Chapter 7
Riella stepped onto the gangway of the Pandora, blinking in the bright sunshine. Ships lined the bustling docks as far as the eye could see in both directions.
Beyond the docks loomed Klatos. She’d seen the hilly capital of Zermes kingdom from a distance, of course, where it appeared otherworldly and enchanting. Up close, the cityscape was imposing. The sheer density of the buildings was difficult for Riella to comprehend. How was it possible for humans to live all stacked on top of each other?
“Welcome to Klatos,” said Artus, behind her. “Let’s get a move on. I’ve got a lot to do before we set sail again.”
Riella walked the gangway, holding the railing for support. The dock was crowded with sailors, merchants, and people in raggedy clothing begging for coin. Seagulls flocked to the area, diving for scraps of food. The scent of grilled squid mingling with the fresh smell of the ocean made Riella want to gag.
A general hush went over the dock when Artus and Riella stepped off the Pandora. The stares of so many humans made her want to turn and dive straight into the water. If only she could have done it and not drowned.
“Dark Tide Clan,” someone murmured as they passed.
The captain ignored the attention, walking ahead of Riella toward the city fringe. Fletch stayed behind her, lumbering along in silence. The docks opened onto a street paved with alarmingly uneven cobblestones. She hesitated, unsure if she was ready to negotiate such terrain.
Artus hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Fletch can carry you, if you like?” he suggested with a wink.
“No,” she replied sharply. “I can walk.”
“Suit yourself.” The captain continued onto the road.
Riella was about to follow, afraid of getting lost in the crowd, when a very tall man stepped in front of her, blocking her path. He glared down at her with cold eyes and a set jaw. He had a shaved head and wore rags.
“Move,” she said to him. “You’re standing too close to me. I don’t like it.”
His only response was to take a step nearer. She sized him up. Even in her weakened form, she was strong enough to throw this man.
Noticing Riella was no longer behind him, Artus circled back. “Ah, this is Tregor. Old shipmate of mine. No longer sails though, does he?”
Tregor shifted his gaze to the captain and grunted.
Artus made some kind of signal with his hand, then addressed Riella in a cheery voice. “He’s deaf, you see. Can’t hear a thing you say. These days, he begs on the docks to get by.” The captain’s eyes flashed with mischief. “Veteran of war, he is.”
She exhaled in realization. Tregor turned his cold focus back to her, his sun-scabbed hands balling into fists. He’d been deafened by Sirensong.
Artus reached into his pocket and pulled out a copper coin. With his thumb, he flicked it at Tregor, who made no move to catch it. The coin clattered to the walkway, while the deaf man continued to glare at Riella.
“Siren, Fletch, let’s go,” said Artus over his shoulder, already climbing the cobblestoned hill.
Her heart thudding with a complicated mix of emotions, she sidestepped Tregor and followed the captain. It took a lot of concentration to keep up with him while navigating the cobblestones. Pausing at a rise, she looked back.
Tregor stooped to pick up the coin and then loped toward the street hawkers, most of whom sold food.
Facing a person who’d been hurt by sirens was a new experience for her. She told herself that he probably deserved his injuries. If humans didn’t want to be maimed by sirens, they only had to stay out of the ocean.
She just wished didn’t look so pitiful, collecting the solitary copper coin from the dirty ground. It gave her a feeling she did not enjoy. The fact that he waited until they left somehow made the feeling worse.
All in all, she disliked being on land so far.
The stones were searing, which made her walk faster. More and more, she understood the value of shoes, and she vowed to procure a pair for herself as soon as possible. The only people who seemed to be barefoot were vagrants, like Tregor. That must’ve been exactly what she looked like in her filthy oversized clothes.
Even away from the docks, people stared at Riella. A small boy ran right up to her and tugged at the sleeve of her shirt, trying to get her attention. She shook him off in what she believed was a gentle fashion.
The humans she usually handled were pirates—large men—not small children. With accidental force, she sent the boy sprawling onto the cobblestones. He promptly burst into tears.
Artus roared with laughter, throwing her an appreciative glance over his shoulder. “Can’t blame the little fella for being curious, siren. But you’ll need to be more accommodating than that where we’re going.”
A woman wearing an apron ran to the boy and consoled him. The woman cringed away from Riella and refused eye contact, as though she feared the siren. Then she realized, the woman did fear her.
Riella, who was duty-bound to protect innocents, felt like her entire world had been turned upside down. Which, in essence, it had been. None of this was right. She was not where she was supposed to be, nor doing what she was supposed to be doing. Being caught between two worlds had rendered her useful to no one, including herself.
Fletch ushered her along and she let him, wanting to leave the scene of the woman and her crying child.
By now, her siren friends would have well and truly realized she’d met with trouble. They would have searched for her, and probably still were, but they would’ve found nothing. With no trace of Riella, what else could the sirens do to help her? Very little. She was alone.
Worse than being alone, really, because she was tethered to Dark Tide Clan pirates, of all humans. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she was also on the run from a lunatic sorcerer. His last words to her had been a warning about how she didn’t know what she was doing. How awfully correct he had been.
But at least as long as she had legs, she could rescue Seraphine. And then kill him, so that he could never kidnap and torment anyone again. The siren promised the elf she would not die, and Riella meant to keep that promise.
“Halt!”
A pair of uniformed royal guards blocked Artus’s path. They wore polished versions of the captain’s blue and red jacket, with a crown insignia on the lapels that his lacked. Either he was a royal guard long ago, or he wore the jacket to mock them.
The guards wore silver helmets and carried swords in their belts.
“Who’s this?” one demanded, lifting his chin at her.
Artus gave a laconic shrug. “A rare ocean jewel. We are en route to Madame Quaan’s right now.”
The guard’s frown cleared, and he took a second look at Riella. “Is that right?” His voice was different now, having lost the clipped professionalism.
Artus offered his hand to the guard. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook it. When the man withdrew his hand, gold flashed in his palm.
Bribery did not surprise Riella. But she was interested that Artus carried gold. If she could relieve him of it, she could buy her way to the Black Cliffs.
Who was this Madame Quaan? Perhaps she was a mage. Her name certainly sounded like it belonged to one. Riella decided to hold off on robbing him until she found out. There was no sense in sabotaging what might be a solution to her problems.
The glow of the royal palace became visible before the palace itself. The golden gleam warmed the fa?ades of the buildings on the opposite side of the street. When Riella and her companions reached the top of a hill, the incredible structure came into view.
She stopped and stared in awe. Artus, who sweated in the heat, took the opportunity to remove his jacket and fold it over his arm with deliberate care. Fletch offered to take it, but the captain waved him away.
The palace seemed to touch the heavens, puffs of white cloud drifting around the highest steeples. Zermetic flags flew from the spires and the entire structure was made of pale golden stone, with gold accents and elaborate edging. Riella had never seen such human-made beauty. She had not known they were capable of it.
Sirens had castles and temples beneath the ocean—intricate structures carved out of stone. The buildings were deep and blue and cool and quiet. The exact opposite of the bright and hot airiness of this castle.
Land and sea truly were two different worlds, and almost never the twain met. Certainly, no human had ever swam to the depths of Zydenthis. Had any sea-dweller set eyes on the royal palace of Klatos before?
“And they call us criminals.”
She broke from her reverie. It was Artus who’d spoken.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He inclined his head at the palace and gave her a knowing look. “You think they built a monstrosity like that out of goodwill and fairy kisses? Royalty bleeds their subjects dry. Now, pirates? We’re democratic. Aren’t we, Fletch?” He did not even look at Fletch. “We vote for our leaders. And if we’re bad leaders, we’ll be ousted without ceremony. Not like these crooks. They prop up that sentient corpse, King Leonid, and expect the rest of us to kiss their feet.”
“I’m sure it’s no concern of mine,” replied the siren.
“Ha. The goings-on of the palace have a way of affecting us all, sooner or later, whether we like it or not.” He wiped his brow with the back of his massive arm. “Come on. Nearly there.”
He pulled open the gate at an opulent house constructed on a city block of its own. Set well back from the street, the house had two levels. It was made of stone, and stained-glass windows glimmered purple and pink and orange in the afternoon sun. The yard was populated by olive trees and hedges. There was no signage.
“Who is Madame Quaan?” she asked Artus as he led her down the gravel path.
Fletch followed Riella more closely than ever, making her want to elbow him in the face.
“I told you,” he replied with a shrug. “She’ll help you out. Couldn’t very well stay on the ship, could you? This is the best place for you.”
His answer, as innocuous as it sounded, made her feel like a dark shadow had crossed over her, even though the sun still blazed.
The door opened as they approached, without needing to knock. An unsmiling man dressed in black robes held the doorknob. He surveyed the three with cool detachment, his gaze lingering on Riella.
“Welcome to Madame Quaan’s,” he said, stepping aside.