by Dawn Metcalf
Joy sighed and picked at her nails. “My father’s due home in a few days and Monica is coming out of the hospital around then, too. Stef’s still unbelievably angry at me and, as far as I know, so is Ink.” She scraped her foot against the edge of the stair and twisted her fingers in her shirt. “Inq said he’s safe, and that’s all I really wanted to know.” Filly stretched the tattooed lines on her eyelids to their utmost in surprise. “Okay,” Joy said. “That’s not all I wanted to know.” She felt the tingle as she cut off the blood flow to the tip of her pinkie finger and let the fabric unwind. “I’m going to have to find some way to apologize before I’m dragged before the Council.”
“Well, it should make it somewhat easier given that neither of you are currently being hunted by the Red Knight.” Filly barked with laughter. “Even the Council will have to sit up and take notice of that! I wish I could be there to see it!”
Joy idly traced a split in the rock wall. “Yeah, well, at least there’s that.” Joy said the words carefully. She and Inq agreed to let it be known that Joy had killed the Red Knight after locking it to its signatura. Joy couldn’t hope to hide Grimson’s mark from Ink or Inq or anyone with the ability to fabricate Sight, but because it was in self-defense, due to an illicit decree, Inq had said that the Council couldn’t fault her—even if she was a human—because otherwise it looked like they couldn’t control their own people or enforce their own laws. “And a little status never hurts, either,” she’d added.
There had been a loophole in the Edict and Joy had closed it. She wasn’t sure if this would be a point in her favor or held against her when she was finally called in front of the Council—which Graus Claude warned could happen any day now—but she was certain she didn’t want anyone to know the details. Inq was right about that, too. Unmaking one of the Folk was worse than just a crime, worse than murder; it was a power too awful and too easy to abuse. That was why the Folk were afraid of humans. That was why the Tide hated Joy. Humans had abused power and humans had abused the Folk—adding fuel to that historical fire would likely end up with Joy on a spit, so their deception wasn’t so much lying as selectively neglecting to mention certain details.
Joy still had nightmares about blood-colored armor and black thorns and flames.
Despite the glow of fresh bruises and bandages, Filly looked healthy and full of good humor. Battle suited her like a cape of bones. “The Council won’t take you to task. You won a fair fight with wit and valor as well as good people at your side.” Filly raised a fist and slammed it against her chest. “Ink knows more than a little about honor and bravery. He’ll come around. You’ll see.”
“And what if he doesn’t?” Joy asked, voicing her fears.
Filly brushed a thumb over the horsehead pendant at her neck. “Well, then I’ll be forced to knock some sense into his head.” She grinned and Joy couldn’t help grinning back. Filly clapped her on the shoulder. It stung. “But enough mooning—he’ll get over it in time—today I’ve come for my payment!”
“Payment?” Joy said, feeling a stab of foreboding, but then she remembered. “Oh. The riddle?”
“Yes,” Filly said. “You agreed to help me solve a riddle. Are you ready?”
Joy shrugged and stacked the last box. “I guess so. Sure.”
“Fine, come with me.” Filly leaped up the steps in gazelle-like bounds. Joy vaulted the stairs after her, feeling every ache and jolt in her body from their journey through the pines. The young warrior waited at the lip of the entrance, gazing through the thick brambles covering the overhang like a tablecloth.
Joy glanced around, seeing nothing but clouds hanging over the polluted river. “Your riddle’s up here?”
“Not precisely,” Filly said and took Joy’s hand, grinning. “Come along!”
Joy felt the tiny hairs on her arms rise and the metallic taste of ions dance on her tongue.
“Wait...” she started to say and then the whole world flashed!
The boom of thunder came a split second later and spat them out into a fierce, whipping wind. Joy stumbled onto the loose sand, salt scouring her face, instantly drying her lips to a pucker. Salt was in the wind, in the sand, in the air and in the ocean crashing blackly far down below. Stubborn sprigs of crabgrass fluttered against the gale and nibbled at the rickety beach wood fence along the edge of a cliff. The wooden slats were jagged and powder-white against the water’s inky darkness.
The wind yawned and swallowed, beating Joy’s eardrums and whipping her hair every which way, pummeling her body with tiny fists. It hurt to listen. It hurt to hear. The wind sounded lonely and hurried and strange.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“The Crags.”
Joy squinted around. “Should I know where that is?”
Filly ignored her as she scanned the horizon. “You agreed to help me solve a riddle,” she said. “Are you ready?”
Joy shrugged. She’d promised to help the warrior woman, and Filly had more than delivered her end of the bargain. “Sure. What is it?” Joy shouted against the air. Filly stood by the fence post, poised and statuesque. Her face cut a sharp profile and her hair was drawn tight in its knot of braids, but even when a few stray hairs danced over her eyes, she did not so much as blink.
Joy was about to repeat herself when Filly pointed to a rock outcropping where several gray shapes moved.
“Do you see them?”
“Is this part of the riddle?”
Filly shook her head. “No.”
Joy shielded her eyes with her hands. They could have been seals or sea lions or something altogether different, but it was pretty clear that she was far from any Carolina shore. The wind was cold and getting colder. That or the shock was wearing off. Joy shivered and tucked her hands under her armpits.
“Sea lions?” Joy guessed.
Filly shook her head again, this time laughing. “No.” She turned more fully to Joy. “Can you hear them?”
“Are you kidding?” Joy said, cupping her hands over her ears. “I can barely hear you!” Joy had never realized how unprotected her ears were. She was unable to close them against assault—there was no escaping the punch and howl of sound.
Filly licked her finger as if testing the direction of the currents and drew it along the fuzzy purple edge of the horizon. “Doubtful air, then,” she said and glanced at Joy’s feet. “Take off your shoes.”
“My what?”
“Your shoes, Joy Malone.” Filly pointed. “Take them off.” Obligingly, Joy toed her shoe loose. She knew her toenails were chipped, making her twisted and malformed toes look particularly ugly today. She didn’t want to be barefoot.
“Is this the riddle?” Joy asked.
“No, it’s an order!” Filly said impatiently. “Do it!”
Joy shucked off her shoes. Cold sand quickly covered her toes.
“Grind your feet.” Filly pulled off her own boots, smashing her foot against the earth, twisting her heel back and forth. “Like this.” Joy complied and felt the earth grow colder, zinging icy sparks up her calves. Filly watched her, then snorted annoyance. Joy stopped. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing or hearing or seeing or feeling, but mostly she was confused and cold. Her ears hurt. Joy yawned to pop them. The waves below banked and crashed, tucked almost silently under the blanket of wind.
Filly stepped through a break in the crusty fence posts, standing at the very edge of the cliff and looking all the way down. Joy felt queasy when Filly gestured for her to come closer to the precipice. Squeezing her arms tighter, she kept her eyes on the skyline, only pretending to look down as she shuffled forward, unwilling to pick her feet up off the ground. A jellylike quiver pooled in her knees and puddled in her stomach. Her mouth was dry. She blinked against the salt in the wind.
“It is a riddle,” Filly said. “And a tough one, no
doubt.” She looked over at Joy and wiped at the tattoos on her eyes. “But I’m not one to give up so easily.” She smiled slyly. “Curious as cats—it’s our curse.”
She clapped a hand on Joy’s shoulder and pushed.
Joy screamed and twisted, tumbling off the cliff backward, her hands flailing around her, hopelessly grabbing empty air. The wind buffeted her body, whipping her hair and cries skyward as Joy saw Filly perform a graceful dive after her, the end of her bandage flapping behind her like a tail. Joy scrambled to grab hold of something, her arms and legs fighting gravity and the force of the wind, but she was too far from the cliff face and there was nothing but open air and the cold spray of the waves below her, crashing white and coming up fast. She was going to hit the water and she was going to hit it hard if she didn’t get control of herself. Joy crunched her ab muscles around a screaming ball of fear and forced her arms straight and her legs to a point, slipstreaming into a passable dive. She prayed as she forced her head downward, straightening her spine, gritting her teeth. She saw a flicker of Filly falling past.
She was grinning like a madhouse on fire.
Joy hit the cold water with a splash. Breath collapsed, her head rang and she sluiced underneath the waves, spearing down through the darkness and the shock of sudden silence. The air had been slapped from her lungs, and her body loosened in a spray of bubbles, her mind blank of anything beyond the immediate need to breathe. The press of water on her skin pushed her urgently to reach the wobbly sunlight overhead. Following the bubbles, she kicked and clawed toward the surface, pulling herself up through the green-black depths and kicking against the waves that tugged her impatiently toward the cliff. She broke through the ocean with a gasp.
She coughed and spat, the salt water in her mouth and nose making her retch, the roll of the churning water doing nothing to help. She choked on her own phlegm in the back of her throat and shook her hair out of her face. Filly was treading water lazily beside her.
“Are you crazy?” Joy screamed through a mouthful of spray. She sputtered and gagged. “You could’ve killed me!”
Filly bobbed on the waves, her hands winding effortless circles. “Not air or water, then,” she said conversationally. “Maybe fire? With that temper, I wouldn’t be surprised. What do you think?”
Joy’s anger flared past her chattering teeth. “What do I think? I think you are completely insane!” She splashed feebly in Filly’s direction, already growing winded. She wasn’t much of a swimmer and hadn’t the rhythm of endurance in the water. Her limbs were tingling with cold.
Filly sniffed, unimpressed. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Something moved beneath the water. Joy saw its shadow slipping under the waves. It was big. Joy pulled her knees close to her chest as it slid beneath her, imagining the feel of it gliding past her feet. It coiled, growing closer, growing larger, threatening to surface. Joy wanted to climb out of the water. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to scream and cry, but didn’t. Couldn’t.
A head broke the water, pale green and dripping; black shark eyes gazed out of a massive horse’s head. The snout was long and ridged, its dark mane tangled with kelp and foam, nictitating membranes flicking over its eyes as its forelegs churned the water. An impossibly long and sinuous tail corkscrewed down into the darkest depths. Joy stared into its glassy gaze.
“She is not one of the Water Folk,” a voice oozed in her ear. “Perhaps Earth?”
Buffeted by a sudden swell, Joy fought to keep herself upright. “What? Of course I’m not!” She spat out a foul mouthful of salt water. “I’m not...I’m not anything!” she said. “I’m not one of the Folk! I’m human!”
Filly rode the waves like she was standing still. “You heard what he said?”
Joy’s anger and fear coiled into suspicion. Suddenly, she understood. She was the riddle, and Joy didn’t like the idea of being solved.
“I heard...something,” she admitted, trying to ignore the penetrating glare of the monstrous sea horse looming over the waves. Her head ached, having been deafened by the wind, drenched in ocean water and exposed to sudden cold. Salt crisped her hair and stung her cheeks. She helplessly looked up at the beach, but it was a long, cold cliff face with only scraggly bits of grass along its height.
“She has an eelet,” the voice said. Joy could hear the thrumming clearer on her right, as if it spoke just over her shoulder past the gulping waves. Joy spun herself around, fighting the current, but all she could see was the horse, staring down. Its mouth hadn’t moved. She noticed a fluttering by its neck where small fins rippled. The giant serpentine tail slithered beneath them. The voice came again. “You placed a shell to your ear, perhaps to listen to the ocean?”
Joy was about to deny it, but she realized that it sounded familiar. She had held a shell up to her ear...but not to listen to the ocean. She remembered a kind, elderly face under a rumpled umbrella that tinged her memory with curiosity and betrayal. Something about the sea and a siren’s song...
She splashed at Filly. “What’s going on?”
Filly treaded water with the same calm grace. “You tell me,” she said as she patted the slick, muscular body of the horse beside her. His side rippled with water and thin, papery fins. “Better yet, tell the hippocamp. His name is—” And she made a sound like waves crashing together, driving flotsam into the undertow.
Joy clamped her mouth shut. It had been the horse. She was talking to an enormous water horse while trying not to drown on the ridge of an unfamiliar ocean. Joy fought the waves and the nausea and lifted her head, trying to ignore everything but the intelligence behind the flat, black eyes.
“A man gave me a shell,” she said, spitting out salt water. “Back when I first delivered messages for Ink. Something about roses for his wife, or maybe his daughter— I forget.” Honestly, what she’d forgotten was whether she’d delivered the message at all, not that it had mattered in the end. He was dead. That was back before she’d known about becoming a lehman for Ink. Back before the elderly man had betrayed her and Graus Claude. Back before she’d begun working for the Bailiwick. Back before she’d betrayed Ink.
Joy wrenched her thoughts to the present where she was wet and cold and growing colder. She pumped her legs and tried to keep away from the giant leaf-shaped fins.
The hippocamp reared out of the water, hooves stippled with barnacles crashing through the spray. Joy splashed to one side, evading his upset. “The siren’s get!”
Filly jerked a thumb at Joy. “Who? Her?”
“No.” The hippocamp’s voice sang a buzz in her head. “An eelet is a rare gift. It burrows inside your ear, attaches close to the bone, adjusting our sonar into sounds humans can hear.” Joy quickly stuck a finger inside her ear as if she could feel the alien thing squirming. The horse tossed its head, spraying Joy’s face with water. “Leave it! As I say, it is a rare gift, a deepwater breed—one of the royal pedigrees, I suspect.”
Joy switched positions, spitting salt. Her arms were getting tired. “He said that his wife was a siren.”
The nictitating membranes blinked. “That man was Dennis Thomas,” he said into her brain. “And that would make you Joy Malone.”
Joy was too cold to be chilled by fear. “How do you know that?”
The hippocamp whickered hard-edged bubbles. “I know many things.”
“I don’t understand,” Joy said. Her teeth clattered as her jaw quivered. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“You understand enough to have come this far,” he said in a voice that slid into her ear. “And with the eelet, you can understand me.” A massive undulating of its flanks and giant frond-like fins and its scales slid into view, rolling lavender, green, purple, turning indigo-black near the tip of its tail. The hippocamp was covered in leaflike flippers from its midsection all along its dragonesque tail. It circled Filly easily. Its eyes bore
down on Joy.
“I cannot lay claim to her as she is not Water,” the hippocamp said. “But I will send word to our representative of her esteem. Perhaps you should try Earth? They would most likely know.”
“As you say,” Filly said and patted the hippocamp’s mane. “We’d best be off before she turns blue.”
“The color doesn’t suit her,” the hippocamp observed. Joy was shivering too badly to reply. It was as if the churning water was liquefying her bones. She couldn’t feel her fingers or feet. The oozing voice warbled in her head as cold water plugged both ears. “I’d best take you to shore.”
Joy felt the tug of something grabbing the back of her shirt along with a hank of hair that should have hurt but felt more like a distant ache. Her limbs floated behind her as she hung loose as a kitten, uncaring and unfeeling as the waves flowed beneath her, spraying her face and lapping over her chest. Too soon she felt as if she were being dragged over sandpaper. The wind bit like mosquitoes, sandy pinpricks all over her body. She curled against the cold and water dribbled out of her mouth, swallowed instantly by the hard, wet sand.
“Definitely not Water Folk,” the hippocamp muttered. Filly rolled her roughly over and Joy flopped onto her back.
“Still alive, Joy Malone?”
Joy cracked her eyes open. Her lips were chapped. “Enough to want to kill you.”
“Well enough, then,” Filly said, laughing, and dripped ocean water into Joy’s face. Joy flinched and protested meekly as the horsewoman pulled her arm over one shoulder and hoisted Joy to her feet. They left long smears in the darker sand behind them that were swept clean by the surf. Filly squeezed Joy’s ribs in a way that felt like a warning, or maybe payback. It hadn’t been that long since their positions had been reversed. “There’s still the riddle, and it’s not solved yet.”
“What do you...?” Joy coughed, stumbling after Filly as she walked up the beach. “What are you trying to prove?”
“What I know is that I know, and others don’t know yet,” she said cryptically. Filly pointed a finger at Joy, her vambrace flashing in the sun. “When I told you to remove my mark, you did it, despite not wanting to, and despite the possibility of earning the Bailiwick’s ire. When I bid you follow, you obeyed, although not completely and not unthinkingly—you heeded my words, even including removing your shoes. And I’ve told you before that no coin you could give me would outweigh what you’ve already given me, your most valuable possession.” She snapped the water from her cape of bones with a self-satisfied grin. “Have you guessed?”
