Page 32 of Whispers of the Deep

But every word he said seemed to make her happier. She nodded, that wide smile still on her face. She pressed a hand to her chest and said, “Mira,” then moved that hand over the fish.

Some of his anger eased, and amusement took its place. “You will not be able to say any of our words, achromo.”

She insistently hovered that hand over the fish.

He rolled his gaze up to the roof of the cavern and prayed for patience. “It is a cod.”

Again, she waved her hand over it and then rotated the other in the air. What did she want from him?

Swimming a little closer, he braced his arms against the rock and stared down at the fish with her. “Cod, is what we call it. It’s a rather flavorless fish, I suppose, but considering how the achromos eat, I cannot imagine that you will find any fault in it. I’ve already cleaned it for you, Mira. You can eat it.”

He mimed eating with his hand and then glanced up at her again. But she wasn’t looking at the fish. She was looking at him.

Her eyes a little wide, her face a little pink. He hadn’t noticed that humans could change color like a cuttlefish, but here she was. Changing color right in front of his eyes.

He met her wide gaze and wondered what she was thinking. She’d asked him to explain the fish to her, and he was. Not that she could understand a single thing of what he was saying. But Arges had always been the brother who enjoyed talking.

It was why he was a warrior. Why he had taken control over the pod rather than his brothers. He was the one who knew how to speak and when to listen. That was his gift, according to Mitéra. And he wanted to use that gift now to help his people.

But it was hard to think about his people at all when she watched him like that. A strange mixture of awe and curiosity played across her features. He had to wonder if he was reading her right, because the expression was so eerily similar to that of his own people.

Then she blinked frantically and shook her head. Coasting her fingers over the fish, she pointed to the water.

“Yes, it came from the sea.” He lifted a clawed hand out of the water, showing her his claws. “They are very easy for one such as me to catch. I imagine it would be harder for you to catch them.”

Her fingers were tiny and her nails were blunted. Any fish would get away from her long before she had the chance to use those soft claws. She didn’t swim fast enough to even catch prey that was mortally wounded.

He’d have to take care of her for the rest of her life.

Arges frowned at the thought. She wasn’t going to be alive for very long, anyway. Here he was, thinking about years away when he’d have to hunt for her every single day. And yet, he knew she would die at the end of this.

Mira was a means to an end. That was all.

Another voice interrupted them, clanging and metallic with words he could not understand. But he knew that it came from the box and he’d forgotten it was still here. It had listened to them clearly, and that magic was enough to send him careening back into the safety of the water.

He didn’t even try to stop the splashing wave that likely soaked the metallic being. He had to go. He couldn’t stay here, talking with her as if she could understand him.

But even as he swam away, the memory of her pink cheeks and the color that played down her throat haunted him.

Perhaps she was a witch, after all.

Thirteen

Mira

This wasn’t working. She’d been able to get him to talk a little, but nothing like she needed him to speak. He came back once or twice a day; she thought. There was no way to tell time down here, but she could see how much water she was going through.

Mira had set up a freshwater contraption her father had taught her to make before. When she was a kid, it was like setting up a bubbling laboratory. But her dad had known that maybe someday she might need to use this. Large portions of the city often ended up stranded, isolated from the rest by flooding, and there was a lot of salt water but very little fresh water.

The bucket she’d set on a small bunsen burner that she’d found in the crates. It only worked for a little while before going out, so she’d taken it apart and placed the welder there instead. At least that used oxygen to keep the flame going and some new technology that didn’t require fuel. Thank goodness it was a model that had upgraded to that, or she would have no fresh water.

As it was, she could boil all the saltwater and catch the condensation above the bucket with a piece of metal she’d hammered into a ‘v’ shape. The condensation mostly gathered together, rolled into the channel of the v, and then into the other bucket she’d set up there.

It wasn’t a lot of water, but it would at least keep her alive.

Sighing, she stared up at the ceiling and let boredom overtake her mind. Sometimes, she just didn’t talk for an entire day. Byte did all the talking for her, if she wanted. But today she’d asked for silence.

She needed to think.

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