The Wild Mermaid Read online

  The mer didn’t seem convinced, but the merchild sang continuing in the ways of seahorses, “Red can only be heard by the orange, but yellow is best and friends with the rest!” The merchild swam downward, clearly disinterested in the adults.

  “Very well,” the mer grumbled, swimming after the merchild.

  They climbed the final floors without incident, and Maestro led them down one of the hallways. “This one.”

  It was smaller than the ones they had already passed. The courtiers' hallways had been magnificent with murals for walls and intricate art on display, as befit glorious courtiers.

  But these were simpler, humbler apartments for the guards. The hallway was narrow, nicely kept, and austere.

  Maestro tapped a door.

  Davit, the choir’s guard, opened it. Cora recognized his ruby red tail, even though she’d never seen his face without a helmet.

  Davit looked at them. “What are you doing here?”

  “Maestro’s hiding spot was with you?” Sarina asked, swimming past Davit and into the room. “Thank goodness.”

  Davit frowned but let her pass. “Get inside, quickly, before anyone sees.”

  Maestro and Sarina did as they were told.

  Cora took a moment to wonder if she was swimming into another trap, but the fear didn’t stop her. She entered Davit’s apartment.

  Chapter Ten:

  Respite

  Davit’s lodging, like the hall, was rudimentary. He lived in a studio apartment equipped with a proper cushion bed and a large lounging rock. There was a small table and a kitchenette.

  They crowded around the table as Davit busied himself opening containers of sweet krill and salty seaweed before settling into the kitchenette where he warmed bubblets of dolphin milk over hot rocks.

  Cora hid between Maestro and Sarina, her back pressed against the wall. She looked at the food on the table but wasn’t hungry. Her body was tense, still processing her sudden escape.

  It had been a long night.

  Cora watched Davit as he moved, studying his features now that he wasn’t wearing his helmet. His fin matched the red hair on his head, contrasting against his pale white skin.

  While they’d barely interacted, he’d been the one who carried her from the recital hall the evening before. She’d seen him around the choir room during her recovery. The familiarity almost gave her a sense of safety. Almost.

  Finally, Davit turned away from the heating milk to survey his guests. “I need to go soon. I said I’d check on the choir in your—um—absence. Them. Yes, I told the interrogators that. They just spoke with me.”

  Maestro studied Davit intently. “And?”

  “They still think you’re in a cell.”

  “I’m amazed we’re here too.”

  “Hopefully, this means they won’t try to speak with me again…” Davit played with the bubblets, shifting them more than was necessary.

  Maestro placed his hand on Davit’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to have put you into this situation. I didn’t know where else we could go.”

  Davit nodded. “I understand.”

  “You’re the closest I have to a protege,” Maestro continued, “and while I’ve suspected you were sympathetic to mortals, I’ve never tested you. Not in the way I’m doing now.”

  Davit cleared his throat, calmed his jitters. “Maestro, your history with mortals is legendary. I’m honored you came to me.”

  “Honored?” Maestro asked, clearly surprised, but he didn’t ask for clarification. Instead, he told Davit what had happened to them.

  Sarina continued, explaining how she’d slain Isain only to become lost in the castle. “But what I don’t understand,” Sarina said, “is why you weren’t at the door when we took Cora out of the choir room. I asked Isain, but she wouldn’t say.”

  Davit bit his lip. “Janh told me there was a fight, one that needed breaking up. Idiot that I was, I believed him and left. But when I realized the fight was just an act, I ran back to the choir room and discovered Cora was missing. I alerted the Queen immediately, and I think you know the rest.”

  “Indeed we do,” Maestro agreed.

  Davit rubbed his hands together. “All right. I’m going to go see the choir—it would be suspicious if I didn’t get there soon. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.” Maestro swallowed, and when he continued, his voice was thick with emotion. “You’ll take care of the choir, won’t you? No matter what?”

  “I’ll protect them,” Davit agreed. Then he handed them their bubblets and turned the warming stone upside-down. “There is a plank for the door. I’ll knock to Melusine, sweet Melusine.”

  Maestro laughed forcibly at that, the sound making Cora shiver, and waved his hand at Davit. “Get on with you.”

  Davit donned his helmet and picked up his spear. Dressed in his uniform, he gave the illusion of complete normalcy.

  As the door closed behind him, Sarina lunged for the cushioned bed, claiming it for herself. She wrapped herself in the blankets. Cora’s gaze lingered on her, Sarina certainly looked older since using deathbreath again.

  Maestro barred the door and pointed Cora to the lounging rock, but she grabbed a blanket and a cushion from the bed, and—ignoring Sarina’s hiss of annoyance—settled into the corner, where she prepared her resting spot.

  “If you’re trying to be considerate of me, the rock is large enough to share,” Maestro said. Cora glanced at Maestro’s fingernails, where some of Triton's blood still lingered.

  “I’m happy here,” she said, lowering herself into the corner, finding security in the place she’d prepared. Maybe she could finally fall asleep. For a little while.

  Sleep. That was where she could talk to Kyla. Maybe she understood more of this.

  “Maestro, I have a question,” Cora began.

  He settled onto the rock and signaled for her to continue.

  “Can you explain how physic works?” she asked. “Sarina said it makes me able to be the soloist, but if anything, I just feel—more human, like whoever I was before. But what I can’t figure out is why—what does my cognitive ability, this connection to the human I was…” She was wandering. “What does any of that have to do with becoming a soloist?”

  Sarina peaked from under her blanket, clearly interested in Maestro’s reply.

  Maestro studied Cora, seemingly surprised that she’d ask such a thing. He cleared his throat and replied, “Physic is a drug. It has all the benefits and side-effects of one. It does its job, but it’s imperfect. It’s refined from the ink of a giant squid—”

  Sarina yawned dramatically and Cora glared at her.

  “At any rate,” Maestro continued, “physic’s only role is to give its recipient the ability to handle lifeforce—even immortals have to take it to accomplish that. The fact that it makes you different than a regular mortal…that’s actually a side-effect. An unintentional consequence.”

  A side-effect. All Cora was experiencing was unintentional? In Queen Mari’s carefully crafted Atlantis, this seemed like a mistake, something overlooked. But in the scheme of things, Sarina and Cora were unique. After all, access to physic was clearly controlled.

  She looked at the satchel of physic Sarina still had tied around her waist. It had to be her most valuable resource.

  Though Maestro had clearly felt bad about Sarina’s retirement, he’d shown the complacency of a merman who’s done it before. Countless times before.

  It explained Sarina’s single-mindedness, her distrust. Cora even wondered if she would’ve made the same choices as Sarina if everything had been different. If Triton hadn’t taken her, if Kyla hadn’t—

  “Maestro…” Cora considered how to frame her next question. “When you gave me physic, it was over three days, not seven.”

  “Yes, the Queen requested that.”

  “What—um, other side-effects do you think could’ve happened to me?” Cora asked “Because it was rushed.”

  Sarina perked up
with interest. “What have you been experiencing?” she asked.

  Cora wasn’t sure how to explain, and she didn’t want to answer Sarina.

  “If I had to guess,” Maestro began, “your dreams will be more vivid.” Cora nodded. “Loss of appetite and strength are possibilities, but that’s not what we’re talking about, is it? What if—”

  “Do you remember your name?” Sarina interrupted. “Your human name?”

  “Kyla,” Cora said. “Her name is Kyla. And she’s there, in the back of my mind.”

  Sarina laughed. “Are you sure you aren’t going insane?”

  “No, I’m not sure.” Cora took a breath, glaring at Sarina. “But that’s why I was trying to ask Maestro! I’ve had a dream where Kyla and I talked on a beach. It happened last night, after the recital… Now I can sense her, I think she’s still there… Everything is already terrifying, and this experience is especially strange.” Cora gulped. “Maestro, please, tell me you know what’s happening to me.”

  He studied Cora for a long time before he finally responded, “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sure you have a theory.” Sarina shifted so she was sitting at the edge of the bed.

  “I have several theories,” Maestro said. “But Cora, what you need to understand is that this sort of magic, this sort of science, it’s not an exact art. How a person responds to physic depends on a wide number of factors, least of which are predisposition and the exact nature of your serenade—”

  “Get to the point,” Sarina complained.

  “The point is…” He stopped and shrugged. “It’s possible that what you’ve said is true, that you’ve somehow reconnected to your human self, this Kyla. You’ve taken so much physic, and I have so little data… Any side-effect seems possible.

  “However, this is unlikely—improbable. Transformation magic is expensive and permanent. Magic requires consequences, and when Kyla chose to become a mermaid, she paid the cost. To tell the truth, I always assumed the human-self died during the transformation.”

  “But the dreams!” Cora protested. “Most mortals dream they were human. That must mean our former selves are still there, somewhere in our minds.”

  “Those scenes are most likely some sort of afterimage, something burned into the brain. That’s not an identity.”

  Cora shifted uncomfortably. She had asked Maestro for his opinion, and he’d given it. But she’d hoped he’d say that this was possible. Cora wanted to believe Kyla was there.

  “Let’s wait and see what happens,” Maestro said. “You’ve been through a lot. Get some rest. It may help you feel better.”

  He was right, of course, she desperately needed sleep. Her brain was growing fuzzier the longer that they talked. Thinking was like swimming in sludge.

  Cora covered herself with the blanket and curled against the cushion. She let her limbs grow heavy and allowed her eyelids to close.

  She prayed that Kyla would call her that night, that they could talk again. But her sleep was heavy and deep, and Kyla couldn’t call Cora to her beach.

  Chapter Eleven:

  Musings and Memories

  Cora stirred to the sound of Maestro and Davit whispering at the table. Their voices were low, but she could make out the words. She kept her eyes closed and pretended she was still sleeping.

  “Tomorrow then,” Davit said. “In the morning we’ll go to the stables. I talked with my friend, and he’ll help us. He’s a sympathizer, I trust him.”

  “There are sympathizers?” Maestro asked.

  “Amongst the…younger generations…there are some. It’s mostly talk, but this isn’t the first time my friend has helped someone leave Atlantis.”

  Maestro paused for a long moment.

  “Is that all right?” Davit asked.

  “No—I mean—Yes that’s all right, better than I hoped for. Thanks for your help,” Maestro muttered. He cleared his throat. “It’s that I really had no idea that anybody cared. I mean, I suspected you did, but that there were more?” He hesitated, shaking his head. “I hadn’t realized I was so out of touch.”

  “I admire you,” Davit said. “Many of us do. Most of us were children when…everything happened. It left a lasting impression on us.”

  After another pause, Maestro switched topics. “Your friend will take us from the city, that’s perfect. All that remains is getting the three of us to the stables. I think keeping it straightforward is best. Sarina, Cora, and I will dress and act as mortals being transplanted, while you’ll swim beside us as our escort. If we move through the servants’ corridors, nobody will give us a second glance.”

  “Agreed,” Davit said.

  “Where will we go?” Maestro asked. “The Caves of Tetheris, perhaps?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Davit agreed. Cora knew of the caves from myth. It was a nebulous cave system that had been abandoned ever since Atlantis destroyed the last of the Tetherean.

  Their conversation shifted to the wellbeing of the choir, comparing notes on the health of its members and candidates for the next soloist. They discussed methods Davit could use to shield them from the worst of Queen Mari’s wrath.

  Cora lost track of their words and drifted back to sleep. She lingered in a cloudy daze, too light for Kyla to call her to earth…

  When she stirred the second time, Cora saw a strip of light, bright in the crack between the window and its closed curtain. There had been no windows in the choir room, and while she’d passed windows along corridors, she’d never had the luxury of looking.

  Cora crawled towards it and peeked out of the corner.

  She gasped to see the city of Atlantis sprawled out before her. She wanted to hate it, to be angry with all that it had cost humankind, but still, there was no denying the beauty and architectural marvel of the mer city.

  The houses beyond the fortress were bright with colors and rooftop gardens bloomed with sprawling plants and brightly colored reefs. The city was much more than a place to live. This wasn’t a dense and uncomfortable population, but a city thriving under its establishment.

  Mer stirred in the streets, and she found herself studying them. There was a vast marketplace where many of them bustled. Was that a street dancer—

  The sight was cut from her view as Maestro closed the drapes tight around the window. “I doubt anyone can see us, but it’s not a risk worth taking.”

  Cora knew he was right. She looked around the room. She’d been so preoccupied with the idea of looking beyond, that she’d given no thought to her nearest surroundings. “Where’s Sarina? And Davit?”

  “Davit’s with the choir, but he’ll be back. As for Sarina…” Maestro pointed to a door. “Bathing room. She’s threatening to stay in there all day.”

  Somehow that made Cora smile.

  “Last night, did you dream of her, the human?” Maestro asked.

  “No,” Cora admitted.

  Maestro didn’t seem surprised, and that frustrated her.

  “Kyla?” she asked herself.

  Maybe it was willful imagination, but she felt something behind her eyes, barely in her awareness. A pressure, a presence? It responded with a vague pulse, but there were no words.

  She wanted to believe Kyla was there, but what if she was wrong? Could this Kyla be a trick of her mind, a method to keep herself sane in other ways? The fear of being wrong led her to grieve for something she didn’t know was missing. She turned to Maestro for distraction.

  “I heard you talking with Davit,” she admitted. “We are leaving tomorrow morning?”

  Maestro nodded.

  “And we’re going to the caves. What happens next?”

  “I still need to think about that.”

  “But you’re going to change, aren’t you?” Cora asked.

  Maestro straightened. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you won’t live in the castle anymore…” Cora worried she’d overstepped, but Maestro shrugged. She chose to continue. “I mean, what if you do someth
ing more…something that helps us mortals.”

  “It’s much more complicated, more political than you can imagine. Queen Mari’s system of control is brilliant. I should know—”

  “But you said I inspired you. You said I look like Melusine, that you’d change.”

  “I said I’d do what I could!” Maestro’s tone began to rise.

  “Then do what you can,” Cora said. “But maybe this is an opportunity to do something bigger, something riskier.”

  “I’m not who I used to be. I can’t just…” He drifted off.

  Cora crawled into Sarina’s abandoned bed. She didn’t need to have this argument with him. She should be thankful that there was a plan, that she had somehow acquired his protection. Her safety should’ve been enough.

  But for some unjustified reason, she believed Maestro was capable of more.

  Several minutes passed. Sarina tried to sing in the bathing room, but she hit a bad note and began to cough.

  “What I don’t understand is who you were,” Cora said finally. “I’ve heard pieces of it. You have told me you admired Melusine. Given everything I’ve heard… You’re the immortal, aren’t you? The one who loved Melusine, the one that she betrayed?”

  Maestro was slow with his response.

  “What I mean is… Tell me of Melusine,” Cora concluded. “I want to hear the truth of her, from you. I want to know what really happened.”

  “I’ll talk if you eat,” he grudgingly agreed.

  She lunged toward the kitchen and spun into a seat. Cora grabbed a nearby can of fish eggs.

  Maestro began to warm two bubblets, speaking as he worked absent-mindedly. “I guess everything truly began with the fall of Atlantis. That was millennia ago, and for our story to begin, you need to imagine a different version of me. Once, I was known as the Great Architect.”

  Cora gasped. She knew of him.

  “As the Architect, my quick thinking shaped Atlantis. My plans not only allowed Atlantis to survive its fall but to thrive afterwards. I wasn’t only loyal to Queen Mari—I was a savior to the Atlantean people.

  “In those early years, the Queen and I studied the magics of the ocean. Together we tested its limits and learning its nuances. We learned how to manipulate life using song, discovering that strength could be transferred and beings could be transformed.