One Salt Sea od-5

by Seanan McGuire

  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 panic.

  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 nee
d 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 ahead 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.

  Hell, maybe I’d get lucky, and someone in the Undersea would know what coffee was.

  FIFTEEN

  THE ROOM WE SWAM INTO made the grand ballroom at Shadowed Hills look tiny. The gleaming mother-of-pearl walls were mostly obscured by elaborate loops of coral shaped like an abstract jungle gym. I thought it was purely decorative until half the fae in our escort swam off and settled themselves among the nooks and handholds. Several of the octopus-merfolk actually suspended themselves from what should have been the ceiling, hanging there and watching us as we passed.

  “Creepy,” I muttered—or would have, if I’d been above water. As it was, I just managed a few bubbles. I scowled, swimming after Dianda. She was moving more slowly now that we were out of open water. That was a good thing; I would never have been able to keep up with her otherwise.

  The hall paid no attention to conventional geometry, twisting and looping like a piece of tangled string, until I could only tell up from down by the direction people’s hair floated. The ones that had hair, anyway. I’m used to fae with feathers or scales or even willow branches in place of hair. Kelp, coral, bristling sea urchin spines, and lionfish fins . . . those were new to me.

  Dianda doubled back to grab my wrist before diving upward into a long passage. She gathered speed as she went. I did the same, or as close to the same as I could manage. This “swimming” thing was harder than it looked. At least it was keeping me from thinking too hard about the fact that I was underwater, and worse, actually breathing water, just like I did in the pond.

  Even that brief acknowledgment of the fact that I was surrounded by water was enough to make me start panicking again. I surged forward, nearly smacking my tail against the walls, and actually pulled even with Dianda for a brief second. She nodded approvingly, jerked me closer, and sped up.

/>   Her momentum carried us out of the tunnel into a shallow blue-watered pool that spread out around us like a basin. I gasped as we broke the surface, as much from reflex as from the actual need to feel air, real air, filling my lungs. Something tickled the sides of my neck; my gills, closing themselves now that they weren’t needed. Because that wasn’t creepy or anything.

  My hair fell into my eyes as soon as my head was out of the water. I shoved it aside and took a good look at the room around us. It was built much more along the lines I’ve come to expect from buildings: walls that went straight up, rather than curving and twisting in odd angles, and ended at a flat ceiling. Everything looked like it had been carved from a single massive piece of pink coral, but aside from that, it was all normal. If it weren’t for the pink walls and the lack of windows, I could easily have believed that we had somehow managed to swim into a land knowe.

  There was even furniture, clearly designed for use by human-shaped people. It looked like it had been scavenged from old sailing ships, creating a sort of “Jules Verne meets Martha Stewart” design aesthetic. Even the chandeliers appeared to have been fashioned from old ship’s wheels, with glowing anemone-things in place of candles.

  Dianda paddled to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out of the water, twisting into a sitting position. All she needed was a hairbrush and a ship to sink and she could have passed for a Waterhouse painting. “I’m betting you don’t know how to do this.”

  “Since I don’t know what ‘this’ is, you’re probably right.” The water got shallower as I got closer to Dianda. I stopped trying to swim and put my hands on the bottom of the pool, “walking” myself along. “What are we doing?”