Sea Spell (Waterfire Saga #4)(16)

“I’m not talking about the Black Fins,” Portia retorted. “I’m talking about Sera. She’s the true heir to the throne. Lucia’s claim is only legitimate if she’s dead. All along, we’ve stated that Sera was killed in the invasion of Cerulea and that any claim to the contrary was the work of an imposter. Mer believed that at first, but now some of them believe Sera’s alive. Our spy tells me that some of our own citizens are fleeing to the Kargjord to join her.”

As Portia was speaking, Mahdi saw a chance to help Sera. “Who is this spy, anyway? Are you certain his information is reliable?” he asked, hoping that Portia might give him something he could pass on to the Black Fins.

But she was too cagey. “No names, Mahdi. What if you fall into the Black Fins’ hands and they pull a bloodsong from you? Let’s just say the spy is close to Serafina and has my trust completely.”

“Good to know,” Mahdi said. His tone was casual, but inside he was desperate. He had to derail Portia’s murderous plan. “But are you sure killing Serafina is a wise move?” he asked. “She’s been granted sanctuary by Guldemar. If we send troops into the Kargjord, which is his territory, he’ll view it as an act of aggression. We don’t want a war with the Meerteufel.”

“All the more reason for you to bring Guldemar over to our side,” Portia said.

Vallerio weighed in. “You’re right, of course, my darling,” he said, then turned to Mahdi. “Take six chests of treasure with you to Scaghaufen to whet Guldemar’s appetite for an alliance.”

“I will,” said Mahdi. “But you know what the Meerteufel are like. What if he refuses? What if he won’t allow our troops into the Karg to attack the Black Fins?”

Portia smiled darkly. “Then we don’t send troops. All we need is one soldier with a crossbow and, voila, we get rid of Serafina the same way we got rid of Isabella—with an arrow to the heart.”

“That’s not possible. Serafina’s surrounded by her fighters,” Mahdi said, glad he’d found a weakness in Portia’s plan, a way to shut this discussion down. “There’s no way we could get a lone soldier through them.”

“Actually,” Portia said, “we already have.”

Mahdi tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Listen closely, Mahdi. This is an important lesson for the future,” Portia instructed. “When you choose a spy, make sure to choose someone with many talents; that way they can do more for you than merely gather info.”

Mahdi felt sick. He wanted to swim out of the room as fast as he could, find Allegra, and get a conch to Sera to warn her. Instead, he jokingly slapped his forehead and said, “Of course. Portia, you’re a genius.”

Portia smiled. “It’ll cost us our informant, unfortunately, and we’re not ready to lose this operative just yet. But as soon as we’ve got all the information we need, we give the word, and then”—Portia’s smile hardened—“our spy becomes our assassin.”





THE WEBS were slung low over the swamp, from tree limb to tree limb, like giant white hammocks.

The creatures who’d spun them, each as big as a large dog, scuttled back and forth above the dark water, checking the webs, hoping to find a hapless bird, a fat raccoon, or a juicy human snared in them.

But it wasn’t the fierce arachnids that Manon Laveau was searching for in the Spiderlair.

“Where are you, child? And where are you, you nasty water devils?” she muttered, peering into her seeing stone.

“Manon Laveau, what the hell are you doing?” Jean Lafitte shouted, startling the swamp queen. She’d thought she was alone. “Have you gone cooyon? What if you lay eyes on one of those Okwa?”

“You’re jumpier than a frog in a stew pot, Lafitte,” Manon said, trying to shrug him off. “I won’t lay eyes on an Okwa, not up close. I’ll only see an image in the stone.”

“No one who sees the Okwa Naholo, no matter whatever which way, lives to tell about it,” Lafitte said ominously, wagging a beringed finger at her. “Playing with waterfire, that’s what you’re doing.”

“You’re the frettingest pirate I ever met! Hush now!” Manon snapped. He’d rattled her. Embarrassed her, too. She didn’t want him, or anyone else, to know that she was worried about Ava.

“Why do you care what happens to that fool of a mermaid? She’s trouble!” Lafitte shot back. “You’re not yourself these days. You coming down with something?”

Manon didn’t answer him. Instead, she thought. She thought about people who would do anything for power and wealth. She’d seen terragoggs bulldoze her precious swamp, pollute its waters, and kill its rare creatures. And that new shack bully over in Miromara—Vallerio—he was mer, but he was just as bad. Traho, too. They’d destroy the world, and everything in it, for a bigger castle, a shinier chariot, or a chest full of gold.

Manon had seen much in her time, and she’d become hard, even cynical, as a result. She’d become unwilling to help others, because so few of them deserved help. But she still believed one thing with all her heart: that she was here to protect the swamp and pass it on to those who came after, just as her forebears had passed it on to her.

She knew that her life was a gift she’d one day have to give back. Horok would take her soul. The swamp would take her flesh and bones. It would break them down and use them to nourish the creatures of the dark waters, just as those creatures had nourished her.