Authors: Jim C. Hines

The Mermaid's Madness (33 page)

BOOK: The Mermaid's Madness

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Magic tugged her hand, like a fish nibbling a line. Snow pulled back. “Stop that.”

The bindings on the knife reminded her of the spells she had touched on Morveren’s soul jars. She still hadn’t found time to take out the jar she had . . . borrowed . . . and investigate it more closely. She wondered if the core of the knife’s hilt, like those jars, would turn out to be hollow.

Snow picked up her needle and pressed it beneath the edge of a scale, prying it back. The voices grew louder, their tone more urgent, but Snow couldn’t understand what they were saying. They could be telling Snow she was on the right trail to unwind Morveren’s magic, or they could be screaming in terror and pain.

More blood helped somewhat. The voices didn’t seem to come from the knife itself. Rather, Snow heard them inside her head, through the bond she had established with her blood.

“Beatrice?” Snow could almost hear her. Not a single voice, but a chorus, all singing different tunes. Pain and confusion and fear and hope and fatigue, as though Beatrice had fragmented into a hundred voices. Then, without warning,
recognition
.

Snow blinked back tears as she spread more blood onto the hilt. “I’m here, Bea. I’ve got you.”

For a heartbeat, the chorus spoke as one.
Snow?

Other voices clamored to be heard. No, not voices, but a single voice crying out as many. Stronger than Beatrice, drowning her in his rage and his terror.

“Prince Gustan?” There was no response. Either he couldn’t hear her, or else he no longer recognized his own name. Neither Gustan nor Beatrice was aware enough to help her from within the knife.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” she promised. The cacophony of voices grew louder. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Her head was pounding so hard she could barely see. When she tried again to reach Beatrice, Gustan’s anger drowned everything else.

Snow couldn’t blame him. She’d be mad too if her lover drove a knife into her chest and trapped her soul. She tried to push past Gustan’s thoughts—

Her mind touched Gustan’s.What was left of it, rather. Little more than disjointed memories and emotions. She saw him with Lirea, his fingers digging into her arms as they rocked together.

This was familiar . . . Snow tensed. She had seen pieces of this vision in Lirea’s dreams, before the touch of Snow’s magic had roused Lirea from her sleep. Before Lirea’s air spirits had almost killed her.

She forced herself to stay with Gustan. They were on a docked ship, the cot rolling with the movement of the waves. Lirea’s body wasn’t yet human. Gustan’s hands clutched her tails, pushing them apart farther than any human could have endured. Lirea clung to her prince, inexperienced but eager.

The images fragmented, and then Gustan was greeting his brother Varisto at the docks. Gustan laughed and joked as he helped the men unload the ship, while Varisto stood with his arms folded in disapproval.

Who was Varisto to question him? Varisto would be lucky to inherit some minor title, deep in the arse end of Hilad. He was as bad as Father, a whimpering child too afraid to take what was rightfully his. The empire needed strength to survive.

A third memory. Lirea limping up the beach, begging for forgiveness. Gustan laughing as he told her how he had taken a new girl. Lirea wept, telling him she would die without him. Slowly, Gustan wavered.

Was there still power in Lirea’s voice, some trace of undine magic to help sway Gustan’s mind? Snow couldn’t tell. He had already rebuffed her request for marriage, but the sight of Lirea’s body overcame his distaste. Gustan pushed her down on the damp sand. She kissed his neck, and then he fell back as something within him was tugged away, pulled toward Lirea. He rolled off of her. Lirea followed, her confusion plain. Gustan grabbed her by the throat and flung her to the side, cursing.

Lirea climbed back onto him, pressing her body to his and renewing the ripping sensation within his body. Snow recognized Morveren’s magic, a barely heard melody reaching deep into Gustan. With a snarl, he struck her face, knocking her aside. He drew back to hit her again, and Lirea drove a knife into his chest.

Snow gasped, feeling the impact as vividly as if it were she on that beach with Lirea. She opened her eyes, but the memories didn’t fade. She could still feel the blade grating against her ribs, and she could still see the shock on Lirea’s face. Shock and the slow realization of what she had done. Rather, what had been done
through
her.

Snow tried to separate herself from the memories, but the knife’s grip had grown stronger. She pried back her fingers and dropped the knife, but its power clung. How much blood had she given it? Or was it that she had gone willingly, reaching into the enchantments to try to find Beatrice? She could feel the knife’s magic fighting to pull her in.

Her mouth was dry, and her lips stuck to her teeth as she whispered.

“Gray stones, gray stones, hear my call.

Gray stones build a great big wall.”

Slowly, she raised a shield between herself and the knife, weakening the bond between them.

Snow?

She had never heard fear from Queen Bea before. But Snow wasn’t strong enough to help. If she stayed any longer, she would lose herself. With a shudder, she wrenched free. “I’m sorry, Bea. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Snow leaned over to retrieve the knife. Best to return it to Talia’s trunk before she returned. She bent down, and the blood rushed to her head. The room went dark. The world felt like it was tumbling around her. The last thing she heard was a distant voice, singing from Gustan’s shattered memories.

“Oh, pixie farts,” she said, and passed out.

Danielle sat on the cot, studying the broken door. The edge was splintered at the latch, as was the frame. Captain Hephyra had already expressed her displeasure about the damage, but Hephyra hadn’t been able to overcome whatever magic Snow had used to seal it. Talia, on the other hand, had always been good with locks. Most she could pick as easily as if she had the keys. As for the rest . . .

“Did you injure yourself?” Danielle asked.

“Just bruised. Hephyra has a tough tree.” Talia stopped massaging her foot and glanced over at Snow. They had moved her from the floor onto the other cot. “What I can’t decide is whether to kill her the moment she wakes up, or if I should give her a chance to explain what in the six hells she thought she was doing. And then kill her.”

“After Lirea attacked Beatrice, you were ready to dive in after her.” Danielle kept her voice gentle, trying to ease Talia’s anger. “If we’re killing people for foolish choices, should I be going after you, too?”

“You’re welcome to try.” Talia jumped to her feet and began to pace. “I’m used to Snow taking stupid risks. That’s why I never would have left her alone with that knife. But I did. The next thing I knew I was climbing in the rigging watching for undine. Snow used her magic on me. She had to. How could she do that to me?”

“She’s scared.” Danielle studied Snow’s face. She appeared to be frowning, her eyebrows pushed low by the bandages around her head. The room was dim, but Danielle could still see the shadows beneath Snow’s eyes. Her breathing was slow but steady.

“She played games with my thoughts.” Talia stopped in front of the single lamp, her shadow falling across Snow’s form. “With those of the crew, too. Amusing herself by tugging their strings, making them obey whatever silly whim struck her fancy.”

“She needed to learn that magic to try to control Lirea. She wasn’t hurting anything.”

Talia’s face darkened at the mention of Lirea’s name. “Not yet.”

“Snow will be all right,” Danielle said. Snow was dreaming, judging by the way she twitched and mumbled to herself.

“You don’t know that.” Talia twisted on the balls of her feet. Lirea’s knife hung at her hip, with several lengths of twine securing the weapon in place. “You can’t know that.”

Snow rolled onto her side. “I’m sorry my cat ate your spider, Mother.” Her muffled words dissolved into a sleepy giggle.

Danielle blinked and turned to Talia, confused.

“Snow had a pet cat for a while. But it snuck into her mother’s things. Made a horrible mess. Her mother made her watch as she killed it.” Talia’s shoulders slumped. She opened her trunk, retrieving a dented flask, then collapsed back onto the cot beside Danielle. “Maybe it’s better if . . . if she doesn’t try to save Beatrice. This time the effort knocked her out. Who knows what it will do next time? Father Isaac and Ambassador Trittibar could talk to Morveren, try to understand how to—”

“You know Snow will insist on helping,” Danielle said.

Talia brought her legs to her chest. “Snow’s the one who found me when I first came to Lorindar. She and Beatrice. I had stowed away on a cargo ship. The
Verdant Ogre,
I think. I pried the lid from a crate of cloud silk and curled up inside during the day, listening to every voice, every footstep. The hold was dark as death, and most of my time was spent alone with only the scurrying of the rats for company. Each night I snuck out to steal food and to check the stars, making sure we hadn’t turned back.”

Danielle tried to imagine how frightened Talia must have been. Awakening after a hundred years, her friends and family long dead. Her home overgrown and crumbling, her land ruled by another. She was no princess, only a magical oddity from another age, and the one who helped awaken her had also used her horribly.

“I wanted to sleep again, even if it meant I would never wake up.”

Danielle bit her lip. Talia wouldn’t appreciate sympathy. Had the room not been so poorly lit, she doubted Talia would have spoken of those times at all.

“Beatrice and Snow came to the docks. Bea
knew
I was there. She’s always been able to sense when someone needed her help. Like with Lannadae.” Talia took a quick swallow from her flask. “Her guards boarded first, searching the hold until they found me. They pried open the crate and dragged me out. I was too stiff and sore to resist, but I tried. I knocked one down and dislocated the thumb of another, but I could barely walk, let alone run.”

“How did you learn to fight so well?” Danielle asked.

“I didn’t leave Arathea right away. I was . . . angry. I wanted to fight back. Against the family who had taken my land, against the fairies who had done this to me, against everyone. I found people who could help me. I stayed with them for more than a year, until the prince’s family learned of my whereabouts.”

Talia took another drink. “I escaped again, but not before I saw the prince’s men kill four of my protectors. By the time I arrived in Lorindar, I think a part of me was hoping the guards would kill me and put an end to it all. And then Beatrice came down into the hold, with Snow behind her.”

Danielle could hear a faint smile in Talia’s voice. “Beatrice doesn’t get angry like other people do. She neither shouts nor threatens. All she did was walk across the hold, squeezing past barrels and crates and one moaning guard, but the way she looked at those men . . . if Bea had been a witch, every last one of those guards would have died on the spot. When she reached me, she turned to the guards and said, ‘I told you this woman was our guest.’

“One of the guards stammered an apology and loosened his grip on me. I kicked the other one in the groin and ran right past Beatrice and Snow, thinking if I could only reach the docks, I might be able to disappear.”

Danielle closed her eyes, following Talia’s flight in her mind.

“Instead, Beatrice turned and said, ‘
El-sak fasiv byat-tu ayib
?’ Is this the behavior of a guest? Her accent was atrocious, but her tone reminded me of my own mother. I was so stunned to hear my own language, I stopped running.”

“What happened next?” Danielle asked.

Talia snorted. “Snow stepped out from behind the queen and smiled at me. I had never seen anyone like her . . . so beautiful I wasn’t sure if she was human or fey. I started to say something, and then she poleaxed me with a spell from her mirrors. It felt as if she had smashed the whole ship over my head. By the time I woke up, we were in the palace.

“I had been bathed, dressed in decent clothes, and there was an entire tray of food sitting beside my bed. Fish fillets with that orange jelly you people like so much, fresh grapes, almond biscuits with butter melting down the sides. Do you know how good a real meal tastes when you’ve spent two weeks living on stolen scraps? I was mopping up the last of the jelly when it finally occurred to me that they might have put something in the food.”

“Beatrice wouldn’t—”

“I know that now,” said Talia. “But back then . . . I assumed they were planning to turn me over to the royals back home. The only reason to hold me prisoner was so they could negotiate a better price for my return. They hadn’t left anything to use as a weapon, so I broke the tray and took the longest, sharpest piece I could find.

“They had put me in the northeast tower, in the room with the sunrise tapestry on the wall. The one with the window facing out over the cliffs.”

“Jakob loves that tapestry,” Danielle said, smiling.

BOOK: The Mermaid's Madness

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