Quick pulled on the rope in vain. “Jinn, help. You need help.”
Jinn could only just draw in enough air to say, “I don’t know what the darkness means. Maybe I could help you.”
The merrow scoffed. “You were unwise to seek me, Jinn, daughter of Meraude.” He tightened his grip. “Wizards walk the world again. But perhaps I can foil this one’s plans yet.”
Pinpricks of light formed at the edge of Jinn’s vision. Her lungs burned. She needed air. She tried to pry away the creature’s fingers, but he was too strong. Her grip on the dagger slipped and the blade fell.
Then a strange thing happened. The burgundy water began to hiss and fizz as bubbles formed on the surface. Screaming, the merrow released Jinn, who collapsed into the water, choking as she tried to pull down air. The rope around her tightened, and Quick made fast work of dragging her to shore.
Coughing and spluttering, Jinn blinked her eyes furiously as the creature continued to shriek. It no longer kept the form of a man, but had taken on the appearance of a hideous beast with slimy green scales, overgrown yellow teeth, and bulging red eyes.
“Curse you,” he wailed – at least, that was what Jinn assumed he was saying. It was hard to make out the exact words as he struggled against some unseen force. The water churned, the beast writhed, and then all was still. The lagoon had gone from the crimson of Jinn’s blood to a greasy silver, and now a mangled body bobbed to the surface along with a smaller object that might be the dagger.
Quick patted Jinn’s back and then pulled her up under the arms. “That was close.”
As her throat burned and clenched, Jinn could only nod. Not for the first time was she thankful for Quick’s brute strength as he hauled her up over his shoulder and carried her to the edge of the rock landing. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
He shook his head. “That was very stupid, Jinn.”
She could not disagree with that. “Water,” she croaked, pointing to their supplies. While her brother retrieved one of the waterskins, Jinn flopped over onto her back and rested. The merrow had said so many strange things that it would take more wit than she had right now to sort through them. One thing was clear, though: whoever had sent her the dagger must want her alive…at least, for a while longer. Jinn shuddered.
“Sister cold?” Quick handed her the waterskin, and she drank greedily from it.
At first Jinn shook her head, but then relented and nodded. She had lied enough to her brother – not that he knew, but this was a pointless lie. It’s not like he couldn’t see her shivering. She stoppered the waterskin and set it next to her. Without her voice, she could not order him around, telling him what needed to be done and how to do it.
It was a surprise, then, when Quick walked into the woods behind her and emerged moments later with a dry log. “Quick make a fire.” He grinned at her. “Didn’t think Quick could?”
* * *
While Quick made the fire, Jinn sorted through their packs, finally moving most of what was left of the food to her own pack. From time to time, she rubbed her throat, which she was certain sported an impressive bruise. Once the food had been moved around and she had reorganized their supplies, Jinn assessed their waterskins. They had four in total, and two were almost entirely drained. The water here was not safe to go near now, let alone drink from. In one of her books, Jinn had read about the process of draining vines. Unfortunately, there did not seem to be any in the vicinity. They would have to refill their waterskins upstream of the lagoon. Jinn cringed as she tried to summon the mental strength to use her foresight.
“Where is the flint?” Quick asked, interrupting her concentration.
Jinn opened her eyes and tossed the flint and magnesium stick at her brother, closed her eyes, and tried again. She had meant to look ahead for the next hour, but an unasked-for vision overtook her.
The Summoner was standing in a field of starberry plants, ruby-red fruit glistening in the sunlight. He seemed uncertain about something. With him, as usual, was his redheaded traveling companion, her face paler than Jinn had seen before.
“Are you certain it’s here?” she asked.
He nodded once, a quick jerk of his head. “The Pull is stronger than almost anything I’ve felt before.” The Summoner shot a sideways glance at the young woman, a look that held some hidden meaning.
She grimaced. “Lots of folks died here, yes?” The girl rubbed her arms, as if trying to get rid of goose bumps. She shuddered.
The Summoner made no reply. He was busy studying the great rock formation standing in the foreground. The structure stood at what appeared to be thirty feet, its length beyond what Jinn could discern. Shrubs grew in front of it, and at them the Summoner now was staring. “I wonder….”
The vision changed, blurring into a new one.
The burning season had yet to begin, and late were the days of summer. Jinn could tell by the sli
ght changing of the leaves, the way they drooped on their branches, the life of spring wrung out of them. The location was familiar. It was the wood beyond the Mountain, near the tower of Inohaim, the Pool of Seeing. Mother was pacing to and fro before Inohaim Wood. She must be truly unsettled indeed, for she had never shown any emotion but rage and disdain to Jinn.
“What are you doing without your Endurers?” Jinn wondered aloud, knowing she would not be heard by her mother’s future self.
A twig snapped. The Lady Meraude turned, pulling her pale blue hood over her dark tresses. Her posture stiffened and then relaxed. “Oh. It’s you.” She sniffed and made a face in the waning light. “I thought I told you to bring me the Summoner.”
Mai Larkin’s scratchy laugh grated on Jinn’s ears. She had never met the Sightful in person, but had seen her in enough visions to recognize her by sight and sound.
“Just as you sent your twins to find him?” The woman gave Meraude a knowing look and then smirked. “Wonder what might be taking them so long. Jinn has the Sight as well.”
Again Meraude seemed nervous. “Speak not of the two to me. You’re not even supposed to know of their existence.” Was that why she was nervous, or was she thinking about Jinn’s ability to see into anyone’s future?
You think you’re so clever, Jinn thought with a sigh. I know you want us both dead. If Mother got her hands on the Questing Goblet…. Well, Jinn would make sure that did not happen.
Meraude said in the vision, “Any rumors to report, seer?”
Mai Larkin grinned her gap-toothed grin and removed the hood from over her head. Her hair, which had once hung in dirty blond locks down to her waist, was now gone. “Milady is surprised.”
Holes in the Veil Page 17