Page 64 of Surfaces
Instead I continued my well-wishing. I nodded to odd-man Taft. His waist-length hair was pulled back with a series of leather straps today, his loincloth the same as always though. He pressed his pale blue hands together in a prayer position, acknowledging me, before his eyes drifted down to the golden roof and stayed there.
I gave a look for luck to both Stavros and Julian, who hovered together, the pair whispering rapidly to one another, though Julian did acknowledge my glance with a quick wink. Stavros didn’t—he was probably a bit worried about the coming event.
I crossed over the “evil four” as I randomly dubbed them at that very moment. The shrimp dicks didn’t even have the decency to have proper posture, they slouched and waited as if this was all a great inconvenience to them. I couldn’t wait to officially be rid of them.
Humberto was humming to himself and as I caught a couple notes of the tune, I could have sworn it was the same one I’d heard Gita sing as she’d done my hair this morning. A secret little bubble of joy floated up inside of me. Good.
I looked left. To my surprise, I saw Watkins and Valdez standing together—laughing over something. I narrowed my eyes at the two men who drove my hormones wild but the two I thought I could trust least of all. Valdez was a pirate. And Watkins’s change of heart was so sudden. Though perhaps Lizza had provided an explanation for that. Maybe he was in earnest.
Sarding magic, making things so difficult to tell. I wished my price was bursting into boils or something. Then at least I’d know for certain it had been paid.
I studied Watkins’s strong jaw as I wondered if I might be able to feel the same things that he did.
My eyes flickered back over to Valdez, who leered and tapped Watkins on the shoulder to alert him to my ogling.
Watkins added his pouty smolder to the mix and their combined lust force was too great. I had to look away before I combusted.
When is this damned tournament going to start? I need them out of here before I end up doing something foolish again—like asking them to recreate our dance.
As if she could read my mind, Sahar quietly appeared by my side. Her graying gold hair was swept back into a simple, single braid today and she wore a high-waisted skirt with a white and green seaweed pattern running up and down its length.
“Majesty, I believe we’re ready to begin.” Behind her trailed a herald with a conch shell. He was a skinny older siren with an underbite—I didn’t recognize him, so I assumed he came from Gorgono’s servants.
When I nodded, he swam to the edge of the roof and blew a high bugle-like note into the water, causing all sound on the block to cease. To my amazement, his shell was magically, or perhaps scientifically, connected to shells throughout the entire city. I heard the blast reverberate through a street a block away, then fainter, through the block behind that, and on and on. The herald waited until the sounds had faded in the distance, until the entire city had gone still and silent, awaiting his next words.
Even I felt on tenterhooks as he sucked in a breath and announced, “Today, the Okeanos Tournament will host the second competition of four. Those battling for the queen’s hand must show us their wit!” A pause for the news to spread had me nervously clasping Keelan’s hand. “Today’s challenge will be timed. Contestants have three hours to try to retrieve three items and bring them back to the queen.” Another pause and I had to remind myself not to fidget, not to break my smile, not to yell at the herald to get on with it. My nerves frothed. “Points will be awarded based on the amount of time contestants take as well as how many items they are able to find.” Pause. I was surprised I didn’t snap the bones in Keelan’s hand, I squeezed so hard. “Citizens, if you have any of our scavenger hunt items, then you may allow contestants to take them if you wish. Or, you may prevent them from doing so. Remember, this is a battle of wits for the contestants. Make them work for it!” A cheer went up from the crowd and I smiled over at Sahar. The clever woman. Part of me wondered if she’d added more citizen involvement based on how well it had been received yesterday. Or maybe she’d always planned the competition this way. She was brilliant, after all. In either case, that pause was the longest as the herald had to wait for the news to travel and the cheers at the far end of the city to die down.
“And now, for the information you’ve all been waiting for…the items that contestants must find within the city limits and bring back are: a sewing needle, a horseshoe, and the heart of a land animal.”
“What the sard is a sewing needle?” Illia’s face screwed up in confusion, his eyes bugging out more than usual.
I had to refrain from an eye roll at his utterly male ignorance.
On the far side of the roof, all three judges stood. One pulled a sewing needle out of his trouser pocket and held it aloft for the contestants to see. The next man, the one with the long mustache, bent over his chair and retrieved a box. He opened it to display a small organ. “A bird’s heart,” he declared.
The final judge also reached under his seat and produced a horseshoe, which had rusted under the water.
“These are all sky walker items,” Radford protested.
One of the other sirens not associated with the evil four, looked concerned. “How would we even recognize them?”
Sahar turned to the group as whispers broke out amongst the competitors. “Gentlemen, this is a tournament of wit. I expect you to use it. Now stop talking. It’s each man for himself as soon as the shell blasts.”
The conch erupted just as her words finished.
“Three hours starts now!” Sahar declared.
And with a swish, the rooftop emptied—all the competitors, even the evil four, were gone.
Keelan turned to me and untangled our hands. “You know, next time I think I’ll stand on your other side.”
“Why?”
“I’ve already got one mangled hand. I don’t need two,” he said wryly as he made a show of stretching and flexing his right hand.
I just glared and reached out for Mr. Whelk, who paddled happily into my arms. “We don’t like him, do we, Mr. Whelk? Do we?” I slipped into a baby tone automatically.
Keelan just chuckled and turned to his mother. “So, how can we actually monitor what’s going on?”
