One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

Dianda laughed. “Why is that the first reaction of every lander that comes here?”


“Because it’s very pink,” said Patrick. He kissed her cheek before releasing her hand and moving to open the door ahead of us. “Ladies first.”

“So kind.” Dianda smiled at him fondly and stepped into the darkened chamber beyond. Lights flared to life in the chandelier overhead as soon as her foot crossed the threshold, and continued to spread around the edges of the room. By the time Patrick stepped through, closing the door behind him, the entire room was lit, and I was staring.

The walls were glass, broken only by coral doorframes, making the circular room feel like the world’s largest aquarium. Even the ceiling was transparent, a fact that was reinforced when a manta ray the size of a minivan floated serenely by above us. The ray was one of the more normal sea creatures in evidence. Impossible fish swam everywhere I looked. Sea dragons three times the size of the one in the Luidaeg’s room chased each other through a patch of kelp, while a herd of hippocampi grazed on a nearby reef under the watchful eye of a black-and-white mermaid who appeared to be the result of crossing a Tuatha de Dannan with a killer whale.

Dianda followed my gaze and said mildly, “That’s Anceline, one of our herders.”

“What is she?” I asked, before realizing how rude the question really was. I blanched. “I mean—”

“I asked the same thing when I first came here,” said Patrick. “She’s a Cetace. They rarely come to the surface. They prefer to stay deep, where there’s less chance they’ll encounter human whaling ships.”

That led to horrifying mental images I didn’t want to explore further. I nodded. “I understand. She’s beautiful.”

“I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear you say so,” said Dianda.

I was trying to figure out whether she was serious or not when one of the coral-rimmed doors opened and one of the octopus-people slipped through. This one’s lower body was the shocking red of a maraschino cherry, and her upper body was pure Irish, with pale, freckled skin, and corkscrew curls the color of her octopus half. She moved with remarkable efficiency, her tentacles seeming to find and discard purchase independently. She stopped and bowed when she was roughly six feet away. That was also a fascinating process, since it involved twining her tentacles into an elaborate knot while she bent forward.

“Your Graces,” she said. The curtain of her hair almost concealed the bundle of fabric she was clutching against her chest.

“Cephali,” murmured Patrick. I flashed him a relieved smile.

“Rise, Helmi,” said Dianda. “Helmi, this is Countess October Daye, our guest from the land. She’s here to help us find Dean and Peter.”

Helmi’s eyes widened, and she stared at me as she straightened. “Truly?”

“Truly,” said Patrick. “Can you take her to change, and then bring her to us?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Absolutely.” One of Helmi’s tentacles whipped out and wrapped itself around my wrist. I barely managed to keep from yanking away. She didn’t hold tightly; it was more like the tugging of a toddler. “Come with me, Your Excellency?”

It took me a moment to remember that “Your Excellency” meant me. “Sure. And you can call me Toby.”

“As you wish, Your Excellency.” Helmi began moving back the way she’d come, pulling me along in her wake.

“We’ll see you shortly,” called Dianda.

“Right!” I answered. Then Helmi opened the door and pulled me into a small, cluttered room that looked reassuringly familiar, despite the pink coral walls. I guess a changing room is a changing room, no matter where you go.