I can’t find Verona, no matter where I look. But I try to look at this as a positive thing. Maybe if I can’t find her, the Elder’s guard won’t be able to find her, either. If they can’t find her, they cannot send her on her reckoning tomorrow as they plan.
Then what would happen?
Would they choose another bottom feeder? Who would they choose on such short notice? The only name that comes to my mind this time is my own. I shake it off. Part of me would gladly bare the scars of the bottom feeder if it would keep her from enduring them. But the other part of me is a coward and has no intention of doing it. In my despair, I check all the places I’ve been to once more to find her.
And then I spot her, sitting with her father at the convalescing cove. I start toward her, slowly, unsure of what I will say to her, or how I will help her, when three of the Elder’s guard rush past me with spears. I dart forward just as they grab her by the arms and yank her up from the sand.
“By order of the Elder, you’ll need to come with us,” one of them declares in a deep voice. His hair is brown with more patina than I’d seen of any Mer younger than forty years. His broad chest is more muscular than mine or Brandeeb’s.
Verona doesn’t say a word, doesn’t resist, doesn’t even raise her gaze up from the sand. I frown, and come to a stop next to them, reaching out a hand, still unsure what to say.
“Stop,” a voice hisses in my ear, and a hand yanks my arm down to my side. Stacia glares at me, her red hair swirling about her face. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I just stare at her a moment. My heart slowing, and sorrow wells up in my chest. When did I become so fully ruled by my emotions like this? I don’t remember ever letting my feelings get in the way of my reason. But when I glance back toward Verona and the guards, they have already left the cove and started away.
I yank my arm from Stacia’s grip, causing another bead of blood to bubble from the superficial wound left by her claw on my skin.
“Enough!” I glare at her, allowing all the hatred and anger I feel for her and her brother to finally reach the surface. “Do not misunderstand me or my intentions. I am not your toy or your brother. You have no power over me, and cannot order me around.”
She blinks twice, her jaw dropping. “What?”
“Do not place yourself in a position to rule me. I am no puppet.” My voice drips with the anger I’ve felt for over a decade, and I slip toward her, and peer down at her. Her expression goes from shock to a momentary twinge of fear.
“B-but we’re promised life-mates. Our parents have been in talks for a long t-time,” she stammers.
I shake my head. “Even so, no Mer is forced to marry against his will. And I choose not to take you as my life-mate.”
Her eyes narrow on me, the fire in them sparking. “How dare you? You? Reject me? I am the daughter of the Elder of the Bermuda Township.” She steps into me, taking the claw of her forefinger and pressing it into the skin of my chest.
I lean into her instead of away as I did when she behaved this way in the past. She blinks again, the fire within before falters. “And I have a choice. I still choose no.”
She wavers, the shock of the moment slapping her in the face. Her eyes roll back, and she begins to sink to the ocean floor. Fainting, or pretending to, it doesn’t matter to me. I swam away from her prone body and start toward the exit of the cove.
“Good for you, Bailey,” Gabriel says from his nesting with a half-laugh. “About time.”
The waters around me have darken with the clouds which cover the sun. It’s hard to tell what time of day it is, but it must be nearing sunset. The freedom I’d felt when I left my mother doubled now that I’ve told Stacia how I felt for the first time.
Did Gabriel know all the while? I don’t even glance back to find out. Instead, I head in the direction the guards have taken Verona. But I pull up when I am still some distance off. The guards stop when they reach the Elder’s reef. There, she would stay with the Elder, have a decent meal, sleep in a respectable nesting, then receive her marks and get sent on her reckoning in the morning.
All very civilized. All very barbaric.
The tradition has been utilized for centuries by the Mer clans. In schooling, we learn it’s so the Mer culture can stay in tune with the humans and blend in better. Some Mer have proxies on land available for them to have money and a place to live if they should ever decide to spend time as a Landwalker. Bottom feeders never do. It’s an experiment. A cruel social experiment used to teach us about the classes, races, and human interactions.
I shake my head. Useless. Who would ever go on land purposefully, anyway? What about Verona? Would she choose to go on land? The elders set the post for the reckoning halfway between Bermuda and the mainland of the United States.
It’s the Mer’s choice whether she will attempt the swim through the shallows to Bermuda, where learning and land are limited, or brave the deep and go to the United States.
A memory sparks. Before Verona became the bottom feeder, when I thought for certain I would become the bottom feeder, Verona said something during schooling that I would never forget. Her father said that if she should ever be chosen for exile, she should remain in exile, find another way, because going on land was much more treacherous than imaginable. Back then, she’d given the warning to all the schooling, that if any of us should become bottom feeder, we should heed her father’s words.
I cross my hands over my chest, feeling the rock-hard muscles there instead of the flabby fat that had been there when Verona first made her declaration. She’d met her eyes with mine when she said it. Even then, she knew I had been an early pick for the position. But now, everything has changed.
If Verona wouldn’t go on land, then she’ll be slated for possible execution if she attempts to return to the clan or join another. The reckoning marks on her body would keep her from being accepted unless she also has the freckle marks gained from being on land.
She’ll need a place to stay. She’s probably useless as a hunter, so how would she eat? My stomach begins to churn as I worry about these things. Then an idea sparks which cools my stomach like ice. I could get things ready for her. If I help her, she’ll be sure to survive. If I’m caught, they’ll send me to exile, too. But I can limit my help and keep anyone from finding out. A smile pulls at my cheeks. I swim to the west to get things ready.
7
Darkness covers the deep, but I have work to do. Most settle down for the night once it's dark, because bioluminescence and electricity are rare. We get up with the sun, and we sleep at sunset. Instead, I find myself making use of my night vision to gather the things I'm going to need. My first stop is the convalescing cove.
In the darkness, I find Gabriel and Verona's father and their nestings but no other patients. I pass them and head deeper into the cove among the shallower waters. There I find the doctor, and I call out to him. "Hello?"
The healer rustles in his nesting and bolts upright. He blinks a few times, a look of panic on his face. He rubs his eyes and strains to see in the dark. "What's going on? Is everything all right?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you."
He nods, and his face relaxes. His shoulders settle down as well. He squints at me in the darkness as though his night vision is not as strong as mine. "You are that Mer who keeps visiting, right?"
Suddenly, I feel embarrassed. The blood rushes to my face, and I'm not sure what I'm doing here anymore. My heart races as I try to figure out what I am going to tell the doctor. Why am I here? Then, I realize that I truly need the object I'm looking for, if I am to help Verona tomorrow. "I am sorry to disturb you, but I need something. Do you have any ointment which can help wounds heal faster?"
The healer looks at me strangely. He quirks an eyebrow and rests his hand on his chin for a moment before speaking. The hair on his head swirls in the darkness looking like seaweed except for it's sparseness. "What do you need it for?"
And there it is.
The moment I must decide whether I will expose my plan, and possibly face rendition. Or do I live? Doctors are supposed to be impartial, right? Isn't there some rule among humans that the doctor is supposed to keep your secrets too? I shake my head. We are not human. He has no law to keep him from telling any matter what I might say. But, somehow, I feel he can be trusted. "I have a friend who will have deep injuries tomorrow. I need to get her the ointment so she will heal faster."
The healer’s hand falls from his chin, and his eyes grow a little bit wide. But he doesn't say a word. Instead, he heads towards his nesting and the many vials and bottles that he keeps there. His hands touch each of the bottles gently, but his eyes are squinting again. He hesitates.
“Would you like me to help you?” I ask.
He glances at me with a self-deprecating half-smile. “Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”
I step forward without having to be told twice. I eye the many different-colored ointments and medicines he has stored there. “What are you looking for?”
“You are looking for three bottles. Each one is an herbal remedy to speed up healing and help with pain. We will mix the three together and create a bubbler salve with the innards, or mesoglea, of jellyfish to help it absorb readily through the skin.”
“And this will help her?” The sound of using jellyfish innards seems a bit strange to me. “Will it really work?”
“On their own, Mer heal quickly because of the salt in the sea, and the water magic we all contain in our bodies. Because females have weaker water magic, they heal slower. With this salve, her wounds should heal within three days or so, but not without scaring.”
I fix my glare on him. He knows who I’m talking about, even though I haven’t said her name. He hasn’t said her name, either, so it makes me feel a little bit assured that he won’t mention the situation to others quickly. Besides, he’s helping me, so doesn’t it also make him complicit? Still, my heart constricts in my chest.
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “You are doing the right thing. It’s unprecedented, but the right thing, nonetheless. I promised her I would take care of her father, even if she chooses to stay away for the rest of his life. She can rest assured of it. You can rest assured of my silence.”
A lump forms in my throat. Verona had a confidant all along in the healer at the convalescing cove. Suddenly, I wish I had met him sooner, as well. Maybe I wouldn’t have suffered all of these years trying to hide my true self from others. He nods in the direction of the bottles, and we focus once more on the task at hand.
I break the surface of the ocean and peer at the island in the distance. The breath of salt water burns against my lungs as I hold it for a bit before I finally release it. Water spills over my chin, and I pull in the first lungful of air. The burning intensifies. Coughs rack my body. I shake from the exertion until I expel every drop of water my lungs hold, and they are filled with air. My eyes sting, and I blink several times before I begin to feel some semblance of normal.
Across the water, an uninhabited island sits in the light of the nearly full moon. Tomorrow, the moon will be full, the only time a Mer is able to traverse the distance between the water and the land. Movement on the shoreline captures my attention. A group of ponies wander along the tall grass, their tales swinging in the wind.
The island teems with life of all kinds, but none of them human. It comforts me that there’s a place like this. I swim south along the shoreline with my head just above the waves, taking stock of the rocks and surrounding terrain. When I reach the channel on the other side, I find flotation devices attached to crab pots filling the waters. I dodge them and continue around the unoccupied boats to watch the shore of the other island, the one humans occupy.
For safety, a bottom feeder should always choose an island to reside upon. The mainland holds more dangers than islands do. We know there are certain hunters on the mainland who will attack a Mer on land. At Bermuda Township, it’s almost common knowledge that a bottom feeder should choose an island to take their first steps, but would Verona know?
Her mother fractured their family by denouncing her life-mate. The man in the nesting at the convalescing cove had succumbed to dementia. What kind of home life could Verona possibly have had? If her mother’s family has a proxy on land, would they share that information with the daughter of a bottom feeder who is destined to become a bottom feeder herself?
Any other family’s proxy would never take in a Mer with the marks of the bottom feeder or else I would offer ours. I frown. Across the water, I find some of the houses lit up with electricity on the second floors, but most of them are as dark as the deep waters at night.
I nod, happy with what I’ve scouted out, and head off to find the next item on my list. My family would likely disown me if they find out my plan. But for the first time in my life, I don’t really care what my family approves of or doesn’t. I’m doing something for myself, and it’s a lightness and freedom worth the punishment that might come later. Right now, my stomach is calm, and I feel at peace.
I wake with the first light of morning, disoriented. The reef is the wrong color, and the surface of the ocean seems much farther away than it should. It takes several minutes before I truly realize where I am and what I’ve done. I’m not home.
My heart begins to race. I am overwhelmed by battling feelings within me. I feel excitement and regret. I wonder if I'm doing the wrong thing. But it really doesn't matter, because I'm going to do it anyway.
I stick a hand under the reef and look for the shell that holds the salve I got from the healer. My fingertips brush against the rough covering of the outside layer. Gripping my spear, I start in the direction of the reckoning post.
A crowd is already forming. The chattering around me and the general feeling of joviality makes my stomach churn again. It’s all so frivolous. I can't stand the thought of what is supposed to happen today. I grip my spear tighter and think about running through the crowd to save her, just like Gabriel did when he ran through the pod of tuna. But I am no fool. I do know better than that. A show of force of that kind would accomplish nothing except push me into the same fate as Verona. And she would still have to face hers. My plan is much better than that; I only need implement it.
The sun’s light filters through the waters, giving the shallow area a shimmering appearance. The crowd keeps their distance from the wooden piling in the center of the clearing. The barnacle covered post is buried deep within the ground, but enough rises above the sand exposed to do the job it is required for. In front of me, two maidens are discussing the events of the day.
"I hear that she dared to touch the child of one of the court ladies," the first maiden said, running a hand through her dark hair, which has less patina than Verona's. Lack of patina is supposed to be a trait of the bottom feeder.
“Worse than that, I hear.” The second maiden shakes her head in disapproval, and meets my eyes for just a moment before turning away. She leans in toward her neighbor, and whispers still loud enough for me to hear, “It’s her fault that Gabriel, the Elder’s son, may never swim again.”
I swallow the lump suddenly forming in my throat. Never swim again? I feel as though I have been slapped in the face with reality. The healer had said as much himself but had said it more gently. He had said that with time Gabriel might recover. It doesn’t take a genius to think he might not recover just as well. So why did I never think of that?
The first maiden gasped. “It’s that bad? I had heard he was injured but didn’t realize just how bad things had gotten. This bottom feeder deserves exile more than any I’ve ever heard of. Maybe she should never be allowed to return.”
My fist tightens around my spear as I clench my grip. Heat rises to my face, and I hold myself back once more, just to keep from correcting the maidens in front of me and giving myself away. A commotion starts at the front of the crowd. Verona is being led into the clearing. Her hair shimmers in the sunlight. And I'm taken aback by how pale she looks for t
he first time. Her gaze remains fixed on the ground. Two of the Elder’s guards stand at each of her shoulders, lording over her in a ridiculous manner. As if one guard wouldn't be enough. Verona wouldn't have fought them for her freedom anyway, and it's not like anyone else was going to fight the decision that made her the bottom feeder. The Elder stood to the side along with his group of court ladies and gentlemen. Each of them glare at Verona, preparing themselves for what comes next. Sadists. The whole group of them are about to inflict pain upon her that I would not be able to stop. It sickens me when I think about the fact that I can't change it.
With rough hands, one of the Elder’s guards ties Verona to the post. Her chest is pressed against the dry raw barnacles that still remain fixed on the wooden piling. Her eyes close. Then the crowd begins.
"Ugly!"
“Repugnant!”
“Insolent!”
“Ignorant!”
The names continue as the crowd yells more and feed off each other. They curse her with names she does not deserve. But worse yet, the Elder and his court begin implementing the marks of the bottom feeder into the skin of her back. Claws rake against her back, filling the water around her with a bloodied cloud. They strike her over and over again in quick succession each direction until the scars on her back could not be mistaken for anything else. Fourteen times. Each of the court and the Elder all strike her with their left claw and their right. Deep gouges cover her shoulders, down her back all the way to the beginning of her scales. Not once did she scream or cry.
The crowd already begins to scatter, and I couldn't stay there alone, or I'd be discovered. So I back away a bit with them, then I turn and watch as the Elder rips the ties off from her hands.
Sirens and Scales Page 24
