“Certainly. Whatever we can do,” the guard signaled apologetically.
They flanked the crew, and Gryshen lay like a jellyfish that had been overdosed. She had heard this whole exchange, and she had the sense that there was something she was forgetting to care about.
Once in her room, she was laid across a slab of rock. She felt Bravis pass her hand to Jode, and her brother held it tightly while Apocay gave her a full inspection. Bravis and the guards were in the corner, signaling in low tones.
“It’s gone, Bravis. So is Lefke. That shark took it. We couldn’t find him anywhere, once we came to.”
“We’ll have to search thoroughly before we assume that Lefke holds any responsibility. He could be knocked out somewhere,” said Bravis.
One of the guards persisted, a shorter one who had remained silent until now. “One of the other laxes was just complaining to me about him the other day, saying he had lost Rone pride. Rumor’s been he’s talked about opportunity to move up in ranks—though what could be much higher than head guard of the pearl I don’t know . . . a counsel like yourself, I suppose.”
“It was about the leen. It’s always about a leen, isn’t it?” offered the first guard.
“What do you mean?” asked Bravis in a steady tone.
“I mean, she broke his heart. Said she didn’t want to bind with him after all. And I heard that Morfal was telling him about opportunities in the Rakor pod. But it wasn’t just about higher duties. He was bragging about all the beautiful, available leens they have. And you know what they say about the Rakor . . .”
“What do they say?” Bravis posed this like an Elder asking the young a question he already knew the answer to.
“Well, you know, they still like to arrange things, don’t they? Like in the old times. They don’t call it that, but I hear that chief sets up bindings for his inner circle. You don’t say no to that one—he’s probably threatened those leens.”
Bravis gave a tight nod.
“The point is”—added the other guard—“that Lefke was in on it, no question. And I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that Morfal had something to do with it . . . put him up to it maybe. He’s always wanted pow—”
“How may we help?” The pod’s other healers arrived. Obviously, word had spread.
“Leave us, except for Ruvesell. Ruvesell?”
The boxy leen nodded.
“Go to the Well Chamber and get blue-leaf gel.”
“I’m sorry, what container is it—”
“Just grab a hunk of the leaves. They’ll be in a net by the whale fat.”
“Right away.”
Not a minute later three more guards poured in. “Princess! Er, Prince? Bravis?” They looked anxiously down the line of command, noting the injury of the first, the preoccupation with care of the second.
“Yes?” Bravis responded, as Gryshen listened, her hearing coming more into focus.
“Some of the Rakor are starting to clear out.”
Gryshen saw Apocay look up from massaging her gills to raise a brow. She wondered how old he really was, how many tragedies and crises he had witnessed. She wondered how much he cared about any of it. She had wanted to be that way, and now it was almost as if she could be, the way the words floated in and out of her head.
But something wasn’t the same. There was a pressing in her chest. Her lungs? No, it was something else.
“Coss took it.” She spoke aloud, staring up at the dark ceiling.
“Princess?” asked a guard. Everyone else remained still.
“You heard me. Didn’t you hear me? Coss took it. He fooled me, and my dad died, he died, and Coss—I know he stopped my breathing. I know my father’s dead. I know he’s dead. And the pearl’s gone. And Coss took it.” She shot out the words in stilted bursts and sobbing gulps. Black smoke filled the blue around her. Black smoke that poured from her eyes and formed a cloud above her.
“Stop Morfal and his son. Tell no one what we’ve discussed.” Bravis looked to the guards.
“Yes, sir,” they signaled in unison. Then, spears still in hand, they returned to their posts.
“Gryshen.” Bravis signaled her name, and nothing more, but it carried so much.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she kept saying it, gulping and sobbing.
“It wasn’t your fault. If he did it—”
“Bravis!” Jode signaled. “If she said he did it, he did it!”
“Hold steady, Jode.” Bravis rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m trying to take this one piece at a time. I’m trying to tell you”—his focus was back on Gryshen—“that none of this is your fault. There has been so much to deal with. You and your brother and your father have had to handle a tremendous amount, and it appears that this was very carefully planned. I will join the guards to comb the caverns, just to make sure they didn’t leave any clues behind, or any of their pod, for that matter.”
The last guard to leave was the first to reappear. “Rakor are gone.”
“What do you mean? All of them?” Bravis asked.
“They left?” Jode signaled.
Gryshen stared into the black pool, listening.
“Yes. We just learned that Chief Morfal and his son were the first to leave. All of Rone is asking questions. I came directly to you.”
“And told them nothing?” Bravis signaled.
“Nothing. I’ll get back to my post.”
“Thank you.” Bravis signaled as the guard swam away.
“That lying, evil—”
“Jode,” Bravis reprimanded him.
Gryshen continued to murmur her stream of apologies, the words “I’m sorry” rolling into each other. It was like she was stuck in a whirlpool, the recent memories closing in on her and spinning her deeper and deeper down into the hollowest sort of pain.
It was too much. And she was not enough.
“Jode will have to take over,” she blurted out. “He will have to be chief. He can lead this pod.”
“I don’t think I can do that. Can I, Bravis? I mean, would it help her?” He sounded petrified.
“No, you can’t. And Gryshen”—he reached out, brushing away the black cloud of tears above her—“you can. And you will. Your father trusted you. He still trusts you, on the next wave. I can feel it.”
It was one of the only times she heard Bravis talk about feeling anything. It tugged her out of the worst of the funnel. Her thoughts were still swirling, but now she had a focal point. Jode looked wide eyed at her. Bravis kept his steady gaze.
Ruvesell had returned with the leaves. Gryshen had forgotten Apocay was even there; he had been so still in his study of her. It was as if he had hardly cared about anything else that was being discussed, his focus and intent were so sharp. He took a handful of the flat navy-veined leaves and began ripping the stems off them and squeezing them into her throat.
“Press your lips flat against them.”
Gryshen obeyed, and a horrid, metallic taste flooded her mouth.
“Don’t swallow,” Apocay ordered. “It needs to fill your lungs. I suspect you’ve had slight tearing.”
“Tearing?” Jode and Bravis both asked at once.
“Tiny fissures, nothing deadly. At least, not when dealt with this quickly. Blue-leaf gel will seal them up. Now, had it been a little while longer . . .”
Gryshen assumed he was delicately leaving it to their imaginations, until after a short pause he said, “We’d have to bury her with her father.”
He seemed oblivious to the silence he had wrought with his words. “Well, take a little time to rest, and you’ll be ready to be at the gathering tonight. Ruvesell, I still have a net full of oysters in the rest spot just outside the Well Room. I’ll share a few with you.” And they left.