Read The Mermaid's Madness Online
Authors: Jim C. Hines
The Mermaid's Madness (7 page)
He turned to Danielle and embraced her as well, being careful not to block Jakob’s view of the window. His faded black robe smelled of incense, and the brown curls of his beard tickled her cheek. “As I told the king, the wounds are serious, but not fatal. Whoever treated her did well. Even your father’s healer pronounced her care ‘adequate.’ ”
Danielle forced a smile. Coming from Tymalous, that was high praise indeed.
“I’m told her wounds go deeper than the body,” said Armand.
“I know.” Isaac backed away, straightening the rose-red collar of his robe. The collar was wrinkled, the edges dark with sweat. A jeweled crucifix hung from a leather thong around his neck, seeming out of place against his oft-patched robe. Small rubies capped each of the tiny nails holding the silver figure to the cross.
“Spirit has been torn from flesh,” Isaac said as he led them to the altar. He picked up another palm frond, his hands moving with well-practiced assurance as he folded the frond into a cross. He gently tucked the cross into the queen’s hands. “This will protect her until I have time to erect a stronger ward. She should be safe here.”
“A ward?” Danielle asked.
“Not all churches frown upon the magical arts.” A smile flitted across Isaac’s face. “Given the nature of this kingdom, it would be a foolish ruler who didn’t bring a magical adviser into his circle.”
“You said she would be safe,” said Armand. “Safe from what?”
Though the king didn’t look up from his prayers, Danielle saw his shoulders tense. He was listening as closely as his son.
“Her body is vulnerable,” Isaac said. “There are forces in this world that might seek to use such an unprotected host.”
Danielle hugged Jakob tighter. Jakob squirmed in protest. He twisted about to stare at Beatrice, his small mouth pursed in concentration. Slowly, his face stretched into a yawn.
“Magic is a gift from God, like anything else,” Isaac said. “The blade that struck your mother is a perversion of that gift. I can care for her mortal body, but even here, protected by God’s power, the body can survive for only so long without the soul.”
Armand nodded. “How long?”
“A week. Perhaps two. The queen is strong, but she is not a young woman.”
For a moment, Danielle felt like a child again. She wanted to flee to her mother’s hazel tree and hide within the branches where she would be safe. But her mother’s tree was gone, and hiding wouldn’t help the queen. She moved closer to Armand, drawing on his strength instead. He did the same, stepping toward her until their shoulders touched.
“What can we do?” asked Armand. “I mean no offense to your knowledge, but there are other mages in Lorindar. We can summon help from Fairytown as well. They will—”
“And what will you offer the rulers of Fairytown for their aid?” asked King Theodore. Here in the chapel, he didn’t bother to conceal his bitterness. “What price will you pay for the life of a queen?”
“Without knowing how her spirit was taken, they could do no more than I,” Isaac said. “For now, Armand, you should comfort your father. Take strength in your shared love for her and for one another.”
“We’ve little time,” Armand said. “Lorindar may soon be at war with the undine, and love will not find the mermaid who did this.”
“No. But it will help you through the days to come.” Isaac turned to Danielle. “As for you, perhaps you should take your son to the nursery?”
Danielle looked down at Jakob, who had fallen asleep and was now drooling on her shoulder.
Isaac bent down to kiss Jakob’s forehead. “God be with you all.”
Lirea floated in the shade beneath the dock, listening to the creak of wood as the humans finished unloading their ship. One hand clutched her knife in its sheath. The sea had washed the human queen’s blood from the blade, but it didn’t matter. The attack had roused the voices, like blood to sharks.
Quiet,
she sang, but the knife wouldn’t listen. She crossed her hands over her chest, trying to muffle the knife’s cries. It was like an infant, wailing an incoherent song of fear and grief. So loud . . . she had huddled in the cold depths throughout the night, trying to block out the sound and the memories.
she sang, but the knife wouldn’t listen. She crossed her hands over her chest, trying to muffle the knife’s cries. It was like an infant, wailing an incoherent song of fear and grief. So loud . . . she had huddled in the cold depths throughout the night, trying to block out the sound and the memories.
A school of minnows swam past, laughing at her. She tensed and waved them to silence, but they ignored her. Fortunately, the humans didn’t hear. Minnows had tiny voices, and she knew from experience how weak human ears were.
You’ll never find her.
Stupid minnows. She snatched at them, but they darted between her fingers.
You’ve killed the human queen. They’re all against you now. If they don’t destroy you, then Lannadae will find you and kill you, just as you killed your father.
Shut up!
She grabbed again, this time catching one unfortunate minnow in her fist. She stuffed him into her mouth, then glared at the rest, daring them to speak.
She grabbed again, this time catching one unfortunate minnow in her fist. She stuffed him into her mouth, then glared at the rest, daring them to speak.
They swam away in silence. The one she had caught squeaked
Murderer!
from within her jaws. A little vicious chewing took care of him.
Murderer!
from within her jaws. A little vicious chewing took care of him.
Lirea waited until the humans left, then swam out from beneath the dock. She followed a white sandbar toward the ships anchored farther upshore.
The water tasted faintly of blood. She could hear scavenger birds crying and fighting near the shore, swooping down as they tried to swipe a meal from the humans’ nets.
Lirea swam along the seabed, stirring clouds of sand as she approached a small, single-masted vessel near the end of the harbor. The ship was in poor repair, judging from the peeling paint and the taste of rot in the water. Lirea swam around to the far side, where the ship would conceal her from the others.
The water was deeper here. The humans must have dredged the bay to allow their vessels to load and unload. The morning sun rippled along the surface.Anyone looking down should have a hard time seeing past that reflection.
Lirea fought tears as she shifted her body to human form. Scales cut her legs, piercing skin and muscle as they were absorbed into her body. Blood trickled from her legs as the flesh sealed over countless cuts. She swam to the surface, spitting seawater from her lungs and sinuses.
Slowly, she paddled toward the anchor chain that trailed from the ship. She stripped off her harness, tying it to the chain beneath the surface. It was easy to feign weakness as she called out.
A tousled head peeked down from the ship. Lirea heard shouts, and then a strange contraption of wood and cork splashed into the water beside her. She guessed it to be a buoy of some sort. Cork ringed a wooden disk. The rope was secured to an iron loop in the center. After studying the device, she grabbed the rope and pulled her legs onto the disk like a human stool. She used her other hand to keep from bouncing against the hull as they hauled her on board.
Two men stared at her. At first Lirea thought some of her scales might still be showing, but then she remembered the human taboo against nudity.
“What happened to you?” one asked.
Lirea hugged herself, trying to cover her body the way a human might. She hobbled past them, putting the cabin between herself and the other ships. “I don’t want to talk about it.” A true enough statement.
“Geoffrey, fetch a blanket for the lass,” said the one with the tousled hair. He appeared to be the older of the two. He was coiling the rope from the flotation device.
Geoffrey’s eyes lingered on Lirea a moment longer, then he turned away. Lirea waited until he ducked into the cabin, then moved toward the other man. “Let me help you.”
“No need. You’ve been through enough.”
Lirea took the rope anyway. He started to protest, but Lirea looped the rope around his neck and pulled.
The crack of bone brought Geoffrey from the cabin. He stared at Lirea and the crumpled body of his friend.
Lirea broke the flotation ring over his head. He fell, still clutching a rumpled blanket in his hands.
The ship swayed in the wind. Somewhere beyond the harbor, a small band of undine waited beneath the waves for Lirea’s return. Lirea would have sent them with the rest to begin their war against the humans, but Nilliar had insisted they escort their queen.
They couldn’t help Lirea now. Traitor Lannadae might be, but she was also of royal blood. No single-tailed undine would dare kill her. It was up to Lirea to find and punish her sister.
She should have attacked the human queen’s ship, sinking them all, but the shock of the knife’s rage had been too much. By the time Lirea recovered, the humans had already fled.
Perhaps it was for the best. The human queen had been Lirea’s only hope of finding Lannadae, and now she was dead. Let the survivors carry her warning back to their king. When their vessels began to disappear, they would remember Lirea’s price for safe passage.
Raindrops sprinkled Lirea’s skin as she lowered the flotation ring back into the water and climbed down to retrieve her knife. Once she was back on the ship, she knelt to remove Geoffrey’s clothing. Both men were larger than her, but it would do. She slipped the loose shirt over her head, then used a skinning knife from the older man to shorten the sleeves. She performed similar alterations on the trousers, then sat down and massaged her legs, trying to rid her muscles of the worst of the pain.
She searched the rest of the ship, but she found no other occupants. With the cabin blocking her from the other ships, nobody else appeared to have noticed her presence.
She dragged Geoffrey’s groaning body below. If anyone had heard rumors of a mermaid living along the shores of Lorindar, it would be a sailor. If not this one, there were plenty of others to talk to.
Lannadae had evaded Lirea once. She wouldn’t escape again.
CHAPTER 3
I
N THE YEARS SINCE SNOW HAD FLED her country, she had never been able to completely accept Lorindar as home. The endless rain, the fog that rolled in each morning, chilling the air, the cry of the gulls . . . and had she known how often she would be forced to eat seafood, she might have stayed in Allesandria, even if it meant facing a death sentence for the murder of her mother the queen.
N THE YEARS SINCE SNOW HAD FLED her country, she had never been able to completely accept Lorindar as home. The endless rain, the fog that rolled in each morning, chilling the air, the cry of the gulls . . . and had she known how often she would be forced to eat seafood, she might have stayed in Allesandria, even if it meant facing a death sentence for the murder of her mother the queen.
Though she never spoke of it, there were days when she longed to look out and see not endless ocean but the jagged mountains topped with snow.
The place where she felt most at home was far beneath the palace, in the room she had claimed as both library and laboratory. Books lined the walls on shelves of oiled wood. The walls were bare stone, as her room in Allesandria had been. The blue and gold carpet in the tight-stitched styles of home must have cost a fortune. Beatrice had imported it two years ago for Snow as a birthday gift.
Stains and burns marred the carpet now, the result of two years of magical experimentation.
The most valuable artifact in the room, one of the few items Snow had been able to smuggle out of Allesandria, was the magical mirror that hung from the wall. Flowering vines cast in platinum framed the oval mirror, which was taller than Snow herself. Every once in a great while, Snow would sneak down here and ask the mirror to show her the mountains of home.
Today she was ready to smash a chair through the glass. She sat on a barrel, her bare heels thudding against the wood as she glared at the mirror. The mirror reflected her glare right back.
“Mirror, mirror, of silvered glass. Find Lirea or I’ll break your—”
“How exactly would one break a mirror’s ass?” asked Talia, stepping through the archway into the room.
“It’s metaphorical.” Snow rubbed her eyes, then grimaced. Her joints were stiff, and her eyes felt as though Danielle had scoured them on one of her cleaning binges. “How long have I—”
“About an hour.” Talia sat on the floor, folding her legs beneath her. “I take it you haven’t been able to find Lirea?”
“I caught a glimpse once. She was somewhere in the water.”
“Well, that certainly narrows it down.”
Snow reached out to touch the platinum frame of the mirror. She had tried one spell after another, searching for both Beatrice and Lirea. Her first efforts to find Beatrice had come up against a magical ward. Recognizing Father Isaac’s spells, she had tried again, this time concentrating on Bea’s spirit. The mirror had revealed only darkness. “My mother would have been able to find her.”
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