Chapter 33 The Graveyard
"What should we do?" Cherry, hovering on the other side of Marton, addresses her question to him. Not to me. I wish I wasn't noticing that right now, but I am.
"What can we do?" says Marton.
"See if they want to talk?"
Down by the water, the two smaller sirens turn and slip into the lake, disappearing beneath the surface without so much as a splash.
The movement is so subtle I might not have notice if I hadn't been watching.
I turn my head and lock eyes with Vakhrin in his manticore form, his pale brown lion's eyes filled with misgiving.
"Talk," I echo thoughtfully.
Why would they have stopped attacking if they didn't wish to talk?
Why would they wish to talk? Why would they attack in the first place?
There are nothing but questions.
No answers. I would think these...sirens were merely defending their territory, only how would they have known that we planned to land here?
That we wouldn't just fly past, leaving them unbothered?
Do they attack all casual passersby?
Thinking out complex problems is not my strong suit.
"Alright." I take a step forward, and instantly there are two different sets of hands grabbing at my sleeves, halting me.
I let them. I am almost shocked to see Cherry at my side, looking frightened for me.
"I thought we said talk." I try to sound irritated, but I feel unaccountably touched by their concern.
They aren't supposed to be the ones protecting me.
That isn't how this works. But for just a minute under their caring looks, their frightened grips, I feel sort of warm and bundled in a way I haven't since I was still a child in my mother's care.
Before my first shift, when she found out what I was.
"You're just going to march over there?
" Cherry scolds.
"I was—"
"We should think about this," Marton interjects.
Now I shrug them off, huffing.
"There isn't anything to think about. If they wanted to put Vakhrin and I both on the ground, they could.
If they wanted to kill us all, they could.
If they don't want me to approach, I'm sure they'll let me know.
"
"I'm not sure," Marton says slowly.
I glance at him, and he stands up a little straighter, expression going scholarly.
His version of fierceness. "They didn't attack you and Vakh both at the same time.
It was one and then the other. Vakh was in the lead, so they took him down, but when you starting coming, they switched to targeting you.
Not both of you. One and then the other.
I don't know if they can take you both down at once.
It's possible that only one of them has a working.
..siren gift. Maybe the others haven't mastered it yet, or maybe they haven't matured enough.
.." He trails off, and we all consider the implications of that sentence.
I look at the two remaining sirens, standing close together, small and skinny, but trying to look intimidating.
"They're children," I breathe.
"We don't know that.
"
"I know it."
"That doesn't mean they aren't dangerous.
" Marton is trying to stop me again as I start forward, but I dodge out of his grip.
"Vakh," I bark. The manticore slips in from the side, blocking Marton's way with one furred shoulder.
Marton shoots me a threatening look. I turn back around, fixing my eyes on the field ahead.
The emaciated sirens watch me as I approach, every lithe muscle in their seal-skin bodies bracing as if for impact.
They look frightened. I slow my steps, holding my palms up to show them I'm unarmed, though of course that's a pointless gesture when we all know I have no need of mortal weapons.
"Hello," I say softly.
Or in effort at softness. "My name is Tarah.
" Up close, I can see that the siren's each have a tangle of seaweed-like, solid black hair tumbling down their backs.
They wear tatted clothes of some kind of animal skin, its muted color nearly blending in with their flesh.
"Can you speak in these forms?
" I ask gently.
No answer, though one of the siren's clutches the other tightly by the wrist. They share a look, and the one on the right, the taller one, steps slightly away from the other.
Before my eyes, gray flesh ripples and warps, becoming light brown human skin.
The skinny, stooped, disproportioned body transmutes into the shape of a young boy, perhaps fourteen years of age.
His black hair is thicker and shorter in this form, and his human eyes, still coal-black, glare out at me from beneath a tangled fringe.
He is skinny and small, but the intelligence in his face is sharp.
"Why are you here?" He spits, voice tinged with an accent I have never heard before.
Hugging strangely around the vowels.
"Uh.
" I'm momentarily at a loss. "We were passing by on our way to a house near the lake.
But—"
"There are no houses near the lake.
" His tone is certain, and full of mistrust.
"There must be—"
"There aren't.
"
"A manor house," I blurt.
"A large and fancy summer home for an important man.
..?"
The boy's face twists.
"You speak of the graveyard."
"Grave.
..yard? No—"
"The ruins of the Ithymian king's silly playhouse.
Yes. That is the only house that has ever been on the shores of this lake, and it is there no longer.
"
"What happened to it?
It's in ruins?"
"You are slow," the boy says with distaste.
"My youngest sister picks things up quicker than you.
" He turns to the other siren. Says something low and quick in an unfamiliar language.
The siren tenses, stepping back. The boy says something else.
The siren's orblike eyes land on me for a moment, and then this one, too, shifts.
One of the loveliest faces I have ever seen on a girl so young looks back at me.
I would guess she is a year or two younger than the boy, and their similar features and coloring lead me to believe that they are siblings.
That, and the comment the boy made about have a youngest sister.
I would guess this is the oldest of his sisters.
She brushes her long hair forward shyly.
Her features are gentler than her brother's, and she almost looks like she attempts to offer me a smile before deciding against it.
"This oaf of a dragon does not believe what I say about the graveyard," says the boy.
"Yes, I heard." The girl's voice is low and sweet, with the same accent as her brother, though it sounds different in her melodic voice than it did with his sharp syllables.
"I am Nerris." She addresses me. "This is my brother, Yaun.
He does not have any manners."
"Oh," I say.
"Why do you seek the ruins?
"
"That's just it. I didn't know there were ruins.
What happened? How was the king's house destroyed?
"
Nerris shakes her head.
"Shouldn't you know? You, of the Ithymian king's household?
"
Of his...what? I make an inarticulate sound.
The girl braces herself at my stunned reaction.
Her limbs curl inward slightly, her chin tucking, a tightness around her eyes.
It is the posture of someone expecting a blow, while her brother beside her bristles.
"I'm not of any king's household," I say hurriedly.
"I don't know of any ruins. My friends and I have come here seeking.
..seeking something that has been kept secret.
"
The girls eyes widen, the boy scowls.
"You expect us to believe you are an enemy of your king, dragon?
" Yaun practically spits.
"I expect you to believe I am a party innocent of any wrong that has been done you, or of any conflict that has taken place on the shores of this lake.
"
Yaun opens his mouth to retort, but his sister whispers to him rapidly in their language.
He shakes his head at her. She speaks again, voice rising, but it doesn't help me make out any of the unfamiliar words.
She is adamant about something; that much is clear.
Finally, the boy says, "You know nothing.
There was no conflict. The house burned in an accident two summers back.
There were no survivors among the staff.
From kitchen to stables, all were lost. The graveyard, we call it, because it's all ashes and bones.
"
"An accident." I try to get my head around this information, how it changes our plans.
"An accident," the boy agrees.
Something about the way he glares at me, all defiance, makes me narrow my eyes at him.
"And how did you come to be here?
Do you claim this lake as your own territory?
"
His sister grips his hand in both of hers.
Her black eyes seem warm, but afraid. "No one comes to this lake anymore.
Some call it cursed. But mostly, it belongs to the king.
He has never rebuilt his ruined home, so no one comes here.
"
"And where did the four of you come from?
" Four siren children living alone in the king's lake.
Are there more of them?
Yaun glares.
"We don't have to tell you anything."
Nerris's eyes, though, swim with tears.
"It's alright, Yaun. She isn't here to hurt us.
We're sorry," she says to me. "We didn't bring you down for trespassing.
Yaun thought you might be coming here for us.
To...get us."
"Why would I be coming to get you. "
By the way she says 'get us,' I know she does not mean in any good way.