“What?” Cynthia said as she looked from one to the other. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, it be about Miss Camilla,” Paska said reluctantly, seeming to force the words from her mouth. “She got away from de pirates by hidin’ in de old dungeon beneath de keep. But somet’in’ happen to her down in dat cave. She helped us take Flothrindel, but she killed to do it.”
“Camilla?” Cynthia couldn’t imagine Camilla killing anyone, even though she’d watched her put a dagger in Bloodwind’s heart.
“Aye. She told us it was de demon, Hydra. Dat’s how she freed de captives from dem cannibals. She stayed wit’ ‘em. Said she belonged dere.”
Cynthia sat stunned, unable to grasp the tale, but one look at their faces convinced her of their sincerity. In the long silence, Feldrin rose, his peg leg clacking across the cabin to the galley and back. He uncorked a brown glass bottle and filled everyone’s cup with a healthy measure of dark rum.
“Even with all the deaths, and the troubles to come,” he raised his cup to the others, “it’s still good to be home among friends. Here’s to those who ain’t here.” He tossed his drink back and the others followed his example. Cynthia just stared down at her cup, stunned beyond thought, the grief too thick to encompass.
“Lass.” She jumped at Feldrin’s hand on her forearm. “Drink. You need it.”
The rum burned down her throat, scouring away the lump that threatened to boil up into a cascade of hysterical tears. The alcohol warmed her stomach, and sent a flush to her skin.
“Now, let’s get ashore.”
“Feldrin, I don’t—”
“Later, lass,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We got people who need our help before we go off and start makin’ decisions about what to do next.”
“We be havin’ a meetin’ at de village tonight, for sure.” Paska rose from the table and handed Kloe back to her. “You best be talkin’ wit’ Whuafa. He be up in a right snit over dis t’ing wit’ Miss Cammy. He’ll be wantin’ ta talk wit’ you bout dat.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Cynthia said, kissing the top of her baby’s head and holding him like a lifeline in a gale. “And I want to talk with him.”
Chapter 9
Choices
Twilight glittered down through the crystalline sea, dappling the domed structure of the mer city in myriad shades of light and shadow. The outside of the structure was alive with activity, the usual evening stir as sharks and barracuda used the confused illumination to ambush unwitting prey. Tailwalker and Chaser ignored the deadly interplay; the denizens of the reef knew better than to bother mer. The pair arrived at the entry grotto just as the sentries were affixing the stingweed netting in place for the night. The sentries flushed with surprise when they recognized the two, and pulled the barrier aside.
*Tailwalker! You live!* signed one of the sentries, a burly male named Shellbreaker. *And Chaser! Where is the rest of your school?*
*None have returned?* Chaser asked, his fins flicking in distress. After ordering them to flee from the myxine, he had hoped that some would make their way back to the mer city. His fins drooped as that hope waned.
*None have returned save those you sent back as escort to the undine scouts,* Shellbreaker confirmed, his colors shifting in commiseration. *Of the rest, you are the first. It is good to see that you bring back the trident holder’s son, though. Broadtail has been swimming in circles with worry.*
*We go to him now,* Chaser signed. They made brief signs of thanks and apologies for their haste, and left the stunned sentries in a wake of swirling bubbles.
As tired as they were, they darted through the familiar corridors to Broadtail’s grotto, ignoring the schools of mer who flushed with surprise and signed greetings as they passed. Chaser barely heard Tailwalker’s brief thrum of announcement before his friend burst through the dangling curtain of weed into his father’s home. Chaser followed in time to glimpse the trident holder’s stunned visage, and Broadtail’s newest brood of finlings darting for cover, before father and son met in a crushing, swirling embrace. Before the two could break their clinch, Silverfin emerged from an adjoining grotto and joined in, her tail shuddering with joy as she clutched her son in her arms. Chaser was considering sculling quietly out of the grotto to give the family some privacy when Broadtail broke free of his son and wife, and rushed to grip the scout in another embrace. The trident holder freed the uncomfortable scout after only a brief clasp, however, and signed his gratitude.
*My greatest thanks, Chaser! You are as a son to me!*
*Yes,* Silverfin signed with one hand while dragging Tailwalker over with the other. Her colors were vivid with her elation. Some of the bolder finlings, now as long as Chaser’s forearm, saw her colors and emerged from hiding to join the group. They swam in tight circles, watching the signing and body language of the adults with the curiosity of the young. *You have returned our son, Chaser. All we have is yours.*
*Please,* Chaser signed, even more uncomfortable with their adulation. *I had no part in freeing Tailwalker. I only accompanied him on the journey home. Kelpie bargained for his freedom.*
*Kelpie!* Broadtail signed, astonished. *I thought she was in league with Eelback.*
*She was, Father,* Tailwalker signed, his fins fluttering in unease. Chaser and he had signed long about Kelpie’s part in the betrayal of the seamage, and had decided what to tell the rest of the school. *But not of her own choice. She was tricked into subduing the seamage during the battle with the landwalker emperor’s ships, then was forced to steal Cynthia Flaxal’s heir. Eelback held me hostage, threatened my life if she did not do as he ordered.*
*Kelpie loved Tailwalker,* Chaser signed, to his friend’s obvious chagrin. *She only complied with Eelback’s demands to save his life, and in the end she perished saving the seamage and her companions from Akrotia.*
*Saved them from Akrotia?* Silverfin asked, her eyes wide. *You sign as if the city lives. Then Eelback’s plan worked?*
*No, Mother. Eelback and his school are dead. Akrotia lives, but Seamage Flaxal signed to me that the magic that brought it back was not sea magic, but fire magic. The firemage youth stepped into the Chamber of Life and the magic of the city took him. Akrotia lives, but it burns.*
*Fire magic,* Silverfin signed, her colors flushing pale with fear. *How could that be?*
*No one knows, Mother, but it is so. We saw the city on fire with our own eyes.* Tailwalker shifted colors quickly, then clapped Chaser on the shoulder and grinned. *But Chaser makes light of his own part. He saved the seamage’s ship from the school of myxine that Eelback had allied himself with.*
*Myxine!* Broadtail made a sign of revulsion. *It’s a wonder that any survived.*
*There were many deaths, Trident Holder,* Chaser signed. *I do not know yet if any of those who swam with me survived, and one of the seamage’s ships was destroyed. She and her heir survived, however.*
*Well, there is time enough now for us to learn all of what has happened, and for us to tell you what we know of what has transpired in your absence.* Silverfin gestured welcome and ushered them into the inner grottos of their home. *You must be ravenous from your long swim. And you, Tailwalker, are so thin I can see your bones!*
*We ate well enough, Mother,* Tailwalker assured her, which did nothing to dissuade her from welcoming home her son with a feast: sardines wrapped in spicy seaweed, fresh deep-sea clams, urchins full of bright orange roe, crab claws, and a fillet of tuna large enough to feed an entire school.
The four adults ate and signed for hours, finlings circling like little sharks begging for tidbits, as their stories unfolded.
≈
As with the news Paska and Tipos brought from Plume Isle, the tribe both mourned and celebrated the arrival of Cynthia and Feldrin. An impromptu feast was prepared in honor of Shambata Daroo, her husband
, and their rescued heir. A great bonfire blazed in the center of the clearing, shooting sparks into the heavens. Around it, the natives danced and sang, sometimes a woeful dirge, other times with festive drums, shouting and wild gyrations. Mouse, never one to miss a party, fluttered among the dancers and feasters, pilfering food and drink, and chirping his elation. Paska and Chula were conspicuously absent, having disappeared into a hut to celebrate their reunion.
Cynthia felt far from celebratory, and she wasn’t the only one; Feldrin sat quietly at her side, watching the fire. Whuafa and Tipos were likewise somber. Exchanging the myriad details of the last three weeks had dampened their enthusiasm. She glanced toward the trail that led to the beach. Dura had disappeared that way after learning of Ghelfan’s death.
So many deaths, she thought. So many people depended upon her, and so many had died because they had put their faith in her. She had tried to do what was right. Friends were dead because of it, and still the emperor considered her a threat.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Feldrin,” she said, staring into her cup of fermented juice. She’d drunk a bit, and her head was not as clear as she would have liked, considering the weight of the decisions to be made. “Fifteen warships! I never thought…I mean…”
“Aye, it’s a lot. But Tipos said that this Admiral Joslan made his orders from the emperor clear enough; he’s here to secure the Shattered Isles, not slaughter everyone.”
“And neutralize the seamage threat.” She downed the contents of her cup and waved away a refill from one of the servers. “Apparently, neither my letters nor the ones from his own ambassador have convinced him that I’m not building my own empire down here, so he’s got this admiral holding everyone on Plume hostage.”
“Such wasn’t ever said in so many words, Mistress,” Tipos said, his face stern. “But dat Joslan, he not gonna back down from a fight.”
“I’m not going to fight,” she said decisively. “Every time I fight, people I love are killed.”
“We could run,” Feldrin suggested, accepting the drink refill that Cynthia had declined. “I can run the Pride as a trader, and yer skills as a seamage and a naval architect would set us up like royalty just about anyplace ya like.”
“Which might be seen as treason by Tsing.” Cynthia bit her lip. “They’d start hunting my ships, my captains… And do you think any other leader would be different from your Marathian sultan? They’d want me to design warships, warships that would eventually be used against Tsing.”
“Aye, there is that.” Feldrin sipped and sighed.
“I don’t think we have a choice, Feldrin.” Cynthia rushed her words, firm in her decision, but dreading it. “You should take Kloe and Orin’s Pride somewhere safe, and I’ll face the emperor.”
“Like bloody hells, I will!” he snapped, his face flushing dark with sudden anger. “I won’t abandon you, Cyn. That’s final!”
“And what about Kloe?” She hated playing that card against him, but it was the only way she could think of to ensure the safety of both Feldrin and their son. “Paska and Tipos should go with you as well. They’re probably wanted for the deaths of those sailors and stealing Flothrindel, and Paska can take care of Kloe. It’s the only solution.”
“No, it’s not, Cyn, and I’m not leavin’ you.” He clenched his jaw with typical Morrgrey stubbornness. “If we’re gonna give ourselves over to the emperor’s tender mercy, we’ll go together.”
“And Kloe?” she asked. “What about our son?”
“We stay together, Cyn. We’re a family, and we’re gonna stay that way.”
Cynthia’s shoulders slumped in defeat even as her heart flushed with love for him. She couldn’t fight Feldrin on this, and realized that she didn’t really want to. “Okay, then. We’ll throw ourselves on the emperor’s mercy and pray that he doesn’t have us hanged for treason.”
Feldrin took her hand and they sat silently for several long moments, taking comfort in each other’s presence. It was Whuafa who finally broke the silence, his voice subdued and his ancient features worried. “What about dis Camilla frien’ o’ yours, and dis bloody curse?”
“Cammy…” Cynthia sighed, then shivered as she recalled Bloodwind’s witch, Hydra, and the grotesque demon that had possessed and then devoured her. Somehow this creature now possessed her friend. “Gods, poor Cammy…”
“Do you think there’s anything we can do for her, Whuafa?” Feldrin asked, furrowing his brow. “I mean, other than puttin’ a blade in her heart as a mercy.”
“From what I saw, Capt’n Feldrin, even dat prob’ly wouldn’t do much more dan make her angry.” Tipos drained his cup and shook his head. “We saw her hit by an arrow and all she did was pull it right out, and Dura said dat one of de cannibals put a knife right in Miss Camilla’s side, and it didn’t bother her no more’n a skeeter bite. Oh, den she ripped de t’roat right out of de woman who stabbed her.”
“Bloody hells,” Feldrin muttered.
Cynthia felt sick. How could they fight something they couldn’t even hurt? And besides, she didn’t want to hurt Camilla. From what Paska and Tipos and Dura had said, her friend still had some control; otherwise, no one—friend or foe—would have survived an encounter with her.
“Dere be an ol’ legen’. I can’t remember it proper. It only come hearsay from dem what had some dealin’s wit’ de flesh eaters, an’ my teacha’ said dat it not oua history anymore.” Whuafa rubbed his chin with one gnarled hand. “Back when de demon first possess dis odda’ woman, de tribe wan’ to get rid o’ it. Dey try all kinda way to kill her. Dere was only eva’ one t’ing dat even made her sick. Tainted blood, dey said, but it didn’t kill her, an’ dey paid for it wit’ deir lives.”
“Tainted blood…” Cynthia’s head was too full of the fermented juice to think clearly. “I don’t know anything about tainted blood. I might be able to drown her, if she came down the mountain to the ocean, but—” She choked on her words. “I don’t know if I could even do that. This is Camilla!”
“Well, she’s alive, anyway,” Feldrin said with a frown, “but I don’t see what you can do to save her either. We could at least let Norris know where she is; he’s probably worried outta his head. Of course, that’s assumin’ this admiral lets us talk to anybody and don’t just clap us in irons as soon as we touch shore.”
“Joslan ain’t what you’d be callin’ even-tempered,” Tipos said with chagrin, “but when Count Norris came back for Miss Cammy, de admiral threatened to arrest him, but de count, he threatened right back. Said he’d ruin de man’s career if he didn’t let him look down in de dungeons, and I be damned if dat admiral didn’t back down. He might not listen to reason, but an honest-to-Odea threat got his attention.”
“I don’t think we should threaten him,” Cynthia said, rubbing her eyes in fatigue and frustration.
“Maybe not, but it sounds to me like he’s not an idiot when he’s faced with somethin’ he can’t fight.” Feldrin arched his heavy brows. “We’ll have to be careful, but I think we should show him we won’t let him walk all over us. Surrenderin’ don’t mean givin’ up everythin’.”
“I guess even surrendering isn’t going to be easy. Thank you, Tipos.”
“Now all we gotta figure out is what to do with Orin’s Pride,” Feldrin said, draining the last of his juice and laying aside the cup. “From the sound of it, the good admiral likes to confiscate ships, and I don’t fancy havin’ him arrest Horace and the few crew I’ve got left.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Cynthia admitted, biting her lip again. “I suppose we could leave her here, though she really does need a shipyard. I assumed you’d want her hauled at Plume, but it sounds like the yard there is pretty much destroyed.”
“She needs a yard, that’s sure,” Feldrin said. Then a faint smile creased his mouth. “How about we hire Chula to take
her to Southaven? It’ll do him good! Tipos, Paska and little Koybur can go, too, and the Keelsons can do the work.”
“What about Horace? Couldn’t he take her?”
“He could, but Horace never wanted to be captain, and he and Chula get along fine. He won’t have a problem with it, and it’s just up to Southaven. And that gets Tipos and Paska outta the way in case this admiral decides to come snoopin’.”
“I got a better idea, if ye don’t mind me sayin’.”
Dura stood behind them, the sound of her approach masked by the soft sand and the loud natives. She looked none too comfortable in her sailcloth tunic, but it was her expression that caught Cynthia’s attention. Her face was set in hard lines, and her eyes were pinched in grief.
“What’s that, Dura?” Cynthia asked, making room for the dwarf woman to sit. Dura shook her head. Her broad shoulders heaved with a sigh, then straightened as she crossed her arms.
“Let me do some refittin’ on the Pride here, then I’ll go with Chula up to Ghelfan’s yard and give her a proper haul out. I’ve gotta tell the crew there what happened to him anyway, and it’s the best yard on the whole coast. We’ll fix her up spit and polish, and keep her out o’ the hands o’ them imperial types. The place is kinda hard ta find if you don’t know where it is, and the emperor’s navy might be expectin’ you ta go ta Southaven, considerin’ it’s yer hometown.”
“Sounds like a plan, Dura,” Feldrin said, nodding his thanks to the dwarf. “I still owe you a case of Northumberland single malt fer that repair on her mainmast. It held up under what I’d call more’n adverse conditions.”
“Right, then. You two can take Flothrindel back to Plume easy enough.” Dura sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “She’s a tight li’l smack, crafted by the master’s own hand, don’cha know.”
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