Page 16 of Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear

“You can always return here,” the harbormaster reassured her. “Our goal is happiness for the Drowned, not misery.”

“Then it sounds perfect.” Nadya stood, laying the coat on the chair. Then she winced. “But I would like to see your restroom first, if I could, please.”

The harbormaster laughed. Nadya kept smiling, the faintly mortified smile of a child being forced to discuss such things infront of unfamiliar adults, and he directed her out of his office and down the hall to the bathroom, which, she was relieved to see, was more modern than the candlelit office would have implied; the plumbing was all bronze and polished wood, no ceramic, but when she turned the tap, hot water came out. How that could be possible when they were already under the surface of a river, she didn’t know and didn’t want to ask. The harbormaster would probably just tell her another story about some water being heavier than other water, and her head was still spinning from the night before.

She washed up, splashing water over her face with her hand, and looked at herself for a moment in the mirror before leaving the room and heading back toward the harbormaster’s office, stepping as lightly as she could to keep her approach from being overheard. As she drew closer, she slowed, listening as closely as she could.

“She’s still new here,” the harbormaster was saying. “If she changes her mind, if it’s all too much—you mustn’t get too attached, Inna, she could be called back to the world of her birth at any time.”

“I do understand how the doors work, Ivan,” said Inna, almost chidingly. “I’ll keep her as safe as I’m allowed, and encourage her to find as much danger as she needs, and she’ll serve Belyyreka well.”

“And the missing arm—”

“Is not a flaw. If she wants to replace it with something to help her grasp and steer, she can, and if not, she will still be entire and intact as she is. She’s perfect, Ivan. Perfect for Belyyreka, and perfect for me.”

Nadya smiled and stepped back into the office. “I hear biscuits?” she said hopefully.

They were American biscuits, close to the syrniki Nadyaremembered from home, sweet and flaky with currants and unfamiliar nuts tucked between the layers like little surprises of taste and texture. She took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and turned wide eyes toward Inna. “You are Russian?” she asked, with some surprise.

“My grandparents were,” said Inna. “They moved to America to make a better life for their children, and when I was a little younger than you are now, my nana taught me to bake. Many things here will be familiar, Nadya, and many will be strange. I think the doors understand us well enough to know how much strangeness each of our hearts can handle, and they choose their children accordingly. Many of the people you’ll find here who came from our first world have Russia in their roots.”

That explained the names, and the comfortable shape of things. Nadya nodded, swallowing her mouthful of syrniki, and said, “I still want to meet the turtles, but I’m willing to go with you now.”

And Inna smiled.

ADOPTION—IF THAT WASwhat this was—worked very differently here than it did back in Russia. No papers were signed, no money changed hands, unless biscuits were money here; Inna simply handed the rest of the plate to the harbormaster, took Nadya by the hand, and said, “Come on now, we’re going home,” before leading her out of the office and onto the dock.

Rather than turning to head deeper into the city then, she began walking out along one of the long fronds of planked wood, pulling Nadya with her. Nadya walked in obedient quiet for a few minutes, then tilted her head up and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Home, eventually,” said Inna. “But I remember how overwhelming all of this was when it began for me, and I thought you might like something to anchor yourself by before we go any further. I know you’re taking a very large leap of faith by trusting me. I want to prove Icanbe trusted.”

Nadya didn’t say anything. The turtles trusted Inna, and still weary and overwhelmed as she was, she trusted the turtles. She always had. She couldn’t say precisely why, and she didn’t feel like she should have to. Some people trusted other people, some people trusted religion or people on the news, and she trusted turtles. It was just one more way a person could be made differently.

They walked along the long wooden dock to another building, this one made of paler wood, with windows shaped like a turtle’s shell. Inna led Nadya inside, to where a woman sat behind a tall counter. “Clear currents, Anna,” said Inna.

The woman—Anna—looked up and smiled. “Clear currents, Inna,” she said. “Come for Vasyl already?”

“No. I have a new charge.” She indicated Nadya. “She’s been door-swept, and she wants to meet the young turtles. Perhaps one of them will care for her company.”

“Welcome to Belyyreka,” said Anna, turning her smile on Nadya. “Most of the fishing boats have gone for the day. You’re welcome, both of you.”

Inna nodded and led Nadya through a small door at the back of the room, into a narrow hall that smelt of wood rot and wet in a way that nothing else had so far. They walked along that hall to a room that opened up like a cavern, and in the center of it was a vast pool of heavier water, liquid and shimmering, and in the pool…

Oh, in the pool were the turtles. Dozens upon dozens of turtles, more turtles than Nadya had ever dreamt. Some werethe size of Vasyl, drifting lazily toward the bottom of the water or lounging on the slope that filled one entire end of the pool. Others were much, much smaller, ranging in size from turtles small enough to fit in her palm to roughly as big as a large serving platter. It was the smaller turtles who swarmed the water’s edge where they were standing, stretching their heads out of the water and calling greetings in high, piping voices, like the tuning of a vast orchestra made entirely of flutes. Inna released Nadya’s hand and knelt, murmuring greetings to the turtles.

There were so many that Nadya was overwhelmed, not sure how she was supposed to respond or answer. She drifted a few feet away, suddenly shy.

A single head, belonging to a turtle about two feet across, poked out of the water and looked at her. “Hello,” said the turtle. “You smell of other waters.”

“I’m a Drowned Girl,” said Nadya. “I just got here from Colorado.”

“So they brought you to meet the hopeful straightaway? Oh, they must want to keep you.” The turtle sounded amused. “Shouldn’t you be making nice to convince one of the fawning frenzy to choose you as their bosom companion?”

“Maybe I want you to choose me,” said Nadya, feeling a little bolder.

The turtle looked at her gravely. “Do you?”

“I don’t know yet. We just met. I don’t even know your name.”

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