I look over at Jou, who is huddled with Danny over our tech-mage’s impressive pile of equipment. Danny’s got a half-assembled holographic map of the Straits up. Jou’s turning it to examine the anticline that’s intrigued all of us.
The anticline’s the site for our planned dive this afternoon. But on this grey morning, with a bitter north wind biting our fingers, we’re headed to a deep blue triangle on Danny’s map, which he’s helpfully labeled “Tritones’ Trench.”
I squeeze Rhodes’ hand, and we head into the surf. With Rhodes’ power coursing through me, the transition to breathing underwater is smoother and doesn’t leave me feeling like someone’s stomped on my lungs. Although I first learned to swim over a thousand years ago, I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly powerful swimmer. Holding onto the golden cord Rhodes spins out for us, flush with his power, I get a taste of what it feels like to cut through the water the way he does. There’s huge force behind each kick, each plow of my arms through the water. There’s no resistance from the Water: it flows with each motion, buoys his muscles and cools them so they never burn or grow leaden. He could swim forever. Water accepts him in a way Air has never accepted me. Air is mine to shape, to wield, but I’m always conscious of exercising mywill over it. Rhodes’ control of Water is unconscious, a muscle memory buried so deep it’s as autonomic as his heart beating.
Rhodes leads us west, away from the mound. The mats of sea grass are thicker here, protecting the smaller fish that swirl in hypnotic spirals around the fronds. The grass reaches up to tickle our wetsuits like soft fingers.
We must be half-way through Viv’s spell, which is only on me and Arch this time to give us as much time as possible, before I spot a flash of pearly scales. I tug on the cord connecting me to my consort. Rhodes backpedals and turns to follow my pointing finger. He kicks off to follow the tritones, diving down through the waving columns of sea grass, pushing them aside with his free hand.
Three sharp, silvery prongs, arrowing toward Rhodes’ throat, stop our forward momentum. Rhodes jerks back and the undulating grass hides the trident again.
Then a clawed, webbed hand parts the grass. Huge, luminous eyes in a face almost as feline as a Cait’s flick from Rhodes to me to Arch. Gill covers flare under the tritones’ jaw for moment; its nearly flat nose flaps. Is it scenting us through the water?
I wait a respectful moment for the tritones to evaluate us, then pull a string of beads out of my bag. I have several gifts in the bag, mostly Teddy’s enchanted stones. I thought about offering one that would allow the tritones to breathe above water. But that struck me as showing my Air bias. Why would creatures of the deep want to venture onto land? Instead, I offer a set of stones that will allow the tritones to project its thoughts into my mind for a few minutes at a time. I just hope its thoughts are close enough to fae that they don’t give me psychosis.
The tritones holds out its trident but doesn’t jab it at me. I loop the beads carefully around one of the prongs.
The trident, clawed hand, and huge eyes wink back into the greenery.
Arch and Gabe swim up beside me. Arch points to where the tritones has disappeared. I shake my head, hold up my free hand and make a fist, which is our team’s recognized gesture for “stop.” I know Arch is impatient. I am, too. But chasing after the trident-wielding merperson is a way to get prongs through the heart.
That’s wise.
The thought is soft, a gentle current running alongside my own thoughts.
I focus on our intention in coming to the Straits.
You are not the first to seek the Devourer. She has eaten all who have come before you.
I contemplate how much I’d like to avoid being eaten. The current shifts to amused eddies.
You are not welcome in our Accetus. I get the sense of a settlement, maybe even a city.But I will bring our leaders to meet you here.
I project acceptance and welcome but also urgency since we don’t have much time before we have to return to the surface.
The wave-kin whose scent you wear can help you stay longer.
Rhodes, I surmise, and feed the tritones our names. Then I let my thoughts touch on Arch’s aversion to letting others do magic on him.
Untrusting but fair. Return to the surface. I will bring the leaders to meet you when you dive the Breast at high tide.
I confirm and tug on Rhodes’ cord before giving the thumbs up to return to the beach.
Once we’re all ashore, Arch opens his wetsuit and drags it down to his waist even though it’s freezing. Freaking fire mage. He stalks over to me. “What happened?”
“The tritones said we weren’t welcome in their settlement, but he’d bring his leaders to meet us when we dive the mount.”
I’m not sure why I identify the tritones as male. I didn’t see enough of his body to make any determination. But his thoughts felt male. Or maybe I only have male thoughts for reference.
Arch scowls. “Why should we trust them?”
“Why shouldn’t we?” Rhodes counters.
“You don’t understand how we work,” Arch grumbles at Rhodes. “We don’t make friends with the locals, and we don’t tell anyone what we’re doing.”
Arch doesn’t make friends with the locals. I prefer to. They often have invaluable knowledge.
“The tritones is aware of the target,” I say. “He called it the Devourer. He warned me that it has eaten everyone who has come before us.”