Disgusting, she thought to herself, allowing for one more shudder.
Jode chuckled at her, then stopped, taking her in. “You need a break. Let’s go for a ride.” He grabbed her arm enthusiastically, and Gryshen broke free of her anger. She could never stay mad at Jode. Together they swam from the hub, away from the crowd, to the entrance of the Rone Cavern.
It was a longer route to the stables, but going around the outside of their home meant less eyes and ears. It had been a little too long since she’d taken Misra for a ride. The beluga checked into the stables dutifully when she wasn’t cruising in open sea. It didn’t hurt that Sodaren, the beastkeeper, always had her favorite white fish from the hunters, even when the supply of krill was low.
“Ah, Frall sent his daughter to teach! Excellent.” A mother leen with a brood of babes, some her own, some gathered from all over the pod, tightened one of the many braids twisted around her head. “When we received the signal that your father was going to have to miss our language session, we thought we’d have to just go over what little we knew of landkeeper speak, but now that you’re here . . .”
Gryshen froze as the wide-eyed young stared up at her, matching the teacher’s earnest expression.
“I’m sorry, I think there’s been some confusion. I don’t really know very many words.”
“Compared to who? Stop being so modest, Gryshie!” Jode grinned wickedly at his sister. He put his arm around her, leaning heavily. “Do you all know that landkeepers have, like, ten different ways to say ‘bowel movement’?” Wild giggling ensued. “It’s true! And the way they communicate—they can’t hum a signal. And it doesn’t sound the way we do when we use our mouths out of the water, either. It’s choppy. What are some of the words they use, Gryshen? Teach them!” He looked at her with mock excitement.
“You know I don’t know, Jode. But you sound like you do,” Gryshen hissed.
“Nope. Kukur is all I got. That’s one of the many, many poop words around this land region.”
He pointed upward professorially. Gryshen narrowed her eyes. Speaking to a group made her stomach twist, and her brother knew it. She paused, trying to recall some of the basic landkeeper words her father had taught her.
A low signal hummed across the water, and Jode twisted in the other direction. The deep blue whirled in eddies around them. Gryshen turned to look in the direction he was staring. Flanked by guards draped in black shells across their shoulders, a different sort of king and his company swam steadily toward them astride two of the largest sharks Gryshen had ever seen.
Chapter 2
Morfal, chieftain of the Rakor pod, had not visited in many seasons. Frall had warned her of this visit.
“He wants our backing in some ocean territory grab, Gryshie. We will not get involved. We certainly won’t unite with them. It is open sea space, and that was always understood. There is a possibility something has gone wrong with their pod’s sacred pearl, but we never discuss that unless they discuss it with us. We must maintain diplomacy. I want you beside me. You need to see how this is done. Besides, Morfal needs to start seeing you as a leader.”
“I’m sorry, we’ll have to do this another time,” she signaled quickly, and the teacher nodded nervously, the babes moving closer to her, mouths open at the sight of the strange pod.
As the dead-eyed sharks pressed on with their crew, Gryshen straightened her spine, attempted what she thought to be a regal expression, and begged her stomach to keep down the scallops she had eaten that morning.
“Well, Creepy’s just anchored, hasn’t he?” Jode muttered.
Gryshen could only nod. She was using all her energy to appear in control. The water around Morfal and his pod seemed to be blacker, if that were possible. No, she was almost sure of it. All around her, shades of azure, teal, sapphire. Around the Rakors, darkness.
As they drew closer, she saw a younger lax with him, about her age. She remembered that Morfal had a son, whom she had never met. His cropped white hair contrasted with his father’s long, stringy strands of ash. His eyes beamed an electric green out of his chiseled features. His father’s eyes were a muddied blue hue, his face drooping like a jellyfish.
Gryshen suddenly realized the lax noticed her staring.
Embarrassed, she refocused. “Chief Morfal, laxes, leens”—although she hadn’t yet seen a single female—“of Rakor: We welcome you to our pod. We have arranged for our best sleeping quarters to be yours inside our home, and we will take you to them so you may get settled.”
“Slow down,” whispered Jode in a hushed signal. “Give them a chance to say hello.”
Gryshen attempted to pace herself. “Welcome.” She reached out to clasp the hands of the chieftain in greeting.
He offered one, barely grazing the tips of her fingers. “Where is your father, child?”
Her annoyance distracted her from her nervousness. Jode had scooped up the net of finest sea glass they offered as host gifts from the entrance of their cavern, and to Gryshen’s relief, began handing them out to their guests, gently coaxing smiles out of each of them, including a smirk from Morfal.
“He is in his chamber. I’ll alert him of your presence, and he will be down for tonight’s feast. We have a fresh catch being prepared in the tradition of your tribe. My father wants all of you to feel comfortable.”
Now, she’d have to tell the best cooks of the tribe that the Rakors were here. They hadn’t been expected for another wave, but she was not about to appear unprepared.
“Shall we get your beasts quartered? Our beastkeeper, Sodaren, can take--” Gryshen felt an elbow in her side. Jode stared at her, suppressing laughter.
Sodaren was not taking those hulking, dagger-toothed animals anywhere.
Morfal snickered, and the younger lax slid off a shark who was missing one eye. He trilled a short note, and both sharks swam away, back from where they came.
As if on cue, Bravis met them at the mouth of the cavern. He gave Gryshen the nod that let her know her father had been alerted to the visitors.
“This way,” she gestured, and swam slowly to the rooms, taking care to give the Rakors time to catch up. One by one, she brought them to their quarters. A withered lax who she learned was their shaman looked like he’d been through more fights than a healer should. The shaman would not take his eyes from her. It made Gryshen shiver in spurts, and she was relieved to leave him at a room, escaping his gaze. The chief and his son were taken to their most elaborate guest chamber. Mother-of-pearl lined the sleeping nest of kelp, and there was a huge conch shell filled with live oysters for snacking. Gryshen allowed herself another look at his son, who offered up a sympathetic smile.
Morfal was sniffing about the chamber, complaining about the oysters.
“Couldn’t you provide something a bit more . . . exotic? Some swordfish, perhaps.”
“Oh, Chief Morfal, that’s what’s on the menu tonight!” She made a mental note to tell the cook.
“I’m sorry,” mouthed the younger lax, who then signaled aloud, “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Coss.”