“Actions that may result in tens of thousands of deaths,” Khara said.
Emecktril considered for a moment, nodded, as if to himself, and said, “This matter requires further thought.”
With that, he waved his back tentacles in a pattern that must have had meaning, for there was a sudden flurry of activity from the natites still in the water. Those aboard, all but Emecktril, leapt over the side to join them.
All at once, to my utter shock, the deck fell away below my feet. The galley sank with sudden, plunging speed. But even as we all cried out in panic, it became clear that the entire galley was sinking within a massive bubble of air. The water rose, blue-green and foaming, around us, but it did not even touch us.
As the sea closed over our heads, many of the rowers wailed in terror. I was just as frightened, but I bit off the screams rising within my throat.
The water grew murkier as we dropped, but I could easily make out dozens of natites swooping and diving. They looked as at home in the water as the curious fish cruising past to investigate the odd disruption in their neighborhood.
I made my way to the railing of the galley and looked down. Far below us was what looked like a submerged city, as if an island had been swallowed by the sea. It was not as vast as Saguria, nor even as extensive as the Isle of Ursina, but it was greater than a village. Strange, spiraling buildings made of pink coral and gold stone rose up from the sandy bottom.
Behind the village was a jagged crack in the sea floor, and from this crack rose a furious bubbling. I had the sense, though I couldn’t be certain, that a peculiar yellow glow emanated from the bubbles.
Soon we were sinking past the tallest of the coral-and-stone buildings, aiming, it seemed, for an open square facing a grand palatial structure.
The palace, like all the natite buildings, was a lattice of structural beams resolving into floors. There were no walls, meaning that water could flow through unimpeded. I saw no doors, either. The effect was eerie, but strangely lovely.
On some floors, adult natite groups were visible, busy at work I could not begin to comprehend. Other floors housed great nets filled with smooth eggs the size of a dairne’s head. In a few areas, I could just make out what looked like dense schools of tadpoles, guarded by sturdy-looking, heavily armed natite warriors.
“That’s a nursery,” Renzo said. “It may be that this entire, impossible town is a nursery.”
We came to rest in an open space, the galley crunching loudly on coral paving stones. I looked at my companions, all of whom shared an expression of utter disbelief.
We were in a bubble on the ocean’s floor. If the bubble popped, we would all die.
We were in the land of the natites. And we were completely at their mercy.
31
Grendwallif
“I will take two humans as well as the dairnes,” Emecktril announced. He squinted at Gambler. “And the felivet and wobbyk, I suppose.”
“What about Dog?” Renzo asked. “He stays with me, no matter what.”
“Fine. Bring the canine as well,” said Emecktril with a wave of his hand.
“Where are you taking us?” Khara demanded, trying to assert her authority in a place where no one but a natite could have any sway.
“Surely we cannot leave this bubble?” Maxyn asked, sounding as afraid as I felt.
“We have our ways,” Emecktril said smugly. “Stand before me.”
We all stood nervously. The natite closed his eyes and began to mutter strange, indecipherable words in a dialect I had never heard.
“Tamak on maaginen colloitsu, joka trojuu vett’ank antar simulle heng itsken,” he murmured.
“He’s weaving a theurgic spell,” Renzo said.
I suppose he meant to reassure us, but his words failed. I felt something spreading across my body, as if someone were covering my fur with jelly. It was at once invisible and disturbingly slimy. When the goo made its way to my face, I felt a moment of panic.
“Now, follow me.” Emecktril stepped directly through the side of the huge, transparent sac surrounding our galley. Amazingly, the bubble remained intact.
Emecktril turned and gestured impatiently.
Khara went first. Safely on the other side, she took a wary breath. Her eyes widened, and she motioned us to follow.
It was perhaps the strangest thing I have ever experienced. Slipping through the bubble barrier was painless. There I was, underwater—far underwater—and yet my fur remained dry. When I took a tentative breath, I tasted only cool, clean air.
My feet touched wet sand and I found I could walk, but with the resistance you might expect from water. Each step was slow and laborious. Emecktril floated in his natural element, swimming forward in a leisurely fashion with little kicks from his webbed feet, while steering with his webbed hands.
It was like having a savrielle dream, strange and unreal without being frightening. Shimmering fish fluttered past my face. An octopus scuttled across the sea floor, raising a small cloud of sand. Natites passed us alone or in groups, while others busied themselves in what seemed to be large birthing rooms in separate buildings. Maxyn nudged me, and I followed his gaze to see a collection of eggs, perhaps a hundred, held in place by a loose net. While we watched, the eggs hatched, extruding tendrils of purple liquid. As the tadpoles swam free of their egg casings, three natites used small nets to shoo the newborns to the next level of the nursery.
Emecktril led us into a large building. It was open on all sides but contained a sort of building-within-a-building, a windowless cube with a single entrance. Emecktril opened the door and moved through. So did we, and all at once we were in air again. The absence of watery resistance made me stumble, and Maxyn caught my arm.
The room was absolutely bare, with no sort of furniture or adornment. “What is this place?” Khara asked.
“It is called an interface. A place where natites can allow air breathers to be at ease.”
I was definitely not at ease. In fact, I was still verging on panic each time I remembered the hundred feet of water between me and the atmosphere. But I was quickly distracted by an arrival.
The door swung open, and a large natite head poked inside. “Ah! I see you are already here!”
The head, broader, less sleek, with startlingly blue eyes, was followed by a long body, three times the length of Emecktril. Once inside, the creature filled a quarter of the space.
“Welcome, welcome,” the new arrival said cheerfully. “I am Grendwallif, the Elect of this hatchery.”
I had never met, seen, heard of, or imagined such a thing as a cheerful natite. But cheerful she was.
“Emecktril! Have some refreshments brought for our honored guests. And what are those things . . . I forget what they’re called. Humans use them. They place their rear fatty sections on them and—”
“Chairs, Elect,” Emecktril offered. “They are en route.”
Two new natites appeared, hauling what were arguably chairs fashioned out of coral.
“Ah, there! Do please use them,” Grendwallif the Elect said.
As soon as Khara had seated herself, Grendwallif cried, “Oh, I want to try one!” She settled into one of the far-too-small chairs uncomfortably for a moment before ceding it to me. “Well,” she said ruefully, “to each her own, eh?”
Soon food appeared: raw fish, something green that was bitter to the taste, and, to our delight, a teapot and cups. The tea was hot and a little sweet—not wonderful, but drinkable and most welcome.
Grendwallif waited impatiently while we ate, moving back and forth, two strides in each direction. Every so often she muttered, “I must practice my dry-walking skills.”
Finally Khara said, “Grendwallif the Elect, may I know the reason for this meeting?”
“Oh, of course!” Grendwallif exclaimed. “Mind you, I am no diplomat, nor am I a warrior, nor yet a leader, except of this small hatchery. Still, I have been tasked with discovering your purpose.” She clapped her webbed hands together
. “And so let us begin, shall we?”
32
A Curse and a Prophecy
“We are on our way to Nedarra,” Khara answered cautiously, “having freed some galley thralls who wished to return home.”
The Elect’s brilliant blue eyes blinked. First a translucent lid closed, then an opaque lid. Then they opened in reverse order. “That does not explain why you are traveling with two dairnes, a wobbyk, and a felivet.”
I wondered why, if Grendwallif was a mere hatchery supervisor, she was questioning us, but realized I was probably seeing more evidence of the natite ability to share information over vast distances.
Khara shrugged. “We had a common purpose: to find living dairnes.”
“And you found these two?”
“Byx”—Khara indicated me—“has been with us from the start. The slaughter of her people left her without home or family.”
Grendwallif winced. Insofar as I could read natite facial expressions, it seemed to me she was genuinely sympathetic. “What a terrible thing!”
“The Murdano’s Seer, Araktik, declared dairnes extinct. We endeavor to see whether this is true.”
Grendwallif nodded. “To preserve a species is a noble cause. But is it your only cause?”
For once, Khara was caught off guard. “It is the cause that unites us.”
It sounded evasive, and Grendwallif’s smile was tolerant. “Ah, this is when I wish I were a diplomat. I would perhaps find a better way to say what I must, which is that your answer is . . . incomplete. Is that not so, my dairne friends?”
Now I was the one caught off guard. As I hesitated, Maxyn spoke. “Her answer is true but incomplete.”
“Perhaps you will complete the answer, Maxyn the dairne.”
“After they came to my home, my father was killed.”
Grendwallif recoiled in horror. “Can this be true?”
“It was not their doing,” Maxyn said.
“We never meant any harm to come to Maxyn’s father,” said Khara. “We were searching for dairnes on the sentient island of Tarok.”
“And what do you know of Tarok?” asked the Elect, her tone grave.
Khara said, “We know it is used to transport spies and traitors. We know that Maxyn’s father was used by the Kazar Sg’drit to test the veracity of all passengers and report back to the Kazar.”
“Ah. And you surmise that we natites allowed this to go on, yes?”
Khara nodded.
“Drench me,” Grendwallif said. A hatch opened directly over her head and seawater cascaded down like a tiny waterfall, wetting Grendwallif’s drying scales. The water pooled around our feet, then vanished.
Grendwallif heaved a sigh and said, “We do not interfere in the affairs of air breathers. This means allowing the passage of boats or even islands, so long as the blood tax has been collected and tariffs have been paid. Sometimes that tariff is in the form of an object we cannot make ourselves. Other times the tariff is . . . information.”
Khara understood before I did. “You were being kept informed of what happened on the sentient island.”
Grendwallif nodded and smiled. “Understand that this is not my usual function. I am here to watch over the young ones. To protect them. But here I am, and here you are, so the unpleasant duty of questioning you falls to me. I don’t wish or intend to be rude.”
Khara nodded. Renzo rolled his eyes. Gambler studied a paw intently.
“Here is the thing,” Grendwallif said regretfully. “Your story is still incomplete. Will you, Kharassande of the Donatis, show me your sword?”
Khara had no choice. She drew her sword and handed it hilt-first to Grendwallif. The big natite examined it with care.
“Great and ancient theurgy hangs about this sword,” Grendwallif pronounced. “This is no sword for a simple girl leading a small expedition to find dairnes. This is a sword of great significance, is it not?”
“Yes,” Khara admitted.
“Will you name your sword for me?”
“It is called the Light of Nedarra.”
Grendwallif’s face lost its cheerfulness. “It is as we suspected. So. War comes, and soon our waters will be poisoned by the bodies of dead air breathers.”
“But I am not the cause of a war,” Khara protested.
“No,” Grendwallif acknowledged. “But I see you do not know the spells that surround your sword, Kharassande of the Donatis. Air breather theurgy is crude but powerful. Its secrets are not secrets to natite eyes. We see what air breathers merely feel.”
Khara exchanged confused looks with us. “What spells are you talking about?”
“A destiny spell woven by a sorcerer of great power and deep understanding. The sword has power of the conventional kind. It is sharp and heavy and made of a metal whose secrets have long been lost. It carries smaller spells as well, the kind that hide its glory and make it appear a simple, rusty object until drawn in anger.”
Khara nodded. “I know of those spells.”
“A spell of destiny underlies all other magic, a curse and a prophecy. This sword will be drenched in blood in a great war. I feel the awakening of this ancient magic. Its time is coming.” Grendwallif used one of her tentacles to hand the sword back to Khara, as if anxious to rid herself of it.
For a while the Elect stood silent and unmoving, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. I guessed that she was conferring with other natites, perhaps many leagues away.
When she spoke again, her tone was stern. “You must tell me what you intend, Kharassande of the Donatis.”
“I . . .” Khara shook her head. “I have no plans.”
“Perhaps, but you have a dream, do you not?”
Khara seemed to debate with herself, her expression by turns angry, worried, and, finally, accepting.
“Yes, I dream,” she said. She did not look at any of us as she spoke. “I dream of returning to my father and raising an army.”
I glanced at Renzo and Gambler. Neither looked entirely surprised.
“And for which side would this army of yours fight?”
“For neither side!” Khara said hotly. “I would stop the fighting. I would use whatever power I have, whatever power this sword holds, to stop the war.”
“A peacemaking sword?” Grendwallif was skeptical.
“Yes,” Khara said. She was flushed, as if embarrassed by this admission, her voice soft but edged with resolve.
Perhaps I should not have been surprised. I had never asked Khara directly whether she had plans, beyond keeping us all alive.
But Grendwallif’s face did not convey disbelief or scorn. On the contrary, she seemed saddened. “So much blood will be spilled to make what you air breathers call ‘peace.’”
“We had heard . . . we had come to believe . . . that your people were not neutral,” Khara ventured.
“No, we are not neutral,” Grendwallif said. “We oppose any who would poison the seas or the rivers that feed it. We know that the Murdano fights for human dominance, even if it means destroying all other species. And we know that if the Kazar prevails, he will do no better. Fools, both! Do they not understand that every creature is connected to all others? Do they imagine that annihilating some species and enslaving others will not spread sickness and despair through all living things?”
“But—” I blurted, before shutting my mouth.
“Speak, Byx,” Grendwallif said.
“But don’t you natites have the power to stop the war by yourselves?”
“We could try. But by interfering in the affairs of air breathers, would we not then become their enemies? The oceans are vast, but not endless, while the greed and ambition of humans”—she glanced at Gambler—“and, it seems, felivets, is without end.”
Renzo cleared his throat. “What, then, will you do with us, Elect?”
Once again Grendwallif fell silent, listening to soundless voices. At last she looked at Khara—only at Khara—and said, “We will not interfere in this, your destin
y. But hear this, Kharassande of the Donatis: if you come to power, remember this day. Remember your vulnerability. Remember that you owe your life to the natites.”
I expected Khara to deny such a possibility, to dismiss the idea as an absurd fantasy. But I was wrong.
“Grendwallif the Elect, so long as I live, I will remember not just your kindness, but your words of wisdom as well. For I, too, believe that all living things are connected, each dependent on the others. And I will be a friend to your people.”
33
Khara’s Dream
The natites returned us to the surface, our bodies and our boat intact. The relief of being back above water, breathing actual air, left us all grinning. Quickly we skimmed away on a strong breeze.
Norbert approached me and said, “Friend dairne, I would speak with Khara, and I desire your presence to say whether I speak truth.”
I agreed, mystified.
Sitting before Khara, Norbert looked extremely uncomfortable, but also extremely determined. “I have something to say.”
“Of course,” she said.
“I did not know that you were of the Donatis. I must tell you that I am sworn to the Corpli family.”
The Corplis. Luca’s clan.
Khara nodded cautiously. “I see.”
“The Donatis are sworn enemies of my liege lord.”
“Yes, sadly. We would not have it be so.”
“Your father and some of his people still raid on Corpli land,” Norbert said.
Khara’s jaw clenched dangerously, but she took a steadying breath. “There have been many transgressions on both sides. But in a time when terrible war threatens, I would . . .” She stopped herself and frowned. “My father would that we were allies.”
Norbert shook his head. “That is not a decision for me to make, Kharassande of the Donatis. I can only obey my liege lord.”
“I understand.”
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