Rogue Wave (Waterfire Saga #2)(22)

But she couldn’t, because there weren’t any. The shelves were bare.

Where were they? Could Traho have taken them? But how had he come up with the idea to search for clues to the whereabouts of the talismans in the conchs on Merrow’s Progress? He didn’t know the truth about Atlantis. Vr?ja hadn’t shown him Merrow’s bloodsong. How could it be that he was always one stroke ahead of her?

Serafina was crushed. Everything depended on those conchs. She had come all this way only to find herself back at square one.

A group of sea bass swam by, heading for an unlit corner of the room. Sera knew that they were nocturnal feeders. If they were seeking darker waters, it meant that dawn was coming. It was time for her to find the safe house, while she still could. With a heavy heart, she swam back to the first level and returned the lava torch to its bracket on the wall. She was just about to swim out of the Ostrokon when light played over the rubble in front of the building. Voices shouted orders.

Oh, no! she thought. Death riders. It’s a patrol!

Her hands went to her bag, where she’d put the transparensea pebbles from Vr?ja, but it was too late. There was no way to cast them without being heard. She quickly crouched down behind a broken stone pillar. Her hiding place wasn’t great. If the soldiers searched the entry thoroughly, she was done for. A group of six passed by and swept into the first level. Sera heard their voices and saw their lava lanterns bobbing around inside. After a few minutes, they came back out.

“All clear?” a voice shouted. It belonged to an officer. He was inside the entry. Serafina hadn’t seen him. She prayed that he hadn’t seen her, either.

“First level’s clear, sir!” one of the searchers shouted back. “Should we sweep the sublevels?”

The officer, closer now, told him not to bother. “I doubt the rebels are down there studying. Move out,” he ordered. His voice sounded familiar to Serafina. It was muffled by the column, but still, she was certain she’d heard it before.

Slowly, carefully, Sera moved her head to the left, trying to identify the speaker.

“We’ll head to the fabra next,” he announced as he followed his mermen outside. She could see his back now. He was wearing the same black uniform as the others.

“Sir!” one of his soldiers said. “Sergeant Attamino is outside. He just arrived. His patrol just found two rebels hiding near the South Gate.”

“Take them to Traho,” the officer said. “He’ll want to question them.”

He turned around and cast one more glance over the Ostrokon’s entrance. At last, Serafina could see his face.

Her hands clenched into fists as she recognized it. She bit back a wounded cry.

The officer was Mahdi.





SERAFINA DUCKED DOWN, terrified she’d been seen. She waited for the sound of fins coming through the water, for the light of a lava lantern to fall across her.

“All clear! Let’s go!” Mahdi shouted.

And then he and his soldiers were gone.

Sera couldn’t move. She had suffered so many shocks and so many losses already. But this…this defied all understanding. She remembered the duca’s warning—trust no one. But Mahdi? He’d betrayed her with Lucia, yes, but how could he betray her people? And his own? The invaders had probably killed his parents, and now he was on their side?

She tried to tell herself that she was wrong. That it was all just a trick of the light. But she’d seen him clearly. He was wearing the enemy’s uniform. She had to accept it—Mahdi was a traitor.

Aching inside, she swam out of the Ostrokon into the current, expecting to run into a patrol at every turn. Basalt Street, where the safe house was, was at the northern edge of the fabra. When she finally reached it, still dazed by Mahdi’s betrayal, she wondered if, in her shock, she’d made a mistake. The house itself—number 16—looked like a wreck. Its top floors were gone. What was left of the facade was cracked and sagging. She peered in through a broken window and saw an empty interior. Hesitantly, she knocked on the door. Nothing happened. She knocked again.

“Starfish,” she whispered.

The door was wrenched open. A hand grabbed her and yanked her inside.

“Who sent you?” growled a burly merman.

“The duca di Venezia,” Serafina said. “The late duca di Venezia.”

The merman nodded. He released her. “Find a spot wherever you can. We’re full tonight,” he said.

“How many others are here?” Serafina asked, following him down a narrow hallway.

“Forty-three.”

“Where are they? The house looks empty.”

“We slapped a big-time illusio on it to fool the patrols,” the merman said. “It’s working. So far.”

The hall led into what had once been a living room. Now it appeared more like a hospital ward. Sick and wounded merpeople lay on the floor. The able-bodied were doing all they could to take care of them. No one recognized Serafina. No one even glanced at her.

A tiny mermaid cried out in her sleep. Sera forgot all about her own heartache and instinctively bent down to her. She stroked the child’s head, murmuring soothing words, and the little merl settled back into sleep. Another child moaned that he was cold. Sera adjusted his blankets. Then she swam to the next room—once a dining room. It, too, was full of broken merpeople. So were the upper rooms. Only the kitchen had no beds in it, because it was being used as both mess hall and makeshift surgery.