Oriana went inside. She was short on clothing. If she were staying she would have to ask for an advance on her first quarter’s pay, but she knew better. She closed the bedroom door, dropped the blanket across the settee, and paused.
There, on the small table next to the settee, lay a notecard addressed to Oriana Arenias Paredes.
Her breath went short. It had come from someone who knew both of her mother’s surnames, Paredes and Arenias. Most people paid little attention to the surname a female received from her father. Oriana picked up the note, impressed by the fine quality of the paper and the author’s neat hand. Surely this was from Maria Melo, who’d implied an acquaintance with her mother. Her orders. The ones that would tell her how to get out of the city, where she would be sent, and to whom she would report. Perhaps they would say she had to leave now. How long had this been sitting here?
She ran her fingers over the lettering and then turned the envelope over to break the blue wax seal marked with the letter M. She slid one finger under the flap.
What if I’m supposed to leave immediately? This could order her to leave this morning, an hour ago or an hour hence.
I am not letting Isabel’s killer get away.
Oriana set the note back down on the silver salver on the table and went to the dressing room to find something to wear.
She’d hated these garments at first, so tight and uncomfortable. Now she saw them as a symbol of all the things she would miss from this place. She’d even miss the silk mitts that pinched her webbing. She would miss . . . many things. Once dressed, Oriana gazed at the tired face in the mirror, determined not to let her emotions get the better of her. She inhaled deeply, taking in the masculine smell of her borrowed room. Then she plastered a serene look on her face and went down to the library to meet Mr. Ferreira.
CHAPTER 32
Duilio brought his last knife for Miss Paredes to use. His favorite revolver had been in the pocket of his frock coat last night, now lost forever in the water of the Douro. He would miss that gun, but he had an Enfield revolver that would do well enough until he could get a replacement sent over from England.
The carriage was waiting for them behind the house and bore them out to the quay, where Gaspar and Pinheiro were still waiting. Gaspar had a wooden box about the size of a football in his hands. He opened it up to reveal a golden device sitting atop what looked like a pincushion. A collection of gears with a coil of metal inside, the device ticked and trembled like the works of a watch. “I’d like you to take this along with you,” he said.
Duilio surveyed the clockwork device doubtfully. If it was valuable, he didn’t want to take it out on the water, not on the paddleboat. “What is it?”
“It’s called a blood compass. A clever little device that Anjos and I have found useful,” Gaspar said. “They come in a pair. The other follows this one. In essence, it mistakes this one for the northern pole. Sadly, it only works one way.”
Oriana came to look into the box with him, her brows drawn together. “You can track us up the coast?”
“Precisely,” Gaspar said. “Wherever you end up, we can follow.”
How incredibly clever. Duilio wondered if the box might be one of the magical “toys” that the Lady’s father had tinkered with. Unfortunately, magical items usually came with a price tag. “Do we have to wind it?” Duilio asked cautiously.
Gaspar grinned. “It won’t bite you, Ferreira. I’ve already wound it, so to speak. Or, rather, Pinheiro did.”
Pinheiro held up a bandaged hand. “I had to bleed on it. On both of them.”
Duilio cast a quizzical look at the African inspector.
“Magic doesn’t work on me,” Gaspar said, “so it had to be him. Just try not to lose the thing.”
Duilio grimaced. “If it gets wet?”
“It will still work,” Gaspar said, “unless all the blood is washed off.”
Duilio glanced at Oriana, who just shrugged. He closed the box and tucked it under one arm, nodded once to Pinheiro and Gaspar, and then led Oriana down the ramp to the paddleboat. At least this increased the chance that if they did find Maraval, they wouldn’t have to face the man alone.
Half an hour later, they’d pulled out past the breakwater and traveled north up the coast. The wind was lacking and the water glassy, the reason he’d chosen the paddleboat rather than the sailboat. Oriana had taken off her shoes to keep them from the water, exposing her silvery feet again. From what he could see, the black dorsal stripe came to a point on the inside of her heel. Duilio could make out a rippled edging between the black and silver skin, a narrow border of brilliant blue. She looked up from where she sat by the wheel compartment and caught him staring at her bare feet. She immediately tucked them back under her skirt.
He didn’t know if he should be blushing or not. She had been with him the entire morning—unclothed—and had somehow managed never to turn her back to him, as if she were hiding her dorsal stripe. Was there some risqué aspect to curiosity about a sereia’s dorsal stripe? Her behavior was beginning to make him think so.
And that made him burn with curiosity
“So, where will we find your brother?” she asked.
“I expect he’s gone back to Braga Bay,” Duilio answered. “Where his harem lives.”
“A harem? Truly?”
“It’s the way they live,” he said, feeling a flush creep up from his neck. “The way they’ve lived for centuries. Males are rare, so there are sometimes as many as fifty females in a harem.”
“Fifty?” she asked, sounding appalled. “With one male?”
“Well, to be honest, I don’t think Erdano has nearly that many in his harem. But he does have a number of human lovers as well. It’s natural for selkies to compete.”
“I see,” she said, then shook her head. “No, actually, I don’t. Why would a female share her male with another? Or fifty others?”
“I’ve never understood it,” he admitted. “Selkie charm?”
“What exactly is selkie charm?” she asked.
“Selkies don’t talk about it,” Duilio said. “It’s not a talent or a skill; it’s just the way they are. Their powers of seduction are quite real, but I don’t know to what they can be attributed.”
She looked at him from under a lowered brow. “Do you . . . Have you . . . ?”
He clamped his lips together, holding in the urge to laugh at her hesitance. She was apparently shy when it came to matters of sex, which suggested a modesty sailors believed sereia didn’t possess. If he recalled correctly, the English even used the symbol of the sereia to indicate houses of prostitution. It pleased him that Oriana Paredes didn’t fit that stereotype. “No,” he answered. “I don’t have it, whatever it is. Alessio did, though. No one could resist him.”
She smoothed her skirt. “Is it something to do with the way you smell, perhaps?”
He felt warmth creeping up his cheeks. “Well, we do smell.”
She looked up then, her lips falling open. “I didn’t mean that badly. It’s just that I thought at first you were wearing cologne—ambergris cologne. It took me time to realize you weren’t. Your mother, as well.”
Duilio supposed he should be relieved she hadn’t meant that as an insult. “I do bathe regularly, which limits the smell, but you should hear my valet grumble about it.”
“I am not complaining,” she said.
Duilio chuckled. “So, may I ask, is your ability to call something that your people simply do or a skill?”
Oriana didn’t answer immediately. They’d passed the port of Leixões and were nearing Braga Bay, so Duilio watched the cliffs more carefully. He didn’t want to miss the narrow opening. But he stole a glance at her face and decided she was still unsure whether to answer his query. “You don’t need to answer,” he said. “I’m simply one of those inquisitive people who wants to know everything.”
“I’ve noticed,” she said in a dry tone. “We’re all born with a voice, but we must learn to use it. It’s a combination of natural talent and skill. Some females can call ships from afar. Others can’t get the attention of a man two feet away.”
He was tempted to ask into which category she fell, but decided it would be rude. She’d said she could coax a human into answering questions, so she must have some talent. But she probably wasn’t supposed to have said as much as she already had. “Why do you suppose it affects humans?” he asked instead. “I’ve always wondered why selkie charm seems to be aimed at humans rather than other selkies. Does the call affect males of your own kind?”
“Not as much,” she said. “It is specifically pitched for humans. Our lore says it’s because you’re the main danger to us. We’re relatively harmless. Before your Vasco da Gama, we simply distracted sailors into sailing past our islands.”
Even when he couldn’t see the webbing, he liked watching her hands. They were long and slender. Capable hands. “Being half-selkie,” he said, “I must have some immunity.”
“I know we’re not supposed to affect them,” she said. “Or the otterfolk, for that matter.”
“Good to know,” he murmured.
• • •
Oriana wished there had been more time, but they’d reached their destination. Braga Bay was surrounded by cliffs, the narrow strip of sands melding into rock. It was more of a cove than a bay, but the name had stuck, Duilio told her. Despite the storm clouds rising out at sea, the water was calm and crystal clear. Inaccessible to larger boats, it made an ideal spot for seals to bask in the sun.
Duilio drew the boat up onto the shore before helping her to the beach. She waited, enjoying the feel of the sand under her bare feet while he grabbed a chart from the boat. Then he directed her toward the center of the narrow beach, where at least two dozen seals waited. They grunted in surprise at the humans’ approach. Then the largest rose on its flippers and began to strip off its pelt.
Oriana stared, mouth agape. She didn’t see how it happened, but one moment she was looking at a large seal; the next at a man unwrapping a pelt from about his body.
“I still can’t figure it out,” Duilio said in her ear. “It’s magic.”
She turned back to the seal man. He was definitely the selkie who’d fondled her rump after helping to cut loose the floating house the night before. He cast his pelt onto the sand, and two female seals moved to stand guard over it.
Erdano approached them then, eyeing her. No, he was leering at her. Several inches taller than Duilio, he was broader as well and heavily muscled. There wasn’t much resemblance to Duilio, save about the eyes. They both had their mother’s eyes, clear and warm, with thick, dark lashes. He was a strikingly handsome man, but even so, he wasn’t to her taste.
He grinned down at her. “You’re much prettier than I remember.”
Oriana could smell the seal musk on him too. If that was a component of selkie charm, it didn’t work on her. However, having seen Erdano nude, she’d begun to formulate a new theory about selkie charm, one she wouldn’t embarrass Duilio by discussing. Hoping to discourage the selkie at the outset, Oriana firmly told him, “I am not interested in being part of your harem.”
Erdano cast a sly smile at her, one surprisingly like his brother’s, and then turned to Duilio. “Are you still not . . . ?”
“No,” Duilio interrupted him sharply, flushing. “Thank you for helping Oriana with the house.”
Oriana tried to catch Duilio’s eyes, wanting to know what Erdano had been about to ask. Duilio seemed determined to avoid her gaze.
Erdano crossed his muscular arms over his bulky chest. “You didn’t tell me Kerridan was there.”
Kerridan? “Who?” she asked.
“The other male that was trying to kill you,” Erdano said, giving a name to the selkie who’d been working with the Open Hand. “Thought I’d scared him out of my territory before. Got him this time.”
Erdano leered down at her as if expecting her to be impressed by that. Duilio cleared his throat and asked, “Were you able to follow the ship?”
“It went far down the coast to the green stone cove,” Erdano answered.
“Which one is that?” Duilio asked, unfolding the chart.
His brother scowled dramatically at the chart. “On that? I can’t tell you.”
“The one with the hooked cliff, right?” Oriana asked Erdano. When he nodded, she pointed it out on the chart. It had to be the site of the workshop.
Duilio’s expression went pensive. “This map doesn’t show any buildings there.”
“Well, there is one now,” Erdano said. “I can show you where.”
Half an hour later, Erdano lounged in the boat’s prow, dressed in a loose tunic and trousers. After another conference with his brother, Duilio came back to the rear and settled on the wide bench next to Oriana. He took the tiller from her and thanked her for holding on to it while he spoke with Erdano. The motor rumbled as the paddles splashed quietly in the water.
The green stone cove was farther up the coast, and she’d only seen it from a ship before, but a layer of copper deposit made it distinctive. It would take some time for this paddleboat to reach it. The clouds that had been gathering all afternoon had come closer, blocking out much of the sun. They consumed the meat pies that Mrs. Cardoza had packed for them, and after a time Erdano fell asleep, snoring loudly, in the prow of the boat. The boat’s paddle splashed on as the afternoon waned toward evening, and they could only hope that Gaspar was following. Oriana pushed her skirts aside to double-check the box tucked under the bench on which she sat. It was still there and, fortunately, not wet.
“I know you’re expected to leave soon,” Duilio said, startling her. “But our house is open to you for as long as you need it. We should be able to keep your name out of the papers. You’d be safe.”
Such a tempting offer. She could hide in the Ferreira home, pretending to be a companion just as she had with Isabel. Perhaps no one would come asking questions about Isabel. But Maria Melo would know she hadn’t obeyed orders and would make her father pay—a threat that Oriana didn’t doubt. She stared down at her webbing.
She wanted out of the intelligence ministry, she admitted to herself, but she didn’t know if they would let her go. And until she could extricate herself, her presence in the Golden City would only be a danger to her father. She couldn’t afford to take Duilio up on his offer. “Thank you,” she said. “I will remember that you offered.”
“Do you want to leave?” Duilio asked softly then. “Are you being blackmailed?”
She clenched her hands together, wishing she dared to give him the true answer. “I must go home,” she said instead.
Erdano shifted suddenly, making the boat list, forcing Oriana to grab the side rail to steady herself. He yawned widely and pointed at the cliffs. “There. That’s where the ship went in.”
• • •
Duilio turned his eyes to the rocks. They were approaching the mouth of the cove, so he cut the motor. He and Erdano each took an oar and rowed, and the paddleboat slipped quietly into the cove in the twilight. And once inside, Duilio saw what he’d expected. At the end of a wide pier built in the center of the cove, the blue yacht was moored.
Erdano pointed. “There it is, the boat from last night. See the strange arm?”
They guided the small boat behind the larger one, so that someone on the shore wouldn’t be able to see it. Duilio slipped off his frock coat. He laid it across the quiescent motor’s housing, then climbed atop that and jumped to catch the ship’s railing. He pulled himself up enough to scan the yacht’s deck and glanced back. “I’m going to see if anyone’s aboard.”
Oriana had her mouth open to protest, but he’d already swung one leg over the rail and pulled himself up. He signaled for her to stay in the p
addleboat and slipped over to the side of the cabin. When he didn’t hear any movement within, he climbed the ladder into the steering compartment of the ship.
Dusk had fallen, but in the dim wheelhouse, he spotted a chart on a low table—a map of The City Under the Sea.
It was evidence. Duilio rolled up the chart and tucked it under his arm. He quickly surveyed the wheelhouse but decided that anything of value would be in the cabins below, so he headed for the stair leading down to the captain’s cabin. It was dark, but on a shelf fixed to the wall near the door, he spotted a box of matches. He struck one and in the sudden flare of light could make out the entire room for an instant.
That was all it took, showing him exactly what he’d hoped he might find, the item that Maraval hadn’t left behind in his collection. He must have hidden it here to frustrate and annoy Silva, with no care whatsoever for the damage his actions had. Tears stung Duilio’s eyes.
On the wall above the captain’s bed, a seal’s pelt hung.
CHAPTER 33
Oriana stepped into the center of the paddleboat. A wave of seal musk warned her a second before Erdano came to stand next to her. His hand touched her shoulder in an overly friendly fashion and then slid down to the small of her back.
“I’ve never had one of your women before,” he said, “but I hear you’re not as cold as you appear.”
Of all the times! Oriana gave him a hard look. “I have very sharp teeth.”
He smiled down at her, apparently undeterred. “Perhaps later, then.”
She stepped out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t make any plans.”
Duilio slipped over the yacht’s rail and dropped to the paddleboat’s decking then, a bundle tucked under one arm. “Plans for what?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Duilio turned a vexed expression on his brother. “Erdano, keep your hands off her.”
“She’s too pretty not to have a man,” Erdano said, hands wide. “I had to try.”
“No, you didn’t,” Duilio snapped.
The Golden City Page 34
