Canticle VI

  In night-stained seas, clear and dark,

  The Weaver of Light remains at her task.

  The warp, luminescent.

  The weave, illuminated.

  The wake, darker than dark.

  Flows, crossed.

  Waters, muddied.

  The sands, broad.

  The currents, narrow.

  From all leads to one,

  Frome one leads to all.

  Discoveries, made.

  Mysteries, remaining.

  A time to gather.

  A time to disperse.

  Threads of darkness.

  Threads of light.

  Of time and tide.

  Of wake and wave.

  Of compassion and strength.

  Many the threads.

  Many the twinings.

  Only the future to come.

  Only the future to fail.

  Either and both.

  The death of the world that is.

  Canto VI: Seas of Comfort

  Verse I

  Mitera Yesca preferred not to avoid things. It was a solemn teaching within the Temple that the future would arrive regardless of the current, and if it was not the future one liked, then a mer had to face it head-first and see why, accept why, it was different. By knowing, by understanding such things could she hope to steer the flow of fate to her favored world to come.

  That said, some tasks were more onerous than others, and the relative importance of priorities helped her put them off until such time as she was ready to deal with them.

  And as much as she hated to admit it, Queen Anyis was one of those tasks. Most mers would think that Her Majesty had taken the disappearance of her daughter poorly, shutting herself away to grieve in private. Yesca knew better than almost anyone that not a thing about Anyis' personal life had changed since Rhiela had left. The queen rarely quit her own chambers for anything, not even meals.

  Yesca carried a tray with her each time she visited. Invariably, Her Majesty had eaten neither recently nor properly, and only the mitera commanded enough respect to get the mer to take care of herself.

  The mers of the realm needed their Queen, needed the symbol of the All-Mother's love that she represented. Yesca feared that they would never have her.

  Anyis was in her usual place upon the padded couch of the royal chamber. In her hands she held a roughly made statuette. "It is the day," said the Queen. "The day that was the day that..." The skewed flow of words curled inward, bringing silence to itself. "And she is still gone."

  Leaving the tray on the nearest pedestal, Yesca joined the golden mother on the couch. The platform of stone, coral, and siltgrass cushion had been designed with two in mind, if they were close. She cradled Anyis in her arms, saying in soothing tones, "We all miss her. Yenefra was too soon gone from this world."

  The sound of the name, the syllables which few dared mention in the royal presence, filled the waters until naught else could squeeze through.

  Sixteen years. Sixteen anniversaries spent in morning, and each one worse than the last. She did not think she could contain half as much sorrow within herself as the Queen did, every beat of every day. Anyis had let herself be defined by her loss. By their loss. Sixteen years ago had Anyis lost her sister bound by fate, born within the same hour of the same day and thus linked in life forever after. Such was the tradition among the high families of the manoa. Anyis min Devery and Yenefera min Theáphila, together since the day they were born, just as their older siblings.

  The mitera of Bryndoon, born Yesca min Theáphila, mourned for reasons both same and different. Her younger sister had been the joy of the Mere Kazahn, a bright and loving child who was favored of both Crown and Temple. A beautiful life, a beautiful future, and...

  "Tell me," pleaded Anyis. "Tell me once again. I cannot bring myself to remember the details."

  She wondered why the Queen begged so for suffering, but as she had promised, all those years before, the mitera bore the weight of the memories for Her Majesty. "It was a quiet night," she began, the words of the story falling into their well-practiced order. "Yenefera had taken a position as prestra skola at the Library of Kamazon. What a perfect fit for her." The pride remained in Yesca's voice even as all else positive now fled. "But a treacherous current it was, between the Library and the City of Temples, and though we would warn her, still she worked until the late hours before beginning the swim home. The Mere Kamazon is not too distant from the western abyss, and strange things may come out at night to feed."

  Yesca felt the shiver of her fur, felt the strength of Anyis' grip around her chest as the Queen shook. With a minimum of detail she finished telling of how her sister, Yenefera, known lovingly as the Little Mitera, was found dead the next morning. Her body had been slashed and bitten, though no warrior of the Temple could say just what had done the deed.

  They held each other for a long verse after.

  For whatever reason, the telling of the tale always brought Anyis out of the weeks-long funk that possessed her this time of year. Before long, Her Majesty could sit up and accept the food as Yesca passed it to her. The story was over, it was done with, and the details were even now turning ephemeral and fleeting in the waters of Anyis' mind. The golden mother would recall almost none of this by the end of the hour, though in all other respects she would appear to have regained her senses.

  The mitera knew that impressions were misleading. Even at her most lucid, Anyis was in no state to make any decisions, for herself or for her subjects. The realm needed its Queen to lead it, but it did not need Anyis in that roll. Though she might wish it not so, in her heart of hearts Yesca knew that the Queen's time under the Crown was limited to however long it took to locate her daughter the princess.

  Depths take it, but Marhyd's little dolls had better get the job in Mezzegheb done well and promptly. There would be no end to the trouble if Her Highness lingered too long in such a deplorable place.

  Verse II

  Business in Mezzegheb flowed fast around small things, thought Olga. Indeed it seemed to speed by in direct proportion to the number of pearls hidden between her fingers as she shook hands with the local port authority officer. It was a miracle to witness, this sudden acceleration from floating doldrum to purposeful action. She and her sister had arrived well after the half of the hour and left before its end could come.

  "Hope you all enjoyed yourselves," the official said with a wink to her eye.

  It was in long-suffering tones that Morga replied, "Some of us more than others." Their travels with one Tachi din Hillia, spiky-haired tuli enthusiast, had given them much experience with that reaction, and the officer nodded with complete understanding as she waved them along.

  "Oy, you!" Morga went stiff at the call, sharp and shrill, and Olga heard a muttered curse arrive from her sister's throat. The slender mer jetting towards them was pale as the fishes in the caves beneath the Valden spire, and would have been beautiful if not for the sneer. "Yes, you!" the mer continued. "Where's your little friend? She still owes me!"

  "Well, considering how drunk on tuli she had to get to forget your ugly face, I'd call the two of you even," Morga shot back.

  Pulling herself up short in front of the twins, the pale mer jabbed a finger at Morga's chest. "Now listen here, sweetheart, but your little orange friend owes me, and this ain't a city that's kind to debtors."

  "Poke that thing any closer," her sister growled back, "and I'll be charging you five pearl for the pleasure."

  A derisive sniff rippled across. "Sure, like you're worth that much." The performer's outfit was more practical that day, in that it was not meant to come apart at a single pull of a strong current, but it did little to hide her breasts as she huffed them forward in indignation. "Don't mess with the professionals, sweetheart. We've been doing this longer."

  Her twin was doing well enough on her own, but Olga decided that now was as good a time as any to lend a fluke. Looming behind the performer, she let her alto voice rumble the waters: "If by 'this' you mean shaking down mers for small pearl," she said, "that is still to be seen. So this is the mer who tried the... what was it called... the bump and whirl?"

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  "Yeah, sis. That's her. She wasn't that good at it anyways."

  "What!? I am the best—"

  "Oh, so you admit you were trying to scam my friend, then?" Morga had pulled herself to a straight vertical, with shoulders squared and every line of her arms flexed. Within a beat, Olga was up next to her sister in a matching pose. Either of them alone was easily twice the size of the pale mer, and the performer's nervous glances back and forth confirmed that she had realized as much.

  "Everything alright over there?" called the port official. Olga did not doubt for a moment that the mer was fully possessed of a pair of ears capable of hearing the conversation, but the friendly-phrased question offered a way out.

  "We're fine," said Morga. "Thanks for asking. Just had to tell our new friend here that her playmate from the other day is a mite... how do you say... indisposed? So sorry, but your little date's got to be canceled."

  "Alas, we know how much you were looking forward to it," Olga added. "But that is how the currents flow, sometimes."

  The officer snorted in amusement. "Isn't that the truth. Well, Drazie, if your heart's not too broken about it, my shift ends soon and I just happened upon some rare delicacies the other day."

  "Oh?" The pale mer's mood would turn on the tip of a spiral shell.

  "Yeah. Pearl roots from the Mere Scothia. I've had them stewing at my tent all morning, so they should be ready. If you'd like a try?"

  "That does sound nice..." Drazie turned her body in the water even faster than her mood, leaving traces of silt and bubbles in the water. "Do tell your little orange friend that she doesn't know what she's missing," the performer sang back at them. "Oh, and say hello to Red for me." With a swirl and a splash, the mer launched herself back to the fabric borders of the tent city. "See you after your shift, Ramunda!"

  The port official chuckled. "She's a live one, isn't she. My thanks, young messras. We're not allowed to enjoy the entertainments, to it's not that often I have a chance with the local lovelies. This will be a fine day indeed."

  "You're, ah, welcome?" said Olga.

  Morga shrugged. "I guess someone's gotta enjoy her company. Best of luck."

  With a quick salute, Ramunda directed the two of them away from the mooring posts and into the open water. "Back flaps are to your left. I hope your friends get to feeling better."

  "Oh, I'm sure they will be fine," Olga told the mer. They were mindful to take the leftside currents for appearances, but as soon as they were safely out of sight of the mooring station, the twins had the float turn straight out onto the sands.

  They could not leave the city behind fast enough.

  *

  Waiting upon a current-swept stone, a mere handspan above the sands, Rhiela fought her unease. Large, rolling piles of sand, rock, and old coral hid the city of tents behind their curves, but it was still too close for anybody's liking. Beside her, Rook had attacked the remaining mysteries of the runecraft cube with all the force of nerves and anxiety, but conceded the effort some time back. She did not know what the orange mer was working on at the moment, but it kept her quiet.

  To her other side, Ardenne sat poised upon the stone with her new hunting spear ready. The old one had been cracked in half during a fight with one of Rhiela's own royal soldiers, though she hadn't been there to see, and this new one was the best the hunter could manage in the time sense. It was a rough length of bone with an old shell point bound at the end with sinew. She hoped that it would do against the things Sera warned about that lived beneath the sands. None of them had sounded a pleasure to meet. And beyond those things, they also had to worry about abominations. They'd seen none in the waters of the Mere Mezzerle as yet, but with all the fuss back home over an increase in sightings, greater caution was needed.

  A puff of sand went up, a tail's length from where she sat on the rock. Rhiela let out a squeal of surprise.

  "Just a goby, chum. Little fish, good digger. The mer equmara consider 'em to be good luck, 'cause they don't stick around areas with nastier sand-critters."

  Ardenne eased the grip on her spear. "So this spot really is safe?"

  "Would I lead you wrong?"

  "Yes," the green mer stated flatly. "That time on the heights, and the mires, and..."

  "Hey now, you were ready and willing to school with me on those, remember? And not like you haven't done your fair share, too. Why—"

  "Can yer shut the flap-a-gills a beat and let a mer work!" Rook griped. "Tryin' something here, and yer be ruining my concentration." Speckled hands were open flat, and when Rhiela squinted she could make out the flicker of a runic grammar in action.

  That was still a weak point for her, though she hated to admit it. Aside from the mirrored shield spell she had somewhat mastered during their stay in the Mere Scothia, she had yet to succeed with any off-the-fluke casting. Items were one thing, but casting the powers under the firmament from her bare hands, well... If there was one point where she and Rook could agree, it was that the great magic-wielding mers of the old tales were awesome in repute and they would like to be just so, themselves.

  Which would not happen if they could not master a basic attack spell. The soldiers had them, they knew. At least, the ministry was making items and equipment that a soldier could use. Lieutenant Grett had one, back in the Mere Scothia when the soldiers chased Ardenne and her friend. But Sera couldn't find the runework after the orcs were done with the poor Grett...

  Rhiela was glad she only heard about all this well after the fact. It turned her stomach even now.

  But from the red mer's description of getting dragged around and slammed in the face by nothing more than strong currents, Rook had taken inspiration. The flicker around her fingers was the result. The feel of the magic spoke of the kinetic force of flow, as well as the... telluric? Rhiela's brown crinkled in thought as she puzzled through it. That most solid and stubborn of forces beneath the firmament hardly seemed compatible with the one that was motion for the sake of motion. Her fingers twitched as she followed the orange mer's gestures.

  A great puff of sand arose from below, a plume of grit which billowed upwards into a whirl of heavy darkness in the water. It danced in place for several beats before vanishing into the current. Rook lowered her hands and sighed.

  "It was... very pretty," the princess opined. "Impressive, actually. I don't think I could manage something like that."

  "Thanks, Rhia." The other mer leaned back on the stone and blew bubbles out her nose. "It was s'posed to... I dunno, be like yer gots sand-scrapers what scrub yer all 'round, something like that. Make for a fast bath."

  "Or a fast skinning," said Ardenne.

  "Yeah, or that."

  Distraction abated, Rhiela turned to Sera to ask the regular question of "When will they get here?" It was the third time by her count, but there wasn't much else to use for conversation with the red mer.

  "Any time now... There." Sera's finger pointed to the far curve of a sand hill, where a dark shape was now coming around. "A-yup, that's them. And... oh, depths."

  "What?" Rhiela shaded her eyes from the radiance of the firmament above and watched as the float came closer. There were two other shapes right after it, dark against the colorless sands. Then three. Then four.

  *

  "Hurry it up, sis!" yelled Morga.

  Olga's left hand formed the miner's sign for belabored acknowledgment, because some things were obvious. Her right hand was firmly on the steering bauble of the float, which had already been coaxed into the highest speed it could safely maintain in the calm waters above the sand. Its outer flaps now fluttered and beat, open and shut and open again as they gathered water and sent it jetting behind. They had long since ended the animating chants and now hung on as best they could, because there would be no catching the float if it got away from them now.

  The things following them had no such problem. In fact, the eel-shaped abominations with the slender tentacles had better jets on them than the float itself. They slipped and curled around the wake of the twins' float without a thought for the speed.

  Sera's meeting point was up ahead. Olga could see it clearly for herself, and the colors of her friends on the rock were hard to miss. If she turned the bauble now, the entire float would take a deep curve around, and...

  The abominations were fast, but only in straight strokes. That was the sole reason the two sisters were still in one piece. The float went into a turn, and the things which were not eels continued on ahead for several beats before they could orient themselves and resume their pursuit.

  *

  Rook watched the float come right at them. She watched the things chasing the float slow and turn to follow. In the back of her head, a little voice was gibbering about how she should watch less and do more, and it was her. The rest of her body must've been a stranger's, because it wasn't listening at all to what the voice of herself was saying.

  Arms wrapped her from behind, squeezing pleasantly around her waist and against her back. "You can do this," Rhia whispered in her ear.

  For a beat she couldn't, because she was a-shivering with ticklish delight. But that got her body to acting like her body again, and the little voice got to ordering everything about to what it should be doing. Her hands were up, fingers splayed and palms flat. In her mind's eye, she put each of the major runes of the grammar into place, one for a finger, and let the connecting runes fit in between with the webbing. It all clicked into place, faster than even during practice, and the net of the mystic grammar leapt forward just as the ugly eel-things came close.

  The sands below the abominations rose up in a great burst, grains of grit riding the currents in whirls and swirls what caught things in their rough grasp and did not let go. The eel-things struggled and snapped, but the sand would not release them before taking its toll on their scaleless hides. Scrapes and scuffs leaked oily blood into the water that soon faded to nothing but a memory of a bitter taste.

  Slowed down, the abominations were easy pickings for Ardy's spear and Red's knives.

  "I knew it." Rhia's whisper tickled her ear. "Marai was always the same way. You get all nervous and freeze up, but when you relax..." Another quick squeeze left a pleasant press against Rook's front and back, and then the golden-brown mer let her go. "Seriously, that was some good, swift casting. I'm green with envy here."

  It was tempting to commit a bit of the old less-say majesty right then, but too embarrassing in front of everyone else. Rook settled for a happy return-hug of her own and a quick kiss on the cheek while Sera and Ardenne finished off the monsters.