Waterfire Saga, Book Three: Dark Tide: A Deep Blue Novel

by Jennifer Donnelly

  It was a guard. He’d just swum into the infirmary. Ling and her father immediately stood at attention, eyes straight ahead, as they were required to when being addressed by a death rider.

  “She brought a patient in, sir,” Shan said. “I asked her to stay and help me. We’re overwhelmed. Several prisoners have died from purple fever. The bodies remain contagious after death. We need to get them into the death cart and out of the camp as quickly as possible.”

  The guard recoiled at the word contagious. He put a hand over his nose and mouth. “Be quick about it!” he ordered, backing away. Then he hurried out of the infirmary.

  Ling looked at her father fearfully. He had aged greatly since she’d last seen him. His black hair was shot through with gray now, and his strong shoulders were stooped. Had he been exposed to the deadly disease? Had she?

  “There’s no such thing as purple fever. I made it up,” he said quietly. “The death riders are as stupid as they are brutal.”

  “Why are you working in the infirmary?” Ling asked. He was an archaeologist, not a medical doctor. He studied ancient mer civilizations.

  “When the death riders took me, they went through my things. They saw my ID, with the title of doctor on it, and assumed I was a physician. That misunderstanding keeps me alive.” He cast a worried glance in the direction of the infirmary’s door. “Can you cope with dead bodies? Not contagious—victims of depth sickness. I’ve got at least ten to deal with. Probably more before the morning’s out. We can talk as we load.”

  “I can manage,” Ling said, sounding braver than she felt. She’d never touched a corpse before.

  “Are you sure?” her father asked, nodding at the cast on her wrist.

  “The wrist’s pretty much healed,” Ling said. “But no one needs to know that.”

  Shan smiled wanly. “Looks like we’ve both found a survival tactic,” he said. “At least for the time being.”

  He motioned Ling over to a cot occupied by a young merman. His skin was gray. His eyes were open, but unseeing. Shan Lu Chi reached into the pocket of his own tunic and pulled out a smooth white pebble. He gently opened the dead merman’s mouth, placed the pebble on his tongue, and closed it again.

  “I haven’t got any pearls. But if I see a nice pebble, I pick it up,” he explained. “I’m hoping Horok understands.”

  Ling knew that a pearl, placed in the mouth of the dead, caught the mer’s soul and held it until Horok, the great coelacanth, took the pearl and carried the precious soul safely to the underworld.

  “I’ll get the top half, you get the bottom,” Shan said.

  Ling took hold of the merman’s tail, hooking her good arm underneath it, placing her bad one on top to steady the body. His flesh was cold to the touch and just beginning to stiffen. Ling thought she’d feel horror at the task, but all she felt was sorrow.

  Together, she and her father carried the body out of the back of the infirmary, where the death cart was waiting. Its driver, an old merman who had a farm nearby, was nowhere to be seen. The two ancient hippokamps that pulled it were munching quietly, their noses in their feedbags.

  “The guards never come back here. They hate the death cart,” Shan explained as they laid the body in the cart. “The driver’s probably in the sergeant’s office. It’s Moonday—the day he gets paid. This is our best chance to talk.”

  He took Ling by the shoulders. “I still can’t believe it’s you. I longed to see you again someday, Ling. But not here.” His eyes filled with tears; his voice broke.

  Ling curled a hand around her father’s wrist. “It’s okay, Dad.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s not. Seeing your child in a place like this is definitely not okay. Your brothers…they’re well?”

  “Yun and Ryu are good. At least, they were when I left.”

  “And your mother?”

  Ling’s gaze shifted to the ground. Thoughts of her silent, sad mother always hurt her.

  “Ling? What’s wrong?”

  “She hasn’t spoken since you disappeared, Dad. Not once,” Ling explained. “I’ve tried to get her to talk. So have my grandmothers, and all ten aunts. No one can get through to her. Most have given up. Aunt Xia keeps trying, but even she’s getting frustrated. Grandma Wen says everyone’s being too kind, and that all this babying is only encouraging weakness, that it’s time to get tough. It makes me sad, but I get angry, too. We fought before I left. At least, I fought. Mom didn’t say a word.”

  “Why won’t she speak?”

  “Because her heart is broken. She thinks you’re dead, Dad. We all do. Or did. How did you get here?” Ling asked.

  “I went to explore the Abyss,” Shan began.

  Ling nodded, remembering that day. It was the last time anyone had seen him. When evening came and he still hadn’t returned home, his three brothers went to search for him. All they found was the seaflax bag he used to hold his ancient treasures. Ling had known, from the expressions on their faces when they returned, that the worst had happened. The grief she’d felt was searing.

  “I dove deep that day and while I was down I found the usual—bones and fossils,” Shan explained. “But then I came upon something really amazing: an ancient puzzle ball carved from white coral.”

  Ling’s pulse quickened. Her father had discovered Sycorax’s talisman. “It’s the white ball the death riders are searching for.”

  Shan nodded. “It was decorated with a phoenix and covered with writing,” he said. “The characters were from an ancient language that terragoggs from China spoke. I couldn’t translate much, but I did make out the word Atlantis.”

  “Dad, where is it?” Ling asked. Please, she thought, please tell me it’s somewhere safe.

  Shan was about to answer when a harsh shout was heard. It came from the infirmary, but his eyes took on a wary look nonetheless. “We need to make sure we’re seen working. Come on,” he said, tugging on Ling’s sleeve.

  They swam back inside. Shan slipped another pebble into the mouth of another dead prisoner, then he and Ling carried the body to the death cart. Shan continued speaking as they worked, making sure to keep his voice low so that only Ling could hear him.

  “When I ascended from the Abyss, mermen were waiting for me,” he explained. “Their leader wanted to know if I’d found anything. I told them I hadn’t, but he didn’t believe me. He told his men to search me. Something inside told me not to let them get the puzzle ball, so I pulled it out of my bag and threw it back.”

  Threw it back? No! was Ling’s first reaction. He’d had it in his bag, and now it was back in the Abyss. But better that, she knew, than for it to be in Orfeo’s hands.

  “I didn’t know it then,” Shan continued, “but the mermen who stopped me were death riders. They beat me silly for throwing the puzzle ball back and brought me here. I wish I knew why they want it so badly.”

  “Because it’s an incredibly powerful magical talisman that belonged to Sycorax, one of the six mages of Atlantis,” Ling said.

  Shan looked stunned. “How do you know that?” he asked.

  Ling glanced around to make sure no guards were nearby. “Because the Iele summoned me to the River Olt. So I went. And found out that everything we know about Atlantis is nothing but some serious spin perpetrated by Merrow.” She looked at her father again. “Um, Dad? Close your mouth, okay? In case a guard sees you,” she said.

  Shan did so, and Ling, talking fast, told him everything that had happened since she’d left her village—ending with her arrival at the camp.

  Shan was stunned when she finished. “That was a truly insane thing to do, Ling. And a truly brave one,” he finally said. “So Rafe Mfeme is Orfeo? Mfeme the terragogg? Ling, are you sure?”

  “Positive,” Ling said, shuddering at the memory of Orfeo’s empty, soulless eyes. “And Vallerio’s in league with him. Orfeo’s helping him take over the mer realms one by one. When Vallerio’s got them all, he’s going to combine their armies, help Orfeo free Abbadon, and the
n they’ll attack the underworld. If that happens, the gods themselves will fight against Orfeo. But Orfeo doesn’t care if he destroys the mer realms, the terragogg realms, the entire world, as long as he gets his wife back. If we don’t get the talismans before he does, we’re goners.”

  Shan nodded. The dazed expression on his face receded and a determined one took its place.

  “That can’t happen,” he said. “You have to escape. You have to find the puzzle ball and get back to your friends.”

  “That’s a great idea, Dad,” said Ling. “But there’s a slight problem…there’s no way out of here.”

  Shan looked at the bodies they’d just carried out. They were lying three deep in the rickety death cart.

  Then he looked at his daughter.

  “Actually, Ling,” he said, “there is.”

  ASTRID FLATTENED HERSELF against a wall of ice and peered around a corner.

  Lights were on in the upper floor of the house that Ludovico di Merrovingia shared with his family. Huge, with a circular courtyard, an ornate facade, and sprawling stables, the house was located on the outskirts of the Citadel at the bottom of the iceberg.

  The dimly lit passageway that ran through this part of the Citadel was empty, but Astrid was still wary. As soon as it was discovered that Desiderio had escaped from the dungeons, Rylka’s guards would be visiting Ludo’s house. Maybe they were already there.

  “Any sign of life?” Desiderio whispered.

  “Someone’s home. Hopefully just your uncle,” Astrid said, tightly gripping the old saber she was still carrying.

  She and Desiderio swam swiftly out of the alleyway, through Ludo’s courtyard, to his front door. Des lifted the heavy doorknocker and banged it down twice. Astrid winced at the noise it made.

  A few seconds later, the door opened. Astrid expected to see a servant, but it was Ludo himself.

  “Thank the gods,” he said, when he saw his nephew. He ushered Desiderio and Astrid inside and locked the door behind them. Then he hugged his nephew tightly.

  “I didn’t know who I’d see when I opened the door, you or Rylka,” he said.

  “You heard already?” Desiderio said.

  “Yes,” Ludo said. “The entire Citadel’s in an uproar. You”—he nodded at Astrid—“are accused by Rylka of murdering your father. If we could just get to the palace and sit down to talk with Ragnar present, we could put an end to these wild accusations and—”

  Astrid cut him off. “Rylka wouldn’t let that happen. Vallerio wants to take over Ondalina and she’s going to hand it to him. In exchange, Tauno gets to rule Ondalina.”

  “What?” Ludo said, stunned.

  Astrid explained Rylka’s scheme. “But Desiderio and I just wrecked her Plan A,” she finished, “so she’s working on Plan B: executing us. She’ll never allow us to get near Ragnar. I’m sure her soldiers have orders to shoot us on sight.”

  “That’s why we’re here, Uncle Ludo,” Desiderio said. “We need currensea and supplies. We’re going to head to the Kargjord. Serafina’s there. She’s building up an army against Vallerio.”

  “Sera’s alive?” Ludo said. Tears of happiness shone in his eyes. I thought she was dead, Des, and that you soon would be. And now you’ve both been given back to me.” He pulled his nephew into another embrace.

  “Look, this isn’t the time or the place for a family reunion,” Astrid said urgently. “We’ve got to go. But before we do, can you do something for me?”

  She looked around Ludo’s foyer for what she needed. Her eyes traveled over fine furniture, portraits, swords mounted on the walls, and finally came to rest on a glass urn filled with shells. She ripped its lid off and dumped out its contents.

  “What are you doing?” Ludo asked.

  Astrid didn’t answer. She took a few seconds to steel herself against the pain, then touched her fingers to her chest and drew a handful of bloodsongs, all at once. None of the memories was old; all were painful to pull.

  Astrid whirled the red skeins together before they could fade in the water, and stuffed them into the urn. Gasping with pain, she clapped on the lid and held the urn up to the light so she could see what she had. Then she swore under her breath. They weren’t all there.

  She touched her chest again and wrenched out more bloodsongs—one was from the River Olt, another from the convoca with Sera. The pain was awful. By the time she’d added those memories to the ones already in the urn, her face was white.

  So was Ludo’s.

  He’d seen the bloodsongs, too. He’d seen Serafina tell Astrid and the other mermaids in the convoca that it was Vallerio who’d had Isabella assassinated.

  “My brother…our brother,” he said in a broken voice. “How could he do it? How could he kill our sister?” He faltered and had to steady himself against a wall.

  Des took his arm and led him into a nearby chair. “Easy, Uncle Ludo,” he said. “Take a deep breath.”

  Astrid set the urn on a table. “I’m sorry you had to find out about Vallerio like this,” she said, bending down to him.

  Ludo made a visible effort to collect himself, then patted her hand. “You owe me no apologies, Astrid. You saved my nephew’s life.”

  “Can you get the urn to Eyvör?” Astrid asked. “Have her send for Ragnar. The bloodsongs will show them the truth.”

  Ludo nodded. A bit of color had come back into his cheeks. He rose, pulling Astrid up with him. “I’ll get the urn to Eyvör,” he said, carefully stowing it in a cabinet. “I’ll deal with that viper, Vallerio, too. But first, I’ve got to get you both out of here.” There was a closet off the foyer. He yanked its door open and said, “Find warm things for the trip. Take whatever you need. I’ll be right back.”

  He hurried off down a hallway, disappearing through a pair of double doors. A few minutes later, as Astrid and Des were buttoning up some seal-fur parkas, he returned with a bulging pair of panniers.

  “I’ve stuffed them with everything I could find in our kitchen. You should be good for a week. There’s currensea in there, too, as well as a compass, a map, and two daggers.” He handed the bags to Astrid, then swam to a wall and took down two swords sheathed in scabbards. “You’ll need these, also,” he said, giving them to Desiderio. “You couldn’t fight off a guppy with those things,” he added, nodding at the antique sabers Astrid and Des still carried.

  “Thank you, Uncle Ludo. Can you spare us two hippokamps?” asked Desiderio. “We’ve got to put some serious distance between ourselves and Rylka.”

  Ludo shook his head. “All I’ve got right now are foals and their mothers, and a lame gelding.”

  Astrid’s heart sank. They didn’t have a prayer of outswimming Rylka’s soldiers without good strong animals under them.

  “But I do have Elskan. I was supposed to deliver her to the palace tomorrow. She’s fast as lightning,” Ludo said, smiling grimly. “And every bit as deadly.”

  “Elskan?” Astrid said, her eyes widening with alarm. “You mean—”

  Ludo nodded. “The same Elskan your father bought for your mother before he got sick.” He put his hands on his hips and looked Astrid up and down. “You’re pretty good on a hippokamp,” he said. “Think you can handle an orca?”

  THE YOUNG KILLER whale spun around furiously, slamming her powerful tail into the front of her stall.

  “Nobody rides these things, Ludo,” Astrid said, nervously eyeing her. “Nobody but lunatics. And my mother.”

  “You’re a good rider, Astrid. I’ve seen you. Almost as good as Eyvör.

  “Almost won’t count for much when I’m dead,” Astrid said.

  “The important thing is to let her know who’s in charge,” Ludo counseled.

  “I think she already knows who’s in charge. And it’s not me,” Astrid said.

  “Shh, orca. Good girl, Elskan. Good girl,” Ludo said soothingly. He made a series of clicking noises to calm the creature.

  Elskan eyed him. She clicked back, bobbing her head up and down a
few times, then suddenly spun around and slammed her tail into the wall again, opening a crack in it.

  Ludo shook his head. “She’s a fifteen-year-old,” he said. “And she acts like it.”

  On the way to the stables, Ludo had told Astrid and Desiderio that Elskan was fourteen feet long and weighed two and a half tons.

  “Here,” he said now, handing Astrid a metal pail. “Give her a taste of seal. It’ll distract her while I tack her up.”

  He took a bridle fitted with a silver bit from a hook and looped it over his shoulder. Next he lifted a double-seat saddle, a saddle pad, and a girth strap from a nearby rack.

  “Ready?” he asked Astrid.

  Astrid nodded. Her mouth had gone dry.

  Ludo opened the stall door and swam inside. Astrid took a deep breath and followed him.

  “Um, nice knowing you both,” Des said, as he closed the door after them.

  Neither Ludo nor Astrid acknowledged the joke. They were focused on the orca.

  Elskan, scenting a snack, turned to them and opened her very large mouth. Her sharp, conical teeth glinted in the lava light. Each one was three inches long. Astrid tossed her a bloody chunk of meat. Elskan swallowed it in one gulp, then bobbed her head for more.

  For a moment Astrid forgot her fear, awestruck by the creature’s beauty. “She’s magnificent, Ludo,” she said. “No wonder Eyvör had to have her.”

  Elskan swam up to Astrid. She sniffed her, then nosed the bucket. Astrid tossed her another chunk of meat.

  Astrid loved the challenge of mastering her mother’s spirited mounts. She couldn’t songcast, but magic didn’t matter in the hunt. Courage and strength did, and those she had in abundance. Streaking through the water on a hippokamp like Blixt, Astrid felt powerful and in control. What would Elskan be like?

  “She’s super smooth if you handle her well,” Ludo said. He’d placed the saddle on the orca’s back, just in front of her dorsal fin, and was now buckling the girth.

  “And if you don’t?” Astrid asked.