Shan had nodded. “Fake purple fever this coming Moonday evening. Right before dinner rations. You’ll ‘die’ just as the cart’s arriving. The driver will leave the cart to get his pay. By the time we’re done loading bodies, it’s usually eight o’clock. The dusk will give you cover. Wait until the cart passes through the gate. After fifteen minutes or so, you should be well into the hills. You can climb out then and swim off without being seen. It’s risky, but it’s the only way.”
“I can’t swim off,” Ling had said, shaking her head. “I need to get to Sera and the others, but I have to find the puzzle ball first, while I’m still at the Abyss. It can’t fall into Orfeo’s hands. But how? The death riders are at the edge of it night and day. One of the Selects told Tung-Mei they’ve got the whole place lit up. They’ll see me.”
Shan had smiled. “No, they won’t. The death riders are looking in the area where I threw the talisman. What they haven’t figured out is that the Abyss has a slight current. I’d estimate that by now the talisman will have traveled about two leagues east. Another thing the death riders don’t know is how to speak with the creatures of the Abyss. But you do. Talk to them, Ling. One of them may’ve seen the puzzle ball. It could’ve landed on a ledge or in a hollow.”
“That’s the best-case scenario,” Ling had said. “It also could’ve fallen far into the Abyss. It could still be falling. Finding it will be like trying to find a minnow in a kelp forest.”
“You’ve got to try,” Shan had said.
“No, Dad,” Ling had said solemnly. “I’ve got to succeed.”
She’d spent a tense week waiting for today, hoping every morning at the Selection that Sergeant Feng wouldn’t suddenly decide that her cast should come off, hoping that nothing would happen to her father.
“Look dead,” Shan whispered now. Ling closed her eyes and let her body go limp. She felt her father unlock the iron collar around her neck and heard a clink as he tossed it onto an evergrowing pile. With a glance around to make sure no one was watching him, he quickly cut her cast away with a small surgical saw. When they’d made their plan, Ling had asked him to get it off her before he carried her to the death cart. She knew it would only slow her down. A flex of her fingers brought pain, but not too much. Hopefully her bones had healed. Finally, Shan picked her up.
“Another one?” a voice shouted as Shan swam out of the infirmary.
Ling felt her father freeze. No one else was supposed to be near the cart. If whoever this was—a guard, another prisoner—took hold of her, he’d soon realize she was warm and very much alive.
“I’m afraid so. Purple fever. Keep back, Zhen,” Ling’s father warned.
Zhen. That was the driver. Ling felt relief wash over her.
“You don’t have to tell me, doc,” Zhen said. “I don’t want any part of it.”
It was hard to tell, but it sounded like—judging by the distance of the driver’s voice, and the snorts and whinnies of his hippokamps—that Zhen was in front of his cart.
“You’re not leaving yet, are you? I have more bodies to load,” Shan lied. His voice was steady, but Ling—who knew it so well—could hear the strain in it.
“No, not yet. Gotta see the sarge. You’ve plenty of time to pile ’em high.”
Zhen swam off. Shan exhaled loudly. Ling risked opening an eye. Her father’s face was white.
“Ling, maybe this isn’t—” he started to say.
She cut him off. “I can do this, Dad,” she said. She was determined to escape. Her friends, their quest, the fate of all the mer realms depended on her.
Her father searched her face, then nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I believe you can.”
Shan had left a space for her in the back of the cart. She instinctively shut her eyes as he gently laid her down between two cold bodies. Then, remembering that this might be her last glimpse of her father, she opened them to find him ripping out stitches at the edge of his tunic. He removed something small and gold—his wedding ring. He pulled a spool of surgical thread and a needle from his pocket. Then he turned up the edge of Ling’s tunic, held the ring against the cloth, and quickly stitched it into place.
“Give it to your mother,” he instructed as he sewed. “Tell her I love her even more now than I did the day she put this ring on my hand. Tell her I look forward to the day when this is over, and she can put it on my hand once again.”
Ling couldn’t speak. There was a lump in her throat.
“Tell your brothers to behave themselves, and Ling…”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“You’re very strong and that’s good. But never mistake kindness for weakness, no matter what Grandma Wen says.”
Ling nodded. At that moment, she didn’t feel strong and she hated herself for it. She tried for a brave smile, but instead, her face crumpled. She threw her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him tightly. A sob escaped her, and then another.
“Shh, bao bei, shh. The dead don’t cry,” he whispered.
“Come with me, Dad,” Ling said.
“It’s too dangerous. Zhen always checks with me before he leaves to make sure he’s got all the bodies. He’d think it was strange if I wasn’t here.” Shan kissed his daughter’s cheek, then released her. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Ling said, wiping her eyes.