We pitched our tents, laid out bedrolls, dug latrines, and tended to the horses, a tedious routine that had become second nature. Khara had sent an advance party into the forest to cut logs for a rough palisade, a circular barrier of pointed stakes set into the ground to block intruders. Erecting it was a huge job and one that lasted well beyond sunset, but Khara insisted that every camp be strong enough to defend. If we were attacked, we wouldn’t easily be overrun. And when we moved on, the palisade would remain behind for the use of the villagers, if they wished it.
That evening I stopped by Maxyn’s tent, which he shared with Renzo and Dog. He was alone, settled on a blanket near a flickering candle stub. A wooden crutch lay on the floor. Maxyn had been badly injured when he was taken captive by some of the Murdano’s soldiers, and he was still recovering from his wounds.
We touched noses. “How are you feeling, Maxyn?”
“Better every day, Byx.”
I gazed down at him. His eyes were darker than mine, his shoulders wider. He had fur the color of straw and long, silky ears. We were different in many ways, as you’d expect from individuals in a species.
Still, Maxyn was my mirror. When I looked at him, I saw myself. So few dairnes were left in the world that I felt a little shock of familiarity each time we crossed paths.
“You’re staring again, Byx.”
“Oh . . . sorry,” I said, flustered. “It’s just that when I see you, I sort of see me.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No. No, of course not! But it makes me remember how alone we are. Dairnes, I mean.”
“When I see you, I feel relieved,” Maxyn said. “And happy.”
I smiled. “How’s the leg?” I pointed to a dusty splint on his right foot.
“Well, I won’t be racing into battle anytime soon, but it’s improving.” Maxyn shifted position, grimacing. “How are you feeling about tomorrow? I wish I could go with you.”
During dinner, Khara had shared the details of my mission with her closest advisers. Like me, Tobble and Renzo were determined to do their best. Also like me, they were extremely nervous about visiting the realm of the natites. There was nothing normal about air-breathing species spending time far beneath the sea.
“Natites give me the shivers,” said Maxyn. “Strangest creatures I’ve ever seen. Except maybe for terramants.”
Terramants are giant insect-like creatures with triangular heads and gnashing jaws. Natites come in many shapes and sizes, but all are water-breathers with multiple gills. Their heads are shaped like the bow of a ship, and they have tentacles, arms and legs, webbing between their fingers, and long feet ending in flexible fins.
“I know what you mean,” I said, trying not to think about the trip ahead of me, where there would be no shortage of natites. “Although I think terramants are more terrifying. Those six spiny legs and the bulbous eyes! They remind me of the assassin spiders we used to find under rocks when I was little. Only a thousand times bigger.” I sighed. “At least natites look vaguely familiar. Sort of part human, part fish.”
Maxyn nodded. “You’ll leave first thing in the morning?”
“The natite ambassador is meeting Renzo, Tobble, and me at a bend in the river not far from here. Khara will introduce us, and then . . . well, who knows?”
“You’ll be fine,” Maxyn said with a wink, and his confidence made me feel a bit better.
We talked for a while longer, and then I headed to the tent Tobble and I shared. Technically, it was Gambler’s tent as well, but he preferred to stay outside, stalking the periphery of the camp. Felivets are nocturnal by nature, and, though Gambler tried to adapt to our daylight marches, it was difficult for him to suppress his instinct to roam at night.
I slept uneasily and awoke before dawn, surprised not to hear Tobble’s familiar seesaw snoring. He was wide awake, staring at the tent ceiling, paws clutching his worn green blanket.
“Tobble?” I said. “Are you all right?”
He sat up, ears quivering, a forced smile on his face. “Of course I’m all right. I’m right as rain, whatever that means. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
“Because you’re about to travel underwater to a palace full of fish people?”
Tobble gave a little laugh. “I’m just glad we’re going together, Byx.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
When Tobble and I emerged from our tent, laden down with our heavy packs, Khara, Renzo, and Dog were already waiting. The cooks had prepared a large iron pot simmering with tea, and we each ladled some into mugs.
“I want to go over this again so you’re all clear,” Khara said. “The natites are unknown to us, for the most part. We have no idea what they want. But if we’re to stop this war between Nedarra and Dreyland, they could be extremely helpful.”
“Do you really think the natites could stop a Nedarran naval movement?” Tobble asked.
“No ship moves upon the deep without the permission of the natites,” said Khara. “Which is why”—she looked straight at Renzo—“you must be on your best behavior.”
Renzo patted Dog’s head. “So no stealing unless I think they won’t notice it?”
“The first three words of what you just said? Stop there.”
“Fine.” Renzo made an exasperated face. “Why are you sending me if I can’t even pick up a few baubles?”
“Because, despite all appearances, and despite most of what you say, Renzo, you are not entirely witless, and I think Byx may actually profit from your advice.”
“Also, you’re the only one big enough to carry that shield,” said Gambler as he sauntered over to join us.
Khara put a finger to her lips. “Shhh, don’t tell Renzo he’s just a beast of burden.”
“I would like to strenuously object, just one more time, to the idea that we are going to give away the Subdur crown and shield to another natite queen,” said Renzo. “I braved molten lava to reach those objects. Without my breathtaking agility and my awe-inspiring bravery, we wouldn’t have them.” He grinned. “Also, they’re worth a fortune, and then some.”
The crown and shield were artifacts claimed by the Subdur natites, a small and extremely odd renegade natite group that lived in a vast underground lake. One of the objects, which Tobble had dubbed a “Far-Near,” was a miraculous tube that made distant objects appear close. Unfortunately, we’d had to part with it, but we still possessed a dramatic, jewel-encrusted crown and a large shield.
“I’ve long suspected that the crown, the shield, and the Far-Near were stolen by the Subdur clan from other natites,” said Khara. “Their queen, Lar Camissa, certainly spoke evasively when she discussed them with us.” She shrugged. “In any case, offering these gifts to the dominant natite ruler helps prove our sincerity and commitment. It’s all part of diplomacy, Renzo. Sorry.”
Renzo had the shield strapped to his back, camouflaged by burlap wrapping. He carried a small leather bag, which he handed to me.
“I’ve got the shield,” he said with a sigh. “But I’m not sure I trust myself with the crown.”
Khara shook her head. “Well, you know yourself best.”
I removed the crown and slid it into my pouch. Like marsupials, dairnes have pouches on our stomachs. The crown was uncomfortable—a bit pointy—but I knew it would be easier than carrying an extra bag along with my usual pack and my sword. They don’t mention it in the epic stories of long-ago heroes, but even small swords like mine are surprisingly heavy.
“So. The decision is yours to make, Byx,” said Khara. “Do you trust these natites or not? Do you believe they can and will help the Army of Peace? We don’t have weeks and weeks to play games. We need to know the natite mind. This is the first diplomatic step in our effort to stop the war. And it may prove to be the most important.”
“I—I’ll try,” I said. My quavering voice betrayed me, and my stomach was churning like a rough sea. I truly didn’t need Khara to remind me that I was carrying a giant lo
ad of responsibility.
I might help stop a war and save thousands of lives.
Or not.
“Gambler,” said Renzo, “since this trip will be brief and we need to travel light, I’m entrusting Dog to your care in my absence.”
Dog attempted to give the felivet a sloppy kiss, but he was met with a paw nearly as big as Dog’s head.
“You two play nice,” said Renzo, and Gambler snarled.
“So. Are we ready, my friends?” I asked, trying to sound resolute.
“Always,” Renzo replied, but Tobble shook his head.
“Breakfast first. If I’m going to die, I plan to do it on a full stomach.”
6
Ambassador Byx
Just downstream from the village, the Telarno River made a lazy bend, forming a muddy brown pool shaded by willows. It was a short distance from camp, so Khara, Renzo, Tobble, and I approached on foot. Bodick and three soldiers followed behind us at a respectable distance. Khara wanted to send a clear message that the Army of Peace was just that: peaceful.
The natite was awaiting our arrival, or so Khara assured me. Still, I saw nothing.
“Ambassador! Ambassador Delgaroth!” she called.
The water parted with barely a ripple as he rose to the surface. Delgaroth was the deep blue of the sky just before night, with dazzling green markings on his flanks and face. His eyes were large for a natite, with dark blue irises surrounded by soft turquoise. When he blinked, it was with one or both of his two sets of eyelids. The first set was opaque, the second translucent. I’d been told that the clear eyelids allowed natites to see beneath the water.
“Good morning to you, Ambassador,” said Khara with a nod.
“And to you, Lady Kharassande of the Donatis,” Delgaroth said.
I was surprised by how easy he was to understand. Natites struggle to enunciate clearly when they’re breathing air. He also spoke quite loudly, almost shouting, perhaps because he normally spoke underwater.
“I present my very good friends and companions, Renzo and Tobble, and my ambassador, Byx of the dairnes,” said Khara.
I gulped, hearing the words “my ambassador” spoken aloud. I had to remind myself that Khara was talking about me.
Delgaroth barely glanced at Renzo and Tobble. Instead he focused his intense gaze on me.
“You are the dairne.”
“As you see,” I said, somewhat embarrassed. I felt as if I should bow, which would have been ridiculous.
Delgaroth pursed his dark red lips, taking us all in. “Our journey will take most of two days.”
“Is there a boat?” Renzo asked, though there was no craft in sight.
“A boat of a different sort than perhaps you are used to.” Delgaroth pointed with one of his six tentacles. “It lies at the bottom of the river.”
Renzo and I exchanged an uncomfortable look.
“Yes,” Renzo whispered, “he said ‘at the bottom.’”
I’d been afraid of this. We’d already had the bizarre experience of traveling underwater once before, courtesy of natite theurgy. Suspended in giant bubbles, we’d survived, but it had been surreal and disturbing, to say the least.
Delgaroth climbed out of the water and sat on the riverbank. “Can each of you swim?” he asked.
We could, though no one was happy about the idea of demonstrating. Renzo said, “I’m carrying this, um . . . heavy object. To be honest, I think it would be hard for me to swim with it.”
“Do you care to name the object?” Delgaroth inquired politely.
I spoke up before Renzo could. “Perhaps later, when we meet your queen, we will have time for the telling of stories.”
Delgaroth let my response pass, although he sent a puzzled look my way. “If you are ready, I invite you to board my humble craft. You have only to wade into the river. You will be quite safe, I assure you, encased in thousands of tiny bubbles. But be careful not to let the river’s current knock you over. You land creatures are forever falling over.”
“As the leader of this expedition, Byx,” Renzo said, taking a step back, “you clearly should go first.”
“Nonsense,” I argued, “I should go last.”
“I’m certainly not going first,” Tobble said. He was a capable swimmer, but that didn’t seem to be moving him.
In the end, we agreed to go at the same time. The riverbank was about a foot higher than the water itself, which meant the first step would be a jump, an uncertain plunge into the depths. We automatically took deep breaths and then, with Renzo counting down on his fingers—one, two, three—we leapt into the unknown.
And splashed into ankle-deep water.
I am no judge of natite faces, but I am quite sure Delgaroth was trying his best not to laugh at us.
Khara, on the other hand, was doubled over laughing.
Thus began my ambassadorship.
How do I explain the odd sensation of walking into a river, water surrounding you on all sides, while remaining completely dry? It was theurgy, of course, and it was never a good idea to rely too much on magic, but Delgaroth’s spells were powerful. Even up to my neck in the icy brown water, I was dry.
“It grows deeper quickly,” Delgaroth warned as he jumped back into the river. “I will guide you.”
I paused and watched as Renzo took a step—the water was only up to his waist—then another tentative step. Another few inches and he toppled forward, arms flailing. “Aah!” he cried as he disappeared under the rushing river.
He was up in a flash, standing in chest-high water, which was to say well above my head and far above Tobble, who was still near the bank.
“Hey, it’s working!” Renzo said. “And it tickles!”
“Here goes,” I said. I held my breath and submerged. To my delight and relief, the tiny theurgic bubbles extended up and over my head. I took a cautious breath. The bubbles rushed into my nose, popping and fizzing.
Air!
If walking underwater is hard, breathing is harder. Every instinct screams don’t! And yet there I was, breathing underwater in tight little gasps that prickled my throat and made me want to laugh.
Although I’d visited the underwater realm before, this was quite different. Instead of an occasional wave, we faced a constant current. As Delgaroth had predicted, I had a difficult time keeping my feet under me.
“Help!” I heard a garbled Tobble through the shallow water. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a problem, but help!”
Tobble’s tiny legs kicked frantically as he rushed past me, enclosed in his own bubble. I snatched at his foot but missed. Renzo, on the other side, was unable to do anything but flail.
Away went Tobble, a wobbyk in a bubble.
And not a happy wobbyk.
I was about to pop to the surface and swim after him, but I caught a flash of something shooting past at amazing speed. Delgaroth, in his natural element. The natite ambassador grabbed Tobble easily. He reached into a silver pack slung over his shoulder and handed Tobble a small brick.
“Hold on to this, friend wobbyk,” Delgaroth said. “It’s kurz. A heavy metal found beneath the sea.”
With the kurz in his hands, Tobble was weighed down just enough. I could keep his feet on the riverbed by gripping his shoulder.
“Well, that was exciting,” he said, voice shaky.
“We’ll be all right,” I said.
“I’d be more convinced if I couldn’t feel your hand trembling.”
“I have more kurz,” said Delgaroth, glancing at Renzo and me, “if it’s needed.”
We both shook our heads. With the shield and crown as ballast, we were having an easier time than Tobble.
“Follow me, and if you have any further difficulty, you need only scream,” Delgaroth called.
“Oh, we’ll scream, all right,” said Renzo. His voice, like mine and Tobble’s, was muffled. Strangely, Delgaroth’s voice had actually grown clearer. Something in the nature of natite voices made them sound almost musical underwater.
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A big catfish swam by, eyeing me disapprovingly. I felt the constant push of the water, but by leaning into it I was able to keep my footing. The riverbed, something I’d rarely glimpsed from the surface, was a mix of colorful, swirling sand and sparkling rocks. Here and there I saw tangled strings of riverweed and occasional patches of what looked like tall, blue-striped grass.
At last, near what must have been the midpoint of the river, we came to something that was not sand or rock, weed or fish. It was a craft, floating above the riverbed at about twice my height. Though not nearly as grand as an oceangoing ship, it was perhaps ten times as long as I was tall. And it lacked one vital element of a sailing ship: it had no sail. Pointed at both back and front, it glistened in a muted rainbow that changed colors with each new shaft of light.
“It is called a barcabrena,” Delgaroth explained.
“What’s it made of?” I asked, hoping for reassurance.
“Horn,” Delgaroth said. “Two horns, in fact. From narvaliks, a type of fish.”
“Horns? On a fish?”
Delgaroth may have smiled. “There are many more mysteries in the deep places than you can imagine, Ambassador Byx.”
And there it was, coming from the mouth of a natite: Ambassador Byx.
It was the first time I’d ever had a title, and it seemed much too grand for the likes of me. But that was what I was: Khara’s ambassador. A dairne speaking to natites on behalf of a human.
Life will surprise you sometimes.
Sometimes I wish it would stop doing that.
7
Beneath the River
As I inspected the outside of the barcabrena, I saw that it was indeed made of horn. Two horns, in fact, as the natite had said, connected at their bases and hollowed out to make a watertight compartment within. I shuddered to think just how huge a narvalik had to be in order to maneuver such an appendage. Even more fantastic, the barcabrena was harnessed to dozens of identical fish: huge orange-spotted bass, as big as me, all in mesh harnesses made of woven seaweed.
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