8

Salila

“Sa-lee-la.”

My eyes fling open. The night water surrounds me, cool and undulating with lacy bioluminescent creatures—sea pens, nudibranchs, firefly squid—sleeping coral fish, and a cookie cutter shark in the distance.

I let go of the reef anchoring me to the ocean floor and rise a few fathoms. The current ripples over my body, tickling me from my head to the tips of my toes. Water plays in my hair, fanning it about like a waving kelp garden. Nothing on land compares to this feeling, though I do like wearing dresses and sampling the delectable candies and sweetcakes found in the world of landers. After eons up and down, I can still pass as a girl of twenty years—when Father lets me rise, that is. Which hasn’t been for some time.

I find a new anchor in the craggy reef and stretch my free hand into the current.

“Salila?” Teern’s second call wafts gently through my mind.

“Yes, Father?”

“Were you dreaming?” Teern, the king of the Mar—known as Father to us all, though there’s no blood relation for any of us—couldn’t care less about my dreams. He’s deceptive like that, making me deceptive right back.

“Of course not, Father. I’m wide awake.” Also a bit bored, considering how long it’s taking. “Are they rowing out in a canoe?”

“Patience.”

Eventually, a keel glides through the water overhead. I roll onto my back and track its progress. Its shadow drifts over me, momentarily blocking beams from the waxing moon.

“Black sails?” I ask. Impossible to tell from this angle, and I’m not surfacing unless Teern gives the word. He thinks there have been too many Mar sightings. Of me, in particular. It’s the one rule he’s sworn us all to uphold, and for my transgressions, I’m paying heavily. Just look at me—under Teern’s constant eye, tasked with saving all the marred children tossed into the sea and rushing them to the nearest Ma’ata grove. Granted, bringing new little brothers and sisters to life in the sea is rewarding. But it’s been years now, and I could be doing endlessly more entertaining things with my time.

I snag a sleeping parrotfish, shake it out of its cocoon, and pop it down my throat. A moment later, I pull out a filleted skeleton.

“Sails are black as night,” Teern says.

I push off the reef and stream after the ship, kicking effortlessly through the water. Stupid, idiot landers. Throwing away a perfectly good child. But then, if they abandon the practice completely, what happens to us? It would be much easier if they handed them straight over and—

“Focus, Salila!” Teern’s voice booms, nearly shattering my skull. Father isn’t one for subtleties.

Anyway, landers have their uses, and this is one of them. Of course, they don’t believe in us anymore. They think they’re sacrificing marred children to appease the old gods. Let me say it again: stupid, idiot landers. There are no old gods at the bottom of the Drop, haven’t been since the last Great Dying. But, lucky for the children, there are Mar.

The hull slices through the waves, splitting the water apart to leave a frothy wake behind. They lower the sails when over the Drop, a long crack in Amassia’s continental shelf. It runs for leagues from the coast of Palrio to the Isle of Aku. A nice, deep hole in our watery wonderland. Partway down the Drop, there are large pelagic fish. A moderate concern tonight. Below them lurk enormous, graceful squid, a problem only if they notice the pelagics thrashing about. Even lower, where no vertebrate can survive, are ancient things without bones—aquatic novelties that have survived many a Great Dying.

So, no. There are no gods, old or new. Something is sure to enjoy a feed of lander babe if I fail, but it’s made of flesh and bone, not spirit.

“Be ready.”

As if I’m not.

I rise under the ship and cling to the barnacle-covered keel, rocking side to side with the boat. “Need some maintenance down here, boys,” I say. The sailors do not hear me. They’re stunted when it comes to mind speech, though I can hear them under certain enjoyable circumstances, which involve proximity and blood. The thought makes me hungry.

“Salila!”

Hollow drumbeats echo through the hull, sending vibrations into the water. Landers think it alerts the gods, but really it attracts only sharks. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Teern appears out of nowhere, the rush of countercurrents ripping away my handhold. He always makes a showy entrance. I mask the thought, but maybe too late.

Teern nods. His long black hair dances around his bearded face and broad shoulders. “Don’t lose this one,” he says.

“Not planning to, Father.”

The drums stop, and a splash breaks the surface of the water.

A flurry of silver bubbles race upward through the dark as the offering plummets into the mouth of the Drop. All I can see is a bundle of iron chains. Honestly, do they think it can get away?

“Go!”

I push off. The ship is already drifting back from the ravine, so it takes a few kicks to go over the edge and toward the child. The water is thick, ice-cold to lander flesh. It doesn’t hamper me, but it will kill the baby in no time—that, and the prolonged asphyxiation. This would be so much simpler if Father would let me snatch them while still on deck, but oh no. We mustn’t reveal ourselves to the landers. Ever. If I were in charge, that rule would be the first to go.

I kick harder, fingers stretching, touching. Grasping. The moment the little boy is in my arms, I roll back, pumping my legs to reach the surface, angling away from the ship at the same time. “Gotcha!”

His rapid pulse throbs against my fingers. “He’s alive.” Sometimes they’re not. I untangle the thick links of chain and let them fall into the pitch-dark below.

“Follow me.” Teern shoots off toward the Ma’ata coral groves, clearing the way.

Bubbles no longer escape the baby’s lips, and the smooth pink skin turns gray. His eyes are wide, staring at nothing. “Don’t worry, little Mar. Salila has you.”

I break the surface and suck in air. Not for me, for him. On the dive back down, I cover his mouth with my own and gently fill his lungs. I hear his heart pulse, once, twice, then more frequently. I swim under the waves, repeating the process, trailing Teern. The Ma’ata corals are near. “Almost home.”

A part of me envies the deep-sea dreams he’s about to have.

When we arrive, his pulse against my finger is slow and thready. I weave through the sunken graveyard, stirring up sand and parting kelp.

“It’s a beautiful boy!” The Ma’ata Keeper directs me to an empty tomb. “Lay him here.”

More of us gather around to chant and fend off predators.

The Ma’ata Keeper pricks the baby’s heel with her eye tooth, and a few drops of blood drift over the tomb. My body trembles as the Ma’ata corals stir, opening their polyps, sending out tendrils. The Keeper places her hand on the baby’s heart. Teern joins her, as do I. “See, little brother? The Ma’ata has you safe.”

In seconds, the corals, sparkling with their own violet bioluminescence, elongate and wrap themselves around the child like mummy cloth. Soon there is no hint of tiny hands save for a thumb, no sight of his face but half a vacant eye. Then even those last physical features disappear.

“Success.” I smile and turn to go.

“Too soon to tell,” Teern says, blocking my exit.

Such a pessimist.

“He has a good chance.” I toy with the tip of a feather duster worm until it snaps back into its tube. I can tell Teern has more to say, and I don’t want to hear it. “Tallyho, then.” I shoot toward shore.

“Salila!” His voice stops me dead in the water, and I sink to the bottom. “Where are you going?”

“Me?” I lift my chin.

The look he gives is not pleasant. “You will follow the carrack.”

I fidget with my hair. “Really? You don’t think he can do the job on his own?”

“Remains to be seen, but you will keep me informed.”

“Spy?” I brighten.

“If you like calling it that.”

“I do.” I’ve already been following the new passengers on the Sea Eagle since they left Baiseen. The young Heir especially catches my eye. All Mar know the leaders of the realms by sight, but Marcus Adicio…he’s a sight for hungry eyes.

“What’s that, Salila?”

“I said it’s a delight to serve at your pleasure, Father.”

“Then catch up, and don’t be seen.”