One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel (25 page)

And none of that mattered, because the smell of blood punched me in the nose as soon as the door was opened. I grabbed the doorframe, half-staggering. Connor caught my shoulder, lending a bit of extra stability.

“What is it?” Dianda demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Blood,” I said, trying to make my eyes focus. “Someone’s been using blood magic here.”

“That’s impossible. If someone had, we’d know.”

“Maybe not,” said Patrick. “Amandine could find a single drop of blood in a field of love-lies-bleeding. I saw her do it once, at a summer festival. It was a party trick for her.”

“She was a pureblood. October is a changeling.”

“Not where blood is concerned,” said Connor staunchly.

I barely heard them. I was too busy trying to sort through the conflicting information I was receiving from the room, which smelled like blood that wasn’t blood, and magic that wasn’t magic. I shrugged off Connor’s hand and started forward, not allowing myself to look where I was going. The trail was too tenuous for me to get distracted by silly things like what was actually around me.

One step. Two. On the third step, I stumbled, nearly tripping over the edge of the pool, and had to dare a glance down in order to recover my balance. I almost lost the trail after that, and had to stop again, closing my eyes and breathing as deeply as I could. The smell of blood had been impossible to miss when we opened the door because it had been trapped. Now, with the air circulating in from the hall, it was getting fainter. I needed to keep moving, or I was never going to find it at all.

Three more steps carried me to the wall. It was covered by a complex tapestry of interwoven fishnets, ropes, and sea-stained lengths of fabric, all studded with shells and interesting pieces of driftwood. There was blood trapped in the fiber, places where the weaver’s fingers had bled in the process of tying knots or securing shells; the image of a dark-haired Merrow boy formed behind my eyes, and was just as quickly filed away. I’d know Peter if I saw him now, but that wasn’t the blood I’d followed into the room.

Shutting out the traces of blood in the tapestry only took a few seconds. My own magic was rising around me again. I borrowed strength from its familiarity, letting it wash away everything but the blood before I knelt and pulled the base of the tapestry away from the wall.

A silver needle glittered among the bottom loops of fishnet, obviously snagged there by mistake. It was practically invisible among all the things woven into the netting. If there hadn’t been time for a full search of the room, Rayseline wouldn’t even have realized that it was missing.

“Here,” I said. The bottom inch of the needle was darker than the rest. I didn’t need magic to tell me it was covered with dried blood. Gingerly, I grasped the opposite end and began working it free of the tapestry. “I found something.”

“What is it?” This time, no amount of restraining was going to keep Dianda out of the room. She strode toward me, practically vibrating with the need to know what I’d found. “How did my people miss it?”

“They didn’t smell the blood.” I held up the needle. “I wouldn’t touch this if I were you. This is a blood magic charm.”

“Intended to do what?”

“I’m not sure.” I brought the needle to my nose, sniffing cautiously. “It smells a little bit like elf-shot, but it’s not quite elf-shot. I’m going to need to take this to an alchemist friend of mine; he’ll be able to tell us more.”

Dianda’s expression darkened. “If you think I’m going to let you swim out of here with that—”

“I’m exactly right,” I finished. “Dianda, I’m trying to save your sons. We know Rayseline was involved, and we know this is blood magic. There’s no way she brewed this on her own. That means we need to find out who
did
brew it, and the best way to do that is to learn exactly what it is. Walther will be able to do that. You’ve trusted me this far. Is there anything to gain in taking that trust away from me now?”

Dianda’s eyes flicked from my face to the needle and back. Finally, she said, “Helmi will fetch you a water-tight bottle to transport it back to the surface. You have until the morning tide rolls in twice to tell me who took my children. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said. I wanted more than that—I wanted her to promise we wouldn’t be going to war—but I knew better than to demand. Her children were missing. I was lucky she was still being as reasonable as she was.

“Good.” Dianda’s shoulders drooped. “I . . . is there anything else we can show you? Anything at all?”

I took a deep breath. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m not familiar enough with the way your knowes are constructed. How about you take me on a tour of the boys’ favorite spots, and we’ll see if anything else jumps out at me?” I glanced at the needle. “After Helmi brings the bottle, that is. I’ve already jabbed one dubiously enchanted pin into my leg tonight, and since that ended with me growing fins, I’d rather not do it again.”

“All right,” said Dianda. She rubbed her face with one hand, looking overwhelmingly tired. “A tour it is.”

“And an escort to the surface afterward, if you don’t mind. I don’t think I can find the way back on my own, and this,” I waved a still-webbed hand, indicating my body, “isn’t going to last forever. I won’t be very much use to you if I drown when the Luidaeg’s spell wears off.”

“You’ll be escorted,” said Patrick.

Silence fell. I looked around, wishing I had better news for them—wishing I had some idea of where Raysel might have taken the missing boys. I didn’t have either of those things.

Having nothing useful to contribute has never been enough to keep my mouth shut. “So,” I asked, “anybody know how to get saltwater out of leather?”

I
COULD HAVE SPENT DAYS, if not weeks, exploring Saltmist. It was labyrinthine on a level even Shadowed Hills couldn’t match, since Shadowed Hills has to at least pretend to believe in gravity. Saltmist had ballrooms where every wall was a dance floor, dining halls where the tables hung suspended on ropes of kelp that also served as a living salad bar, and passageways set in what I couldn’t help regarding as “the floor” or “the ceiling.” Even the air-filled areas were built with little regard for mundane architecture, following plans that seemed as much borrowed from sailing ships and Viking feast halls as they were from the medieval castles I’m used to seeing.

The fae were as strange as their surroundings. Merfolk with sea horse tails stuck close to the floor in the underwater areas. They seemed to fill a role similar to the Hobs back home, since they were almost all engaged in some form of housework or repair, and most didn’t look up when we swam past them. Cephali were in evidence in both the wet and dry areas, usually armed and hanging from the ceiling. According to Dianda, they served as the Ducal guard, save for a few, like Helmi, who had gone into private service.

“She’s upset about the boys because she loves them, but also because they represent her failure,” said Dianda. “She’s supposed to guard them. Someone hurt them while she was watching. That isn’t acceptable to the Cephali.”

“So her honor is at stake?”

“Her life.” Dianda’s lips thinned. “If they aren’t found, her family will kill her as a form of apology to our household.”

I stared at her. “And you’ll
let
them?”

“This is the Undersea,” she said. “We do things differently here.”

I was starting to figure out just how differently.

After the third time I’d made the transition between air and water, it started to feel almost natural. I didn’t really have to think about going from legs to tail, or back again; it just happened, my body changing to suit the environment it was in. The green dress didn’t change with me, and clung to my skin like seaweed whenever we had to get out of the water and walk. It didn’t drip as much as my jeans had. I didn’t worry about it.

We eventually wound up back in the round aquarium-room, surrounded by that impossible Summerlands sea. The whale-mermaid and her hippocampi charges were gone, replaced by three of the sea horse-fae and a whole school of undersea children. They were a wild assortment of fins, tails, and tentacles as they chased each other around and through the kelp and coral. Dianda and Patrick looked at them with undisguised longing, not seeming to care that I was still there, still watching them.

Connor put a hand on my shoulder. I tilted my head back, asking, “Can you get me to the surface?”

“If you think you can follow.” He glanced to the webbing between my fingers. “How much longer is this supposed to last?”

“Not long enough for me to be comfortable staying here. I don’t want to drown on my way back to the surface.”

“Anceline and her brothers will escort you,” said Dianda, abruptly turning away from the wall. “Connor, your services are needed here for the time being.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “Your Grace, I—”

“I would be honored to be escorted by Anceline and her brothers,” I said, cutting him off. If Dianda was keeping Connor with her, it was because she wanted to grill him on Rayseline. That was something that needed to happen as soon as possible, for everybody’s sake. “There’s just one thing.”

Dianda blinked. Apparently, she wasn’t expecting me to make requests. “What?”

“Can I please have my clothes back?”

“Of course.” Dianda’s expression softened. “You may keep the dress. Consider it a souvenir.”

“Sort of an ‘I went to the lost city of Atlantis, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt’ thing, right?” I asked.

Dianda looked at me blankly. “Atlantis isn’t lost. It’s about an eight-day swim from here.”

Right. “If Connor is staying here, how would you like me to send word of my findings? I won’t be able to come back after the spell wears off, and I don’t know if the Luidaeg will mix me another one.”

“I’ll release him before the deadline. Failing that . . .” She dug a hand into the pocket of her skirt, producing three tiny glass bottles with cork stoppers and bits of rolled-up parchment inside. They looked like the sort of “genuine pirate treasures” you can buy six for a dollar in the shops along Fisherman’s Wharf. “If you throw one of these into the water, it will find me.”

“Handy.” I tucked the bottles under my knife belt, which held them fast. “I promise, we’re going to work on this as fast as we can.”

“You’d best.”

Patrick put a hand on her shoulder, almost mirroring the way Connor was standing next to me. “Connor, why don’t you show October to the exit pool? Helmi will meet you there, and can lead October out to meet Anceline and the others.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” said Connor. He stepped away from me and bowed to the Lordens. “Where can I find you once she’s gone?”

“Meet us in the receiving hall,” said Dianda.

“I appreciate your hospitality,” I said, and curtsied, directing the gesture to both of them. As I straightened, I added, “I’ll bring your sons home.”

“Please,” said Dianda. Nothing more than that; everything else had already been said. She and Patrick turned and walked away, leaving me alone with Connor.

I sighed. “I can’t wait to be back on dry land.”

“I can’t wait to be there with you.” Connor touched my cheek. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

He led me along the above-water path through the knowe. We passed Merrow in their human forms, Cephali making their way along floor, walls, and ceiling with equal ease, and Selkie after Selkie. I even glimpsed a few of the ward-weaving Asrai—tiny, silver-haired people who could have passed for children, if not for the decades I could see reflected in their eyes. None of them gave us a second glance. I was in the company of a Selkie, I looked like a Merrow, and clearly I belonged.

It was becoming more and more apparent how Rayseline had been able to do what she did. For all Patrick’s comments about the Undersea adopting mortal technology, they were still living in a time when Faerie was simpler. Back when humans didn’t encroach on our land, and when our halls were full, because we had the bodies to fill them. These days, people know everyone who lives in their fiefdom, because there just aren’t that many of us left. The Undersea didn’t have that problem. Instead, they got its opposite.

When there are too many people to know them all on sight, you can have strangers. And strangers can do bad things.

Helmi was waiting by the entrance pool. She had my clothes, shoes, and leather jacket—all still dripping—held primly at arm’s length. “These are yours,” she said, as soon as I was close enough to take them from her. “I’m to take you to meet Anceline outside the hall. If you’ll come with me?”

“Just a second.” I dug the bottles from Dianda out of my knife belt before unzipping the jacket’s breast pocket and dropping them inside, along with the bottle containing the needle from Peter’s room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would prevent me from losing them during the trip back to the surface.