by Effie Calvin
At least Esofi was making a fast recovery. The healers wanted her to stay in bed, just to be safe, but idleness was not in Esofi’s nature. A few people had come to visit, only to be surprised to find Esofi up and fully dressed and seated before a stack of books, or maps, or the careful timeline of the Emperor’s rise to power she was beginning to compile.
Gaelle had not been among those visitors, and neither had Lexandrie. Adale was not sure how she felt about this. On the one hand, she supposed she ought to be grateful that Gaelle wasn’t around to make Esofi miserable. On the other hand, she was offended that Esofi’s mother did not seem at all bothered by what had happened.
Adale was counting the days until they could leave for the Silver Isles. The plan was to leave quickly and quietly, before the break of dawn. Almost nobody would be informed of their departure, and their destination would not be public knowledge—for Esofi’s own safety, her parents would claim. And while that wasn’t completely untrue, both Adale and Esofi knew perfectly well that evading assassins was only secondary to evading Gaelle.
Adale’s blood still boiled when she remembered Gaelle’s assertation that Adale might ever be disloyal to Esofi. Did Gaelle even believe her own words? Or had it just been an attempt to hurt Esofi, to make her doubt herself and Adale?
Adale’s relationship with her own parents was imperfect. They’d had their share of disagreements, especially in her adolescence, and she knew they would never completely understand one another. But never once had they attempted to hurt her. Nor did she believe that they would ever try. The very idea was bizarre and foreign to her. It was simply not what parents did.
And yet, that had been Esofi’s entire life before coming to Ieflaria.
Gaelle did not hide her disinterest in Esofi, but it was quite the opposite with Carinth. When he climbed into her lap—which he frequently did—she became another woman entirely, the picture of a doting grandmother. Worse still, she was still showing no signs of planning to return to Rhodia.
Adale felt somewhat vindicated to know that she was not the only one who disliked Esofi’s mother. The servants were not fond of her either, and it did not take much coaxing to get them to share stories of their own experiences.
Most concerning was the servant girl who swore that Gaelle had raised a hand, as though to strike her, when she’d delivered the wrong sort of wine. But at that moment, Lexandrie had bumped the table with enough force to knock all the glasses over, distracting Gaelle and giving the servant a chance to flee.
A small, terrible part of Adale wished Gaelle would strike someone. Of course, she didn’t want any of their servants to suffer abuse, but it might be worth it to have a reason to send her home. She wondered if she ought to offer a reward to any servant brave enough to deliberately provoke violence from Gaelle.
FINALLY, THE DAY of their departure arrived.
With only Mireille and Orsina and Elyne as attendants, the trip to Valenleht was peaceful, even enjoyable. Adale did not regret sending Brandt and Svana after the unicorn, regardless of what Esofi had promised him. With those two gone and Gaelle and Lexandrie still in Birsgen, perhaps this journey would manage to be what the trip to Fenstell had not been.
Elyne, unfailingly cheerful, entertained them all with stories from lands nobody, not even Esofi, had heard of. Orsina rode outside of the carriage, but Elyne frequently opened the door to shout observations at her—much to Carinth’s annoyance. After the first day, he sat in her lap with his head over her hands to prevent her from being able to reach the handle and let gusts of cold air in.
Meanwhile, Orsina worked to improve her understanding of the Ieflarian language. Adale could speak Vesoldan, but Esofi and Mireille could not. Orsina spoke haltingly, uncertain, despite Elyne’s encouragement.
As for Esofi, Adale found reading her difficult. She passed the time with her embroidery and did not appear to be unhappy. She was quieter than usual, but maybe that was to be expected, given everything that had happened. Adale hoped she would open up again once they were away from Ieflaria.
Adale was making an extra effort to be attentive to Esofi’s needs, especially now that they lacked any true servants. She sat as near to her as she could without encroaching on her space entirely and held her hands when she was not busy with her embroidery. Fortunately, Esofi did not seem to mind.
Valenleht was a picturesque city, though Adale had never spent much time in it due to the presence of her cousins. It had been Ieflaria’s capital before Birsgen, hundreds of years ago. Now it served as Ieflaria’s most important port, even though the royal court had long since moved further inland.
Unfortunately, there was no time for sight-seeing. The ship that would take them to the Silver Isles was already waiting. And while Adale knew they wouldn’t leave without the princesses, she did not want to keep the crew waiting and give them a bad first impression.
When they arrived at the docks, Adale was surprised to see the ship her parents had chartered was smaller than expected, though it was certainly no tiny fishing boat. It was called the Courser, and it was a passenger ship that traversed Ieflaria’s eastern and southern coasts, occasionally taking on cargo for extra profit.
Adale supposed the choice made sense, given that Esofi was insistent they not call attention to themselves. Privately, Adale might have felt safer on a military ship armed with too many cannons to count, in case the expedition went badly. But then, Esofi had been very clear that this was a diplomatic mission. She might have refused to set foot on a warship.
Or perhaps not, with Gaelle still at Birsgen.
Adale still held out hope that Gaelle would be gone by the time they returned. It seemed unlikely, but she felt they were due for a bit of good luck. There was still no sign of Lisette, and Adale wondered if they’d soon be hearing that her body had been found in a river somewhere. She had not shared this morbid thought with either Esofi or Mireille. It would not help.
Upon boarding the Courser, Esofi’s mood seemed to change for the better, and rather quickly. Her smile became radiant and genuine, and she stood taller, as though the weight of her mother’s presence and the would-be assassin had finally fallen from her shoulders.
The captain of the ship was retired from the Ieflarian navy after a long and colorful career hunting pirates, and Adale was certain this was why her parents had selected them. There would be no unnecessary risks taken, and the crew would not hesitate to fight if the worst did happen.
There was no shortage of entertainment for Carinth on the ship, who seemed to regard the busy sailors as his own personal performance troupe. He scampered up posts and found places to perch where he could watch them go about their work. Adale and Esofi both kept a close eye on him. A ship could be dangerous, especially for one so small. But Carinth seemed to have the sense to stay out of the way.
Nevertheless, Esofi called him back to her when it was time to go below and inspect the cabins they would be staying in.
Since this was a passenger ship first and foremost, the rooms were significantly nicer than they would have been on a naval ship. Adale and Esofi had been assigned the most spacious cabin, where there was more than enough room for all the luggage Esofi had brought.
The ship was not overly luxurious, but it was not as rough as the fortress at Fenstell had been. Adale would have no difficulty tolerating it—she had been in hunting lodges less comfortable than this. Esofi did not complain either.
It would only be a few days before they arrived at the Silver Isles. In a way, that was surprising. The Isles had always seemed so far removed from Ieflaria, even when the dragons had been actively attacking. But Adale knew the distance had never been what kept Men from its shores.
Adale left Esofi to organize their room and went back up to the deck, Carinth close behind her. She found Mireille peering over the edge of the ship’s railing and into the water below.
“Did you believe Elyne’s story about the giant shark?” asked Mireille.
“No,” said Adale
. “Do you?”
“No,” said Mireille. But Adale noticed that she kept well away from the sides of the ship anyway.
They cast off within the hour, and Adale could not help but feel a surge of excitement as she watched Port Valenleht vanish on the horizon. She had not left Ieflaria in years, and now she was going somewhere that no Men had set foot in living memory.
She decided she would go back down and check on Esofi. Hopefully she’d be feeling better than ever before, now that they had truly left Birsgen behind. But as she made her way to the staircase, she noticed Elyne perched on the edge of the ship’s rail like it was a chair, legs swinging free over the open water.
Adale moved toward her to ask what she was doing. Then she realized that Elyne was making very strange noises, clicking and humming and occasionally trilling. Adale peered over her shoulder and saw a few Mer swimming in the water below. They made the same sounds back at Elyne.
Realizing Adale was watching her, Elyne turned and said, “It’s really meant to be spoken under the water. It sounds silly above.”
Adale knew these Mer were not casual passers-by, they were an integral part of the Courser’s crew, even though they could not come aboard. They would swim alongside, or ahead, watching for signs of danger. At night, or when they grew exhausted, they would sleep in underwater nets that had been fastened to the ship’s side.
At first glance, Mer resembled Men, at least from the waist up. But their skin came in shades of grays and blue-greens, rather than pinks or browns, and their hair could be obsidian-black or verdant green or any color in-between. Their chests were flat and featureless, for they did not nurse their young, who hatched from strange, jellylike eggs. Their fingers were webbed together to aid in swimming, and their teeth were triangular and arranged in awful rows within their mouths. They could breathe both water and air, but their lack of legs prevented them from ever truly being part of the world above. If they even sat on the shore for too long, their silver tails would dry out.
Despite their animalistic appearances, the Mer were just as intelligent as Men and killing one was considered murder. Not that tangling with them was wise. It was difficult to get the upper hand on one of them, especially in the water—or so Adale had heard.
There were some not-so-positive stories about the Mer, mostly regarding vanished ships and missing treasure. Their reputation for extorting merchant vessels was not entirely unearned, though Adale understood this was less common than stories suggested. In modern times, Mer worked with fishermen in a mutually beneficial relationship, and some were even employed as scouts by the Ieflarian navy.
The Mer were the creation of Merla, Goddess of the Sea and Second of the Ten. Her best blessings almost always went to them. Occasionally, some would affiliate themselves with the Temple of Merla. But usually they preferred to worship her in their own way, which Adale understood involved a lot of singing and not much else.
Music was the other thing the Mer were famous for. They seemed to have an innate understanding of it, and it was said they could play any instrument placed into their hands, even if they’d never encountered it before. Some even worked as tutors, for those students who did not mind learning to sing on the rocks or dunes.
Adale had always thought this seemed inconvenient, to have to sing over the roar of the ocean, with sand flying in one’s eyes, but no Mer had ever agreed to be pulled around in a hand-cart.
That evening, after dinner, the party gathered to discuss what awaited them at the Silver Isles.
“Do you think the dragons will send someone to meet us?” wondered Mireille.
“Maybe. I expect they’ll see us coming. I just hope Ivanedi told them to expect us,” Adale said.
“I am sure he did,” said Esofi. “And if not…”
If not, Adale hoped they could get away without sinking the ship.
“The Mer say they generally stay away from the Isles,” said Elyne. “I don’t blame them.”
“Will they be safe?” asked Adale. “Ivanedi only promised they wouldn’t attack Men anymore. He didn’t mention any other races…”
“Why would a dragon attack a Mer?” asked Mireille.
“To eat them?” suggested Elyne.
“Oh!” Mireille shuddered. “Esofi, you won’t let that happen, will you?”
“Of course not,” said Esofi. “But don’t worry yourself—the Mer are not helpless either. The sea is not a place that breeds weakness. Besides, I’m sure some of them have magic of their own.”
The main island came in sight on the morning of the third day, just as the sun was rising. Adale would not admit it aloud, but she was a little disappointed at the sight of it. After a lifetime of hearing tales of the Silver Isles—their danger and mystery—she had been expecting something strange and foreboding.
The island seemed nearly taller than it was wide, impossible mountains and cliffs and rough trees all reaching skyward. Adale had no idea how they would make it above the shoreline, which was little more than a thin strip of grey sand—or perhaps stone, it was too far off to tell—that went straight to verdant plant life.
That day, Esofi surprised Adale by wearing neither an Ieflarian dress, nor one of her famous Rhodian gowns. Instead, she wore blue robes and leather boots, the sort worn by mages. Adale had never seen Esofi wear such a thing, nor had she even been aware Esofi owned robes. But Esofi claimed they were more practical for the wilderness than any dress. Adale supposed she could not argue with that.
Unlike the long robes worn by priests, Esofi’s were only mid-length, stopping just below her knee. Thick woolen stockings and leather boots hid the rest of her legs. The sleeves were shortened, too, rather than loose and flowing. A long-sleeved undershirt protected her arms, and she wore a pair of fur-lined gloves—though she would need to take them off if she wanted to use her magic without destroying them.
The captain reported that the Mer found a good spot to go ashore, and within the hour they were being rowed toward land. It turned out the shoreline was stones after all, and Adale stepped down upon millions upon millions of softly rounded pebbles. Carinth wasted no time and immediately began collecting the most interesting ones in his claws. Once his hands were full, he deposited them into Mireille’s pocket.
“Do you think they know we’re here?” asked Adale, gazing up at the distant mountains.
“I’d be surprised if they didn’t,” said Esofi. “I only hope they send someone down to meet us soon. I don’t want to go wandering through the forests.”
There seemed to be nothing to do but wait. Esofi stayed near to the rowboats, but Adale wanted to explore a bit. After promising that she wouldn’t stray into the trees, she began to walk down the shore.
It wasn’t like the warm, golden seasides of southern Ieflaria or Vesolda that nobles liked to escape to in the winter months, but it was pretty in a colder, rougher way. The air was cool and fresh, and she could see faint movement in the distant woods, probably little forest creatures or birds fluttering from tree to tree.
And then she came upon the horse.
It was a stallion, tall and long-legged. Standing in the shallowest part of the water, he regarded her calmly with soft, dark eyes. Oddly enough, it did not look like a feral horse. His coat was glossy and dark and seemed well cared for. If Adale had seen him at Birsgen, she would have assumed he belonged to a noble, or at least a wealthy merchant.
How might he have found its way here? Had he been on a ship that sank? Was the owner someone she knew?
Adale moved toward the stallion slowly, cautiously. She was afraid he might startle and go galloping off down the shore or, worse, into the forests. He wore no tack and no bridle that she could grab hold of.
“Hey, you,” said Adale softly, reaching into her pocket on instinct to see if she had any of the sweets that Warcry liked. “Where’s your master? Or are we off on an adventure?”
The horse did not shy away as she approached but allowed Adale to come nearer. As her hand came to rest on t
he animal’s neck, it occurred to her that he smelled a little unusual. She knew a horse’s scent, warm hay and musk and manure. But this animal…he smelled like the sea.
“Having you been drinking sea water? That’s not good for you. We should get you home.” But how in the world could they get him back to the Courser? He’d never fit in a rowboat.
She gazed up into the horse’s face. His eyes were not brown, as she’d first assumed. They were solidly black, like pools of ink. Adale felt a frown crease her forehead and moved to pull her hand away—only to find that she could not. Her hand was bound to the horse’s neck as though it had been sewn on.
“The boy climbed on the horse’s back,” said a very, very old memory of Adale’s mother. “And the horse began to gallop. The boy was scared and tried to jump off. But his hands and legs had become fused to the horse’s back. And the horse charged into the river…”
“I’m an idiot,” Adale informed the horse. Maybe if she didn’t panic, it wouldn’t take off immediately. “I don’t suppose you take bribes?”
The horse reared up onto its hind legs, whinnying—except the sound was harsh and distorted and wrong. Adale, still unable to free her hand, twisted to the ground, screaming wordlessly. Sharp hooves smashed back to the grey stones, and Adale barely avoided them.
Then there was a flash of silver and white. The horse screamed again, but the pain in her arm lifted and Adale felt something give under her palm. A moment later, she was clutching nothing but a pulsing mass of hideous silver goo. The horse collapsed into formless black and silver muck.