“Boom?” Jode asked eagerly.
“Crack a head open!” Gracke said with a wink in her brother’s direction as he tore mussel meat out.
Gryshen felt a touch on her shoulder. She looked to see Bravis’s eyes upon her. Her face must be turning a strange color.
“Must we use those words?” she asked, her hand on her stomach. All she could see were heads, but none of them were Coss’s. Then something occurred to her. “What about the young?”
“What about them?” Proggunel continued marking the surface of his rough map.
“Their young? Or yours?” Hena asked.
“Theirs. Ours. Everyone’s!” The bloodthirst for Coss had been replaced by something new.
“We have some of our best fighters staying back to protect all of Rone,” Bravis reminded her.
“I, myself, will remain here in case of attack,” Proggunel agreed.
“But don’t they have innocents?” Gryshen asked, amazed that in everything she had not considered this.
“And we have no quarrel with them. There would be no reason to hurt anyone who hasn’t put themselves in battle,” Proggunel said, still not looking up from his battle plan.
“But if we end up inside their cavern—that’s the point, right? That’s where the pearl will be, won’t it?” She looked around, pausing to look at the twins, hoping that they would say something more prophetic and less insane.
“The pearl will be where it has never been,” Theus said, while Tollo pointed her finger in a kind of dance, following a small beam of light that cut through the ceiling.
“That’s handy,” said Gracke.
“Gryshen, we won’t hurt babes,” Jode assured her.
“We’ll capture them to keep them out of harm’s way, if we must,” said Bravis softly, and this seemed like the most reasonable idea so far, so Gryshen let it escape through the top of her head, releasing a bit of the pressure that had been building.
“Okay, so where were we?”
“Extra tools,” said Proggunel. “And I’m afraid to ask, but . . . ” His eyes darted toward the twins.
Tollo smiled, and stuck her still-moving finger out farther toward the line of sunlight.
“Oh, sun powers. Terrific,” Gracke grumbled, and Hena snickered.
Then Tollo swam away and up, following the beam to its widest place, sliding in and out of its glow. Her pale fin was blinding in it, her skin spotlighted. In and out. Then, Gryshen blinked once, twice, to confirm what she was seeing. The glow of sunlight, the deep waters, all seemed to blend and shift back and forth.
“Tollo?” Jode asked, mouth open.
It was Tollo. Changing colors, tones, ever so slightly, becoming more and more a part of the background.
“So, it’s true,” the head guard signaled in awe. “You do have the ability to camouflage. I’ve never seen it.”
“No, camouflage is meant to stay hidden,” Theus signaled without a trace of sarcasm.
“We don’t all have it,” sang Tollo.
“Five of our thirty. Two of them are prepared to come,” said Theus.
“Excellent.” Jode drew the word out, and the table of ilorays looked at the twins with newfound admiration.
“When can we expect them?” asked Gryshen.
“They’ll be here before you can expect them.” Theus folded his arms, his gaze almost as far away as his sister’s, staring at the entrance to the hub. The water shook and swept, the gray of the walls bending, the rocks shifting into clear view. A pair of middle-aged ceasids seemed to come out of the stone walls, the bits of light. Their pale eyes and distant stares were more than slightly unnerving.
“Thank the Mother they’re on our side,” Hena signaled to Gryshen quietly.
Gryshen gave a stilted nod in agreement. The hidden ilorays drifted in the background, awaiting further instruction, apparently.
“All right, yes, fine, that is actually useful.” Gracke held up his shield-sized palms in a kind of stunned surrender.
Tollo now appeared to be playing a game of chase with the spokes of light.
“Useful?” Jode’s mouth was still open. He began to reach out to touch Theus, entranced by the pale skin with the shape-shifter powers. “How do you have that? How come we—”
Before Gryshen could scold her brother, Theus turned his smooth face toward her brother and bit his finger.
“Agh! What the—why . . . ?”
Gracke wailed with laughter. “How did I not know the crazies were the best pod around?” His laughter seemed to wash over the crowd. Jode was not amused, shaking his now-purple finger in shock.
“Really, Jode, didn’t your parents teach you to ask before you touch?” Hena was almost in tears laughing.
Bravis clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes revealing himself.
The grin made its way to Gryshen.
Theus’s face was back to its chiseled position, as if nothing had happened.
“But, Theus, how do you do that?” Gryshen asked.
“Evolution.”
“Now, that isn’t necessarily—there’s no evidence of your pod’s advancement,” Proggunel protested.
“Oh, not this same old story. For Mother’s sake, twins, we all came out at the same time.” Gracke shook his head, his beard seeming to bristle along with his expression. Apparently, his newfound admiration was easily dismissed by his long-standing annoyance.
“Silly, you believe in time?” Tollo giggled, pausing her game of peek-a-boo with a jellyfish lantern.
“Does everything have to be philosophical with you?” Proggunel asked.
“We see time differently. We believe that our pods may have matured differently,” Theus said.
“Oh, yeah, with the biting. Sure.” Jode pouted, sucking on his wound.
“There, is of course, the idea of parallel evolving, ” Proggunel said, looking at the puzzled expressions around him. “We all know that Gracke’s pod is known for brute strength.”
“And skill! Don’t forgot that!” Gracke added, his fat finger waggling in the water.
“Yes, yes, of course, Gracke. But there are other pods known for different attributes, gifts that would prove useful in a battle.”
“Like cunning.” Hena grinned, speaking for her own pod.
Jode mirrored her smile. They were bordering on a little much for Gryshen now.
Gryshen wracked her mind frantically. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to her father’s lessons through the years? She was sure this was basic knowledge of tribal leadership, and she was certain to fail the test—and risk looking, once again, like the fraud she was.
Her pod’s shaman was admired across Oceas, but spirituality couldn’t play a part in bloodshed, could it? Gryshen considered the way her brother whispered silent thanks to the Mother and the beasts just after stopping their pulse.
“Yes, Hena’s pod are known for being clever, and an ability to cut right to the heart of a matter. They can size up a friend,” Proggunel said.
“Or an enemy,” Hena added.
“We have the best storytellers, too. And our music—well!” Gracke blurted out. Gryshen wondered if “brute strength” had rubbed him the wrong way.
The head guard continued, “And, of course, the Rakor—”
“Ruthless,” Gryshen spit out. This answer she had down. She knew what they were, even if she did not know her own self.
“And they are good fighters, besides.” Gryshen could hear how it pained Jode to state this fact.