111. [Red Tide] Alliances Accounted

Red Tide, Enchantress of the 5th Renown, the Reef, having a laugh

Throne Gazer, Trident Master of the 5th Renown, the Reef, deeply uncomfortable

Deep Dweller, sea witch, overbearing mother

***

10 Clocksend, 61 AW

The Ledges, on the east coast of the North Continent

20 days until the next Granting

Red Tide couldn’t stop laughing.

She buckled forward, holding her ribs and gasping for breath. After a few seconds like that, she giddily kicked her feet and managed to lean back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Her laughter echoed throughout the cavern, making her feel like she had an audience for this farce.

“Oh, shit,” she groaned. “I think I pissed myself.”

Getting herself under control, Red Tide hazarded a glance at Throne Gazer. He stood like a statue beside the makeshift throne his mother had constructed, his eyes straight ahead, while his jaw subtly worked with the slow grinding of his back teeth. His face! Red Tide grabbed him by the arm and dug in her nails.

“Was that one of your orders?” she howled. “To seduce me?”

Slowly, Throne Gazer turned his head to look at her. He stared at her for a long moment. Then, Red Tide was surprised to see the corner of his mouth hitch upward, a half-smile almost breaking through his typical dour expression.

“Could you not tell?” he asked.

Red Tide started laughing again. A maddening year she'd spent with this man. It felt good to actually laugh with him—well, he wasn't laughing, would never laugh, but she understood now that stern demeanor was as much an affectation as the fancy ornaments and scholar boy enunciation. She could tell that Throne Gazer found the situation absurd. He was in on this joke with her. That felt right.

Deep Dweller, meanwhile, remained kneeling in front of them. She wore a tight smile now, her hands pressed firmly against the tops of her thighs.

“It didn't have to be her,” Deep Dweller said to her son. “A better story with Red Tide, in my opinion, but the butch northerner would have her advantages. Solidify our alliance with her pods and–”

Red Tide's laughter died down. She leaned forward, her head cocked. “You're talking about us like we're just for breeding.”

“Of course not, daughter, of course not,” Deep Dweller replied.

“Lucky thing your boy don’t take you serious,” Red Tide said. “He might not be with us now.”

“Yes, I raised an honorable one,” Deep Dweller said without feeling. “You must understand, our people appreciate continuity. The loyalists to the throne would be much easier to sway to our cause with a proper heir in place.”

Red Tide snorted. “You crazy bitch, we're going to an island of death, your son and I. You wanted me waddling around there swollen with child?”

Deep Dweller shrugged. “I found my instincts sharpened by motherhood. You do intend to survive the island, don't you?”

“Of course,” snapped Red Tide.

“Then, should we not plan for what comes after?” Deep Dweller asked. “When our victory becomes clear, the queen's poor stewardship will be known to all, and someone new will sit the Coralline Throne.”

“Our victory.” Red Tide glanced at Throne Gazer. “You hear that? Your mother's already taking credit.”

“She only means that the restoration of the leviathan will be a victory celebrated by all our people,” Throne Gazer said, with bland neutrality.

“Sure,” Red Tide said. She turned back to Deep Dweller. “Nice for you to get a second crack at revolution, eh? Most of the fools who followed you the first time ain't so lucky.”

“No, they are not,” Deep Dweller agreed. “You know that well.”

Red Tide didn't think the sea witch's murky black eyes were capable of sympathy, but there was something wet and emotional there. Like the two of them shared a bond. Red Tide stiffened and looked away. She hadn't meant to bring up her father, not even indirectly. He'd died fighting the Coralline Elite when Deep Dweller last challenged the queen. So had the rest of the pod Red Tide had grown up with—thieves and scavengers whose lives would've been short and pointless, no matter the politics of the ocean. Good riddance to all of them, Red Tide thought. She didn't hold a grudge against Deep Dweller for breaking up her unhappy family. Not exactly. Red Tide found what bothered her was how the dirty work of dying always fell on bottom feeders like her father or eager brutes like Salt Wall's northerners, and never on the rapacious leaders who put it all in motion. Deep Dweller lived to plan again.

“I can't blame you for being cynical,” Deep Dweller said, as if reading her thoughts. “Distrustful. I once thought that I would make a better ruler than my sister. That my son would return our people to glory. I won't lie to you, child. I still believe those things. But, in these last years, I have been humbled by the things I have done to survive, by the bargains I have made to bring forth this day. I no longer believe I can save the oca'em through the force of my will alone. It shall take many of us, unified around a common cause. The first step is casting aside the cowardice that floats atop our people like scum.”

“You gave a similar speech, did you not?” Throne Gazer said to Red Tide.

“All just words,” Red Tide said with a snort. “Anyway, mine was better.”

“I have no doubt it was,” Deep Dweller said. “Let us speak, then, of action. Tell me of the land walkers. Were you able to convince any of them to join our cause?”

Red Tide leaned back and let Throne Gazer report to his mother about their journey across the north continent. He started with the beastlords of Besaden and how they would not be moved to offer protection, not at the risk of putting their own wish in jeopardy. Their Quill, Zayda Everbloom, had, in fact, arranged a bit of an ambush, bringing the Bay's champion Gucco Arovi to a meeting in Besaden, where he had proposed a temporary alliance with the Reef.

“I accepted his proposal,” Throne Gazer said. “In private. He believes the others do not know.”

“We thought your son was most believable as a traitor,” Red Tide said.

Deep Dweller's face tightened at that, much more so than when Red Tide had gone into hysterics. For the first time, the sea witch actually looked offended. She sized up her son, as if searching for what could possibly give that impression, then shook her head.

“The Bay will let you kill Gen'bi for them, but they will turn on you in the end,” Deep Dweller said.

“We know this,” Throne Gazer said. “The idea is to lead them on. Buy us time and leave the Bay with more battles than they have time to fight.”

“The brat from Penchenne says the Bay will have their hands full,” Red Tide added. “They might not have time for us.”

At a raised eyebrow from Deep Dweller, Red Tide quickly explained their chance encounter with Sylvie Aracia and her champion Theo Adamantios. Both owed Red Tide their lives, a debt that hadn't yet been fully paid, in Red Tide's estimation. Theo, at least, could be moved to aid the Reef, should they meet again, though she doubted he would go out of his way. Which reminded her—

“Vikael Rambrother will protect us,” Red Tide said. “He’ll listen to his Quill to a point, but if I come sprinting out of the woods with enemies at my back…”

“His honor won’t let him see us harmed,” Throne Gazer agreed. “But, out of sight, out of mind.”

Deep Dweller nodded. “Then Turtle Jaw should endeavor to place you close to Besaden.”

“There is also Yodor Dominik,” Throne Gazer said. “I believe we can rely on him for aid.”

Deep Dweller's lips pursed with disgust. “Of course. I promised that we would give him a leviathan for his studies. As transactional as any merchant.”

Red Tide pictured Yodor's glassy, owl-like eyes and his hairy little body. He had been nothing but helpful to the oca'em when they were in Besaden, and yet she had never gotten past her initial impression of the beastlord—his hungry eyes sizing her up as he tried to make sketches of her legs. She imagined his mouth wet with saliva as he gazed upon a leviathan.

Throne Gazer’s fingered the blade attached to his forearm. “Yodor stuffs animals and puts them on display. They gather dust in his hidden lodge. I was disgraced at the sight.”

Deep Dweller raised an eyebrow at her son. She didn’t yet know the affinity he’d developed for the land’s furrier creatures. Something that she couldn’t have anticipated. That made Red Tide smile.

 “He can’t have a leviathan,” Red Tide said. “The little freak.”

“No,” Deep Dweller agreed. “They are the ge’oca made flesh. It is not our place to give them, even if we wished to. Take his help and let Yodor be next year’s problem.” She waved her hand. “What about the trolkin? Were you able to find common ground with them?”

This time, Red Tide took the lead in answering. She told the story of the grisly trolkin camp and how Mockery had been won over before the oca'em even arrived. However, she pointedly left out the details of the frosswiss, of her bizarre experience on the smoke, and the service she had provided for Mockery’s suffering champion Gauntlet. At the end, Throne Gazer said nothing to contradict her.

“Strange creatures,” Deep Dweller said. “But they could prove useful.”

“Or bring us more trouble than we already have,” Throne Gazer said.

“A risk worth taking, I should think,” Deep Dweller replied, glancing at Red Tide.

“The big bitch knows how to survive the island,” Red Tide said.

“Good,” Deep Dweller said. She patted her thighs and at last stood up. “Good.”

Red Tide exhaled through her nose and sensed Throne Gazer’s posture loosen. So much talking. She was relieved to be finished. By now, Salt Wall and Cuda Bite had surely found something to drink. She would return to them and let these last weeks of freedom begin in a blur of drunkenness. That would be good.

“I have arranged a final meeting for you,” Deep Dweller said. “One more potential ally.”

Red Tide groaned.

“Who?” Throne Gazer asked.

“Come with me,” Deep Dweller replied.

“Now?” Red Tide asked.

In answer, Deep Dweller padded through the cavern’s dappled sunlight, toward the back of the chamber. Red Tide exchanged a look with Throne Gazer—he shook his head, as in the dark as her. Following after Deep Dweller, they caught up to the sea witch as she slipped through a narrow crevice in the wall. The space was so tight that, in order to slide through, Red Tide needed to take her harp off her back and hold it at her side. Throne Gazer did the same with his trident.

“Even the northerners don’t know about this exit,” Deep Dweller said, her words clipped in the narrow space. “Our people aren’t natural spelunkers.”

“Fuck does that mean?” Red Tide replied.

“We don’t explore caves. At least, not those above water.”

“Good reason for that,” Red Tide said, finding it hard to get a deep breath in. At her side, she heard the larger Throne Gazer grunting and gasping. She kept talking to tune out those suffocating noises. “Who you got hidden back here? The fucking king of Infinzel?”

“Amusing, but no,” Deep Dweller replied. “It is better if this business is done unseen by the northerners and the rest. If you wish to tell Turtle Jaw and the other champions, you may. But this is the humbling business I spoke of before. Our people would not necessarily understand.”

Red Tide glowered in the crushing, humid darkness. They scuttled along like that for fifty yards until the walls began to loosen. Then, they scrambled up the smooth stone of a vertical incline, drawn toward fresh air. Finally, they emerged atop the cliff that contained the Ledges, the waterfalls rumbling somewhere below, dragging themselves out of a chasm barely wide enough for Throne Gazer’s shoulders. They stood catching their breath, looking east over the ocean.

On the horizon, at a respectful distance from the Ledges, Red Tide spotted the sails of the merchant gellezza. And she knew.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Red Tide said.

“Every possible advantage need be explored,” Deep Dweller said.

It took Throne Gazer a moment to spot the ship. “Mother…” he growled.

“If you think I’m swimming out to listen to more of stinking Gucco’s bullshit—” Red Tide started.

“That isn’t Gucco,” Deep Dweller said. “Better to meet them yourselves, draw your own conclusions. Have a look at the inside of one of their offensive boats. See how you might destroy one, when the time comes.”

Before Red Tide could respond, Deep Dweller jabbed her thumbnail into her own palm, drawing blood. Crimson pattered onto the stone at Deep Dweller’s feet, and she smeared the droplets into a wavy line with her toe. At the same time, she plucked a pearl from her hair and cupped it in her bloody palm until the gemstone was smeared red. Then, she raised the pearl to her lips and sang low, vibrating notes—nonsense words that Red Tide understood in the same way she did the whorls of Ink on her own chest. A curlicue of scentless reddish smoke rose into the sky, each puff diminishing the pearl a little more, until nothing was left but a raisin-sized nub that Deep Dweller flicked away.

The old ways. Red Tide had never seen a sea witch practice them with such efficiency. She felt a bit awed by the older woman, even if all she’d managed was a plume of colored smoke quickly blown away by the wind.

“What was the purpose of that?” Throne Gazer asked.

“A signal,” his mother replied.

“How do we know anyone saw?” Red Tide asked.

At that, a flicker of light came from the gellezza. Three flashes of sun against glass, a pause, then three more.

“They saw,” Deep Dweller said. “Wait for them to raise a white flag. That’s when you’ll know it’s safe to approach. Those boats have large crews. They don’t want to be seen with us anymore than we want to be seen with them.”

She wrapped her bleeding palm in a bit of rag, kissed her son on the cheek, and slithered back toward the hole in the rocks. Throne Gazer took a step toward her.

“That’s it?” he asked. “You aren’t coming?”

Deep Dweller glanced at Red Tide. “I am not needed.”

Red Tide watched the sea witch squeeze back into the chasm. That wasn’t a return trip that Red Tide was eager to make. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and turned to Throne Gazer. His dark eyebrows were furrowed.

“Her plans-“ He shook his head. “I am sorry. I never know what she intends until it has happened.”

Red Tide sucked her teeth. “It’s fine.” She squinted out over the ocean. “How long are we supposed to wait on these fucks?”

As it turned out, they would wait until nightfall.

Throne Gazer nudged Red Tide when the white flag finally went up. She had dozed off against his shoulder, the two of them sitting on the cliff’s edge with their legs dangling. Red Tide blinked to see the stars out and wiped a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth.

“They invite us over,” Throne Gazer said flatly.

She yawned in response. “These assholes. Wasting what time we have left.”

He murmured his agreement and helped Red Tide to her feet. She peered over the edge of the cliff and swallowed. The ocean was far below and she didn’t much like the thought of diving from this height, not with all the jutting rocks she’d seen near the entrance of the Ledges. From below, the waterfalls freckled her face with their mist.

“May I?” Throne Gazer asked, and slid his arm around her waist.

Red Tide raised her eyebrows. “You decide to please your mother, after all?”

“Do not start with your laughing again,” Throne Gazer replied. “We are trying for stealth.”

Red Tide stifled a squeak as Throne Gazer stepped off the ledge, hugging her close. With his [Balance+], he hopped down the wall, catching his toes on outcroppings that couldn’t have been wider than the flat of a dagger. Red Tide decided to close her eyes. Once Throne Gazer had danced them halfway down, she felt his body coil in the second before he used [Vault]. He launched them out over the ocean and let her go. Red Tide pulled her limbs in tight. The two entered the water with barely a splash.

The cold of the ocean was welcoming. They swam without singing—without signaling to each other, or attracting the attention of any patrolling pods the northerners might have had casting about for lingering Coralline Elite. Red Tide followed a body’s length behind Throne Gazer, trusting that his [Alert] would warn them of any incoming trouble.

By the tides, she had often fantasized about a moment like this. Silently swimming toward a merchant gellezza, ready to murder everyone on board. Red Tide knew such an outcome was beyond impossible, but in the minutes before they reached the monstrous boat, she allowed herself to pretend.

They circled the gellezza, searching for a way up. From the water, the wooden sides of the boat looked as unassailable as the cliff behind them. Finally, at the back, between two huge, dormant propellers, Red Tide noticed a dangling rope ladder. She clicked her tongue at Throne Gazer and swam toward it. He followed.

 Red Tide climbed quickly, quietly, keeping her eyes on the railing above. Would someone be up there to greet them? And what kind of reception would that be? She sneered at the thought and prepared to let her [Poisonous] ability flow into her fingertips. These merchants did love to seal their agreements with handshakes, didn’t they?

Sure enough, when Red Tide had three rungs left, a shape appeared at the railing. A hand reached down to help her up and Red Tide grinned at the impulse—until she saw the skin.

Grey skin, speckled with white.

Aboard the merchant gellezza, an oca’em woman waited to receive them.