He nodded and tried to wink. “I’ll leave you to your grave-robbing.” Then he swam away, fast as a harpoon, head tucked against his chest.
I clutched the rusting sword so tightly it cut into my palm. Blood blossomed into the sea, unfurling like a sea anemone. A warm current streamed behind Havamal toward me. I leaned my head back against the ship’s decaying walls and broke as his tears bathed me in heat.
The human sword made a poor tool, and I ended up stripping wood from the ship’s hull with my fingers, prying the metal bolts out one by one. The ship’s age made the wood soft, but by the time I had a small stack of wood and nails, my hands were bleeding and my muscles screamed.
A curious white shark poked his nose into the chamber, drawn by the scent of my blood. Sharks didn’t harm mermaids on purpose, and with gentle coaxing I managed to get the beast to ram the ship’s hull. The force of his impact sent shards of wood flying. I scooped them up in tired arms, praying that the wood I gathered would be enough to mend Ragna’s boat.
I swam along the sea bottom so no one would see me. Sparse weeds and strands of kelp brushed against my scales, making me itch. Once I was under the belugas’ breathing hole, I could deposit the heavy materials and call on the whales for assistance in bringing things to the surface. I knew that, as heavy as the wood seemed underwater, I would never manage to heave it over the lip of the ice.
A ring of light appeared on the dark seafloor. I looked up, watching the twisting bodies of the whales. They looked slimmer by the day. Schools of fish were becoming scarcer, as the humans got bolder and expanded their hunting grounds ever closer to the ice. And the merclan was harvesting most of the crabs and octopi from the sands. I would have to show the matriarch the silverfin that were making their home in the ship’s decaying husk. Those tuna could feed the whale pod for weeks.
After depositing the wood in the sand, I swam to the light. The matriarch greeted me, and I gestured at the wood. She nudged my arm with her great head and trilled to a group of loitering, chattering juveniles. One of the juveniles blew a cheeky ring of bubbles in her direction, but the group scattered nonetheless, swimming down to retrieve my materials. I stroked the matriarch’s snout, grateful as always for these gentle sea ghosts who helped without question.
A giant tail thrashed in the water above. My gaze jerked up. The whale’s body was outside the water, but his massive tail swirled in the sea. My heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that Ragna had lured one of the creatures to its death? Had that been her plan in watching me? To learn how to soothe the creatures well enough that her meals would come to her?
I sped for the surface, then breached with all my strength. I used the momentum from my kick to propel me into the air and up over the ice’s lip. With a painful thud, I landed on the ice and then looked for the stranded whale. A trio of belugas were lined up on the ice in front of Ragna. Their great tails beat in the water with excitement. A few of the fish I’d brought her lay in a gruesome pile at her feet, chopped into bloody pieces.
“First you!” Ragna directed, pointing to a creamy white male. She glanced at me and smiled. Her cheeks looked rosier and fuller. The beluga opened his mouth and emitted a guttural hum. She turned her attention to a speckled female. The whale’s eyes followed her fingers, and she counted a silent beat and then pointed. The speckled female’s higher voice rose to join the male’s. The sound they made together was beautiful—ethereal and resonant, echoing around the silence of the ice. Ragna tossed a piece of fish into each whale’s gaping mouth.
Pivoting to look at the last whale, a tiny male with scars from a polar bear’s brutal claws etched over his back, Ragna sighed. His black eyes danced as they followed her, but when she pointed to him, he made a screeching noise so awful I had to cover my ears. Ragna grimaced but then flashed the whale a grin. She tossed fish into his mouth and knelt to pat his back.
Guilt flooded through me. Of course she hadn’t been trying to lure them to their deaths. I’d already learned she wasn’t a monster. From the look of things, I’d brought her more than enough provisions. It warmed my heart that she was sharing with the creatures I loved.
“He can’t sing at all, bless him,” she chuckled as she tickled the whale’s chin.
I shuffled over to sit beside her. Warmth hovered in the air around her, and the soft fur on her coat brushed against my side. My skin prickled where we touched, and I became acutely aware of the molding of my body against hers. Her smile was infectious. As I listened to the whales sing, some of the stress of The Grading and my encounter with Havamal started to melt away. It was peaceful here with her, sitting on the surface, and totally removed from the world I hated below.
The juvenile whales began to push the wood I’d gathered over the ledge onto the ice. Ragna’s smile grew wider. “You managed.” She jumped to her feet and half slid on the ice to the pile. Her gloved hands felt along each piece of wood. “They’re old, but some drying in the sun should make them sturdy enough to patch the holes in the boat. Thank you.”
“Where will you go?” I asked. “You said your home was destroyed. Will there be anything left for you to go back to?”
Ragna glanced up at me, and the gleam in her brown eyes darkened. “Oh, I’m not going back there. Not yet.” Her teeth flashed, bright white against her wind-chapped lips. Were all human teeth so sharp? “I was supposed to be a gift for someone. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him by failing to arrive.” She looked out across the sea and played with the edge of her furs. “I’m a long way from home… and when I last saw it, everything was ash. We’ve been sailing for weeks, but the sailors were getting excited. They were almost back to their own homes.”
She pushed back her sleeve and stared at the moving tattoos on her arm. They shifted, arranging into a jagged landmass with bays and names sketched in miniscule script. I moved closer, squinting at the names of places I couldn’t imagine. What did a city look like on land? I imagined the chaos and noise of the ships magnified a hundredfold—all those people.
I traced the coastline that extended onto her palm. The tattoos were so strange and, as with so many things about her, I should have been afraid, but I wasn’t. There was something eerily beautiful about these god’s marks. “Does it hurt you? When these change?”
Ragna shrugged. “I feel it. It’s like a prickle, but I’m used to it. And it’s worth it… to always know the way to things you desire.”