It seemed that all of Adlivun and all of their Ningyo allies were in the Mirrored Caves, dancing, chatting, and enjoying themselves in the water. They had changed out of their armor, and they all wore brightly colored flowing fabrics which floated in the water behind them like the swirling ribbons of rhythmic gymnasts. The Alaskans wore their malachite green while the Japanese wore bright red or white, depending on their rank.
Aazuria swam through the cavernous rooms, frantically searching for her little sister.
Although many of the people in the room did not share the same spoken language, it did not matter. Everyone communicated with their hands in the universal sign language. Speech was a garbled, incoherent burble underwater. The only thing easily discernible was laughter. The sound of distorted, joyous murmurs reached Aazuria’s ears from every part of the Mirrored Caves. Her shoulder throbbed as her bone rotated in the joint, swimming quickly through the rooms. Lights bounced off the mirrors, and she was frequently met with her own troubled reflection. She tried to remember the last words she had exchanged with Corallyn, for any clue to where she might be.
“Well, that’s just peachy,” Corallyn said with her hands on her hips. “My biological mother tries to kill everyone I love and I’m not allowed to execute her? Why is Visola allowed to do anything she wants?”
“Hush, Corallyn,” Aazuria answered firmly. “It was for the best that it happened this way. Believe me.”
“But Elandria could die!”
Seeing the young girl’s lip quiver, Aazuria reached out and pulled her sister into a gentle hug. “Elandria’s going to pull through; we’re going to be fine. Nothing else matters as long as we have each other. Okay?”
Corallyn grumbled, embarrassed by the show of affection. “Whatever, big sis. Your mother was some majestic lady, so you don’t know what it’s like…”
Aazuria placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “I killed Papa. Now I have to live with that. I do not wish the same for you.”
“He deserved it. He was a…”
“Coral, your mother was not always like this. When I first met her, she was an ambitious, dedicated young performer. The worst villains are created from the kindest people when bad things happen to them.”
“So it’s all Papa’s fault,” Corallyn said quietly.
“No. Your mother’s actions were her own.”
“My actions would have been my own as well!”
“I cannot allow you to make mistakes that you will greatly regret.”
Corallyn gritted her teeth. “Fine. Damn you! Go make more smoochies with ‘Uncle Trevain.’ Damn Visola too! I’m going to sulk in a corner.”
Now, which corner could she possibly be sulking in?
Many of the people Aazuria passed, both warriors and civilians, bowed deeply to her and saluted across their chests before congratulating her bravery and sympathy for her shoulder. They offered condolences and wished Elandria a rapid recovery. Aazuria’s hands automatically formed the gracious signs necessary to acknowledge all of their kindnesses and pleasantries. Her head nodded, and her mouth smiled, but her eyes remained unsettled and anxious.
Whenever she was engaged by someone who might have known Corallyn, she asked if they had seen her. She described the girl’s appearance and small stature to many of the Ningyo warriors, who shook their heads, profusely apologizing and bowing. Aazuria was growing increasingly agitated, and the swarm of celebrating sea-people only added to her frustration. She turned to exit the Mirrored Caves, and found herself swimming directly into someone.
Caring green eyes assessed her hysterical state with concern. She felt a small wave of relief run through her because of his understanding gaze. Aazuria reached out and placed a hand on his arm, as if trying to draw strength from him.
“Did you find her yet?” he asked, slowly and carefully forming the words in sign language. He did not yet have much confidence in speaking with his hands.
“No,” Aazuria said, shaking her head. “I am going to check the labyrinth. She could have gotten lost in any of the intricate channels of caves under the Aleutian Islands.”
“Wait, Zuri,” he signed. He frowned as he moved his thumbs and forefingers, trying to remember all the correct hand formations. “If I understand correctly, these caves stretch out for hundreds of miles… you can’t possibly cover all that ground swimming with your injured shoulder! My great-aunt Sionna sent me to tell you that you have to take it easy, and spend some time resting in the infirmary. She seems like she really knows what she’s doing.”
“I have rested enough. I must find Corallyn,” Aazuria insisted, swallowing. She reached up to touch her shoulder gingerly. She felt extreme embarrassment and growing annoyance at the fact that Koraline Kolarevic, the woman who had called herself Atargatis, had managed to stab her in the same location twice. The first time had been with a javelin that had gone clean through her shoulder; Trevain had saved her life by pushing her to the side just in time, or it would have pierced her heart. The second time was in hand-to-hand combat.
“Your bleeding hasn’t even stopped,” Trevain pointed out, grimacing at her darkened bandages. The blood that had dried on the cloth in the air had not completely washed out in the water. He reached out with his thumb to caress her skin very close to the wound, and he frowned when she winced. “If this gets…” He paused, not knowing the signal for ‘infected.’ He tried to substitute a word. “If this gets dirty, it could get worse and you could lose your whole arm…”
“I will be fine. Sionna gave me a tetanus shot when I was stabbed the first time,” Aazuria quickly signed to him as she moved through the caves.
He followed her, confused. “Tetanus?” he asked, imitating the hand signal she had formed. “I’m not sure what that is, could you spell it out for me?”
“I need to hurry. I am going to pass by the kitchens and collect some basic food to sustain me while I search for her. Can you go to the palace and organize the military to help me search? Your grandmother is drunk, or I would ask you to go to her.”
Trevain felt nervous as he tried to make sense of her rapid hand motions. “You want me to organize your military? Why would they listen to me?”
“They will. Go at once.” Aazuria continued swimming through the caves, with long pieces of her dark green dress trailing behind her.
Trevain ignored her command and swam to block her path. He moved his hands in a series of gestures. “I’m not letting you go off on your own, wounded and emotional. What if you get lost? Rash decisions could make this even worse. Is there a map? Let me come with you.”
“I will not get lost,” she responded, trying to swim around him. “I have lived here for centuries. I used to play in these caves when I was Corallyn’s age.”
“Aazuria!” he responded. “You’re not thinking rationally. We need to weigh our options. What if Coral went back to land? She could be at my house right now. You remember how fond she was of the internet and television.”
“This is true,” Aazuria conceded. Her hands paused for a second in fear. “Oh, Trevain. I am so worried about her. Could you send Naclana to check and see if she is at your home?”
Naclana was Aazuria’s distant cousin, who served as her messenger. Trevain shook his head. “I am just as concerned about her safety as you are, but rushing off alone into miles of dark caves isn’t going to help the situation. Aazuria, come back to the palace and let’s find Naclana and tell him together…”
“No. If you will not help me, I shall help myself.” Aazuria swam around him, rushing past him in a fraction of a second. All he saw was a blur of green and white. He turned, and immediately swam after her, but he could not catch up for several minutes.
By the time he was close enough to speak to her, she had already arrived at the waterless caves in which food was prepared. He was surprised by the true extent of her athleticism, and her tolerance for pain. He could not believe that she could move at all with her injured shoulder. He entered the room after her and climbed the carved stairs just in time to see the cooks saluting and bowing to her.
“I need basic provisions for a trek into the caves. In a watertight bag.”
“Yes, Princess Aazuria.”
“My youngest sister Corallyn is missing. Can you please pass my orders to the castle guard to dispatch a search party? Also, if you could tell Naclana…”
“Aazuria,” Trevain interrupted. “Please. You need to think twice about this.”
“Listen, Trevain,” she said, turning upon him with a hard look in her eyes. “This is not up for discussion. My sister could be…”
“Princess!” shouted a male voice.
Aazuria was surprised and turned to see her cousin entering the room, dripping wet. “Naclana. Just the person I wanted to see…”
“Corallyn has been abducted,” Naclana gasped, as he tried to catch his breath.
Aazuria stared at him for a moment, blankly.
Trevain felt fleeting disbelief. He almost wanted to smile as though it were some sort of joke, but he could see that the messenger was serious. Naclana had always given him the creeps, and now he imagined that he knew why. The man’s very presence was a harbinger of danger and disaster. It was painted permanently in the shadows of his grave, heavy expression.
“We just received a ransom note,” Naclana said, straightening his posture and giving a half-hearted version of the appropriate salute to his cousin. “From the Clan of Zalcan.”
Murmurs of horror rose up from the kitchen staff. Trevain moved to his fiancé’s side, and wrapped his arms around her. Aazuria felt the urge to lean against him for support and shut her eyes tightly, but she could not do this with everyone watching. She could not do this at all. The moment she allowed herself to show her weakness, even to herself, it would overcome her and she would lose her composure. She knew that if she had been paying closer attention to Corallyn’s whereabouts after the battle, this would not have happened.
“What do they want?” Trevain asked Naclana. “They aim to exchange her for something?”
Aazuria twitched, moving suddenly out of her frozen state. “That’s right. A ransom. All is not lost. Anything they want—I will give it to them.”
Naclana cleared his throat. “The note was written in Corallyn’s blood. Would you like me to read it, Princess?” When Aazuria nodded. He reached into his vest and withdrew a metal cylinder. He uncorked it and pulled out the heavy paper. The demands had been penned in elegant crimson calligraphy.
When the women on the kitchen staff began to cry, Aazuria lifted her hand, and tried to speak soothingly. “It is just meant to scare us. Do not worry—whatever is requested shall be given. She shall be returned safely. Whatever price is stipulated shall be paid.”
Naclana hated his job. He cleared his throat again before reading:
“Dear Administrators of Adlivun…”
Aazuria did not realize that she was clenching Trevain’s hand tightly, or that her palms had become very sweaty. Administrators! The person writing the note had been exceptionally sadistic if they had chosen to bleed her sister for such long, unnecessary wording. Every syllable had caused Corallyn anguish. Every syllable ignited vengeful anger within Aazuria.
Naclana swallowed before he continued reading:
“Fine weather for this time of year in Alaska, is it not?”
“Vachlan!” Aazuria shouted, ripping herself away from Trevain to drive her knuckles into the solid rock wall of the kitchen. “Only he! Only he would…”
“Shhhh,” Trevain said, catching Aazuria’s small wrist and gently rubbing it to soothe her. He could feel that all of her tendons and muscles had grown extremely taut with her rage. He knew that the rest of the note did not matter; Aazuria would not let this man live. If she ever found the opportunity (and he knew that she would seek it relentlessly) she would gut this man, as she had gutted his predecessor, Atargatis.
Unless, of course, Trevain got his own hands on him first. Trevain had never killed before, but as he imagined Vachlan using an inkwell of young Corallyn’s blood to write this note, he suddenly knew that he was capable of it. Corallyn was his sister too.
Naclana struggled to keep his own voice even as he read the note. “Deliver my wife to me at Zimovia by noon Sunday, or I will drain every drop of blood coursing through the veins of this lovely little girl. I will then proceed to write volumes of vicious letters to General Ramaris with my new ink. She will know that little Corallyn Vellamo’s death is on her hands. I shall continue in this fashion of persuasion until you are ultimately persuaded. With Immeasurable Sincerity, Vachlan Suchos.”
There was a silence in the room. The temperature of the atmosphere seemed to have quite suddenly fallen by several degrees. The only movement was the blood dripping from Aazuria’s knuckles. The gentle gurgling noise of a stew beginning to boil along with the sizzling of a dish which was ready to be pulled from the stone oven interrupted the silence.
“So he wants Visola?” Aazuria asked in a poisonous whisper. “Over my breathless body.”