The tunnel walls were thickly furred with pale seaweeds, white anemones, and other things that thrived in the dark. They reached for Lucia as she swam by. In one tunnel bones littered the floor—mer bones. Lucia glanced down at a skull and tried not to imagine her own bones moldering here—which could happen if she lost her way. There were no other living souls down here to hear a call for help.
About an hour later, she arrived at her destination—the maze of cave-like rooms under the Kolisseo, a large open-water amphitheater outside the palace walls. As Lucia moved through the labyrinth to the centermost room, creatures slithered and scuttled away from the light of her torch. She heard a deep, heavy groan—as if an entire scrap heap of metal had suddenly come to life, and then what sounded like sledgehammers striking stone.
“Who comesssss to disssturb Alítheia?” a voice hissed. “Your bonessss ssshe will eat, intruder. Your blood ssshe will drink.”
Lucia stopped, paralyzed by the anarachna’s voice. She hated the creature and feared her, but she needed her, too. Alítheia’s den was the only place in all of Cerulea where no one dared to go—no one but Lucia.
Alítheia was a giant bronze spider. Murderously violent, she killed all mer who came near her—except for the Merrovingian reginas. Alítheia had been created by Merrow and the gods to ensure no imposters ever sat on Miromara’s throne. Swallowing her fear, Lucia swam on. “Alítheia, this is Lucia, your regina! I hope you’ve guarded my possession well!”
Lucia heard an ear-splitting roar, and then a pounding, and knew the anarachna was furious. “No bonesss for Alítheia!” the creature howled.
“You’ll have your bones, spider,” Lucia said, entering the den. “My father’s dungeons are full of traitors.”
Alítheia scuttled up to Lucia. She was massive, with tapered legs that ended in dagger-sharp points, eight black eyes, and long, curved fangs. Lucia raised her lava globe high, lest the spider forget herself. The only thing in the world Alítheia feared was lava.
“Where is my maligno?” Lucia demanded.
The anarachna pointed at the back of its den. “No bonesss, no blood in it. No heart, no sssoul in it,” she said contemptuously.
Lucia swam to the maligno, past cocoons spun of bronze filament that were suspended from the ceiling. Most of them dangled motionlessly, but some were still moving.
Kharis had delivered her creation to Lucia three nights ago. Alítheia’s den was the ideal hiding place for it.
“How perfect you are,” Lucia crooned to it now, running a crimson-tipped finger over its cheek. “No one would ever be able to tell the difference between you and the real Mahdi.”
The maligno stared ahead expressionlessly.
“Take these and put them on,” Lucia instructed, handing it the clothing she’d brought.
The maligno nodded, pulled off the tunic Kharis had dressed it in, and donned Mahdi’s white shirt and black jacket.
Lucia buttoned up the jacket, then smiled, satisfied. “Soon now,” she whispered to the maligno. Then she turned to the spider. “Good-bye, Alítheia,” she said. “Continue to guard my possession and I’ll reward you well.”
“When bonesss? When blood?” Alítheia asked sullenly.
“Not much longer,” Lucia replied, swimming out of the cave. “Not long at all.”
THE SMALL VILLAGE of Qīngshu? was quiet, deserted. Moonlight shone down on it, illuminating narrow currents and humble dwellings.
Ling could see her home, built high on a soaring rock face like all the others, and she longed to rush to it. But she was well versed now in the ways of the death riders, so she stayed where she was, hidden at the base of the rock for an hour, watching.
When she was certain there were no soldiers waiting to ambush her, she swam up, past the homes of her neighbors, to her own. No lights were glowing in any of the windows. It was after midnight. Everyone was asleep.
Quietly, she entered the back door of her house. The structure was long, narrow, and attached to the rock face like a barnacle. It contained not only her immediate family, but also her two grandmothers and many aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Ling paused in the kitchen for a moment, inhaling the familiar scent of home—her mother’s perfume, the mouthwatering aroma of the pearl cakes her grandmother Wen always made, and Lātà and Zàng, her brothers’ lazy dogfish. They were snoring in a corner of the kitchen now. Each one opened an eye, looked her over, then went back to sleep.
Ling had taken a risk in coming here, but she had no choice. She needed to change her prison tunic for some real clothing, stock up on food and currensea, and get some medicine. She’d left the Abyss two days ago and had not yet regained her magic. The effects of depth sickness were still plaguing her, causing her to swim slowly, and she needed to purge the sea wasp’s poison from her system so she could songcast again.
And there was one more thing she had to do—the most important thing: speak with her sad, silent mother.