“Okay, there it is,” she said, glancing at Becca. “Hey, what’s with you?”
Becca was grinning from ear to ear. “Look at your arms!” she squealed.
Astrid did. They’d turned a muddy shade of olive. So had the rest of her body. It wasn’t the bright green of a kelp thicket, but it was a start.
“Oh, my gods!” she yelped, nearly dropping the pipe. “Did that…did I…”
“Make magic?” Becca trilled. “Yes!”
“But I don’t…I can’t…”
“You do and you can. Remember how jumpy you were at the whalefall? And ever since? You thought you were hearing EisGeists, but it was Sera trying to convoca us. You might have lost your singing voice, but you still have magic in you, Astrid. You just needed a way to get it out.”
Astrid looked down at the pipe as if she was holding a moray eel in her hands.
She’s scared, Becca thought. Scared that she’ll try again and nothing will happen, that this was all a fluke.
Becca swam to her friend and took her by the shoulders. “Listen to me. Back in the Incantarium, you were brave for all of us. You saved us from Abbadon. I’m asking you to be brave for yourself now.”
Astrid lifted her eyes to Becca’s. The look in them was heartbreakingly vulnerable.
“You can do this,” Becca said. She hummed another easy canta prax spell.
Astrid lifted the pipe to her lips and played the tune after only two tries.
“Not bad!” Becca cheered. “You were supposed to turn purple, but blue’s good. Keep going!”
Astrid did. Over the next hour, she turned rocks orange, her hair pink, and put polka dots on a swordfish. She turned Becca’s face bright yellow, her tail silver, and made tentacles sprout from her head.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Becca finally said. “It’s late. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“I’ll stay outside the cave so I don’t disturb you,” Astrid said. “I can’t sleep, Becca. I might never sleep again!” She looked down at the ground, suddenly awkward. “Thank you for this,” she said, with a shy smile. “Thank you so much.”
Becca waved her thanks away. “It’s nothing.”
“Becca, you’re so wrong,” Astrid said. “It’s everything.”
Astrid was so excited, and so agreeable for once, that Becca decided to take a chance. “Will you join us now?” she asked. “Will you try to get the black pearl?”
Astrid’s smile faded.
“I know, Astrid,” Becca said in a rush. “You’re scared. Scared you won’t be able to songcast. Scared you’ll put us in danger. But we’re all scared. I’m supposed to be a whiz with waterfire. Sometimes I can call up enough to light up a whole town. Other times, the flames are so tiny they wouldn’t heat a pot of sargasso tea. I wonder all the time if my magic will be there when I need it the most.”
“Becca, I can’t even turn myself the right shade of green.”
“Yet,” Becca said.
Astrid shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but Becca cut her off.
“Don’t say yes, but don’t say no. Can you give me that much?”
Astrid nodded. “I can.”
Then she swam outside the cave to practice. Becca put her tools away in her travel case, then burrowed down into the pile of seaweed she’d carried in earlier. She was exhausted.
As she closed her eyes, the music Astrid was making floated into the cave. Occasional flashes of light or color played against its walls. Becca heard her friend whooping and giggling, but she didn’t mind.
This is the first time I’ve ever heard Astrid laugh…really laugh, she thought. Happiness. What a lovely sound.
Becca’s eyes closed. As sleep stole over her, she felt pleased that the first part of her plan had worked—that she’d found a way to help Astrid. If only the second part would work now—if only Astrid would help them.
Becca drifted off hoping that friendship, some of the most powerful magic there was, had cast its spell over Astrid.
NOTHING, NO NORTHERN river or arctic flow, felt as cold to Serafina as the gray North Sea. Restive winds howled across its waters, whipping up enormous swells. Storms swept in with savage fury.
Even here in Scaghaufen, capital of the Meerteufel sea goblin tribe, with its hot, sulfurous vents and its bubbling lava pits, the cold went right through her.
Sera was in the palace of the Meerteufel’s chieftain, Guldemar. The palace was made entirely from slag—the molten waste separated from pure metal when ore was smelted. It loomed up from the seafloor like a black cloud—craggy and misshapen. From its windows, visitors could see the entire goblin city.