Verse XI

  There were places in Valden that were neither rim nor crater, where manoa and galda gathered to perform the necessary functions of trade. First among these was the Break, a natural crevice in the wall of stone and reef surrounding the city. It had been widened over the ages, shaped and cut by skillful hands until it was a thoroughfare which the twins saw that morning. They had rarely seen the other side, hearing about it mainly from their seniors in craft. Their mother Tefira did good business with the caravans and their singers, and though the galda kept her words precious as pearls on a sinew string, she'd told her daughters plenty.

  "So... this is it," said Jumilla.

  "It would seem," Jumella agreed. She waved to a pair of schoolmates in passing, but otherwise did not acknowledge the hidden stares of the mer galda around them. There were two approaches to the Break, one riding the currents from below and the other descending the slopes from above. Predictably, the twins were the only manoa to be seen in these fathoms. Not a voice was raised but, as they swam through, she felt that the eyes of a city were upon them, wishing them swift currents and good fortune.

  The shape of the clilffs within the Break served to bring the two tribes of mer together, funneling all traffic to the same fathoms as the markets outside. The stone shelf of the marketplace still bore the hallmarks of the ancient crafters who had hewn it from the side of the outer cliffs, and from it sprouted all colors of tents like delicate coral. Strong currents above kept most mers within a few tail's-lengths of the shops, and the manoa merchants took every opportunity to praise their wares to those traveling to or from the city.

  Jumilla stopped in front of one such tent, its fabric colored the yellow-brown of the stone-shapers sept. On a mat in front, an array of trinkets was on display. "Oh, how beautiful!" she exclaimed.

  "They should be; you made them," Jumella whispered in her ear.

  "Only some of them," Jumilla hissed back. "Now let's gush a bit more and help Mom make a sale today before we go, hm?"

  Their mother's chuckle preceded her face as it stuck out the front of the tent. "No need." One clawed hand waved them closer. "Come to say goodbye?"

  "We would never leave without that," Jumella assured her.

  "Just wishing you could see us all the way out," Jumilla added.

  Tefira min Alfasia held an arm out straight, bubbles shaking from fringed scales into the waters, and made a sharp motion of dismissal from the wrist. "Silly daughters. Always with you. Here." A wrapped package of kelp passed from her side to theirs. "For you. Some things to wear. Help others tell you apart." Their mother chuckled again at her own joke.

  When unbundled, a pair of pearl earrings were revealed. One of the pair was set on Jumilla's left ear. The other went on Jumella's right. "There," said their mother. Show them off. Tell others whence they came."

  "Thank you, Mom." It didn't matter which twin said it; they spoke for both. Tefira waved farewell to her daughters as they shouldered their carry-packs and continued the swim into new and unfamiliar waters. No other merchants bothered them on the way out, though several of the galda crafters spread crests to them. They made furtive signs of their own, a hand to the forehead with the fingers spread, and then they were away.

  Beyond the market shelf was the long current to the Port of Valden, where the caravans docked. Arches of stone marked with runes helped to provide a steady flow in both directions, safe from the regular turbulence of the local waters. The crowds thinned as the twins entered the current, only to regather in number as they approached the other end. Many were the manoa who had business back and forth that day, it would seem. It was all Jumilla could do not to stare at all those flattened faces, with their hair tied or unbound, their scales unfringed but possessed of a broad collection of individual colors. Not a one proved to be the same particular shade of russet that the twins sported, but that did not keep the two daughters from looking carefully at any that came close. Colors often schooled in the same family, it was said, and if they could find--

  At the end of the long current was a second shelf of stone, broad and flat with mooring towers at the far edges. In the center, a great school of mers was gathered, showing more colors together than the twins could ever have imagined. Hair dark or bright, scales patterned or straight, wearing bright colors that put the twins' working garb to shame.

  Jumilla's first thought was one of despair: Could we be related to any of these mers?

  Jumella's was one of disgust: We can not be related to these mers.

  There was a party in progress, loud and gay: singing and dancing and curling of flukes together. The guest of honor, a tall mer with blue-black hair, was being toasted and kissed in turn by her friends with an enthusiasm that had the twins turning a uniform shade of red from the embarrassment of seeing others acting so. It was a subtly different color from the flushed tones of the partygoers, all red in the face and giggling in was that made Jumilla uneasy. Were they...?

  "Fizzed in the head," Jumella stated with distaste. Closer in, they could see the sacs being passed around. Tapered sweet pods were shared, their tastes flowing on the waters for the mers to enjoy. Below the shouts and songs, the waters fizzed with giggles. "Let's... let us move on."

  "Yeah..." Jumilla felt her face shift in shade from red to slightly off-green as she watched. By unspoken agreement, they swam in a long arc around the manoa, leaving the partygoers to their business.

  If only the partygoers would return the courtesy. They had almost completely skirted the crowd before anyone noticed their presence. The one who did was a short little manoa, barely half the size of either sister, with hair the same blue-black as the center of the party and bound into straight spikes like an urchin upon her head. A bright red flush had spread across her face, down her neck, and was now advancing across her half-exposed chest. One had held a small sac while the other dipped into it frequently to deliver treats with unsteady fingers.

  "H-hey," the mer stammered. "You here to, to see me and 'Strella off?" A grin wobbled across her face. "Name's Tachiana. Friends call me Tachi."

  "It is nice to meet you, Tachiana," Jumilla lied, plainly and boldly. One look at her face should have revealed all, only the spiky-haired mer seemed to be having trouble focusing. "We must be on our way.

  "Aw... but 'cha just got here... We just got here... um, no, just 'boutta leave, yeah..." Tachi's face wobbled around her grin. "Time to bid us fare... farewell, right? Last bit 'a fun together?" The little sac was thrust towards the twins. A sour taste spread over the waters between them. "Want some? Loosen up, have fun with li'l Tachi?" A wink was aimed at Jumilla, only for it to miss the mark.

  "I would rather lick a live higgly," came the reply, as barbed as Jumilla could make it. Having never seen the noxious mine-dweller in question, famed for its ability to create copious amounts of slime, Tachi had to return to the party with only the impression that she'd just been insulted, without knowing by how great a degree.

  *

  The great shelf that made the foundation of the Port of Valden was broad, and yet not broad enough. From a mooring tower in the southeastern corner, a pair of older eyes watched the ongoing revelry with a sad shake of disgust and wished it to more distant waters. That feeling turned to approval as the sisters passed the party by and headed straight to the caravan moorings. Berenice had been swimming with the currents for three decades now, starting not much older than these partygoers, and now, greyer of hair and scale, she considered herself to be a good judge of character. Tachiana and Estrella din Hillia had registered their shells before their friends had schooled in for their farewells, and even then the caravanner could tell she'd be well off without them once they arrived in Bryndoon.

  Not like the russet pair approaching now. They had a more dependable swell to them.

  "Tefira's two, are ya?" she asked before they had a chance to show their shells. The looks of surprise were a welcome spot of amusement that morning, but she let them off easy. "Met your ma once. Does fine work, she does." Berenice turned her head to show the coral stud in her left earlobe. "Got a set for me and my Lena. Glad to do her a favor in return like this."

  "Ah, do the other mers know..." began one of the sisters. Berenice knew she'd have to get their names straight soon.

  Her head shook. "Nay, just me. I do the hiring and the directing, so I get to talk with your lady in blue from time to time. Was she who asked me, and asked me to be discreet." She looked the two of them over more closely. Berenice had certainly never seen such a matched pair, and for a beat entertained the fancy that the galda had crafted their manoa daughters as a set. She was relieved once she realized they weren't in fact perfect doubles. One was a little broader in the nose, the other just a smidge more pointed in the chin. She'd have no trouble telling them apart once she knew what to call them.

  "Jumella min Tefira?" The one with the nose nodded. She had a pearl on her right earlobe that was surely her ma's making.

  "And Jumilla min Tefira?" The other had a wide grin over her chin and a pearl on the left earlobe.

  "Gonna take your word for it, lasses, though I'd expect everyone to be calling you Jumie and Millie by the end of the day." Berenice returned the grin. "The two of you are supposed to have shells. If I may...?" The caravanner nodded as she inspected the etched scallops. Finely done, all official-like and everything. Elshia had outdone herself. "These are working permits, as I'm sure you're aware. Carry and tow as necessary, cook if you can... or not," she said, seeing the look on Millie's face.

  The sister with the nose, Millie, straightened her shoulders and held her head just like a galda might when she spread her crest. "We shall learn whatever we need to," the mer declared.

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  "And I'm sure ya will, lasses. Be polite, be attentive, and the ladies on the floats here'll be happy to teach ya, too. Now, one last thing: fighting. There are some nasty things out in the open waters, as I'm sure some mers have told ya, but it's one thing to hear and 'nother to see. Rare caravan what doesn't at least see something out in the depths, and always a few every season that simply never arrive. I know your, ah, your folk ain't the sort of mers to fight, but..." She gestured to the rock wall of the mooring tower, where various bags and tools had been left hanging.

  Among the equipment was a pair of weighted hammers -- rounded, heavy stones tied round with cords of kelp that were twirled and woven together to make a length of twice an arm's span. A handle was fitted to the end of the cable. Hammers like that were made for cracking hard shells in one hit, and were too heavy for most mers to carry with ease. The sisters, Berenice was pleased to see, hefted them once, shared a mirrored shrug, and helped each other tie their new weapons to their travel packs.

  A-yup, Berenice thought to herself. Strong and dependable, just like their folk raised 'em. She for one was interested in seeing what Ser Gillian's little experiment here would stir up. And while she waited, she could put the lasses to work. The last of the luggage was stowed in the trailing float well before the party ended.

  Verse XII

  At its topmost reaches, the expanses that sometimes rose to within a mer's height of the firmament itself, the Grandest Reef showed its greatest bounties. Coral grew in all shapes and hues, and colorful fish sheltered in the crevices. Tiny slugs swam or crawled amid beds of softest weed, and crabs fought their wars upon the peaks. It was a beautiful sea, though not one for mers who prefered the lower fathoms and deeper currents. The shine of the firmament at late afternoon hurt the eyes and warmed the skin uncomfortably.

  But a smidge of discomfort would be worth it for the prey if the predators liked it less.

  "How many did you count?" Ardenne murmured to Sera from out of the corner of her mouth. The two of them were hunkered down behind a colony of bright pink sponges. The lumpy, rounded pillars were anchored along the edge of a natural crevasse, and the space behind them went far lower than it seemed from the other side. The green-haired mer had known this from younger days spent playing with her mother, and she blessed the memory now. Let those who would hunt the hunter learn the error of their current.

  "Five." Down within the crevasse, Sera took the time to tie her hair back with a sinew cord and fit it all beneath her concealing snood. "Names are Amina, Shalar, Consta... and the other two. Never heard those." The red mer thought for a moment. "Saw a few sparring matches. Shalar's the one to watch for. Dark brown hair, long knives. Knows how to use them."

  "I see her." The way the sponges grew from their anchors, there were natural spy-holes for a mer to peek through. Ardenne had found one such between two pink mounds. Her green hair was now bound in several thick queues, tied up at the ends but otherwise floating freely. From this distance, the Bryndoon soldiers would see only the color and the outline of kelp, without the local know-how to realize no kelp grew on these heights. "She's floating in place about three dozen tail-lengths downcurrent. The others look to be farther out."

  A muttered word of annoyance drifted up from below. "Taking their time. Pretty sure we're up here somewhere, and rightly so. No route away what doesn't leave us exposed, unless you know something I don't."

  She didn't and there wasn't, so Ardenne said nothing. Her hand was on her spear, stroking it to calm her own nerves, but nothing would change the fact that she had no options in this muddy mess. From her vantage point, the coral mass of the heights sloped gently downward for a few hundred tail-lengths before dropping out of sight. It was the same for the expanse of coral behind her. No other hiding spots were available for anyone larger than a young daughter. And so again, no real options. Go one way, reveal herself. Go another way, get the same outcome. Wait, and be found out eventually. Five versus two was not the sort of fight she wanted to have.

  Neither of them had wanted to brave the heights, but Sera had feared that more of the soldiers under Grett's command would be following soon. The red mer had been right, damn her. Their best bet had been to make the pursuit more trouble than it was worth by climbing towards the firmament at its brightest and least comfortable.

  Unfortunately, they had left bodies in their wake. Three living bodies this time, true, but assault was still assault. The mers from Bryndoon had only one way of responding to attacks on their own, Ardenne now understood. Swarms of stinging darter snails were less tenacious.

  "Gotta make a break for it soon," Sera advised. The red mer was preparing her blow-shells, stoppered with the last four wads of paralytic purple weed. "Lucky, take out two or three with Ferga's Rest. Not all five. Unlucky..." She let the wake of the words dissolve into the waters.

  Ardenne nodded and took one of the slender shells from the other mer, being careful to keep one finger capping the mouthpiece and the rest of herself as far removed from the sickly purple-veined mud on the other end as possible. She positioned herself between the pink mounds of sponge, counting backwards from ten and forwards from naught to clear her mind. Brown-haired Shalar, two-knives Shalar, was only a dozen tail-lengths distant now. Just a little bit closer, and it would be time to act.

  The shadows moved before she could; swathes of dusk floated over the surface of the reef. Those few large fish that had ignored the arrival of mers now beat their fins and swam with haste to safer waters.

  Three large shapes now floated above, brushing the firmament itself with their bulk. From below, their bellies were a greyish white, shading to black along the sides. Two large, black flippers held the body steady as powerful flukes pushed forward. Teeth flashed between the not-quite lips that formed a permanent leer below a blunted snout.

  Someone had sighted orcs upon the heights, Elder Raqua had said, forever ago that morning.

  Orcs were here now.

  *

  Which would be more appropriate, praises to the Mother of All or curses foul enough to funge even the depths of the indigo hell? After a moment's thought, Sera decided on neither. Orcs and their ilk were known for their sensitive hearing. The presence of the powerful beasts called for a change of plans, however, as well as one last trick from the pouches at her waist.

  Her friends back in Mezzeret would joke that no matter the occasion, no matter the need, Sera the Red would always have the right item in her pockets. An exaggeration, that was, but she did her best to make it the truth. She hadn't lived as long as she had, doing the things she did, without learning the benefits of being overly prepared. It was the things a mer couldn't plan for that would get her killed, but on the opposite side, the things the enemy didn't know she'd prepared... well, those were the things that saved her.

  "New plan." She nudged Ardenne and took the blow-shell back. The wad of Ferga's Rest returned to its kelpen wrap, hopefully not too stale from the exposure to open water. There would certainly be a time to use it later. But for now, she handed the green-haired hunter a lazy loaf of a dark red cuke in a scrap of weave. The living lump with the wiggly bits on one end had made its home in her pocket for some time, enjoying the warmth and the occasional feeding, and now sadly it was time to bid it farewell.

  "Count of three," she said to her confused companion. "Squeeze as hard as you can. Right. One, two, three!"

  Ardenne wrung the cuke with all her strength, crushing its innards and forcing an ugly red ink out its maw and into the water. The color, as well as the way it floated and curled in the currents, brought to mind wisps of blood. There was none of the taste, and the red mer was thankful for that much, but from a distance there would be no other clue that it wasn't the real thing.

  And then Sera began to scream.

  It was a strong, well practiced blast of noise that welled up from her throat. Not everyone could have managed it on command. Great control over the throat muscles had to be exercised to make sure that her air bladders were not emptied in one short rush. Sound and bubbles erupted from her mouth in a steady stream, accompanying the false blood from the sponge in Ardenne's hands. She kept at it, even as her chest compressed and shrank beneath the vest and belts, but there came the point where it wasn't physically possible for her to continue. The scream cut off abruptly, like it had itself been stabbed to death.

  The green mer, bless her heart, actually looked worried for her. Sera settled to the bottom of their shared crevasse, put a finger to her lips, and winked.

  In the waters above and before the patch of pink sponge, the five mers of Bryndoon reacted just as she could have hoped. Predictable, those soldiers were. When given three details -- namely orcs, screams, and blood in the water -- even the dullest of wits could make the connection. Nor was any amount of imagination required to grasp what would happen to a mer if she were stupid enough to hang around in such a situation.

  A grunt from Ardenne, still at the spy-hole: "They're leaving."

  Fleeing, better to say. The five in red and gold were gone faster than a school of frightened anchovies. Their meager imaginations must have been brimming with gory details to inform their lieutenant of the quarry's fate. It didn't matter if any of them were true. Who would have the guts among them to come check?

  "Good," wheezed Sera as she pushed herself up from the coral. Those two words were hard-won. It wasn't often that she emptied her air bladders to such an extent, and her body was reminding her just why not. Her chest had become one large, crushing ache as the muscles surrounding the bladders clenched upon emptiness. Awful as it felt, she might have done it again for the chance to see the looks on the soldiers' faces for herself.

  All her effort barely warranted a nod from the green hunter, though. Perhaps the other mer didn't see the sense in rewarding crazy behavior. Sera understood, even if she disagreed.

  "Good..." she repeated. An attempt to steady herself in the water ended in a wobble and a quick descent back to the bed of sponges. A feeling of weight pressed down on her chest and she heard the hunter swear softly.

  Swears or prayers, neither would help. The red mer wouldn't be able to maintain her balance or buoyancy properly until her air bladders were able to refill. Even a smidge would do, but until then, she was dead in the water. From the look on Ardenne's face, the hunter was not in the mood to wait until then.

  "Mother bless me, but I never thought I'd have to..." the green mer said as she pushed Sera back against the sponge, pinning dark green scales against crimson. Taking two handfuls of red hair, the hunter tilted Sera's head back to straighten the throat.

  A smart one, this daughter of the reef. Sera met green eyes with her own blue and gave the barest of nods. She swallowed twice to clear her mouth of water and then smirked as she waited for Ardenne to work up the nerve for what needed to be done next.

  They were nice lips the hunter had, she thought. As she wasn't able to do much else, she could at least enjoy the sensation as Ardenne planted them firmly on her waiting mouth and held steady. From the green mer's chest bladders, bubbles of air made the passage up through the mouth and past the joining of their sealed lips. It only took a few beats to grant her the air she needed to steady herself, but by then her arms were working well enough that she could hold the hunter close and keep the kiss going a verse longer.

  Just to say thanks. It was only polite. "Ah..." escaped the sigh of satisfaction from her throat as Ardenne finally pulled away. "That was nice."

  "Don't take it the wrong way," said the green mer. "I need your help to find my mother, and you'd not even serve as orc bait, the way you were."

  "Not scared of them, hm? Thought Sangolian mers and orcs were pals." Sera eased her body up to the ridge of the crevasse to get a better look.

  "Where in the deepest depths of the indigo hell did you get an idea like that?" hissed Ardenne. "We're lucky your little act hasn't brought an entire pod down on us! Don't you know anything about orcs? They're vicious, tenacious, ravenous..."

  "Gone."

  A pause, perhaps three beats, then: "What?"

  "Gone. Soldiers and orcs." Sera stretched her neck further, scanning the waters between reef and firmament. "Currents look clear for now. Best get going. Got a friend making a stop on the other side of the reef here on the overmorrow. Coming with?"

  "You are completely insane. You know that, right?"

  "Been told so. Somehow survive even myself," Sera added with a wink. "But look. Soldiers think you're dead, or they should soon. With you gone, they don't tarry on the currents back to Bryndoon with your mom in tow. It's their waters, but fewer guards. Lazier ones, too. Better chance to get her back, hm? And I got a ride. Still think I'm crazy?"

  "Yes."

  She shrugged, even if the motion made her wince. "Fair enough. Offer's still good."

  Ardenne leaned her head forward as she considered. Green bangs fell across her eyes. "Not much of a choice, is it?" A sigh flushed through the hunter's gills.

  "Not as such, no. Unless you like giving up."

  That bought Sera a deep green glare. "Never."