He glances over his shoulder. “To get your family the money they need.”
CHAPTER10
No…itcouldn’t…he can’t possibly mean…
“I do mean it.”
The words slip out and I curse inwardly. Ilryth chuckles and starts swimming again. I pulse my feet as fast as I can, trying to catch up.
“Why are you helping me?”
A heavy sigh sinks into my mind. “You asked me to help and now that I’ve agreed you’re trying to convince me to stop?”
“No,” I say hastily. “But if I can’t understand why, I’ll have a hard time trusting you.”
He halts, pushing the water forward to cease his momentum, tail curling under him and twisting for him to face me once more. I am not as graceful and nearly slam into him. I would have, were it not for Ilryth reaching out to catch me by the shoulders. He quickly releases me, a moment of shock passing over his face. At first I think it’s because of my directness, but given all he’s said, I took him as a person who’d understand my feelings. Then, I realize,He’s not supposed to touch me.
“Part of your anointing is letting go of your connection with this world so that you are a blank slate for the words of the old gods. That way when you are presented to Lord Krokan, you will be nothing but prayers and the Duet of Sendoff. If you are to go before him—the old god of death—with ties to this world, longing for the living, then he will reject you as a proper offering and his rage will continue,” Ilryth explains, matter-of-fact, as if trying to ignore the contact. “It will be easier for you to succeed in your goal if you arewillingto let go of this world. Which, you’ve made clear, involves knowing that your family is taken care of.”
I object to his general notion that it ismygoal to have anything to do with being sacrificed. But I work to keep those thoughts relegated to the back of my mind. If my family is taken care of, I can work to be at peace with everything else…
“Good, I’m glad we have an understanding.” I feel better knowing that he is getting something out of this. It is easier for me to think of relationships in simple transactions, rather than pure kindness.
“Indeed.” Ilryth doesn’t move. His brow softens slightly, lips parting with words unsaid. Thoughts unshared. Is he…guilty?
I intentionally try not to pick apart the meaning of that stare. His guilt doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. In fact, he should feel it. If his magic had been stronger and able to break the bond between Charles and me, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Even when I know there is blame to fall at my own feet, placing it at his is such a guilty pleasure.
Without another word, Ilryth turns and continues deeper into the tunnel.
I would think that being semi-magical, I’d be able to somehow propel myself through the water at a faster speed than kicking and moving my arms. But alas, that isn’t the case. At least I don’t seem to tire. That’s the only thing keeping me from being completely left behind in his wake.
We swim through a narrow stretch, illuminated still by the faintly glowing flowers that grow from the kelp along the ceiling. The tunnel opens into a domed room—I recognize it as the brain coral I saw earlier. That’s easy enough to figure. But what I can’t seem to make sense of is exactly what it is I’m looking at.
The main source of light is the oculus in the ceiling, so the room is illuminated exclusively by a hazy, filtered twilight that feels almost…magical. And yet, given the contents, eerie.
All manner of bauble and oddity are trapped within nets and strung from them, suspended from the ceiling. Twine has been tied around the hollow centers of crons, like garland, and they dangle like wind chimes. Hundreds of crons…pinned up like paper party decorations.
Hooks of all sizes, from the largest fishing boats to the smallest, connect the nets to each other, and to the walls. Sailcloths of ships I recognize have been hung like tapestries—ships I mourned on the docks after word arrived that they never made it through the Gray Passage.
There’s an anchor. A part of a mast leans against a wall, framing a figurehead of a half-naked man in the corner. Ship rigging holds together the various nets. There’s astronomical navigation tools, sundials, and countless chests lining the floor—their heavy locks torn off.
I slow to a stop as I reach the center. The sand is equally cluttered. Scattered around are pots and pans, tinderboxes rendered useless, bottles of rum still corked and sealed with wax.
“What is this place?” I take a turn about the room. Piles of odds and ends are stacked as far as I can see. Flagons. Boots. All of it hoarded reminds me—more than sirens, living underwater, and confronting wraiths in a man’s memories ever could—that I am very far from home, in a place very different from anything I’ve ever known.
“My treasure room,” he says, only after I look back to him following a long silence.
“Treasure?” I balk. The thought was so quick I couldn’t adjust my tone to be more polite. There are a few things of value here, certainly. The crons tied up, for one. Some of the navigation tools are worth some pretty silver to the right buyer, those that aren’t ruined by the seawater. But most of it…is random waste.
“Yes,treasure.” As expected, he bristles slightly at my tone. “I have spent years filling this place with precious items.”
“A shoe is ‘precious’ to you?” I gesture with an open palm to a worn-out boot.
“I did not bring you here for your judgment.” He glances away, clearly uncomfortable. His posture communicates he is trying to maintain his dignity.
“Then what did you bring me here for?”
Without another word, Ilryth swims off into a different coral tunnel than the one we entered from. I’m not sure if he still intends for me to follow, so I wait. He confirms my suspicions by not calling after me and I’m left to my devices.
