Rogue Wave (Waterfire Saga #2)(20)

Far too slowly the turtle said, “If…I…help…you…they’ll…kill…me….I’m…a…prisoner…here.”

Serafina felt a soft touch on her hand. She risked a glance behind her. It was an octopus.

“I’ll help you,” the creature said in Molluska, “if you get us out, too. They took us from our homes and use us as slaves. I want to see my children again.”

“I will, I promise,” Serafina said.

The octopus took the vial and swam off.

The sergeant stopped speaking. He swept a hand toward Serafina. The soldiers started pounding on tables. “Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing!” they shouted.

Sera, a smile pasted on her face, held up a hand for silence. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the octopus move along the floor, pass under some tables, then creep up a wall behind the soldiers, her color blending with her surroundings. The creature tipped the vial, then swam over the death riders’ heads, trailing a milky ribbon of potion behind her.

Sera desperately hoped that no one looked up. How long does it take for the Moses potion to work? she wondered.

“Whatcha waiting for, merlie? Sing!” someone shouted.

Sera tried not to show any of the panic rising up inside her. She bowed her head and slowly lifted it again—stalling for time.

“It will be my pleasure,” she said. “But first, I’d like to tell you a story about the very special song I’m going to sing for you….”

“Stuff the story, sister!” someone else yelled. “Sing!”

And then Sera saw one of the soldiers frown. He nudged his companion and pointed at a wanted poster on the wall. Sera didn’t have to look closely to know whose face was on it. The soldier shot out of his chair and pointed at her. Sera’s stomach tightened with terror. It was over. He would shout out her name now. She would be seized and taken to Traho.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead of shouting, the soldier yawned. His eyes fluttered shut. He swayed back and forth, then toppled back into his chair.

Another soldier fell over, and another, until almost every merman in the room was out cold. Only the sergeant was still upright.

“You…Youdidthis,” he said, slurring his words. He took a few strokes toward her, then crashed to the floor.

As Sera looked around the room, in a state of disbelief, she felt a heavy sleepiness steal over her.

That’s how the potion works! she thought.

She knew if she breathed much more of it, she would pass out, too—right here next to a hundred of her enemies. She ripped Filomena’s scarf out of her hair and tied it over her nose and mouth.

At that moment, the bartender, who’d gone to the basement to fetch more wine, came back into the room. He promptly dropped the bottles. “You crazy-wrasse merl! What have you done?” he shouted, looking at the motionless bodies. “I’m not going down for this. No way,” he said. He grabbed a rag off the bar, tied it over his nose and mouth as Sera had, and then started for the door.

In the blink of an eye, Serafina had the sleeping sergeant’s speargun out of its holster. “Not another stroke or I’ll shoot,” she said, training it on the barman.

He stopped short, only a foot or so from the door, and slowly turned around. As his eyes met hers, they widened in recognition.

“You’re her. The principessa.”

“Back away from the door,” Sera said. “Now.”

The merman didn’t move.

Serafina raised the speargun so it was level with his head. “You can’t spend the bounty money if you’re dead,” she said, moving closer to him.

It was a total bluff. She had no idea how to shoot the thing. But it worked. The merman backed away.

“Sit down,” Sera said, motioning to a nearby chair. “Put your arms at your sides.”

The merman did so.

There was a string of tiny, twinkling lava lights behind the bar. Sera sang a vortex spell and wound the string around him, binding him to the chair.

“I can’t let you sell me to Traho,” she said.

“I would never do that, Principessa. I swear,” he protested. “I only want to help you.”

Serafina laughed, remembering how, only a few weeks ago, she had trusted a merman named Zeno Piscor and his offer of help. She glanced at the sergeant who’d brought her into the club. He was still out cold.

“The royal treatment,” she said under her breath. “As if. What you got, lumpsucker, was the royal flush.”

She put the speargun down on the bar. It was too dangerous to carry. If she was stopped by another death rider, she wouldn’t be able to explain how she got it.

Moving quickly, she threw open the double doors. “Go, all of you! Get out of here before the soldiers wake up!”

The stargazer and half a dozen turtles swam by her, struggling against the effects of the potion. They were followed by three octopuses.

“Thank you, Principessa!” the one who’d helped her called out. “We won’t forget this!”

Sera was just about to leave when she saw a flag hanging on the wall behind the bar. It was not Miromara’s.

“Whose banner is that?” she demanded of the barman.

“The invaders’,” he replied.

“That can’t be right,” she murmured. The flag was not Ondalina’s—a black and white orca against a red background; it was merely a black circle on a red background. What if Astrid had been telling her the truth back when they were with the Iele? What if the Arctic realm wasn’t behind the invasion of Cerulea?