“They weren’t happy about it,” Astrid cut in.
Orfeo smiled. “You could say that. They’d learned of my other activities as well.”
“You mean your…” Dare she say it? “…sacrifices. The people you offered to the death goddess, Morsa.”
Orfeo raised an eyebrow. “My, my. Someone’s done her homework.”
Astrid worried that she’d gone too far and he would stop talking. But he continued relating his tale with relish, as though he’d been waiting centuries to tell it.
“Yes, my sacrifices. The mages tracked me down to Morsa’s temple. They tried to get me to come out. When I refused, they battered the doors down. They had seen Abbadon and vowed to kill it, so I ordered Abbadon to kill them, and anyone else who opposed me. The mages fought hard. They used all their magic. During an unguarded moment, when I was trying to catch my breath, Merrow attacked me with her sword, rather than a spell, and dealt me a mortal blow. Or so she thought.”
Astrid believed she knew how Orfeo had survived. Could she get him to admit it?
“It was Morsa’s talisman, wasn’t it? That’s what saved you. You used a pearl to hold your soul. Just like Horok does.”
“The student will soon overtake her teacher,” Orfeo said, admiration in his voice. “Yes, Astrid, I did. And then Merrow ripped Morsa’s pearl from my neck and used it, and the other talismans, to open the Carceron. She thought she was so powerful….” He shook his head at the memory. “But she and the others could never have forced the monster into the prison by themselves. I was the one who told it to go in. I spoke to it from the pearl, telling it to sleep, to be safe. Promising I would come for it one day.”
“The mages believed they’d put an end to Abbadon,” Astrid said, amazed. “Instead, they preserved it for you until you could gather the talismans.”
Orfeo nodded, smiling with pride. “It has taken time. Merrow threw the black pearl into the Qanikkaaq. Had it not been for a greedy fish, and an even greedier Viking, I might still be inside the maelstrom.”
“How did you create Abbadon?” Astrid pressed.
“Now, my dear, that must stay a secret. If no one knows what the monster is made of, no one can kill it.”
“I would never tell anyone. Not after what you’ve done for me,” Astrid lied.
Orfeo’s mood changed abruptly; Astrid felt the eyes behind his glasses boring through her. “Do you think I’m a fool, child? I wouldn’t have survived for four thousand years if I was. I know that you’ve come to take my pearl—or at least try to—and carry it back to your friends.”
Astrid’s cheeks burned. He’d seen right through her clumsy attempt to glean information. What had ever made her think she could trick him?
“You’re loyal, and I admire that,” Orfeo said. “But soon those loyalties will be tested. You’ll have to make a choice between your friends and me. That’s your answer, Astrid. That’s why I summoned you. You’re here to choose. Choose your friends, and you choose defeat. Choose me, and you choose victory, power, and immortality. Alma and I, together with you, our descendant, our daughter, will begin the world anew. You’ll become a great mage, too, second only to myself. No one, and nothing, will equal our might.”
“That’s not going to happen, Orfeo. I’ve made my choice.”
“Have you?” Orfeo said enigmatically. He ran a hand over a row of giant conch shells on one of his shelves.
“Yes, I have. I—”
“Sing, Astrid.”
“What?” Astrid said, caught off-balance.
“Sing.”
She shook her head. “I see where you’re going, but it won’t work. So just kill me and get it over with.” Astrid sounded a lot braver than she felt.
“Kill you?” Orfeo echoed, recoiling. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re free to leave here anytime you like.”
“I am?” Astrid was so surprised, she didn’t know whether to believe him or not.
“Yes. But before you do, grant me one small favor.”
Astrid looked at him warily.
“I tried my best to heal you. At least let me see if I’ve succeeded.”
“But I—I can’t,” Astrid protested. Panic gripped her at the very idea. What if she tried and failed?
“Couldn’t,” Orfeo corrected. “Try.”
“My throat hurts too much.”
Orfeo clucked his tongue. “Still afraid, aren’t you?”
He’d seen through her again. Astrid looked at the floor. “Yes,” she admitted.
“You were only a child when you swallowed that coin. And it was so hard to be a mermaid without magic, wasn’t it?” Orfeo said, his voice so understanding. “Is there anything worse for an Ondalinian? It hurt so much to hear the whispers, the laughter, the jokes. It hurt to disappoint your mother and father…”
Astrid felt as if he could see inside her, into her very soul. For her, a mermaid used to hiding her true feelings, the scrutiny was painful.