Rogue Wave (Waterfire Saga #2)(37)

Sera held the conch to her ear, expecting to hear Baltazaar drone on about the high price of sea straw. Instead, his voice was brisk and aggrieved.

“I attended the meeting of the regina’s privy council in her tent this morning,” he said, “in order to raise the topic of her evening rides, the too-frequent destruction of good hippokamps on said rides, and the high cost of procuring new animals in foreign waters. Since there are no mer where we go, we must buy from Kobold or N?kki traders. They know we have no alternative and price their stock accordingly. I pointed out that the rides are dangerous not only to our animals, but to the regina herself. Several times we’ve had to engage the services of local healers for her as well as her mounts. She would not be dissuaded by me, however, and claimed she needs time alone at the end of the day to order her thoughts. These rides are a reckless occupation and I note it here so that upon our return, any charges of profligacy with the realm’s monies will be leveled at the deserving party, not the innocent one.”

Serafina sat up, puzzled. Good riders didn’t injure their animals, never mind destroy them. And Merrow had been many things, but reckless was not one of them. What had she been doing during these rides? How many mounts had she lost? Sera continued to listen, writing down the casualties as Baltazaar dictated them.

White stallion bought to replace animal lost to the maelstrom off the coast of Lochlanach, 500 trocii.

“Lochlanach…that’s an old mer name for Greenland,” Serafina said. She remembered Vr?ja saying that Orfeo had come from Greenland. Her fins started to prickle.

Paint gelding bought to replace animal lost to a dragon in its breeding grounds, 400 trocii. Healer’s charges for the Regina’s injuries, 30 trocii.

Dragons lived and bred in one place only—the Indian Ocean. “Navi had come from India.”

Gray mare bought to replace animal swept away by the wind spirit Williwaw in the waters of Hornos, 350 trocii.

Hornos was what the early mer called Cape Horn, on the shores of Atlantica—Pyrrha’s home.

Bay stallion to replace animal eaten by Okwa Naholo in swamps of the river Mechasipi, 600 trocii.

“The Mississippi. A Freshwater realm,” Serafina said. “Nyx lived on its banks.”

Roan mare to replace animal lost on slopes of Great Abyss, 400 trocii.

That was in Qin, upon whose shores Sycorax had dwelt.

Dapple gelding bought to replace animal stranded on the shores of Iberia, 700 trocii. Healer’s services to regina for wound from terragogg fishing spear, 40 trocii.

That would be the Spanish coast of the Mediterranean Sea, Merrow’s realm. Iberia was an old word for Spain.

As Baltazaar began complaining about the cost of saddles, Serafina put the conch down. Merrow had ridden to places so dangerous they led to the deaths of her hippokamps six times. In each of the six water realms.

“For each of the six talismans,” Sera said aloud.

Her pulse quickened. She was certain there had been a method to Merrow’s madness. Merrow had been close to the other five mages—even Orfeo, before he became evil—and she’d lost them all during the destruction of Atlantis. Their bodies had not been recovered. She’d had no remains to mourn. No funeral dirges had been sung. Had she carried their talismans to hiding places in waters near their original homes as a way of putting their souls to rest? Sera wondered.

If so, then it was Orfeo’s black pearl that was in the maelstrom off the coast of Greenland. Navi’s moonstone was in the dragon breeding grounds of Matali. And Merrow’s talisman—Neria’s Stone—was somewhere on the coast of Spain. Lady Thalia hadn’t had time to tell Sera and Ling what the remaining three talismans were, but Sera was willing to bet that Nyx’s—whatever it was—was in the Mississippi swamps, Pyrrha’s was at Cape Horn, and Sycorax’s was in the Great Abyss.

Sera was excited that she’d learned so much, but dismayed that she still didn’t have all the answers she needed. It made sense that she should search for her own ancestor’s talisman, as it was hidden in her own realm’s waters—but where should she begin? Baltazaar had mentioned no specific hazard in connection with Neria’s Stone. He’d only stated that Merrow had been wounded by a fisherman along Spain’s coast, and that her hippokamp had been stranded. But Spain’s coast was hundreds of miles long. It would be impossible to search every inch of it.

Serafina groaned in frustration. What she desperately needed to know was right in front of her, in her notes. It had to be. Why couldn’t she see it?

She picked up her pen and doodled a picture of a large diamond on her parchment. She drew it as Lady Thalia had described it—in the shape of a teardrop.

“Come on, Merrow, help me out here,” she whispered. “Please. Where is Neria’s Stone?”

The trapdoor to the bunker suddenly opened. Niccolo and Domenico swam in, agitated. Serafina soon saw why. They had found a baby. A little merboy. Only two or three months old. He was howling. Niccolo was holding him. Domenico was babbling like a lunatic.

“We found in him in the fabra. We heard him crying. I can’t believe the death riders didn’t. He was hidden under some coral. We don’t know how he got there. He’s a baby, Magistro! What do we do?”

Before Fossegrim could answer, Alessandra swam to Niccolo and swept the baby out of his arms.

She tried to quiet him. “Oh, povero piccolo infante!” she cooed. She was from the Lagoon and often lapsed into Italian. “Dolce bambino! Poveretto! Dolce infante!”