The Mermaids Madness

throbbed. The wound had started bleeding again, and the pain flowed all the way to her hand with each beat of her heart. “They’ll never stop coming until I’m dead.”
    “Morveren’s song stopped their attack,” Nilliar said. “Perhaps she—”
    “She lured us close, making us believe the humans were helpless.” Lirea could still hear the explosions. “They want me dead. They want to punish me for killing Gustan.”
    Lirea raked her nails down her chest, remembering Gustan’s death and how the voices had urged her to drive the blade into her own body. Blood welled over her ribs. Thin and weak, neither human nor undine. Morveren’s spell had turned her into a broken, twisted, pitiful creature. No wonder Morveren sought to erase that failure, to replace Lirea with her sister. With a “pure” undine.
    Another whisper. There’s still time to make amends. Still time to finish what you began in Gustan’s bed. Take your spear, bury the point in your heart and end the pain. A single thrust, and you will finally know peace.
    “Has there been any word from Captain Varisto?” she asked.
    Nilliar shook her head.
    The human ship had showed signs of recent fighting. Most likely he too was dead. The thought brought new tears.
    “I will stop Morveren for you, my queen,” Nilliar said. “Let me lead another attack against the humans. Their rudder is disabled. We can attack in small groups, so their explosions harm only a few at a time.”
    “I should lead the attack,” Lirea said. “I can’t—”
    “The tribe needs you. We can’t risk your safety again.”
    Nilliar gently pushed Lirea away, a liberty no other undine would dare. But Nilliar was her spearbearer, and she had been Lirea’s friend for many years. “Go, my queen. Return to the spawning grounds and rest. Allow your spearbearer to fight in your stead, and I promise to put an end to Morveren’s threat.”
    Slowly, Lirea nodded. She watched as Nilliar picked fifteen warriors to accompany her. The remaining warriors passed over weapons, rearming Nilliar’s force. They swam away singing a song of victory.
    Long after that song faded, Lirea could still hear Morveren’s laughter in the waves.

    A stabbing pain jolted Snow awake. She sat up slowly, touching the back of her scalp with one hand. Dried blood crusted her hair, coming away in dark specks on her fingertips. A bloody bandage had slipped from the wound, tangling in her hair. She pulled it free.
    “How do you feel?” asked Talia.
    “Like I drank too much pixie beer.” She looked around. Where . . . oh, yes, the cabin on the Phillipa . The movement made her queasy, and a second Talia sprang into being behind the first. Snow squinted, trying to force the phantom Talia back into the original.
    Danielle was here as well. Two Danielles, rather. Sitting on blurry cots and watching Snow like a mother ready to reach out and catch her baby.
    “What’s wrong?” Danielle asked.
    “Nothing.” Snow’s vision still split the world in two, but the effect wasn’t as bad if she kept her eyes half-closed.
    “Do you remember what happened?” Talia’s voice was deceptively calm.
    Snow started to shake her head, but that only made things worse. She remembered climbing the wall to Lirea’s tower. After that, there was nothing but darkness.
    Her hands were scratched and sore. Someone had dressed her in a rather plain shirt and trousers, and her hair smelled of salt water.
    She must have hit her head. Loss of memory was normal for such a blow, as were problems with vision. Snow knew as much, but it was one thing to read about the symptoms. It was quite another to experience them. She frowned and sniffed her hair again. “Did I throw up?”
    “Twice,” said Danielle. “Once on the way back to the ship, then again in the cabin when Morveren started singing.”
    “Morveren—” That was right. Snow remembered Morveren’s song, the magic falling over the ship, pressing her down. She had tried to fight the spell, but the effort had been too much. She looked down at her sheets.
    “I changed them for you,” said Danielle.
    “Thank you.” She started to say more, but a faint buzzing sensation drew her attention to the knife on Talia’s belt. Lirea’s knife. “You got it.”
    Talia nodded. “Lirea escaped, but we have the knife.”
    “May I?” Snow held out a hand.
    Talia hesitated but passed her the knife. As soon as Snow touched the hilt, she could feel the tension within the spells. The