Going down a short flight of stairs is easy. Doing it while pulling a wheelchair full of agitated mermaid is a little harder. We thumped hard down to street-level, and I danced rapidly backward to keep Dianda from overbalancing. She was clinging to the arms for dear life, barely keeping her head from knocking against the back of the chair.
Shouts from the balcony told me we didn’t have long. I backpedaled into the middle of the street. Dianda twisted around to stare at me, face white, eyes wide.
“Hold on,” I said.
She must have realized what I was doing, because she shouted, “Are you insane?!” as I started to run, pushing her along in front of me.
Like many major streets in San Francisco, Leavenworth runs up one side of a hill and down the other. It’s at an angle sharp enough to discourage all but the most dedicated walkers, and joggers regard it as one of the lesser circles of Hell. We picked up speed at an impressive pace. The sound of feet behind us told me our lead was getting narrower, despite momentum and gravity combining to keep us moving ever faster.
The marina stretched out at the bottom of the hill, sparkling dimly in the darkness. I only saw one way we were going to reach the water alive. I just had to hope Dianda would forgive me for the indignity. Still clinging to the right handle of the chair, I moved to one side and sped up until I was running alongside it.
Dianda stared at me. “What are you doing? This thing doesn’t have any brakes!”
I didn’t have the breath left to shout. Leaning over her, I grabbed the left arm and hoisted myself onto her lap. Freed from the drag of my feet, the wheelchair started to accelerate, plunging straight down Leavenworth. Crossbow bolts zinged past. I folded my arms over Dianda’s head, keeping her down, and ducked my own head as low as it would go. If we could avoid getting shot until we reached the bottom of the hill . . .
This entire escapade was breaking several rules of life in the mortal world, chief among them the injunction to never, ever go out in public without wearing a human disguise. I was still wearing my illusions. Dianda and the Goblins, on the other hand, were totally exposed. There wasn’t time to worry about it. Hopefully, anyone who saw a woman riding a screaming mermaid in a wheelchair down Leavenworth at a quarter to five in the morning would just think they’d had too much to drink.
We were still accelerating. Gasping, I managed to ask, “Is this a good time for that visit?” Dianda stared at me, eyes widening in understanding, before she nodded.
We were almost to the bottom of the hill when I fumbled the scale out of my pocket and shoved it into my mouth. It dissolved like spun sugar, leaving my tongue coated in a gummy film that tasted like strawberries. A taxi blared by, horn blazing as we hit the dock, shooting forward. Dianda screamed again, the sound magnified by proximity to my ears, and I heard a crossbow bolt whiz by as I yanked the pin from the lining of my jacket and jammed it into the meaty part of my right thigh with all the force I could muster.
Then we hit the water, and everything went black.
FOURTEEN
I ONLY LOST CONSCIOUSNESS for a moment. Then the cold shocked me awake, and I started thrashing, trying to find the surface. A crossbow bolt pierced the water next to my face, missing me by inches, and I froze, only to have Dianda grab me from behind and yank me deeper into the water. She stopped when we hit the rocky seabed, and we huddled there, with crossbow bolts flashing around us and failing, thankfully, to find their marks.
A wooden arrow the length of my arm sliced through the water like it was air. Dianda visibly relaxed, hair waving in front of her eyes like a strange new type of kelp as she pushed away from the seabed, pulling me with her. I didn’t struggle. There’s almost nothing I hate more than being in the water, and I’d expected to have a little more time to prepare myself before I let the Luidaeg’s spell do whatever it was it was going to do to me. I just wasn’t anticipating Goblin assassins with crossbows pushing me into a situation where the only viable exit involved riding a mermaid’s wheelchair into the marina.
Sometimes I think my life is too complicated.
I gasped as we surfaced, more out of reflex than an actual need for air; we’d been under for several minutes, but my lungs didn’t hurt. That was probably a bad sign. “Can you keep yourself above water?” asked Dianda, from over my shoulder. She was still holding me up, her chin nearly brushing the side of my neck.
“I have no idea,” I said honestly, and shoved my sodden hair out of my eyes with one hand. Then I stopped, blinking at the scene in front of me. “. . . Whoa.”
We were surrounded. Archers lined the dock on all sides, longbows raised. About half of them faced away from us, scanning for threats. The other half faced the water, arrows notched and pointed directly at . . . me. At least they were aiming for the center of my body, where they’d be least likely to hit Dianda. The glitter of their human disguises couldn’t stop me from breathing in the taste of their Selkie heritage: Dianda’s previously absent guard.
“Where were you guys a few minutes ago?” I muttered.
“Milady?” asked one of the archers.
Dianda murmured, “I’m letting go of you now. Try not to sink.” Then her arms were unwinding themselves from around my waist and she was swimming toward the dock, her flukes brushing my hip as she passed me. Those fins weren’t just for show; a Merrow moving at full speed can overtake practically anything else in the ocean. In the water, in her native form, Dianda was the one in control.
Speaking of native forms . . . when she let me go, I bobbed a few inches lower in the water before recovering my equilibrium, and I realized, without any real surprise, that I couldn’t feel my legs. Oh, I felt something, but I didn’t have the necessary frame of reference to know exactly what it was. I raised my hand and spread my fingers. Thin webs connected them to the first knuckle, turned translucent by the harbor lights.
“Yeah,” I said, to myself as much to anyone else. “That’s about what I thought.”
“Send half your men up the hill looking for the men who were shooting at us, and stand the rest down, Aine,” said Dianda. The tallest of the female Selkies nodded and turned, gesturing toward Leavenworth. Half the archers turned and ran into the night, while the other half lowered their bows. That was a relief, anyway.
Dianda sounded wearier than I expected. I dropped my hand, studying her. I didn’t see any blood. The gills lining her neck were open, revealing the pearly fringe inside. I sighed, relieved to see that our emergency trip down the hill hadn’t been enough to get her hurt.
She must have heard me. She looked back over her shoulder, smiling thinly. “In case you were wondering, I am uninjured.”
“Good.” I looked down at the water. It was dark enough that I couldn’t see what it might be hiding. That wasn’t particularly reassuring. “Not to be alarmist or anything, but do you know where my feet are?”
Dianda’s smile broadened, becoming genuinely amused. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Not as such, no. The Luidaeg didn’t tell me exactly what her charm would do, just that it would give me five hours to visit your Duchy without drowning.”
“Take a look.” She grabbed the edge of the dock, flukes flashing just below the surface of the water as she pulled herself into a static position.
In for a penny, in for a pound. It wasn’t like I could change my mind at this point, even if I wanted to. Taking a breath I was starting to suspect I didn’t actually need, I stopped trying to stay above water, and went under.
It was easier to see than I expected, my eyes sorting through the darkness of the waves the way they would normally sort through the darkness of the world above. I could even see colors—green clots of kelp, mossy barnacles clinging to the pilings, the jewel-tone sweep of Dianda’s tail. And beneath me, in the space where my legs should have been, the crimson-and-copper scales covering my own tail. It wasn’t a surprise. That didn’t stop my heart from dropping into my stomach, and for a brief, terrible moment, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to swallow my pani
c.
Well, at least you can’t drown, I thought dizzily.
That struck me as funny for some reason. I swallowed my laughter, since I wasn’t sure what would happen if I sucked in a lungful of water; the effort helped me get the panic back under control. I tipped farther forward, trying to get a good look at myself. The combination of buoyancy and the unfamiliar length of my body turned the motion into a somersault, fins flashing past my face just before I broke the surface.
Dianda watched me expectantly, waiting for my reaction. The Selkie archers were doing much the same. At least they’d lowered their bows when given the command to stand down. I pushed the hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind my ears. My pointed ears—I guess there’s no point in wearing a human disguise if you’re going to run around being a fish from the waist down.
“Well,” I said, “that’s different.”
Dianda raised her eyebrows. “You’re fairly calm.”
“I don’t think I have a choice just now.” I felt better for knowing what was going on, even if the Luidaeg and I were going to have stern words later about her turning me halfway back into a fish without more in the way of an explicit warning. “I’m sorry about the whole, um, riding thing. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dianda waved a hand. “I saw them shooting at us. Still, if you ever do something like that again without telling me first, I’m not calling off my archers.”
“Noted.” I gave the circle of Selkies another look. I didn’t recognize any of them, but a few looked similar enough to Connor that they might have been family. “So now what?”
“Now I take you to see my Duchy. If you can find my sons and prove the land Courts didn’t do this, maybe I’ll call off the war. No promises. And if I find out you’ve played me . . .”
“If I were playing you, I’d have toes right now.” Footsteps came pounding down the dock. One of the Selkies turned, starting to raise her bow, and stopped, lowering it again. I allowed myself a small smile. “I think I hear my knights in shining armor.”
“Make that singular,” she said, relaxing. “One of them is mine.”
The footsteps were joined by a second set, and the sound of panting. “You need to work out more,” said Quentin, as the top of his head came into view.
“Hey, guys.” I waved, turning to face them.
Connor staggered to a stop, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled to breathe. “Hello, Your Grace,” he wheezed, toward Dianda, before looking anxiously in my direction. He knows how much I hate water. “Toby��”
“Hello, Connor.” Dianda twisted her tail around one of the dock supports like a sea horse, letting it anchor her as she leaned back in the water. It made sense; given the way the water moved, Merrow had to have a way to keep from drifting. I never really thought about it before, and now I was taking notes. “I take it you’re both unhurt?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” His worried eyes didn’t leave my face. “We came when we heard the shouting, but—”
“You couldn’t have helped,” I said, swimming over to join Dianda. Quentin stepped up next to him and gasped. My fins must have shown through the water. So much for breaking the news gently. “Hey, Quentin. How was the fish?”
He swallowed hard, composing himself before he said, “You’re in the water.”
“Yes. Gravity made sure of that.”
“And you have . . .”
“Fins. You can blame the Luidaeg for that part.” Movie mermaids are always slapping their tails against the water to make a point, or just to show off how much of the special effects budget went into designing them. I would have done it, but I couldn’t think of how to start without con-cussing myself on the dock in the process. “I’m going to visit Saltmist now. Since I’m pretty sure I’d be a little awkward on land at the moment.”
Connor’s eyes went wide as he finally caught up with current events. “Wait . . . you mean you . . . ?”
“I am going to need an uncountable number of cups of coffee when this is over,” I replied, and turned to Quentin. “Call Danny. Tell him you need a ride back to the apartment. I’d take you with me, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t work.”
“I understand,” he said. “Do I need to stay at the apartment?”
“Not if you find something better to do—visit the Luidaeg, go help Walther, whatever. Just make sure someone knows where you are, so I can find you when I get back. And make sure Danny comes inside—May has a job for him.”
“Okay.” Quentin took a step back, looking anxious. “Please don’t get killed?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“This is lovely, but my children are still missing.” Dianda pushed away from the dock, flukes unfurling in a swirl of green and purple. “Connor, come on. I’ll need you to help show our guest around the knowe.”
“Um. Right,” said Connor, and dove, fully clothed, off the dock.
That made me think of something I hadn’t thought of until that moment: “Hey, what the hell happened to my pants?”
“Among many other excellent questions,” said Dianda. She offered me her hand. “Come along. I’ll pull you.”
“I appreciate it,” I said. I couldn’t figure out how to take her hand without crushing the webbing between her fingers—or between my own—and so I grabbed her wrist, holding tight.
“Don’t hold your breath,” she advised, and pulled me under.
The strange lightness under the waves remained, making it almost easier to see below than it had been above. Dianda’s scales cast their own faint, luminous glow. Even if she hadn’t been pulling me, I wouldn’t have lost sight of her. Smiling encouragingly, she tugged me forward, away from the dock, into the open sea.
Splashes from behind us signaled the remaining Selkie archers entering the water. In a matter of seconds, the sea was alive with harbor seals, their silver-and-charcoal coats turning them into virtual ghosts. I couldn’t pick Connor out of the throng. I’ve seen him in seal form dozens, if not hundreds of times, but all the swimming Selkies looked alike to me. Anyway, I was preoccupied by the effort of keeping up with Dianda, something that got harder when I tried to think about what I was doing. It was like my body knew how to swim, but my brain complicated everything by insisting I was doing it wrong.
Thinking too much also had the unpleasant side effect of making me realize that I wasn’t actually breathing. Gills just aren’t the same. Finally, I stopped thinking and let myself go, trusting Dianda to get us where we were going. Things got better after that.
I’m no oceanographer, but I know enough to know that it’s supposed to get darker as you go deeper. That wasn’t happening here. Instead, we swam through a series of small temperature changes, wafting, diffuse things that would signify the transition between the mortal and fae worlds if they appeared in a land knowe. The fish swimming by got flashier, all bright colors and flamboyant patterns of the sort I usually only saw on the Discovery Channel. The Selkies wove a complicated pattern around us, acting as escort and guard. And in the middle of it all swam Dianda, cutting through the water with me firmly in tow.
Ahead of us, the Selkies began to vanish. Nothing was taking them, and they weren’t swimming away; they were swimming forward, and then they were gone, moving into some other sea. Dianda looked back, nodding her head toward the place where the Selkies disappeared. I nodded, bracing myself as much as I could while still swimming faster than a man could run. Dianda smiled and put on a burst of speed, towing me into a patch of water so cold it was like liquid ice. The world twisted—
—and we were through, entering an ocean full of moonlight. I thought it was easy to see in the mortal ocean. I was wrong. It was easy to see here, where the light clung to everything and the shadows were all but nonexistent. Even the saltwater tasted sweet, with no trace of pollution or modern industry. We were in the Summerlands sea.
An elegant stone palace decked in mother-of-pearl and patches of living kelp rose from the seafloor a
head of us, cradled in rings of multicolored coral. It had been constructed with no regard for gravity, resulting in dozens of tapering towers, high balconies that went nowhere, and wide windows instead of doors. Why bother building to constraints that don’t apply to you?
Dianda kept pulling me forward. I realized she was singing. It was a high, sweet sound, barely this side of whale song—and the sea answered her. Dozens of fae poured from the palace windows, swimming out to join our escort. They ranged from the expected Merrow and Sirens to stranger things, women with the lower bodies of octopi instead of the standard Merrow’s tail, men with slick, blue-black skin and the smooth fluidity of eels. Many of them belonged to fae races I had never seen before, Undersea denizens for whom the land held no attractions.
They surrounded us in a coruscating curtain of living bodies and brightly-colored scales. Most were wearing garments that were equally bright, like they were competing with the ocean around them. As if anything could have managed that. This sea was too wild and strange for anything to have ever truly competed with it.
All the sea fae were singing, their individual pitches and melodies joining with Dianda’s into a single sweet chorus that didn’t make a bit of sense. Words were impossible under the water—at least without magic—and it made sense that they would have found a way to fill that gap. I could even see a few of them signing to each other, waving their hands or tentacles in quick, fluid gestures that didn’t look a damn thing like American Sign Language. I hoped they all spoke English, and that we’d be in a place where talking was an option, or this visit was going to be like a pantomime in Hell.
The palace was just ahead of us. Dianda let go of my hand, gesturing for me to follow as she swam for the nearest window. Several members of our impromptu escort swam in ahead of her. The rest peeled off to the sides, leaving space for me to enter.
As if I could do anything else? After coming this far—out of my world, literally out of my element, and even out of my own natural form—following her through the window was no big deal. I twisted around to make sure I wouldn’t catch my flukes on the sill, and swam through. This was definitely turning out to be an interesting night.
One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel Page 16
