“Too bad for the master,” she’d rasped, her throat still sore.
Bahar had backed away, a hand pressed to her chest. She gathered her things and made a quick exit. Astrid glanced in the mirror and smiled. Her hair was a jagged bob that just grazed her chin. She liked it.
Another maid had appeared with a tray, and Astrid was much happier to see her. The blood loss she’d experienced had made her feel weak. A meal of soft, bland foods—nothing that would hurt her tender throat—restored her energy, and when a third servant arrived with the message that Orfeo would like to see her in the conservatory, she’d felt up to the long swim through the palace.
Astrid hadn’t seen Orfeo since he’d given her the thick, murky potion that had eased her pain. How long ago had that been? Hours? Days? She had no idea.
Why does he want to see me now? she wondered uneasily. He had helped her, but she still didn’t know why.
The servant who had come to fetch her stopped now in front of a pair of massive doors. He opened them, and Astrid swam through. Shadow Manse was brooding and remote, an immense, sprawling structure, and the conservatory, as she now saw, was its dark heart.
Blue waterfire burned in the tall fireplace at the far end of the room. High-backed chairs made from the gnarled roots of mangrove trees flanked it. Lava bubbled in sconces on the walls. A gilt mirror stood in a corner. A massive dome of faceted amethyst capped the conservatory, casting a purple-hued light over the room. But what truly took Astrid’s breath away were the shells. The room was lined with shelves that stretched all the way from the floor to the bottom of the amethyst dome, and every inch of space was taken by shells. In her astonishment, Astrid forgot her anger about Bahar’s attempted makeover.
“There must be a million of them,” she whispered, turning in a slow circle.
Every type of shell she’d ever seen, and many she hadn’t, were on display: conchs, turitellas, whelks, nautiluses, urchins, ceriths, augurs, murexes, tritons. Some were shiny and new, others cracked with age. Long-legged spider crabs scuttled over the shelves, cleaning away silt and debris.
As Astrid drew closer, she saw that each shell was labeled with the name of a songspell. There were the basic spells of invisibility, camouflage, and illusion; spells to control water, wind, and light; and spells Astrid had only heard of that allowed the caster to create dragons from silt, monsters from rock, or reanimate the dead.
“It’s an ostrokon of magic,” she said wonderingly, her voice less raspy now.
“Of mer magic, yes,” said a voice from behind her.
Astrid turned to face Orfeo. He was wearing a jacket with a stand-up collar and his usual dark glasses.
“You collected all these songspells?” she asked.
“Collected them, learned them, mastered them,” he replied.
Astrid’s eyes widened. No wonder he was so powerful.
“I have another such place on land,” he continued. “It’s called a library. That one contains every magic spell ever devised by a human.”
Astrid arched an eyebrow. “I have trouble seeing goggs as magical.”
Orfeo smiled. “So do I. These days, at least. It wasn’t always so.”
Astrid had forgotten that he’d been human once, before he’d become whatever he was now. Her wariness returned. He must’ve healed me for a reason, she thought. And whatever it is, it can’t be good.
“Magic still lives on land, but humans no longer have the eyes to see it,” Orfeo continued. “The first rays of the sun, the cry of a hawk, a whale breaching…these miracles are all around them, and yet they stare into screens and think that is magic.” He shook his head, disgusted. “A useless species. I won’t miss them.”
A shiver ran down Astrid’s spine at his words. His ominous tone and the threat it implied reminded her of why she was here. Her eyes sought his black pearl. It lay against his chest, strung around his neck on a thin piece of leather.
Orfeo noticed her interest. He removed the talisman and held it out. Astrid looked at him questioningly. Was he really handing it to her?
“Go on, Astrid,” he said. “Take it.”
MORSA’S BLACK PEARL.
A gift from a goddess.
Astrid took it from Orfeo, holding the leather string in one hand, cradling the talisman with the other. The pearl was large, easily half an inch in diameter, and flawless. Some pearls glowed as if lit from within; this one burned with dark light. As she held it, Astrid could feel its power flowing into her. She could sense what it was like to be Orfeo. To have his knowledge, his magic. She envisioned the seas rising at her command, the wind obeying her wishes.
The feeling of absolute power terrified her, but it thrilled her, too.