Waterfire Saga, Book Three: Dark Tide: A Deep Blue Novel (35 page)

“She’s trying to outrun them,” Marco said.

Becca crouched down in the tank. Its clear sides allowed her to see the ocean out of a window. The wind had grown stronger and the waves had risen higher.

Marco poked his head out of the hatch and swore. “It’s no good,” he told Becca anxiously, as he returned to the tank. “They’re blocking us. They’re trying to
cut us off.”

“Hang on, everyone!” Becca heard Elisabetta yell. “It’s about to get bumpy!”

The engines were roaring now. The
Marlin
was going much faster than it should in rough seas.

“Marco, what’s happening?” Becca asked fearfully, gripping both sides of the tank. Water was sloshing over them now. “Where are Mfeme’s boats?”

He popped his head out of the hatch again. “Dead ahead and broadside!” he shouted.

“
Dead ahead and broadside?
But we must be going eighty knots!” Becca exclaimed.

“El’s going to try to jump them. The waves will give us lift. If we make the jump at full speed, we can escape,” Marco yelled.

“And if we
don’t
make the jump?” Becca yelled back.

Marco didn’t answer right away. Then he turned back to her and said, “We’re dead meat.”

“M
ARCO, Becca, brace yourselves!” Elisabetta shouted.

Marco sat down sideways in his chair and threw an arm around its back. Becca gripped one side of the tank with both hands. She heard the engines scream as Elisabetta pushed the throttle all the
way open.

The
Marlin
rose straight up the side of a giant roller. The powerful wave caught it, heaved it up its crest, and launched it—straight over Mfeme’s boats. As it crashed back
down in the water, its propellors caught and the
Marlin
shot off.

Marco ran up on the deck. A few seconds later, Becca heard him hooting and laughing.

“Way to go, El!” he whooped.

“What’s happening?” Becca shouted.

Marco jumped back down belowdecks. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes sparkling.

“Mfeme’s two captains tried to follow,” he explained, “but before they could turn themselves around, another roller caught them broadside. It capsized one and flooded the
other. They’re sinking!”

Becca went limp with relief. Racing for the boat and then being convinced she was about to die in a fiery wreck had wiped everything from her mind. Now that she could think straight, what Marco
had said to her before Elisabetta turned the
Marlin
into a flying fish came flooding back.

“Marco?”

“Hmm?” he said. He’d walked to the window and was looking out of it now.

“You were going to tell me something earlier. Before Elisabetta shouted for us to get back in the boat. What was it?”

Becca was nervous about what he might say, but she wanted to know. She
had
to know. If he was feeling what she was feeling, then there was trouble ahead for both of them. Such
relationships had been attempted on occasion. They never ended well.
Surf and turf,
the mer called them. Becca could hear the scornful jokes already.

Marco turned to her. Though he was tanned, Becca saw a flush creep into his cheeks. He ran a hand through his hair. “Earlier? Hmm. I forget,” he said. “Maybe…um…probably
that I think we’ll make the Karg soon. Yeah, that was it. In three or four days, tops. Good news, right?” he said, smiling brightly.

Becca nodded. “Very,” she replied, smiling back just as brightly.

She was wrong. Marco didn’t have feelings for her. Thank the gods.

“Well, I…um…I should check on El. Make sure everything’s okay topside.”

“You probably should,” Becca agreed.

He climbed up the ladder and disappeared.

Becca watched him go, feeling relieved.

And foolishly, maddeningly, sad.

L
UCIA TOOK A DEEP BREATH, then pressed the carved dolphin on the mantel in her mother’s sitting room. As she did, a secret door to the left
of the lavaplace clicked open.

Silently, she thanked the odious Baco Goga for revealing the door, and the network of tunnels it led to. She’d made very good use of them in her mother’s absence.

Holding a lava torch aloft, she swam into the passageway, closed the door, and started down the tunnel. She carried clothing folded over her arm—Mahdi’s clothing. She’d stolen
it from his room just today, while he was out. A few trocii slipped into a maid’s hand had bought her access.

She wished she had company for her journey through the tunnels, but now that Bianca was gone, there was no one she could trust with her secret. Guilt, cold and nauseating, clutched at her at the
memory of her friend. Lucia had turned her over to Kharis with barely a backward glance. Sometimes, in her nightmares, she still heard Bianca’s screams.

Lucia shook off the guilt. The regina mattered far more than any of her subjects. The ruler’s happiness was of paramount importance to the realm. Surely, in her last moments, Bianca had
been glad to know that she’d fulfilled her duty.

“A little fish gone, that’s all. A
very
little fish. And there are so many more of them in the sea,” Lucia said aloud, pushing all thoughts of Bianca from her mind.
She had more important things to focus on now.

The tunnel walls were thickly furred with pale seaweeds, white anemones, and other things that thrived in the dark. They reached for Lucia as she swam by. In one tunnel bones littered the
floor—mer bones. Lucia glanced down at a skull and tried not to imagine her own bones moldering here—which could happen if she lost her way. There were no other living souls down here
to hear a call for help.

About an hour later, she arrived at her destination—the maze of cave-like rooms under the Kolisseo, a large open-water amphitheater outside the palace walls. As Lucia moved through the
labyrinth to the centermost room, creatures slithered and scuttled away from the light of her torch. She heard a deep, heavy groan—as if an entire scrap heap of metal had suddenly come to
life, and then what sounded like sledgehammers striking stone.

“Who comesssss to disssturb Alítheia?” a voice hissed. “Your bonessss ssshe will eat, intruder. Your blood ssshe will drink.”

Lucia stopped, paralyzed by the anarachna’s voice. She hated the creature and feared her, but she needed her, too. Alítheia’s den was the only place in all of Cerulea where no
one dared to go—no one but Lucia.

Alítheia was a giant bronze spider. Murderously violent, she killed all mer who came near her—except for the Merrovingian reginas. Alítheia had been created by Merrow and the
gods to ensure no imposters ever sat on Miromara’s throne. Swallowing her fear, Lucia swam on. “Alítheia, this is Lucia, your regina! I hope you’ve guarded my possession
well!”

Lucia heard an ear-splitting roar, and then a pounding, and knew the anarachna was furious. “No bonesss for Alítheia!” the creature howled.

“You’ll have your bones, spider,” Lucia said, entering the den. “My father’s dungeons are full of traitors.”

Alítheia scuttled up to Lucia. She was massive, with tapered legs that ended in dagger-sharp points, eight black eyes, and long, curved fangs. Lucia raised her lava globe high, lest the
spider forget herself. The only thing in the world Alítheia feared was lava.

“Where is my maligno?” Lucia demanded.

The anarachna pointed at the back of its den. “No bonesss, no blood in it. No heart, no sssoul in it,” she said contemptuously.

Lucia swam to the maligno, past cocoons spun of bronze filament that were suspended from the ceiling. Most of them dangled motionlessly, but some were still moving.

Kharis had delivered her creation to Lucia three nights ago. Alítheia’s den was the ideal hiding place for it.

“How perfect you are,” Lucia crooned to it now, running a crimson-tipped finger over its cheek. “No one would ever be able to tell the difference between you and the real
Mahdi.”

The maligno stared ahead expressionlessly.

“Take these and put them on,” Lucia instructed, handing it the clothing she’d brought.

The maligno nodded, pulled off the tunic Kharis had dressed it in, and donned Mahdi’s white shirt and black jacket.

Lucia buttoned up the jacket, then smiled, satisfied. “Soon now,” she whispered to the maligno. Then she turned to the spider. “Good-bye, Alítheia,” she said.
“Continue to guard my possession and I’ll reward you well.”

“When bonesss? When blood?” Alítheia asked sullenly.

“Not much longer,” Lucia replied, swimming out of the cave. “Not long at all.”

T
HE SMALL VILLAGE of Q
ī
ngshu
ĭ
was quiet, deserted. Moonlight shone down on it, illuminating narrow currents and
humble dwellings.

Ling could see her home, built high on a soaring rock face like all the others, and she longed to rush to it. But she was well versed now in the ways of the death riders, so she stayed where she
was, hidden at the base of the rock for an hour, watching.

When she was certain there were no soldiers waiting to ambush her, she swam up, past the homes of her neighbors, to her own. No lights were glowing in any of the windows. It was after midnight.
Everyone was asleep.

Quietly, she entered the back door of her house. The structure was long, narrow, and attached to the rock face like a barnacle. It contained not only her immediate family, but also her two
grandmothers and many aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Ling paused in the kitchen for a moment, inhaling the familiar scent of home—her mother’s perfume, the mouthwatering aroma of the pearl cakes her grandmother Wen always made, and
L
ā
tà and Zàng, her brothers’ lazy dogfish. They were snoring in a corner of the kitchen now. Each one opened an eye, looked her over, then went back to
sleep.

Ling had taken a risk in coming here, but she had no choice. She needed to change her prison tunic for some real clothing, stock up on food and currensea, and get some medicine. She’d left
the Abyss two days ago and had not yet regained her magic. The effects of depth sickness were still plaguing her, causing her to swim slowly, and she needed to purge the sea wasp’s poison
from her system so she could songcast again.

And there was one more thing she had to do—the most important thing: speak with her sad, silent mother.

Ling made her way to her room, sliding the bamboo door open and closing it again behind her. Her bed looked so soft and inviting, it was all she could do not to flop down on it and sleep for a
week. But she couldn’t; she had to get to Sera.

Moving quickly, Ling opened her closet door and pulled a backpack off her shelf. She stuffed a change of clothing and a warm jacket into it. The rest of the space in her pack was for food. She
planned to travel back currents—the lonelier, the better. She could not afford to be seen.

Once Orfeo found out she’d escaped from the labor camp, he’d have every death rider in the sea after her. The last thing he’d want would be for her to make it to Sera and tell
her who Rafe Mfeme really was.

She changed into fresh clothing, first removing the puzzle ball from the pocket of her horrible prison tunic and placing it in the bottom of her pack. Then she cut her father’s wedding
ring out of the tunic’s hem. She almost threw the uniform in the garbage, but thought better of it, instead stashing it in her pack’s outer pocket. As soon as she came across a lava
seam, she’d toss it in.