Armida and Rinaldo had but minutes to exchange details of the previous evening's happenings. These many moments of coming together with and being pulled apart from Rinaldo were torture each time, a dance that would soon stop. One way or another.
Luck had been with them the previous day. The evening of the Masquerade, when Paolo had already been moved, and Stavlakis' attention was focused on his transport, Rinaldo had entered the print shop and opened the cell to release half of the captive mermen. While the other half were still laboring for Stavlakis at a hidden location, the freed mermen were to shepherd Paolo from Venice to their homecaves in Marea.
Matteo had done Rinaldo a great kindness. With the chaos on the Molo, Matteo had picked up Rinaldo, quietly deposited him at the Punte de Sale, and then returned to the Piazzetta. No one knew what he had guessed at, but Rinaldo did not think he'd seen Paolo closely, or any of the mermen for that matter. He perceived Rinaldo's difficulty and helped him. It was his nature.
Now came a perilous undertaking: following the remaining mermen to wherever Stavlakis took them. It was a brutal sacrifice to expect of the last mermen. Stavlakis would be furious to learn he'd lost half his captives and would be on alert.
Armida's tears were stopped by Stavlakis' preparations to depart his shop. "There he is. I must transform. Will you wait to see me as a mermaid one last time?"
"Dive, Armida! Do not delay! I stand here as you follow your destiny."
When Armida surfaced, Rinaldo held out his hand, but he was too far. His arm dropped slowly, like a feather falling to the ground. She searched for his mindpath but found emptiness.
≈I love you always.≈
With a glance back at Venice, Armida dove after the boat with the mermen aboard.
The amber-toned wooden boat had been painted with the St. Mark's Lion. The mermaid carvings on the gunwale infuriated her with their audacity and inaccuracy. Split tails. Frog legs. Fangs. Terrans had troubled imaginations when it came to the sea. They made all into monstrosities.
They left la Laguna and traveled northeast, staying near the coast. The wind favored the boat, filling its sails, and Armida struggled to keep pace. Her many weeks in Terran form, along with regular immersions to maintain her ability to morph, had reduced her strength. She wondered what threats kept the Mareans on the boat. Fear over what might happen to Paolo or their fellow captives because they did not know of their escape? Surely Torquato had informed them to prepare. But prepare for what?
When facing the unknown, the adaptable will succeed.
The northern Adriatico should be colder. Armida labored in the rising temperature that felt wrong to her—the sea hotter, heavier, dirtier. She could not block the horror. Dead coral. The empty shells of sea snails and crabs littered the lifeless seafloor. The water bit her with acidity. Her gills strained to filter a foreign substance she had not identified.
A numb silence frightened her. The lifesounds of the sea were absent.
But the eerie quiet soon changed with a thundering roar. The world felt like it was trying to break apart. The seabed shuddered and the shock waves rocked Armida. She shot to the surface, sure the boat had capsized.
Torquato and the others rolled from side to side as waves tossed the boat. Stavlakis' men wrestled with the sails and eventually guided the boat to a small pier where two additional ships were moored. Waiting Terrans scooped the contents of large buckets into smaller ones. As the mermen, who had remained in their Terran forms, stumbled onto the dock, they scrabbled for the small buckets and filled their mouths. Each wore a collar with a rope attached.
It is vile how they are controlled with leashes. And they are starving.
✧✧✧
Armida's loathing of Terrans never seemed to find its limit. The Terrans appeared as weakened as the captives. Yet they jeered and threw fish bones at the mermen, who were forced into weighted nets and then thrashed in spasms until their gills took over for their lungs. Armida felt what they felt and was outraged by any who would treat it as entertainment.
A fantasy of morphing back to her Terran form, sneaking up on them, and killing them with their harpoons and fishhooks, engulfed Armida. She would make them suffer, maim them, then let them drown while she casually watched. Terrans should be eliminated.
How can a species with music and the art of Carpaccio also have such evil?
Armida persuaded herself to focus on harsh practicalities where the sufferings of these few must be tolerated for the far-reaching goal of saving Marea and perhaps the entire ocean. She could not imagine how far the Terrans might go or why. They would destroy themselves by their inability to see the consequences of their actions. Terrans, too, would be extinguished when the oceans failed. Armida hoped that, once rid of Terrans, the ocean then could be reborn.
The Terrans boarded the larger of the two vessels after attaching the net to the stern. Armida darted to the dock and retrieved fish remnants from the water. The dregs, meager sustenance though it was, would need to sustain her until she found live food again. She would not fail on her mission because she'd let herself starve.
As the boat took sail, Armida approached the mermen clinging desperately to the net to avoid being strangled by ropes pulling at their collars. With more resignation than hope, she opened her mindpath and called to Torquato. ≈Can you hear me, Uncle?≈ She touched his hand. ≈Can you hear me?≈
≈Your words are the loveliest of these many months. The joy when I saw you is without measure.≈
≈I brought a knife. I can free you.≈
≈Not yet. We must develop a plan, a solution.≈
≈To what? What are they doing? Why does he threaten us?≈
≈As to why, it is a secret I'm not privileged to enjoy, but I can answer what it is he does.≈ Torquato was slung sideways as the boat veered to the east. ≈Stavlakis found a dormant sea vent and has brought it to life with our forced labor and a mysterious alchemy. Soon you will see the terrible power he controls.≈
≈Is it the cause of the heat and murk?≈
≈Yes. The abovewater also becomes dark with its poison. He has lost his humanity.≈
The water perturbance unsettled Armida. Every scale on her body screamed at her to leave. She wouldn't, not without the mermen. She would have to convince Torquato the best plan was flight.
≈We must leave at once. Haven't you said, in overwhelming circumstances, fleeing is not defeat?≈
≈I indeed said that. It is also true if death is not imminent, living among one's enemies may win the war.≈
Armida registered Torquato's words and his conviction. This would not be the hour of his freedom.
The boat took them closer and closer to darkness and sounds so loud, and unexplainable Armida could not swim alone, unaided. She clung to the outside of the net as they were pulled into the heart of the madness.
✧✧✧
Abovewater had mountains like those in the ocean. And some land mountains had volcanoes that spewed lava, which formed islands, atolls, and features on the seafloor. There were also water volcanoes but they were far from Marea in exotic seas. Except one.
The formation in the distance rose from a deep source, undetectable because the blackwater and steam roiling around limited her vision. Its sides, knobby with bulbous mineral deposits, reminded Armida of the columns in the Ceremonial Grotto. The lower she went, the greater the heat—too intense for a close inspection. Countless tube structures covered the area. The intense heat was like from the glass-making ovens on Murano Vittore had taken her to visit, but this was wet instead of dry. Any too near the base would boil instead of bake.
The net dropped free on one side; the mermen waited like helpless dogs on leashes. Their tails agitated the water as crates containing buckets were lowered next to them.
Armida waited at a distance. Torquato wanted her to observe. He trusted she'd solve the mystery. But if Torquato hadn't puzzled it out, how could she? He'd studied his books for decades. If the answers weren't in his books, where were they? She would not discover what he could not.
The mermen swam in pairs, each carrying the end of a pole that held a suspended bucket between them. Given their contorted faces and straining muscles, it was apparent they carried great weight. When they reached the top of the underwater chimney, they tipped the bucket over the opening and a heavy slurry of unknown material flowed out. The mermen leaned away as if they were being burnt by the sun.
Each pair, followed by the next, cycled from the surface to the chimney and back. The work took a significant toll. When Armida had tried her mindpath, she found the dullness of brutal physical effort blocking communication. The process finally stopped when lava oozed over the rim of the chimney. The liquid rock wept down the sides as if the very ocean was crying. It formed hot, crusty pillows when the lava met the water. She imagined the boiling water was the ocean's anger.
A low rumble hit Armida's soundbones. Hard. It knocked her backward. Two mermen at the chimney dropped their bucket and raced to the surface, riding the concussive wave. The boat rocked wildly and launched away from the dock. The mermen clutched the net as the ship made sail. With the wind and current in their favor, their speed increased quickly.
The chimney shook as a molten substance spewed from the opening. The lava shot abovewater, then rained down liquid rock. Bubbles of water evaporated as globules hit the surface.
Another tremor rumbled as Armida turned to follow the boat.
Her last thought was that Torquato's confidence in her might have been a serious error in judgment.