Deep Blue (Waterfire Saga, #1)(38)

“It’s a terragogg ostrokon,” Neela said. “Look at all the blooks.”

“I think they’re called books,” Serafina said.

Old oil paintings hung on the walls—portraits of long-dead gogg nobility. One captured Serafina’s attention. It was a picture of a young woman, not much older than she was. She was wearing a jeweled crown and dressed in an embroidered silk gown with a stiff lace collar. Around her neck she wore ropes of flawless pearls, a ruby choker, and a magnificent, teardrop-shaped blue diamond.

“Maria Theresa, an infanta of Spain, and an ancestor on my mother’s side,” a voice said.

In a heartbeat, Serafina and Neela were back under the water. When they surfaced—well in the center of the pool—they saw a man sitting at its edge. He was of a slight build, with thick gray hair that he wore swept back from his forehead. His blue eyes were shrewd and penetrating behind his spectacles. A tweed jacket, vest, and silk cravat gave him an old-fashioned elegance. His trousers were rolled, and his feet were in the water.

“Her jewels are exquisite, no?” he said, looking at the painting. “They were handed down through many generations, from Spanish queens to their daughters. Alas, they were lost when the infanta was, in 1582. She was sailing to France in a ship called the Demeter to marry a prince. Pirates attacked the vessel and sank it.”

Serafina, alarmed, began to sing a confuto—a canta prax spell that made the goggs sound insane when they talked about merpeople. It was the first thing any mermaid did upon finding herself face to face with a human—but Sera’s voice sounded tinny as she sang it, and her notes were flat.

“Please do not tax yourself unnecessarily, Your Grace,” the man said, turning back to her. “Confutos don’t work on me.” His Mermish was flawless.

“Who are you?” Serafina demanded. “Why did you buy us?”

“My name is Armando Contorini, duca di Venezia, leader of the Praedatori. This is the Praesidio, my home. And I haven’t bought you. Good gods! What on earth gave you that idea? You are my honored guests and are most welcome to stay or go.”

“You’re the leader of the Praedatori?” Neela said. “But that means you’re Karkharias, the shark.”

The duca chuckled. “I’m afraid so. A very silly nickname, no?”

“You don’t look like an outlaw,” Serafina said.

“Or a shark,” Neela said.

“I’m a lawyer, actually, the worst kind of shark,” the duca said, laughing. “My apologies, dear merls. Courtroom humor. Allow me to explain. The duchy was created by Merrow. For four millennia, the duchi de Venezia have carried out the duty she entrusted to us—to protect the sea, and its creatures, from our fellow terragoggs. I control a cadre of fighters on land and in the water. On land, we call ourselves the Wave Warriors and—”

“Um, Duca Armando? Are you actually saying you have terragoggs fighting other terragoggs on behalf of the seas?” Neela asked, a dubious look on her face.

“Oh, yes. Many humans cherish the seas as much as you do—and fight hard to protect them. The Wave Warriors collect evidence against pillagers and polluters, and then I go to court to stop them. In the water, our fighters are known as the Praedatori, and we are a bit…” He paused. “Well, let’s just say we don’t do things the usual way.”

Neela narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me very much, but in Matali, you’re called āparādhika. Criminals. A few weeks ago—and don’t even think about denying it—the Praedatori stole Foreign Secretary Tajdar’s collection of shipwreck silver. It’s worth nearly three hundred thousand trocii.”

The duca snorted. “Deny it? I’m proud of it! It was a brilliant heist. Tajdar’s collection wasn’t salvaged from shipwrecks. It was given to him over the course of several years by a captain of a super trawler in exchange for information on the movements of yellowfin tuna. My spies saw the goods passing between the two on several occasions. Need I remind you of the yellowfins’ precarious state? Their numbers have been devastated by overfishing. Your foreign secretary is as crooked as a fishhook, my dear. The Praedatori merely robbed a robber.”

“Are you serious?” Neela said.

“Usually.”

“What did you do with the swag?”

“I sold it to fund covert operations. We cut nets and long-line hooks. We set up field hospitals for the turtles, dugongs, sea lions, and dolphins injured by them. We jam propellers, tangle anchors, puncture pontoons—whatever we need to do to preserve aquatic life. It takes a great deal of currensea to fund it all.”

“But Duca Armando, robbery is robbery,” Serafina said, still mistrustful of this man. “It’s a crime no matter who’s doing the stealing. Or why.”

“Tell me, Principessa, if you were poor and had a child, and that child was starving, would you steal a bowl of keel worms to save her life? What is the greater crime—stealing food, or allowing an innocent to die?”

Serafina didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t argue with his reasoning, or the rightness of his cause, but she didn’t want to admit it. Not before she understood exactly why she and Neela were here.

Neela answered for her. “She’d totally steal the worms. Anyone would. What’s your point?”