The Mermaid's Madness

by Hines, Jim C.

  “Thank you for watching over him,” Danielle said, returning the bracelet to her wrist. The wires tightened, and Jakob’s image disappeared.

  “I’ll watch him, sure. Just don’t expect me to change any diapers.”

  Danielle covered a yawn. “Is Snow still with Morveren?”

  “Where else would she be?” Talia raised one leg and pivoted, slowly moving through a series of close kicks. “Lannadae was snoring in the boat when I passed, but Snow and Morveren are still chattering away about turning people into frogs, or whatever it is witches talk about when they get together.”

  “You’re just mad because their plan doesn’t include you pummeling Lirea,” Danielle teased.

  “If Snow thinks she and Morveren can control Lirea long enough to get that knife, I’m not going to stop them.” Talia launched a particularly vicious sequence of punches.

  Danielle knew that expression. “You’re worried about her.”

  “She let Morveren transform her into a mermaid.” Talia bent her leg, allowing her body to sink lower, then repeated her kicks. “You’re the naive one who insists on trusting everyone you meet. Snow knows better.”

  “She’s wanted to learn transformation magic ever since we came back from Fairytown,” Danielle said. “The change was temporary, and Snow seems fine.”

  “I’ve never seen her so eager. So hungry. She’s hardly spoken to me.”

  “You haven’t exactly been bubbling over with warmth either,” Danielle pointed out.

  Talia turned away. “None of this would have happened if Morveren hadn’t used magic to try to change her granddaughter.”

  “That was what Lirea asked for,” said Danielle.

  Talia struck the wall with the edge of her hand. “Lirea was little more than a child. She didn’t know the risks. Morveren did.”

  Danielle ran her fingers over her bracelet, thinking about Jakob and how hard it was to refuse when he wanted something. “She made a mistake. Now she’s trying to find a way to help Lirea.”

  “There’s the naiveté I’m used to,” said Talia.

  “Morveren didn’t turn her granddaughter into a murderer. Lirea is the one who killed her prince.”

  “After that prince used and discarded her.” Talia relaxed, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. “Lirea’s story has a lot in common with yours, actually. You both gave yourselves to men you hardly knew. In your case, Armand turned out to be a good man. Lirea wasn’t as fortunate.”

  Danielle shook her head. Even if Armand betrayed her, she couldn’t imagine killing him. Not even if her life depended on it, as Lirea’s had. “Armand wouldn’t have treated me like that.”

  “Why, because he danced so well? Because of his charming words and kind smile?” Talia began another series of kicks. “Armand asked you to marry him a lot quicker than Lirea proposed to Gustan.”

  “If Prince Gustan was so horrible, why would Lirea keep going back to him?” Danielle asked.

  “Probably because Gustan knew how to be every bit as charming as your own husband, if not more so. Because Lirea was young and inexperienced, and a man like Gustan knows exactly how to con a girl into his bed. And because growing up, Lirea wasn’t as lucky as you were.”

  A sputtered, “Lucky?” wasn’t the most dignified or royal response, but it was the one that emerged from Danielle’s lips.

  Talia sat down on the opposite cot. “You weren’t born into royalty. You were raised in the real world, and you learned very quickly how cruel that world can be. But you also had a mother who cared so much that she stuck around long after her death, just to look after you. You learned to take the blows fate strikes, and you learned what love really means. I assume that’s how you’ve managed to cling to that idealism of yours for so long.

  “Lirea was raised a princess, surrounded by guards and shielded from all of life’s hurts. As Jakob grows up, you’ll see how different his upbringing is. When you’re royal you learn that most people will obey your every wish. You start to believe you’re better than everyone around you. It’s not arrogance, it . . . well, it is. But when you’re young and you’ve never known anything else, that’s simply the way the world works.”

  Talia dug through her small trunk at the foot of the bed, pulling out a small wooden pipe and tobacco pouch. She filled the ivory bowl while she talked. “Your parents teach you about politics and manipulation, but you always believe you’re protected. That nothing truly bad can happen to someone like you, because you’re royalty. You’re special. When life finally shatters that illusion, you don’t know how to cope.”

  Danielle watched Talia closely, but her expression never changed. “So I’m lucky because the way I suffered at the hands of my stepmother and stepsisters prepared me for the world’s abuse?”

  “The first time somebody strikes you, you’re shocked. You lack the reflexes to block or dodge the blows or to roll with the ones you can’t. The earlier you can learn those skills, the easier it is to deal with the next fight.”

  Talia crossed the cabin and lit a small taper from the flame in the lamp. “People learn to cope in different ways. You clean things when you’re upset.” She pointed, and Danielle realized she had been polishing her bracelet with the corner of her bedsheet. “Lirea slaughters people.”

  Danielle deliberately set the sheet down and folded her hands. “So how does Snow cope?”

  “She sleeps with men and tampers with the nature of reality.” Talia puffed on her pipe, then blew a ring of smoke toward the door. “One way or another, it’s all about control.”

  Snow had spent much of the night transforming flowerworms into butterflies. When the butterflies flew away, she used magic to call them back. All except the one that fell victim to a bedraggled three-legged cat.

  “Good,” said Morveren as Snow completed another transformation. They sat together at the foremast, having left Lannadae to sleep in the cutter. “Your songs are already more precise. You’re a natural spellcaster, child.”

  Snow grinned and modified her spell. The butterfly fluttered over to land on the tip of Morveren’s nose.

  The mermaid laughed. “I don’t read your language very well, but are those your initials on its wings?”

  Snow started to answer, but her attention was drawn to Captain Hephyra striding toward them.

  “Undine?” Snow asked, once Hephyra had climbed onto the foredeck.

  “I felt three of them passing beneath the hull, brushing my roots. It tickles.” She patted the mast, her fingers sinking ever so slightly into the wood. “Two remain below. They’ve already poked us with their spears.”

  “Testing your strength,” said Morveren. “If this were one of Lirea’s raiding parties, there would be more warriors. These are guards, protecting the nesting sites. If you turn out to be a threat, they’ll sing for help and sink you from below.”

  “Fortunately, we’re going to stop them before they realize how big a threat we are,” Snow said. Hephyra didn’t look reassured.

  Snow moved to the side of the deck. The water was so dark that she could barely see where the ocean ended and the sky began. The only exception was a broad stripe of white moonlight painted along the waves. A faint shadow along the horizon might have been land, or it might have been a trick of the eye.

  “Will they be able to hear you down below?”

  Snow jumped, then turned to Talia. “You know how much I hate it when you sneak up on me.”

  “So maybe you should pay more attention.” Talia leaned out over the rail. “Hephyra knew I was here.”

  “That doesn’t count,” said Snow. “Hephyra is the ship. If you stepped on me, I’d know you were here too.”

  “I’ll remember that next time.”

  “There,” said Morveren, pointing to a lone undine. He bobbed in the water like a buoy. “If anything happens to him, one of his friends will sing a warning to the tribe while the other attacks from below.”

  Snow rubbed her hands together. Before the undine scout could
speak, she leaned out to shout, “There you are! I was beginning to think Lirea had forgotten us.”

  The undine swam closer, coming into the light of the lanterns burning on the ship. His hair was like matted white wool, and his face was almost as wrinkled as Morveren’s. He wouldn’t have been Snow’s first choice for a guard.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “What do you mean, who am I?” Snow slapped her palms against the rail. “I am a friend of Lirea. She wished to speak to me alone, regarding her grandmother. Where is she?”

  “Lirea is no friend of humans,” said the merman.

  “Captain Varisto told us otherwise.” Snow stretched out her senses as Morveren had taught her. One hand moved toward her choker.

  “Stop that,” Morveren hissed, keeping her body low. “You don’t need it.”

  Snow made a rude gesture, but she lowered her hand. Her eyelids fluttered. She could sense the one at the surface, but where were the other two? Lulling this one’s suspicions would do nothing if the others realized what was happening.

  “Varisto is a special case.” The merman swam closer. “You speak the tongue of Lorindar, not Hilad.”

  Snow concentrated on the undine she could see. Using magic to fool a cat into attacking his own tail was one thing. Fooling a trained warrior was far more difficult. His suspicion was plain, so obvious she could almost touch it. She reached out to do just that, pushing back against his doubts.

  “Bring Lirea to us.” She sang softly, focusing her voice on him alone.

  A second undine surfaced. This one was a girl, little more than a child. She whispered to the elder merman.

  Behind Snow, Morveren began to hum, lending her strength. Morveren’s time on the ship had obviously done her good, and Snow could feel the extra power flowing through her song. She smiled and tried again. “Go now, and tell Lirea we have news of her grandmother. News for her alone.”

  “She never said anything . . . she can’t.” The merman shook his head. “Lirea is needed. If she leaves now—”

  “If she doesn’t, she loses Morveren. Do you know what she will do to you if you cost her that chance?”

  Snow could feel his fear. He knew how desperately Lirea wanted Morveren dead, but still he resisted. “A human wouldn’t understand.”

  “Maybe if you ask nicely?” Talia muttered.

  “No.” The sound of Morveren’s voice made Snow jump.

  “I can do this,” Snow said, concentrating on the merman. “Help me—”

  “Can’t you smell it? The tribe is spawning. They won’t allow Lirea to leave. They can’t.” Morveren lifted her head, peeking out at the water. “I should have guessed. The stress of war would increase the pressure to breed. All those of mating age will have gathered around Lirea.”

  Snow studied the two undine. An old man and a child. No doubt the third was also of an age unlikely to reproduce this year.

  “The tribe needs her,” said Lannadae, pulling herself up the ladder to the foredeck. “Without the queen’s scent in the water, the females won’t be receptive to the men’s seed.”

  Talia raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little young to know about—”

  “When the mating scent fills the water, every undine feels it, from the eldest merman to the newborn mermaid. We can’t all act on those feelings, but we all understand them.” Lannadae smiled. “You humans conceal so much, hiding your bodies and your mating habits as if they were precious secrets.”

  “Some of us do, anyway,” Talia said, glancing at Snow.

  Snow adjusted her shirt. “Is there any way to lure Lirea away?”

  “Ask them how long it’s been since the spawning began,” said Morveren, keeping her body low and out of sight.

  Snow did so, and the merman responded, “Lirea returned less than a day ago.”

  “She won’t leave,” said Lannadae. “Not for four more days at least.”

  “We can’t just anchor the Phillipa off the Hiladi coast while we wait for her to finish,” Talia said.

  “No.” Morveren looked up at Snow. “You will have to bring her to us. The tribe will be distracted.” She stretched out on the deck. “Such wonderful distractions. I miss those days.”

  “What about the tribe?” asked Lannadae. “If Lirea leaves in the middle of spawning—”

  “I don’t understand the urgency,” Snow said. “Undine are long-lived. Even if there were no births this year, it would hardly affect the size of the tribe.”

  “You speak as a human,” Morveren answered. “The undine can no more ignore the urge to breed than you could ignore the urge to breathe. To interrupt the tribe in midcycle will cause confusion, possibly even violence.”

  “Sounds like a good way to distract them from attacking our ships,” said Talia.

  “They’ll likely turn that violence outward, becoming even more aggressive.” Morveren reached over to stroke Lannadae’s hair. “Lirea’s scent will linger for another day, maybe longer. If we can save her in that time, she could return to control the tribe. This is our best chance.”

  Snow turned her attention back to the two undine in the water. “Forget what you found. Return to your tribe, and say nothing of us.”

  She could feel their resistance. They had grown more suspicious, and on some level, they knew they were being controlled. Their minds fought to throw off Snow’s commands. Snow clenched her fists and pushed harder, expanding her spell to capture the third undine still hidden beneath the ship. “Forget!”

  “Be careful,” Morveren said. “Too much power in such a spell can damage their minds.”

  “Letting them tell Lirea we’re here can damage us,” said Talia.

  Snow adjusted her spell, remembering the things Morveren had taught. Banishing a memory required a great deal of raw power, but walling that memory away for a day or two . . . She touched her choker, using the mirror’s magic to seal her spell.

  As one, the undine disappeared into the water. Snow staggered back, and only Talia’s quick reflexes stopped her from falling.

  “I don’t know how long my spell will last.” Snow sat down on the deck. “Go wake Danielle. Tell her we’re going for a late night swim.”

  Danielle yawned as she waited for Captain Hephyra to finish stringing a makeshift curtain of old sailcloth across the poop deck.

  “You and your modesty,” Hephyra said. “You’ve little to be ashamed of, you know.”

  “Thanks,” Danielle said dryly.

  “This is a hell of a spot for a swim.” Hephyra yanked the final knot tight, then tugged the curtain aside to allow Danielle to join the others. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here while your friends go after the mermaid?”

  “Captain Hephyra, are you worried about me?” Hephyra shrugged. “You get yourself killed, your prince gets angry. If he blames me, well, let’s just say I don’t need that kind of hassle.”

  Danielle started to answer, but Talia was quicker.

  “Danielle has to come. She gets cranky when we try to leave her behind. She pouts for weeks.”

  “I do not!” Her heart wasn’t in the protest. Talia’s smile, fleeting though it might be, was worth a little teasing.

  “Lirea already tried to kill you once, Highness,” said Hephyra. “What’s to stop her from trying again?”

  “They are.” Danielle cocked a thumb at Talia and Snow.

  “Remember, undine aren’t like you,” Lannadae said. “We don’t seek privacy when we breed. The tribe might be distracted, but if you draw attention to yourselves, they’ll notice.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” Snow was already unbuttoning her shirt. Lannadae stared, obviously curious about human anatomy.

  Danielle checked the curtain, then made sure nobody was watching from atop the masts before following suit. She stepped out of Lannadae’s view before shrugging off her robe and unlacing her nightgown.

  “The transformation is unpleasant at first, but you get used to it,” Snow said. “It’s act
ually a lot of fun, once you figure out the breathing.”

  “I don’t like this,” said Lannadae. “It’s magic that drove my sister mad. Magic that hurt your queen. Isn’t there another way?”

  “Not unless you and Morveren want to swim in and fetch Lirea,” said Snow.

  Talia was the last to disrobe, moving to the edge of the deck and keeping her back turned to the others. She refastened her belt over her bare skin, making sure both knives were secure in their sheaths. Two shorter knives were strapped to her forearms. “I’m not thrilled with the plan either.”

  Danielle picked up her sword belt and pulled it tight around her bare waist. The buckle pinched her skin, and the leather dug into her hips.

  “I’ll be able to use my mirrors to deflect attention when we approach,” Snow was saying. She frowned at the mermaid doll Morveren had given her. “How am I supposed to carry this thing?”

  “You could put your shirt back on,” Talia said without looking.

  Morveren untied the harness she wore and passed it to Snow. “Your body is still too skinny, and your chest is too big, but this should work. You won’t be comfortable, but you’ll be able to carry the doll and anything else you might need.”

  Snow shrugged into the harness and used a length of twine to secure the doll to the strap beneath her left arm. Once the knots were pulled tight, she transferred her knife to the other side of the harness.

  “It’s not unusual for young undine to join other tribes this time of year,” Morveren said. “If questioned, say you’ve come to join the line of Ilowkira. Use the magic we’ve practiced to draw Lirea out. Her anger and fear will work in your favor. Her body will be weary, so she’ll be slower than usual. The rest of the tribe will be reluctant to leave. You can encourage that reluctance to make sure they don’t follow. Once you lead her to the ship, we can work together to capture her.”

  “More magic,” said Lannadae. “What if this only makes things worse?”

  “More magic is the only hope your sister has,” Morveren answered. “It’s the only way to save her life.”