The Teeth in the Tide

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  “What do you mean?”

  “I believe in something I call the ‘inner codex.’ A guide that tells each living thing how to build itself. It’s the invisible set of instructions that makes a human different from a hedge-weasel, or a chicken from a sea-hawk. Even if two entities are of the same type, variations of the inner codex mean variations in the result—aspects like hair color, height, gender—”

  “We understand,” said Flay calmly. “Your point?”

  “Imagine if you were able to rewrite a being’s inner codex. Make it build itself—or rearrange itself—into something new.”

  Kestra’s mind raced with the possibility. She liked this sensation, the way new information opened up new pathways. Was this what Mai found so exciting about her work?

  “But how could you control the result?” she said. “If you’re altering the inner codex, how could you prevent the original creature from breaking down, beyond repair?”

  “I have no idea,” said Mai, clasping her hands. “But someone figured out how to do it. It’s insane, and brilliant.” She peered at Rake’s belt. “If I could take this apart, I might be able to discover how it works.”

  “Don’t,” said Kestra. “We might need to give him legs again, if only to keep from having to drag that huge heavy tail around when we move him. But there’s a second belt in his bag. You can take that one apart.”

  Rake’s tail thrashed, and the cage creaked as he threw himself forward. “Don’t take it apart. Please.”

  “Why not, fish?” said Flay.

  Rake snarled at him. “It’s mine.”

  “All the more reason we should take it,” said Flay, crouching by his head. “Because you belong to us now, fish. And so does everything you possess. You forfeited the right to it when you invaded our island, see?”

  Mai rummaged in the bag and pulled out the second belt. She held it near the lamp, turning it over. “I think I can disconnect this bit, here, and remove this piece—” She set her fingertips to a groove between the sections of the belt.

  “No, no! Please—please, no!” Rake’s voice rose to a shriek so strident that Kestra covered her ears, and Mai dropped the belt on the tabletop. “Please, please. That one is for my son! It’s for my son.” His voice dropped to a moan and his head hung forward, strands of dark blue hair covering his face.

  Kestra moved forward, nudging Flay out of the way and stooping before the creature. “You have a son?”

  He was keening softly in his throat, a wild sound that chilled her skin and reminded her far too much of the mermaids by the wall. She clutched his jaw and forced his face up. Shock stung her, a jolt of horror at the raw agony in his enormous eyes. But she bit down on her pity and said, “I asked you a question.”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I have a son.”

  “He’s lying.” Flay stood up. “I’ll break that belt open myself.”

  Rake groaned and bucked again, and Kestra held up her hand. “No!”

  The captain of the Wind’s Favor turned slowly, staring at her. He arched an eyebrow. “Are you giving me an order, Blossom?”

  She rose. “I found him. He’s my prisoner. Until we figure out what’s going on, no one touches either one of those artifacts.”

  Flay’s eyes burned, and Jazadri made a rumbling noise deep in his chest. Kestra couldn’t tell if it was admiration or a warning.

  Locking eyes with Kestra, Mai scooped up both belts and slid them into Rake’s bag. “I hear you, cousin.”

  Kestra nodded gratefully, knowing how much it cost Mai to keep her curious fingers off the artifacts.

  Kestra turned back to the monster. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one years.”

  “And you have a son? How old is he?”

  “Four years.”

  “You sired him when you were seventeen?” Mai gasped. “Where’s my notebook?”

  The creature frowned at her reaction, confusion clouding his eyes, so Kestra said, “Humans wait until we are older before we have children. We have to be wise and capable enough to care for them and teach them. On Kiken Island, we wait until we have passed our twenty-fifth year before thinking of children. Some wait much longer.”

  “Do you not mate until then?”

  “Oh, we do,” said Kestra. “I mean, we can if we want to.”

  Behind her, Flay smothered a laugh.

  “How do you prevent the result of the mating? The progeny?” Hunger shone in Rake’s eyes, but Kestra knew instinctively that it was hunger for knowledge, not for flesh.

  “There are herbs and tonics to prevent it,” she answered.

  “He’s doing it again,” Flay interrupted. “Getting more knowledge from us than we’re gaining from him. Stop answering his questions, love. It’s time for him to tell us something.”

  His fingers curled warm over her shoulder, and she touched them with her own. Rake’s eager gaze flew to the spot where Kestra’s fingers and the captain’s met. He cocked his head, an analytical tilt similar to the one Mai often did.

  Kestra felt herself blushing at his obvious interest. “Rake, I think it’s time you tell us why you came over the wall.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “But I warn you, it is a story of some length.”

  As he began the tale, the world Kestra knew vanished, evolving into a realm of dark water and shimmering glowfish, columns of the High Court and deep fissures in the bones of the world. He spoke of the Queens, and his role as a breeder, and the torment he’d endured for years, from them and from the mermidons. He didn’t seem to understand propriety or modesty, sharing the occasional vile detail that turned Kestra hot and scarlet, while Mai scribbled frantically in her notebook and begged him to talk more slowly so she could get it all down.

  He told them about his son, Jewel. He’d stolen artifacts from the Queens and climbed the wall on the flimsy hope that he and the boy might live in safety, on land.

  When his words faded, Kestra realized she was gripping Flay’s hand. She released him and he grimaced, massaging his reddened fingers. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s all right.” He bent, setting his mouth to her ear, and a tingle coursed through her body at his light breath. “Do you believe him?”

  “I don’t want to, but I do.”

  “As do I.” He straightened, speaking to Rake. “Do you know which Queen is your son’s mother?”

  Rake’s eyes hardened. “There is no ‘mother,’ not in your sense of the word. But I believe I spawned Jewel with Calla—the flecks of gold in his eyes are unusual, and Calla is the only mermaid I’ve mated with who has golden eyes.”

  “We should collect this son of his,” Flay said, looking first to Jazadri, then Kestra. “If the Queen cares about him, maybe we could use the leverage somehow.”

  Rake laughed, a harsh, grating sound, like stones rattling down a rocky hillside. “She doesn’t care about him. She nearly threw him out to be eaten by the merlows.”

  “What purpose do the merlows serve in your society?” Mai crossed her arms, frowning. “It seems as if they are more of a nuisance than anything else. They eat up your food, making it harder for you to get what you need.”

  “They also defend our borders,” Rake said. “Think of them as a living wall, without which the high mermaids and mermidons would be far more vulnerable. And the merlows are infertile, so they cannot reproduce on their own.”

  “The mermidons spawn them?”

  “Yes. High mermaids spawn other high mermaids once a year. During the other three breeding cycles, they produce mermidons, who in turn produce merlows.”

  “An odd system,” said Mai. “I’ve never seen anything like it in nature. Do you have any natural predators?”

  Kestra hid a smile. How cleverly her cousin had twisted the discussion around to address their ultimate purpose—destroying the mermaids.

  But Rake was no fool. Instead of answering at once, he flicked his tail, causing a surge of seawater to flood over his upper body. Kestra couldn’
t help noticing how the muscles of his back and shoulders rippled under the wet skin as he moved. And she noticed the scars along his ribs, curving around toward his spine. At the juncture of his skin and scales, more scars riddled the flesh—bite marks and scratches crisscrossed in a delicate web of white lines.

  “You won’t like my answer,” Rake said. “Our predators should be creatures like gale-sharks and speckled whales, and the occasional giant squid. But our numbers are so plentiful that even such large threats are shredded by merlows or dismantled by mermidons before they get anywhere close to the high mermaid settlement. Anytime a large beast like that approaches, it’s not a cause for fear, but for rejoicing. Everyone turns out for the feast. So—no. We have no natural predators.”

  “Is there anything larger than whales or gale-sharks in the sea?” Mai pressed him. “Any other predators?”

  Something shimmered in Rake’s eyes. “Perhaps.”

  “Tell us.”

  Rake smiled, a slow retraction of lips that revealed all his sharp teeth. “I think I’ve been more than generous in my replies. Perhaps it’s time you did something for me.”

  Flay released Kestra’s hand. “Perhaps it’s time for a little torture.” He drew a knife from his belt, a brutal bone-white thing with a notched edge. But he hesitated, balancing it in his palm, waiting—maybe hoping for the creature to give in.

  Rake only grinned wider. “As I told your female when she kicked me earlier—I’m used to pain.”

  Flay spun, smirking at Kestra. “You kicked him?”

  “Right in the spawn-sack,” she said boldly, and Jazadri choked on a laugh. “It was a hard kick, and he barely flinched. I think it would take a lot of pain to break him. More than you have the stomach for, I think, Captain.” She said the last bit in an undertone to Flay, running her fingers down his arm to the lean brown hand that held the knife.

  He sighed, letting her take the knife from his hand.

  “Which is why I’ll do it,” Kestra finished, yanking up Rake’s head by his hair and inserting the point of the knife into one of his gills. She felt resistance there, just under the flap—spongy tissue blocking the way; and she didn’t press, not yet. She ignored Flay’s surprised shout and Mai’s protest and Jazadri’s low, cautioning rumble. The world narrowed to three things—her hand around the bone-knife, the give of the gill-tissue, and the fear in Rake’s midnight-blue eye. His thick lashes swept down, then up, and he swallowed cautiously.

  “You know I’ll do it,” she murmured to him. “You saw me kill the other one. I can cut you open, right here, without killing you, but you won’t be able to breathe underwater until it heals. You won’t be able to go fetch your son.”

  “Just one damaged gill wouldn’t keep me from breathing underwater,” he said. “You’d have to slit three or four of them.”

  “Thank you for that information. So helpful. Now are you going to answer our other questions, or not?”

  “Let me out of this cage. Let me wear the belt and speak to you as an equal, and I will answer anything you like.”

  “You’re bargaining with me?” Kestra laughed and pressed the knife a little harder.

  “Kestra, please!” screeched Mai. “Don’t ruin him! I need him for study!”

  “Can’t say I like this side of you, Blossom,” said Flay, his voice edged with disappointment. “I’d rather not watch you mutilate a being that’s clearly intelligent, and needs our help.”

  Kestra rolled her eyes. “You just called him a fish.”

  “Well, I don’t have to like him, do I? For one thing, he’s prettier than any flesh-eating monster has a right to be. I like to be the prettiest man in the room, you know, and he’s a bit of a threat in that respect, if you’re into shark teeth and gills. But that doesn’t mean I want to watch you carve him up.”

  “Neither do I,” said Mai fervently.

  “Give him the belt,” Jazadri said. “I’ll make sure he behaves himself.”

  Emotions clashed inside Kestra, like lightning and thunder over a churning sea. She thirsted to hurt the monster, to make him scream as her mother had screamed. How many mermidons had he spawned? How many of his progeny had in turn spawned merlows—not the exact ones who ate her father, but others just as bloodthirsty? She couldn’t let this one walk free, couldn’t let him stand and speak to her as an equal. It was wrong, so wrong. He deserved pain and death. It would be so satisfying to slit the spongy tissue of his gills, to watch him writhe in agony.

  But the others wouldn’t forgive her if she hurt him. And if his tale was true, he’d been through plenty of pain and fear in his quest to get here, to land.

  “I will tell you everything you want to know,” said Rake. “I’ll be loyal only to you, I vow it.”

  Slowly, Kestra withdrew the knife, flipped it, and placed the handle into Flay’s palm. “If you don’t keep your word, monster, I will kill you myself.”

  -14-

  Rake

  Rake believed her. She would slit his gills, carve patterns into his skin, slice his throat as she had Scythe’s. The women on land might have softer bodies, but they also had wills as strong as that of any Queen. Or at least this one did.

  They opened the cage and returned his belt, marveling at the way his tail disassembled again and split into legs. Mai nearly stuck her nose into the particles, eyeing the belt and trying to figure out why it flashed during the transformation; and when his legs reformed, her face was a finger’s breadth from his crotch. She didn’t flinch. “Fascinating! All parts present and accounted for. In working order, I suppose?” She walked around him, examining him from toes to buttocks.

  “Enough!” Flay stripped off his rain-spattered coat and threw it at Rake’s face. “Put this on, fish. Cover up the goods.”

  Rake caught the coat and took a moment to admire its design. “Thank you.” He shrugged it on, feeling its weight on his shoulders, wrapping it around himself. “I like this coat.” He savored the word and his new comprehension of it.

  “The coat’s a loan, fish, not a gift.” Flay waggled a finger at him. “Don’t get used to it. Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold out here.”

  “Are you cold?” Mai asked Rake, her dark eyes catching his.

  “No. I’m used to the cold of the ocean.”

  “Your blood must be hotter than normal, to keep you warm.” She pushed up his sleeve and pinched his arm. “Your skin’s a bit thicker, too. Softer than the mermidon’s, though. And I can barely see any pores at all.” She lifted his arm, peering at it, and Rake had to smile. This girl reminded him of Jewel, even though she was probably almost two decades older. Same curiosity, same spunky courage. She seemed comfortable being right near him.

  They crowded into the shed, which smelled strongly of fish, and death, and something sharp and horrible. Rake recoiled. “What is that smell?”

  “It’s the solution I’m using to preserve my specimen.” Mai skipped over to the splayed mermidon carcass on the table. Scythe’s chest had been split wide open and folded back, and her organs glistened in the chest cavity.

  Rake had observed death countless times, had watched humans and mermaids be chomped apart and gulped down gaping throats. But the ocean softened the experience, swirling the blood in a merciful cloud so he didn’t have to note every detail. Seeing Scythe like this, raw, guts exposed—and the smell—

  His stomach revolted and he twisted, forcing his way back outside. Flay barred his way with both arms. “Breaking your word already, fish?”

  “I’m not escaping, I’m—”

  Acidic bile rocketed from Rake’s throat, spewing all over Flay’s shirt and pants.

  Flay jumped back, cursing with words Rake didn’t know.

  “What—what happened?” Rake stared at the chunks all over Flay’s clothing.

  “You vomited, idiot.” Kestra pushed him further out into the rain. “Mai, a cloth, if you have a clean one. Flay, you’ll need to bathe. Throw the filthy clothes in the bucket by the kitchen door—
I’ll wash them later. Jazadri, please find our prisoner something to wear.” She eyed Rake’s broad shoulders. “I think your clothes would fit him better than Flay’s.”

  “Sucking starfish,” Flay growled. “I told you that stew was wasted on the creature. And you’re insane if you think I’m leaving you girls alone with him.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Kestra held out her hand. “Your knife.”

  Sighing, Flay slapped the weapon into her palm. “Be careful. And don’t kill him unless you have to. I’ll be back before he can scrape his wits together again.” He stomped away along the garden path, followed by Jazadri.

  Mai tossed a cloth to Kestra, and she wiped Rake’s mouth and jaw roughly, along with the soiled spots on the coat. “You don’t get sick under the sea?”

  “We’re sometimes ill,” he said. “But never like that.” He felt weak and weary, his knees quivering. He bent over, bracing his hands on his thighs.

  “Could have been the new food,” suggested Mai. “Combined with what he’s been through today, the stress and the changes. And the sight and smell of the carcass.”

  “We need somewhere else to keep him while you finish with the mermaid’s dissection.” Kestra puckered her lips. “Not the inn itself—too risky. Maybe the ship. We could take him there tonight, lock him in one of the cabins.”

  “No!” Rake looked up. “Please. I want to be on land.”

  “And I think we’ve spent enough time catering to your wishes, monster.” Her tone was cold as the deepest dark of the ocean. He bowed to it, curving his shoulders in submission.

  Mai ducked back into the hut, but Kestra stepped closer to Rake, setting the tip of the knife against his chest, left of center. “I assume your kind have your hearts in the same place as ours? Looked like it, from what I saw in there.” She jerked her head toward the hut.

  “Yes.” Rake stared at the knife-point denting the leather of the coat. His heart felt swollen and sore behind his ribs, and in his head beat an incessant, anxious refrain of one word, repeated over and over—Jewel. Jewel. Jewel.

  He looked at Kestra, at the soft flesh of her cheeks and her round red mouth, the small perked nose and those eyes, dark brown like the wet earth of the garden. Her eyebrows slanted inward, two black slashes punctuating her suspicion and hatred. Some of her hair had escaped from her hood and trailed in wet black ribbons down the front of her cloak.