Page 37 of Fate of Echoes and Embers
A fool’s endeavor.
She looked out to sea while I watched her. Even anguished, she was perfection. Some believed the slow aging of native Elydorians perfect, faint lines appearing only after hundreds of years. I disagreed. Everything about humans, with their urgency to live and experience as much as possible in a way only mortality could elicit, was beautiful to me. And none more so than the woman sitting beside me.
“I criticized him once,” she said. “I’d seen, perhaps, ten summers. It was nothing more than a look, but something about the way Draven watched my father as he received petitions unsettled me. When I told my mother this, she advised me to hold my tongue. ‘You must not criticize the lord of Hawthorne Manor publicly, Isolde. He holds no power over our people except that which they give him freely.’ I felt foolish for thinking ill of my father’s friend. For saying as much aloud.” Issa looked at me. “I loved my mother dearly, but never agreed with her ways. She was too deferential to my father. I always wished she would be more like a native Elydorian woman… I should not speak ill of her.”
“Your instincts were true,” I said. “It is also true even those we love are flawed. My mother…” I stopped. It was unnatural for me to speak of this aloud. But I had promised Issa, and it was the reason I brought her here. “When she was alive, I thought my mother could do no wrong. She was perfect in every way. An expert diver, fearless beneath the sea.”
Issa’s brown eyes were fixed on me, pulling me in as surely as a strong tide. I swallowed, trusting her, even knowing I did not deserve that same trust in return.
“You speak of your inability to judge character as though it is a flaw. My mother… she lived over three centuries and yet, even she trusted those she should not have. Some are simply more inclined to trust than others, but that does not make them weaker. It only makes them more open… and sometimes, that comes at a great cost. But there is a high cost for trusting no one, as I do. None of us come out unscathed, Issa.”
“What happened to your mother?” she asked softly.
I looked out to the sea, trying to find the words for a story I had never told.
“She was the best pearl diver in Thalassaria. So much so that others sought her counsel. One, a man named Olivar, a respected sailor and diver, was well-known for his deep knowledge of the sea. He and my mother completed many dives together throughout the years, and she trusted him as a friend.” My jaw clenched as I envisioned his face, one that haunted me in my dreams. “He convinced my mother to dive in an area well-known for its turbulent waters. Some say, tainted by dark magic, an ancient one older than the tides itself.”
“Marek,” she said, her voice full of concern.
I turned toward the sound, oddly comforted in a way I’d never allowed myself to be with anyone. Even Nerys.
“It was rumored to contain pink pearls.”
Her eyes widened. Even humans knew that pink pearls were rare and highly coveted for their ability to bring good fate to their owners.
“My father tried to talk her out of the dive, but Olivar convinced her, with the proper precautions, they would be safe. I was on an expedition to Aethralis and only learned of her death upon my return. The moment we ported, I knew something was wrong. My father was there, which was exceedingly odd. If either of them would be standing on the docks waiting for my safe return, it would be my mother.”
“Do you know what happened?”
I shook my head. “Her body washed up on the shore days later after my father led a fruitless search.”
“I do not think… for a Thalassarian to drown?—”
“She was not just any Thalassarian, Issa. There were few more skilled at diving than my mother. And aye, it is extremely rare for a Thalassari to drown.”
“And Olivar?”
Drown him to the Depths.“Was never found.”
Her big brown eyes widened. “Did he… do you think he drowned too?”
I reached into the folds of my breeches where a small, leather pouch was tucked away. Pulling it out, I loosened the drawstring and tipped it into my palm: a single, luminous, pink pearl, unlike any found in common waters.
Issa gasped.
“This,” I said, rolling it between my fingers, “was found on her when they pulled her from the sea. So I began searching. Asking questions. First among pearl divers, then traders, then those who dealt in rare things. Eventually, my questions led me to men who asked their own price for answers. Smugglers. Thieves. Black-market dealers.” I met Issa’s gaze again. “One thing led to another, and I found I had a talent for trade. For moving things others could not. At first, it was only a way to uncover the truth. But the truth is slow, and survival demands coin. And so… I became what I am.”
“All for answers about your mother’s death?”
I turned the pearl in my fingers, watching how the dim light of the lanterns behind us caught its strange, otherworldly shimmer. “I have never stopped looking. And I do not intend to.”
“Why… You told me your mother had died, but not… this.”
I replaced the pearl my father had given me after he discovered it preparing my mother’s body for her final voyage at sea.
“I haven’t told this to anyone,” I said, matter of factly.
Clearly, Issa didn’t believe me. “Anyone? Surely, in all these years…”
