Uttering a final, “Be sure to clean your plate,” Douglen departs. As he moves away, I feel his hold on me slip. As soon as he’s out of sight, I run from the table, yet I’m still compelled to bring the hateful plate of food. Breaking off more fish with my fingers, I notice Cressit following me, leaving his musicians to set up their instruments. King Bevreden and his court still don’t seem to notice what I’m doing.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Cressit asks me in the corridor.
“Douglen’s making me eat this,” I manage to say before putting more food into my mouth. Surely Cressit won’t understand. I doubt Lord Osperacy told him about Douglen, Melily, and Timsy’s siren powers. “Help,” I beg, swallowing and crying harder.
“Stop eating,” Cressit grabs my wrists. “Stop.”
And just that easily, I’m free. Douglen’s grip on me falls away, and I drop the plate. Its contents splatter across my boots and the reed mat. Pulling away from Cressit, I spit what’s still in my mouth out too, wishing I could also spit out the burning pain. And yet as I wipe my sauce-covered hands onto my skirt, leaving bright red smears, a thought clicks into place.
Cressit undid Douglen’s wavurl. There’s only one way he could have done that.
“You’re a siren.”
Cressit looks scared. And as for me, I clench my stinging fingers and tip forward, breathing in and in—as if I can somehow extinguish the fire in my mouth and throat.
In an anguished haze, I stare at the floor tiles, which are mostly bronze although there a few, scattered bright blue tiles too. And then Cressit crouches down and appears in front of me again.
“Yes, I am a siren. You’re right, but you can’t tell anyone. Nobody knows.” His visible eye, the one not hidden behind his long black hair, darts in thought. “I have to get you out of here.”
My stomach wrenches, and I’m pretty sure it’s one of those times where vomiting won’t give me any relief. I try to say, “All right,” but the only sound that comes out of me is a wheezing rasp.
“Stay here,” Cressit says. “Just for a moment.”
I don’t know if it’s a command or not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere on my own. Everything hurts. I keep gazing at the tiles, imagining flames sizzling beneath my skin. In the distance, I hear voices, faint and unclear—Cressit’s talking, then King Bevreden, Cressit again, and then I hear King Bevreden laugh. Their conversation ends with a burst of cheerful, rapid music.
I lurch onto my knees. I’m sure I am going to throw up any moment now. I wish it would just happen. My vision’s gone funny, and the patterned floor is dancing. It looks like water’s streaming across the passage, washing the little blue tiles away.
A hand grabs my shoulder, and then an arm circles my waist. “Hold on.” Cressit pulls me to my feet.
Tears blur my vision as he rushes me through the castle. “She’s all right; she just ate something that disagreed with her,” he tells someone, maybe a serveworker.
Down a hall, down a flight of stairs, our overlapping footfalls thrum an uneven drumbeat. I see sunlight, windows, a door. My stomach heaves. I cry out in pain.
“Hang on, hang on,” Cressit whispers. “We’re nearly outside.”
Moments later, salty wind cools my bare forearms and face. We race down more stairs, down a steep path, and then Cressit pulls me sideways. Feathery leaves speckled with pink blossoms brush my ankles. They’re so tiny, so pretty, and I cover them with the contents of my stomach. Then more food surges up and still more, and oh it hurts just as bad coming up as it did going down.
I fall away from the mess and huddle on the dirt pathway, embarrassed and miserable. Pre’Enity’s colorful houses look like a blurry rainbow. I need to clean my eyes and face, but with what?
Thankfully Cressit hands me a scratchy cloth.
I wipe my mouth and fingers, but I don’t think I wipe them well enough because when I brush away tears, my eyes burn. I wail.
“We shouldn’t stay here,” Cressit says. “Can you walk?”
I nod.
He helps me up again, and we shuffle down a brick roadway, back into the town.
“Please, you cannot tell anyone I’m a siren,” he says as we head toward the water. “If Lord Osperacy were to find out or Douglen, I can’t imagine they’d want me around.”
“Does Melily know?” I ask in a ragged whisper.
“No, and she can’t—not yet. Actually… she’s the reason I’m traveling with you.”
But how can that be? Cressit didn’t meet Melily until he boarded the Trident. I feel even more confused, and I also sway and hug my stomach. I can’t tell what hurt me the most, the sauce or Douglen’s punch. I wish I were wearing my soft, leather deeplander shoes, not these rigid, uppy boots that seem to catch the lip of every uneven paving stone.
Cressit’s grip on my arm tightens. “I just knew something would go wrong today. You being left alone with that monstrous man… Osperacy would have been kinder if he had sent you off with a fringed bear.”
So did Cressit rescue me on purpose? More pink flowers grow between the paving stones. I hunch down, locking my arms around my stomach. I feel like I’m holding my insides together, making sure they don’t fall apart in charred, fleshy pieces.
“Melily?” I gasp. I want to know more.
“She’s…” Cressit hesitates. I think he’s debating how much to tell me, or maybe how much he trusts me. “Well, Lord Osperacy kidnapped her—a long time ago.” His voice tightens. “I’m trying to bring her home.”
I feel like I should be more surprised that Lord Osperacy would kidnap someone, but I suppose I’m not. He’s a thief after all. I wish I were able to pay better attention to what Cressit is saying, though, and ask questions. Instead I’m fighting to control my insides.
Cressit leads me down a roadway that’s less crowded than the others. But even here, I still see plenty of people. Women look up from the fruit they’re peeling with curved knives. Men look up from leather they’re stretching and shaping.
And I throw up again. The vomit is a different red now, a brighter red. I realize I still have that cloth bunched up in my hand, and I also realize that it’s the sparkly scarf Cressit was wearing—a green length of fabric, shot through with silver. I’ve completely ruined it.
“This way.” Cressit guides me toward one of the houses where a large woman hunches over a beading loom. “Good afternoon. My friend is ill and needs to rest. Could we use your home? And could she also have a drink of water?”
I think these are simply questions not wavurl commands, so I expect the woman to say no.
But she smiles at Cressit as if he’s a beloved son, puts the loom aside, and heaves herself onto her feet. “This girl would be better off with seaweed milk if she’s got a sore stomach.”
She soon settles Cressit and I on a cramped patio overlooking the tidewater. The stone platform we’re on is just large enough to support two clay pots bursting with rain mint, silvany weed, and whirl chimes, as well as a cage of gust pigeons and the short, plain bench I’m sitting on. I do my best to ignore the clashing odors of bird droppings and herbs, but the warm seaweed milk the woman gives me tastes like home, and it does soothe my stomach.
Cressit stands in the only patch of free space and leans against a railing that I think is made out of kelp tree roots. He holds a bucket in case I need it, and I’m sure I will.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“A little better,” I say, although my legs are still shaking, and I still feel strangely hot even though we’re in the shade. “The King will be sad you didn’t sing.”
Cressit waves a hand. “He won’t mind. Larone and Gaveni are excellent musicians. I just get in their way. So why was Douglen angry with you?”
I don’t want to answer his questions when I have so many of my own. “It wasn’t about anything important—I just stomped on his foot. Tell me about Melily, though. Why did Lord Osperacy take her? Who did he take her from? And how d
o you know all of this?”
“I know because it’s my fault.” Cressit works his mouth over his teeth for a moment. “Her true family thinks she’s dead, and she was taken when I was supposed to be watching her. I was a child myself, but I still shouldn’t have let it happen. I’ve been trying to set things right for fifteen tides now, but until recently, I couldn’t find her.”
Lord Osperacy made it sound as if he were helping people by adopting their siren children. I suppose this makes more sense though… Lord Osperacy does seem like the sort of person who would steal children with wavurl and use their talent to make money.
“Does Melily know about this?” I croak. She and Cressit have been spending a lot of time together.
Cressit shakes his head. “I didn’t want to tell her until it was time to leave. I was afraid she might get excited or upset and perhaps say the wrong thing to someone.”
I don’t blame him. Melily probably would have a tough time keeping a secret. “So…” I feel like I don’t know the right questions to ask. “So your village or mountain city… are there lots of sirens there?”
“No, but…” He looks at me carefully as if trying to figure something out. “Or rather yes, there were. It was a small place—far outside the trade routes, and Lord Osperacy was born there too. He left a long time ago, and he took our secrets with him. We’re safer when the Sea Spread doesn’t know what we can do.”
“So Timsy… he’s from your mountain city too?”
Cressit nods. “He must be.” With a loud exhale, he joins me on the bench. I feel immediately self-conscious about how badly my breath must smell.
“Where is your home?” I ask, wondering if it’s Ellevah, the mountain city Sande wanted to travel to and the mountain city Cressit said was his favorite.
But Cressit doesn’t answer right away. After a few moments, he says, “Nerene, I think I can trust you. Or maybe I just want to trust you because I never can be honest about who I am. But at the same time, Melily will be in danger if I tell you too much, and you could be in danger, and I certainly will be. Do you understand?”
I nod.
Wind sweeps up off the tidewater, rearranging Cressit’s long hair. “When my ship catches up to us, I’ll tell Melily, and we’ll leave. But if Lord Osperacy hears of my plan, I’m sure he won’t want to let Melily go. She’s far too valuable to him.”
“What about Timsy?”
Cressit tries to smooth his scattered hair. “I’ll save Melily first. Then perhaps I can ask for help from my people. You see… leaving our village is forbidden, and I left to find Melily. If I bring her home, hopefully my people will forgive me.” He turns my way. “So will you promise not to tell anyone?”
I look down at the white, translucent seaweed milk in my mug. “You could just command me not to.”
Cressit’s eyebrows drop. It’s almost as if I’ve insulted him or mentioned something shameful. But when he speaks, his words are kind. “That would only work if I stay close to you. And even then, I would never do it.” His hands shudder, and he locks his fingers together.
“Well don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” I tell him. And as I look out at the black and green waves chopping up the surface of the tidewater, I think about how happy Melily will be to learn all of this. Her beloved Cressit was actually searching for her for many years. It makes me think about how I’m searching for Sande—or rather how I’ll search for him as soon as I’m able.
Cressit’s plan could ruin things for me, though. If Melily leaves the Trident, surely Lord Osperacy won’t keep me on board. He won’t have any reason to keep Sande safe anymore either—if Sande even is that safe. I’m working hard, Sande said. Working hard where?
“If you take Melily, I’ll lose my job,” I say.
“With all due respect, it seems like a brackish job.”
And there’s that uppy arrogance. Of course to Cressit, with his money and freedom, my situation probably does seem like a terrible arrangement. “It’s not that I care about the job,” I say. “It’s that I promised to protect Melily because in exchange, Lord Osperacy said he’d keep a friend of mine safe. If you take her away, the Osperacy’s won’t need me anymore. That could put my friend in danger—and I don’t even know where he is.” My body trembles and my insides pitch. “Bucket!” I cry.
Cressit has it instantly in front of me, and I cradle it as my stomach rebels, although nothing comes up.
“Well, that’s no problem,” he says. “Or at least it’s a problem that’s easily solved. You can run away with Melily and me, and I’ll help you find Sande.”
I stare down into the bucket’s circular darkness. Cressit’s plan does sound wonderful, marvelous. Although how does he know Sande’s name? I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised since Melily told him all about me. Although does she know Sande’s name? I can’t remember.
I will surely feel miserable for days, but when I’m strong enough to walk, Cressit and I return to the pier. The weather was warm earlier, but now I see late afternoon shadows and a cool tidewater breeze makes me wish I’d brought a sweater. As we navigate the kelpwood walkways and pass cookery houses and shops, I look around for Douglen and sometimes glance at Cressit. “I can only imagine what Melily told you about Sande. Did she say he’s my brother? Because he isn’t.”
“I’m pretty sure you told me about him.” Cressit frowns. “Or… it could have been Melily, I suppose. She says all sorts of things.”
I frown too. It seems strange Cressit would think I told him about Sande. Other than today, we’ve hardly spoken to each other since that uncomfortable morning in Beth. Melily must have told him.
And just as I’m thinking about Melily, we find her standing with Shara on the pier, waiting for the small motorship that will carry us all back to the Trident. And even though I’m glad that Cressit and I have lucky timing when it comes to the motorship, I can tell by the scrunched up expression on Melily’s face that she’s not happy we arrived together. As we draw nearer, her nostrils flare and she folds her thin arms. “Um, Nerene, you’re supposed to be with Douglen. Isn’t today the day you relaycall your lover?”
Shara, however, seems to notice how weak I am. “Nerene, what’s wrong?” She quickly puts down her basket of fruit, which she surely purchased at the local market, and rushes over to me.
I don’t know what to tell her, and as kind as she is, I don’t think I can say, “Your husband hit and force-fed me.”
Thankfully Cressit gives a short, sensible answer. “Something upset Nerene’s stomach.”
Shara touches my forehead and cheeks and then looks at me carefully. “Is it an allergy?”
“Maybe,” I say, wondering if she knows how cruel Douglen is. She must know. How could she not know?
“You look awful. Did you throw-up?” Melily makes another face.
I nod.
“That is so disgusting, but this also works out perfectly.” She smiles brightly as if there’s no way an ill person could have stolen Cressit’s heart. “Shara can wait with you for the motorship while Cressit and I take another look at those bracelets I liked. Cressit? Follow me.”
He gives me a quick put-upon look that plainly says his cooperation is just an act and then allows Melily to lead him over to the nearby market stands.
“Let’s find somewhere to rest,” Shara says. “I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well.”
We sit down on a low stone ledge near the pier, and as we wait, a series of thoughts shift through my mind, nestling into each other and fitting together. Yes, Cressit probably heard about Sande from Melily. But back in Beth, he knew about Melily’s arrest before I woke up, and he knew I had to return to the Trident too. Maybe I had a conversation with him about those things the night before, maybe after we kissed, but my memory is so murky. Up until now I blamed that murkiness on the strange uppy drink. But since Cressit is a siren, and a powerful, young siren like Melily, he could have used wavurl to make me forget our conversation.
Beside
me, Shara chats about the Pre’Enity market and the interesting fruit she bought, but I keep thinking about Cressit. He had bloodshot eyes that morning in Beth, just like Melily did after she made Sir Mauricen forget about our theft. I hadn’t thought much about Cressit’s red eyes before. I suppose I assumed they were from poor sleep or too many cohol drinks. But now that I know he’s a siren and I’m sure we talked, I’m also sure he told me more than he meant to.
By the time we’re back on the Trident, the sun has set. Most everyone meets for a late dinner, but I retreat to my cabin. I’m too sore to sit at the table, and it feels like I’ll never be able to eat again. I also want to avoid Douglen.
After about an hour, someone knocks at my door. I’m immediately terrified that Douglen has come to hurt me more, but it’s only Marthes. “I brought you some broth and tea because Miss Shara said you weren’t feeling well,” she calls in from the corridor.
Unlocking my cabin door means moving, which is painful, but I manage it. “Thank you.”
“So tell me, did your relaycall go through?” she asks as I ease my sore body back into bed.
“Yes, but…” I pause, not sure how much I should say. “I could hardly hear my friend.”
“Ugh, isn’t that the depths? Well, I’ve never used one of those relay things, but I hear they are very complicated.” Marthes helps me bathe, and after she leaves, I try drinking some broth. It’s cold now, but the liquid still manages to reignite the fire in my stomach. So giving up, I click my bedside light off and close my eyes.
But I can’t sleep.
My thoughts swirl around Cressit. He was so kind today, and again, I had a strong feeling that he would never be cruel to me. But taking away memories isn’t nice. I feel like he’s stolen something from me and then lied about it. If I’m going to wager Sande’s safety and mine on his promise to help, I have to know everything. I have to be able to really, truly trust him.
I climb out of bed carefully, trying not to disturb my still aching insides, and I pull a long, robe-like sweater over my nightdress. Surely Cressit’s still awake, and I’m fairly certain his cabin is only one level above mine. I’ve seen Melily lingering near his doorway.
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