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Authors: Jim C. Hines

The Mermaid's Madness (22 page)

BOOK: The Mermaid's Madness
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“Can this wait?” Snow asked, still concentrating on the carpenter. “I’m
this
close to making him pick his nose.”
Danielle held up a biscuit. “I’m glad to hear you missed breakfast for something important.”
Snow tried one last time, but the pick turned into a scratch at the last moment, and she gave up. She scowled at the carpenter, then grabbed the biscuit. Her mouth watered at the taste of raisins and cinnamon. “Thank you,” she mumbled between bites. “I’ve been practicing, that’s all.”
“So we’ve noticed,” said Danielle. “You wouldn’t know why Bradley refused to cook this morning, would you? He was saying something about last night’s peas screaming in pain and trying to climb out of the pot when he boiled them.”
Snow tried not to laugh and nearly choked on her biscuit.
“The poor man’s still praying for forgiveness for every legume he’s ever tortured,” Danielle added, lips curled as if she couldn’t decide whether to smile or scold.
“Captain Hephyra says the water ahead grows thick with seaweed.” Talia twisted her hair into a braid as she spoke. “It’s slowing our progress, and it could be dangerous.”
“It is dangerous,” Morveren said, her voice as clear as if she stood beside them. Morveren crawled across the deck, followed closely by her granddaughter. “We’re here.”
“Where is here?” Talia leaned out to study the water ahead. “This is practically a swamp.”
Snow joined Morveren at the rail. Up ahead, clumps of dark red plants carpeted the waves. From here, it looked thick enough to stand on.
“It’s gotten a little overgrown,” Morveren commented.
“A little?” repeated Talia. “That morass could sink an unwary ship.”
“That’s the idea.” The muscles in Morveren’s arms were like ropes as she pulled herself higher. “I like my privacy.”
The crew was already trimming the sails, bringing the
Phillipa
around so she skimmed the edge of the seaweed.
“I’ll need help getting through this mess,” Morveren said. “I enchanted the plants to stop anyone who tries to get too close.”
“Why would you do that?” asked Talia.
Morveren looked at Snow. “I’m sure you’ve collected other trinkets over the years, in addition to that mirror you spoke of. Would you let strangers snoop through your things? Unfortunately, the plants have spread in my absence. And there may be . . . other dangers. I never expected to be away so long.”
Snow hoped her eagerness didn’t show. Enchanted plants? She knew the fairy folk used similar magic, but they guarded those secrets closely. “What other dangers?”
“That depends on how much those plants have grown,” said Morveren. “You’ll need to escort me to the bottom. Have you ever tried shapeshifting?”
Her stomach tightened. “I’ve tried, yes.” The books she had inherited from her mother included spells for changing the body. That was how her mother had fooled Snow into taking a poisoned apple. Snow would have seen through mere illusion. Her mother had physically transformed herself to lull Snow’s suspicions. But Snow had never been able to master that trick. She had tried a great many times over the past year, usually with insects. The most she had managed to do was change a living beetle into a dead beetle.
“I should go,” Lannadae said. “There’s no need for more magic. I can help you through the plants.”
Morveren smiled and kissed Lannadae’s hair. “Thank you, Granddaughter. But you lack the skill to help me. Don’t worry about your friend. She will be—”
“Don’t worry?” Talia asked, moving to stand between them, facing Morveren. “Look at what happened to the last person you changed with your magic. If you think you’re going to lay that kind of curse on Snow—”
Morveren scowled at Snow. “How do you tolerate such ignorance?” To Talia, she said, “The spell I cast on Lirea was meant to last forever. Such a change carries a much greater cost. Snow will be undine for less than a day. She can cast that spell herself once she learns how, and with far less exertion than she used against your Hiladi friends.”
Talia looked ready to toss Morveren overboard, but Snow spoke up first. “I want to learn this, Talia.”
“She destroyed Lirea’s mind,” Talia said. “You can’t risk—”
“She didn’t mean to,” Snow countered. “Morveren tried to help her. It’s not her fault Gustan betrayed her.”
“My parents tried to use magic to ‘help’ me, too. Remember?” Talia’s voice was cold. “There’s always a cost.”
“Then I’ll pay it,” Snow said. “Wouldn’t you do the same to help Beatrice?”
“There will be pain,” Morveren said.
“I’ve eaten Talia’s blackened nadif chicken. I can handle pain.” Snow grinned at Talia. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”
“That would be a first,” Talia muttered.
Snow stuck out her tongue.
“I’ll tell Hephyra what’s happening,” Danielle said.
“She knows.” Snow patted the railing. “This ship is her tree, remember? You think she hasn’t heard every word we’ve spoken?” With that, she handed her hat to Talia, tugged off her shoes, and jumped overboard.
Even here on the edge of the seaweed the plants tangled her legs, slowing her plunge. She could feel Morveren’s enchantment within the ropelike stalks, trying to pull her down, but the magic was weakest here. She kicked to the surface and tugged her feet free just as Morveren dove into the water beside her.
“Hurry back, Grandmother,” Lannadae called.
From the rear of the ship, Captain Hephyra waved at them both. “I’ll bring her about and anchor in clearer water, where the chain won’t tangle in the weeds. Try not to get yourselves eaten.”
“That’s the least of our worries,” Morveren called out. She swam to Snow. “Tell me what you know of shapeshifting.”
Snow’s heart pounded. “I know the theory. Runes traced on the skin to shape the desired form, and then—”
“Undine don’t spend a lot of time drawing,” Morveren said dryly. “Runes are only one way of shaping the magic.” She reached down with one hand, flinching as she twisted a chipped scale from her hip. “Unless you want those trousers bonded to your flesh, you should probably be rid of them.”
Snow held her breath and bobbed beneath the waves, kicking her trousers and undergarments free. There was something delightfully wicked about floating half-naked in the sea. She adjusted her belt, tightening it higher over her shirt. The sunlight reflecting off the surface should preserve her modesty from anyone on the ship.
Snow bundled her things into a ball and pressed them against the side of the ship. A quick spell spread a patch of ice from her clothes, freezing them to the hull to await her return.
“If you humans weren’t so skinny, maybe you wouldn’t need all those clothes,” Morveren muttered. “It’s a wonder you don’t freeze to death come winter.”
The seaweed tickled Snow’s skin behind the knees, making her giggle.
“Stop that.” Morveren pressed the scale into Snow’s hand. “Cut a line down the inside of each leg, deep enough to draw blood. Don’t worry, sharks won’t come anywhere near this place.”
Snow touched the scale’s edge to the inside of her thigh. Gritting her teeth, she pressed until the scale broke the skin, then sliced downward. Blood was a common ingredient for many kinds of magic, but usually she found a less sensitive place from which to acquire it. Breath hissed as she finished the cut. She paddled in place, letting the initial pain pass before starting on the other leg. She studied the scale. The edge was chipped ragged. No wonder it hurt. “My knife would be less painful.”
“The scale gives your body a taste of the form it’s to assume,” Morveren said, swimming around behind Snow. She grabbed the back of Snow’s shirt, supporting her while she recovered. Even with her tails gone, Morveren was a strong swimmer, and the fins along the side of her stumps kept them both afloat. Supported by the water, she moved more easily than she had on board the ship.
Snow’s blood drifted through the water like smoke. “I think I like the runes better.”
Morveren laughed. “If magic were easy, everyone would do it.”
The second cut was harder. Now that she knew how much it would sting, she had to force herself to press hard enough to cut the skin. Morveren held her until she finished.
“Press your legs together and try to cast the spell. The pain will help you focus. Concentrate on the shape you wish to assume.”
Snow nodded and began to chant the words she had learned from her mother’s spellbooks.
“Don’t speak,” Morveren said. “Sing. All the spoken words in the world can’t match the power of a single song. Sing for your ears alone, as you sang to the cat. Force your flesh to obey.”
Snow obeyed, improvising a simple melody to match the words. She could feel the skin of her legs tugging together, but it wasn’t enough. Then Morveren joined her voice to Snow’s.
“It’s working!” She could feel her legs clinging together, as though a single scab bound both cuts.
“Brace yourself, child.”
Pain erupted down Snow’s legs. Her body pulled taut, breaking free of Morveren’s grip. Scales pierced her skin in a thousand places. She tried to scream, and seawater flooded her mouth. Her joints popped and her bones smashed together. Muscles tore and re-formed. She bent double, the sea closing over her head.
Morveren hauled her to the surface, and Snow gasped for breath.
“You
can
breathe water, you know,” said Morveren.
Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision. Already the pain was fading. “Why can’t I stop crying?”
“Larger tear ducts,” Morveren said. “It’s one of the ways we rid our bodies of excess salt.”
Snow swallowed and tried to stop herself from shaking.
“You did well, child.”
Snow lay back and raised her tail out of the water. Her scales were deep red, like Morveren’s own. She laughed, though the sound that emerged was closer to a hiccup. “I did. But why only one tail? Why not two, like you?”
“Because this is the form you imagined,” Morveren said. “I confess, I pushed you toward this shape myself. Swimming with two tails is more complicated, and I don’t have time to teach you to use them.”
Snow spun in the water and threw her arms around Morveren. “Thank you!”
Morveren laughed and pushed her away. “Enough of this. Are you going to help me tame this garden or not?”
Snow ran her hands over her body. Her shirt felt uncomfortably tight against her torso. “I’m plump!”
“You’re healthy,” Morveren said. “Follow me. If we’re lucky, you’ll only need to deal with the plants. Use your magic to calm them. I’ll do what I can to help.”
“What if we’re unlucky?”
“Don’t fight unless you have to. The magic around this place has been mostly dormant. Whatever you face, simply lull it back to sleep. And don’t forget to breathe.”
Snow gave her new tail an experimental kick. Long fins rippled along the sides, but she wasn’t sure how to control them. She dove beneath the surface. Her body felt buoyant, dragging her toward the surface. She kicked harder, paddling with her arms to steer herself after Morveren.
Her chest was already starting to ache. She opened her mouth and took a cautious swallow of seawater.
Instantly she began to gag. She doubled over, coughing and fighting to breathe.
Water filled her lungs, and the coughing slowed. Cautiously, she tried to exhale. The skin on either side of her neck parted, and cool water flowed from her gills. She tried again, fighting the instinct to drink rather than breathe. Eventually she managed to take another breath of water.
Her chest felt stiff and heavy. She had an easier time swimming now that she had expelled most of the air from her body. She could still feel a small bubble trapped in her chest. She belched it out and drew a full breath.
The water tasted like spoiled vegetables. Something to do with the seaweed?
She pressed her fingers to her gills. Three long gashes stretched along each side of her neck, following the curve of her jawline. She plucked off one of her mirrors and held it out, trying to see the red gills beneath the flaps of skin.
A soft, two-toned call drew her attention to Morveren, who had grabbed one of the stalks. Thin red fronds clung to her skin. Morveren sang to the plant, a gentle song with a thread of magic woven through the notes. Slowly, the fronds released their grip.
A tendril of seaweed brushed across Snow’s stomach. She tried to push it aside, but the plant was stiffer than it appeared. A second reached toward her arm.
Snow replaced her mirror and did her best to mimic Morveren’s song. By the time she mastered the trick of singing underwater, the seaweed had begun to pull her down. But the leaves relaxed as soon as she switched to a lullaby she had heard Danielle sing to Jakob.
Commanding the plants was actually easier than controlling animals or humans. She grinned like a child as the seaweed fell away.
BOOK: The Mermaid's Madness
11.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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