“That’s Kora,” Neela said. “I’d know her voice anywhere. Come on, Ooda. We’re almost there.”
Neela and Ooda had been on the move all night, ever since they’d left the prison camp. Neela was dragging. She was desperately in need of a rest and a good meal, but hearing Kora’s voice gave her new energy.
The morning sun’s soft rays illuminated the waters of Nzuri Bonde. As Neela and Ooda approached it, they saw low houses made of stones mortared with a mixture of silt and crushed shell, and surrounded by lush vegetation. The doorways and windows were bordered by stark, geometric designs in red, white, and yellow. Simple and spare, they were in harmony with their remote, wild surroundings. Outbuildings made from the bones of whales collected from the seafloor held dugongs placidly waiting to be taken out to graze.
Neela thought about how you could see the shining domes and turrets of Matali City long before you were in it. Nzuri Bonde was just the opposite; you were practically in it before you saw it.
There was a large open arena on the outskirts of the village. Kora was there, drilling with the Askari, her personal guard. They lived apart from all others in the ngome ya jeshi, their own compound. They were practicing haraka now, a form of martial arts that was lightning fast. Tall bamboo poles were used for whacking the enemy across his body, or taking his tail out from under him. Neela watched the fighters as she approached the arena. The Askari were lean, fast, and lethal—and none more so than their leader.
Dark-skinned and regal, Kora had high cheekbones, a full mouth, and hazel eyes flecked with gold. Her powerful tail was striped brown and white, like a lionfish’s. Her pectoral fins fanned out at her sides when she was angry, rising in tall, barbed spikes. She wore a turban of red sea silk and a chest plate of cowrie shells and beads. Her armband, made of white coral, was notched for every sea dragon she’d killed.
“Mgeni anakuja!” one of the Askari cried out. They all stopped drilling and looked where she was pointing—at Neela. Ooda, frightened of them, zipped into Neela’s bag.
Neela, who spoke some Kandinian but not a lot, was surprised to find that she understood the guard. He’d just warned Kora that a stranger was approaching. It’s the bloodbind, she thought.
Kora spun around. Her eyes narrowed at first, then widened in recognition.
“Salamu kubwa, Malkia!” Neela called out, bowing her head. Greetings, Great Queen.
“Princess Neela? Can it be?” Kora said, speaking Mermish now. She swam over to her. A smile, broad and beautiful, spread across her face. She took Neela by her shoulders and kissed her cheeks.
“You have a new look! I was not aware that you followed Goa!”
Neela was still in her caballabong outfit.
“I don’t. Even though it looks that way,” Neela said. “I’ve been—”
Swimming all night she was going to say, but Kora cut her off. She playfully tugged one of Neela’s large hoop earrings.
“You are the only mermaid I know who would make such a dangerous trip so well-accessorized!” she said. “Had I known you were coming, I would have had my nails done.”
Kora, who had little interest in fashion, liked to tease Neela about her passion for clothing and jewelry. Neela always played along good-naturedly, but not this time.
“Kora, this isn’t a social call. I’m here because I need your help.”
“What kind of help?”
A wave of exhaustion washed over Neela. She had no idea where to start. “Um, well, we need to save the world, basically,” she said.
“And the right accessories will aid you in that?” Kora asked, raising an eyebrow. The Askari laughed uproariously.
Neela glared. “The right accessories,” she said testily, “help with everything.” She needed Kora to help her, not mock her.
Kora wrapped an arm around her neck and put her into a headlock—a Kandinian sign of affection. “Do you remember the last time you came to Kandina? With the entire Matalin royal family? The entourage continued behind you for two leagues! Where are your trunks? Where are your retainers?”
“Oh, Kora, there are no retainers. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This visit isn’t like the last time. Not at all. There’s trouble, big trouble…” Neela said. Her voice broke on the last word. She was so upset by what she’d seen at the prison camp, so worn out from hours of swimming, that she was about to collapse.
Kora snapped into action. She led Neela to a shaded part of the arena, made her sit down in a cushioned chair, and called for food and drink. The Askari followed, and sat in a circle around their queen and her guest.
“Now, tell me,” Kora said.
Neela glanced at the guards.
“I trust them with my life,” Kora said, reading her thoughts. “We cannot help you if you cannot trust us. All of us.”