ã€ŠLike Snow on Hungry Gravesã€‹


 Prologue

    You are now nothing but a memory. Drift on out into the cheerless ache of lonesome and lost. Cling to your passing resurrections like a moribund mist. You will not be fully revived. You were not made to feel the warmth of their skin. Nor to listen to the lullabies of beating hearts. You were meant to twist in the long winds, a dying passage to starless nights. And fall, fall like embers from the limbs of life. Fall like snow upon hungry graves. -- Helaena C. Moon

    Everyone had heard some version of the story. It was popular with bards and playwrights in three different countries. No two retellings were exactly alike, but all agreed on three facts.

    One: there was something lurking in the sea that was best left in the sea, and anyone who disturbed it did so at their peril.

    Two: people had seen strange things late at night on the border between the empires ¨C things like castles that disappeared when they looked again, gaunt figures glimpsed out of the corner of their eyes, and an unknown creature that lay at the bottom of a river and breathed fire.

    Three: if a stranger came to your door asking for food, it was never wise to turn them away.

    <hr>

    Now

    "Rusi! You''ll never guess what I just heard!"

    A few heads turned curiously towards the speaker, but the majority of the restaurant''s customers didn''t look up from their meals. That included the person who the speaker was addressing. She waved for the speaker to continue even though she didn''t look very interested.

    "The emperor has publicly acknowledged one of his illegitimate sons! He''s given him a title and everything!"

    "...And am I supposed to care about this?"

    The speaker fished a piece of paper out of her pocket and shoved it in front of her sister''s face. "This is him. The prince, I mean, not the emperor."

    Her sister looked at the picture. Then she looked again with much more interest. "But that''s--"

    "Exactly."

    <hr>

    Then

    For as long as he could remember Hariye knew there was something odd about him. It wasn''t just one thing; it was a lot of little things that added together to make... something. He didn''t know what yet. All his life he''d loved baths, which had been very unusual in a toddler but was now just mildly bemusing in a teenager. He had no idea who his mother was, which wasn''t unusual when his father was a ghorurdu-khan[1] of ?arisar and had twenty concubines. He could see in the dark better than anyone else in the palace. And he was forbidden from ever going near the sea.

    That wasn''t hard when he lived in his father''s palace in Konunkaya, in the Plains of Deniturak, more than fifty miles from the sea. The closest he ever got to the sea was when he watched the boats on the La?ian River. Really, his father had no need to have ever given any instructions at all about the sea.

    It would have been much better if he hadn''t. Because when Hariye became a teenager he naturally began to resent any parental interference in his life, and by the time he was fifteen he was utterly determined to go to the sea.

    <hr>

    Now

    Everyone in Onomi Manor knew to avoid Princess Ketevan when she was in one of her tempers. From past experience they assumed she would calm down after a few days. A week at the most. But now it was almost two months since her mother had sent her here in disgrace, and she still flew into a rage at the slightest provocation.

    It wouldn''t have been so nerve-wracking if her household had only known what it was all about. It wasn''t unusual for the princess to be exiled to her country house after clashing with her mother, but those clashes tended to be so public that the entire kingdom knew about them. This time was different.

    As far as anyone could tell, Ketevan had gone to the shore of the Blood Water to deal with a group of pirates. While there she had somehow been separated from her soldiers. A week later she returned -- some said with a teenage boy in tow -- and began her journey back to Tavgirid. Then she had abruptly turned back towards the sea, and after spending a month travelling along the coast she returned to the capital in a terrible temper. The teenage boy, whoever he was, had disappeared from the story.

    The only people who knew for sure what had happened were Ketevan and her soldiers. The soldiers were back in Tavgirid and Ketevan wasn''t talking, so the servants were left to wonder.

    <hr>

    Then

    It was easier than Hariye had expected for him to be able to slip away. His oldest brother was getting married, the bride''s father was a rival khan, and with all the diplomatic discussions and wedding preparations no one paid any attention to the younger princes. Hariye put on servant''s clothing "borrowed" from the laundry room and strolled out of the palace.

    There was so much coming and going throughout the city that one more person didn''t attract any notice. Hariye attached himself to a caravan carrying wool north to the port cities. He was miles away before any of his family noticed he was gone.

    <hr>

    Now

    "I need your help," Ketevan said stiffly.

    "Do you indeed? I thought you despised me and everyone associated with me." Rusudan Lajareshval? idly picked up one of the decorative stones on the caf¨¦ table and spun it around like a spinning top. "Or was I mistaken when I heard Princess Ketevan Diashamij? was leading a campaign to exile government officials who came to me for help?"

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Ketevan''s instinctive reaction was to pick up the teapot and throw it at the creature on the other side of the table. She restrained herself with difficulty. In the first place they were in public, and caf¨¦ owners tended to object to violence on their premises. In the second she was dressed as a commoner and would be arrested for causing a disturbance, which would lead to embarrassment for everyone when her identity was revealed. And in the third, the woman opposite her was the Shadow Queen of Tsalenlaki who had eyes and ears everywhere, even in the royal palace. Rumour had it that nothing could happen anywhere in Vakaryan without Rusudan hearing about it. It was neither wise nor safe to attack her.

    "That was different," she said.

    "It always is," Rusudan said in an undertone -- the sort of undertone just loud enough to make it clear she wanted Ketevan to hear.

    Through gritted teeth Ketevan continued as if she hadn''t heard. "Government officials talking to outsiders about matters of policy is more serious than asking for help finding a missing person." She opened her bag and rummaged through it until she found the portrait. "I need your help to find this man. Hariye Zinoth han-Teyar."

    Rusudan looked at the portrait in silence. Her face was perfectly blank. At last she spoke. "Man? That''s a boy."

    "He''s sixteen."

    "And who is he to you?"

    "My husband."

    "Funny," Rusudan said calmly. "I could have sworn you were twenty-nine. I must be badly mistaken."

    "I''m twenty-eight[2]," Ketevan snapped, "and what has that to do with anything?"

    Rusudan''s face remained blank and her eyes were eerily empty. A corpse would have shown more emotion. Yet there was something about her lack of expression that sent a chill down Ketevan''s spine. An approaching blizzard couldn''t have been any colder.

    "In my experience someone who disappears without trace doesn''t want to be found." Rusudan went back to spinning the stone around. There was something vicious about the way she spun it, as if she was imagining twisting someone''s neck instead. "My advice to you is give up, go home, and mind your own business. I won''t help you."

    Ketevan opened her mouth to protest. Rusudan stared her in the eye until she quailed and thought better of it.

    <hr>

    Now

    Most people reacted with awe when they walked into the Summer Palace. Konstantine Niearaj? was not most people. He looked at the ornate carvings, marble staircases, and gold-plated walls with the same sort of displeasure he had shown when examining a body in the city morgue.

    When he was shown into the throne room he wasn''t remotely surprised to see the Emperor of Sui seated on the throne in full ceremonial clothes. His Imperial Majesty looked irritatingly self-satisfied with himself and his palace. His complacent expression wavered when Konstantine refused to bow. It wavered even more when Konstantine walked right up to the stairs leading to the throne and stared impassively at him without the slightest show of respect or awe.

    An awkward silence fell. Konstantine steadfastly refused to break it. At last the emperor cleared his throat.

    "Cheng Yin."

    Konstantine said nothing. He showed no sign of knowing he was the person being addressed.

    His honoured and respected father stopped. In his entire life he''d probably never received such a reaction before.

    "Vasilij?"

    Konstantine still didn''t reply.

    With considerable displeasure his father asked, "Well, by all the gods, what name are you using this time?"

    "Konstantine."

    His father frowned. "That is not a Belgonkorovan name."

    "I no longer live in Belgonkorovo."

    The emperor''s complacence had completely evaporated by now. He openly glared at his son and spoke in a sharp, clipped tone. Konstantine could practically see the thoughts going through his head: He''s spent so long among the barbarians he''s become one of them. But how can he be anything else when his mother is one? At least this time the emperor had the courtesy not to say what he was thinking to Konstantine''s face.

    "I called you here because I have decided to formally acknowledge you as my son." He paused and waited for a reply. None came. "This means that your mother will be listed as having been one of my concubines at the time of your birth, so you will no longer be illegitimate and will have the right to use the imperial surname. From now on you will be Gao Cheng Yin, Prince of Li Bei."

    There were many things Konstantine wanted to say to this. He kept all of them locked firmly away. When he trusted himself to speak he asked, "Why now? Why after twenty-one years have you finally remembered I exist?"

    "Matters of state," his father said with a dismissive wave.

    Konstantine had learnt as a child that he could unnerve people with his eyes. It was part of his inheritance from his mother. Unlike her he couldn''t cast a spell on someone by looking at them, unlike her he couldn''t make them say everything on their mind, but he could stare at them until their skin crawled and they spoke just to make him look away.

    That was a trait of zimej, not merong[3]. The emperor had no more resistance to it than an ordinary human. He flinched and rubbed his forehead as if he was suddenly struck by a headache.

    He began to explain, slowly and unwillingly. "The ?arisar Khanate has been a thorn in our side for too long. They hold the passes of the Zadrolok Mountains and our merchants must pay a tax to be allowed through. But they have done nothing yet that would give us the right to invade. We need Vakaryan''s support to launch a successful invasion; they hold the coast of the Blood Water and our ships couldn''t pass their watchtowers unseen. But Vakaryan will not help us if our reason for invading is simply to extend our borders."

    The emperor trailed off. Konstantine continued to stare at him until he resumed his explanation.

    "I have arranged a marriage between one of my sons and the Khan''s daughter. The groom will be escorted into G¨¹zenbeyli, the wedding ceremony will go smoothly, and then the groom will be assassinated at the banquet afterwards. Naturally Sui cannot allow such a dreadful crime to go unpunished."

    Konstantine felt his skin crawl as he looked up at his father. He couldn''t keep the disgust off his face or out of his voice. "So you have summoned me to replace my soon-to-be-murdered brother."

    "Oh no." A ghastly smile crossed the emperor''s face. "No, I would never throw away the life of one of my true-born sons."

    Light began to dawn. "So you see a way to get rid of your unwanted half-breed bastard."

    The emperor nodded, his self-satisfied expression returning. "Exactly. I''m glad to see we understand each other."

    Konstantine looked at him, then looked back at the doors to the throne room. They were closed and no doubt barred from the outside. He thought of how long the journey was from the main gates to the steps of the palace. He thought of how many guards were on duty. "And of course I cannot leave this place."

    "Certainly not. Not until your wedding procession leaves for G¨¹zenbeyli."

    <hr>

    Then

    The prison was cold and damp. The only place she could find to write was a patch of dry stone high on the wall. To reach it she had to pull the table over to the wall and stand on tiptoe.

    Her grandmother''s voice echoed in her ears. Blood magic is dangerous and impure. It must never be used alongside light magic. Grandma would have been appalled if she saw the sigil. But Grandma was dead, their village was burnt, and all that remained was a teenager in a prison cell with nothing to write with but her own blood.

    She finished drawing and jumped down from the table. Nothing stirred in the rest of the prison. She backed up against the door and whispered the words of the spell.

    The explosion rocked the prison.

    When the guards reached the cell they found it empty, with a gaping hole in the wall.

 Book 1: The Blood Water

    BOOK ONE: THE BLOOD WATER

    O rake not up the ashes of our fathers!

    Implacable resentment was their crime,

    And grievous has the expiation been.

    -- Sir Walter Scott, Old Mortality

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

 Chapter I: Runaway

    When you read the account of a murder - or, say, a fiction story based on murder - you usually begin with the murder itself. That''s all wrong. The murder begins a long time beforehand. A murder is the culmination of a lot of different circumstances, all converging at a given moment at a given point. People are brought into it from different parts of the globe and for unforeseen reasons. [...] The murder itself is the end of the story. It''s Zero Hour. -- Agatha Christie, Towards Zero

    Hariye drummed his fingers against the table. The caravan had been in Mursakoyunlu for three days and he was starting to get nervous. Mursakoyunlu was a city, the biggest city they''d passed through since leaving G¨¹zenbeyli, and for the first time he realised someone might recognise him. He kept a wary eye out for ostentatiously-dressed nobles. If he saw any -- and there were quite a few in a market city as famous as Mursakoyunlu -- he dived out of sight behind the table.

    Fahmeral, the girl running the stall, had looked at him as if he was crazy the first few times he did this. After a while she accepted his odd behaviour and even warned him about an obviously-rich person nearby. Hariye didn''t know what she thought, and he didn''t want to invite trouble by trying to explain. If she thought he was a runaway servant, so much the better. She''d be less likely to think of him if she ever heard of the missing prince.

    "Wool!" she shouted to the passers-by. "Fine wool! Wool from Diditalan!"

    A rival stall-owner beside them immediately tried to shout louder. "Ready-carded wool from Osmava!"

    Fahmeral scowled and changed her tactics. "Pre-dyed and pre-spun wool! Ready to be made into clothes or curtains!"

    The contest between the two stalls continued for half an hour. Similar contests were held between other stalls in the marketplace. This combined with the noise of the people milling around meant Hariye found himself unable to focus on anything. His ears hurt and he felt confused and overwhelmed by all the noise.

    Under the circumstances he didn''t exactly forget to watch out for people, but it certainly wasn''t as important as it had been before.

    He was jolted back to reality when he looked up and saw someone across the street staring directly at him.

    For generations the ?arisar khans had married slaves taken from the barbarian lands to the west[1]. Hariye''s grandmother and great-grandmother were from Vakaryan, his great-great-grandmother was from Oknic? far to the west, and his mother had probably been from one of those countries too. After so many years of intermarriage the khans now looked more like the barbarians than the native ?arisarians. Of course, after years of invasions and conquests, no one in the khanate could call themselves a true ?arisarian, but it was especially obvious in the upper classes who both practiced polygamy and could afford to import foreign slaves.

    The result of this was that Hariye looked more like a foreign trader than a native of ?arisar. Now that the invasions had mostly stopped -- or rather now that ?arisar, especially south-western ?arisar, was a victim of invasions instead of being the invader -- foreign traders and their families weren''t an unusual sight, so no one had commented on his appearance yet.

    It occurred to him now that he should have thought of a cover story before.

    The man on the other side of the street was dressed in the grey uniform of the Peacekeeping Corp. As Hariye watched he took a sheet of parchment out of his pocket and studied it. He looked up at Hariye, then down at the sheet again. Then he nodded sharply and took a step forward.

    Hariye panicked.

    He dived through the opening in the curtain at the back of the stall. Behind him was an alleyway leading through to the street beyond. He scurried down it and leapt onto a cart stopped outside a building. It was loaded with bales of hay. He shoved them out of the way to make a space big enough for him to hide in. Then he crawled into the space and hoped for the best.

    Running footsteps passed the cart. No one stopped to examine it. Hariye held his breath to keep from sneezing. The straw tickled his nose. He risked poking his head out of his hiding space. Then he dived down again, because two Peacekeeping officers were at the top of the alley.

    A door closed. Footsteps approached. Someone climbed onto the front of the cart. A sudden lurch jolted Hariye forward. His forehead bashed into a bale. The straw was harder than he''d thought possible and it scraped his face.

    The cart moved off. Hariye stayed frozen in place, unsure if it was safe to move.

    What will Fahmeral think? he wondered. That led to an unpleasant thought. What if they''ve arrested her for helping me?

    He didn''t dare move until the cart stopped. The driver dismounted and walked off somewhere. Hariye waited until he couldn''t hear any voices then climbed out and jumped down. The cart had stopped outside a warehouse of some sort. Hariye could just about make out the words "Agriculture Supplies" on its faded sign.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    In front of him was the road the cart had come down. They were so close to the main town that he could see a bakery and a tailor''s on the street beyond. Going that way would lead him back to the Peacekeepers. Behind him was the warehouse''s yard. The creak of a winch and muffled voices in one of the buildings warned him that it wasn''t safe to stay here. All that was left was the river.

    It ran a short distance from the warehouse. A pier built by the water''s edge suggested it was used for transporting goods by boat.

    For the first time it began to dawn on Hariye that running away had been an incredibly stupid decision. Of course his father would have the Peacekeepers looking for him. What else did he expect? And all of this because he wanted to see the sea and he was tired of life in the palace.

    Oh well. He''d come so far now that there was no point in going back. It couldn''t be far to the sea. Once he saw it he could hand himself into the nearest Peacekeeper barracks. Until then...

    Hariye was never sure afterwards what had made him jump into the river. He''d intended to walk along it until he was safely out of the city and could find another way to travel. But somehow, illogical though it sounded, the water had called to him. He answered that call without thinking.

    Then he got a nasty shock when he found himself in deep water for the first time in his life. He promptly got another slightly less nasty shock when he discovered he knew how to swim even though no one had ever taught him before. In fact he''d never even been in any water deeper than his bathtub or the swimming pool for the princes. But the biggest shock of all came five minutes later.

    It didn''t register with him at first. All he thought about it was, Hmm, I''ve been underwater for a long time.

    Then he realised: I should need to breathe.

    And that led to the earth-shattering discovery: I am breathing! I can breathe underwater!

    <hr>

    Tavgirid was not Ketevan''s favourite place in the world.  Neither was Onomi Manor, to be honest. But she would have given her sword-arm to be in either right now. Anything was better than sitting on this stupid boat waiting for pirates to attack.

    The stretch of water separating Vakaryan and parts of Sui from ?arisar was technically the easternmost inlet of the Finsennak Ocean. But generations ago it had gained a name of its own: the Blood Water. Theories for where the name came from ranged from "a fierce battle was fought on the shore" to "the sunrise makes the water look red". Whatever the reason, it was usually peaceful in spite of its name. Three kingdoms relied on it for fishing and trade. All of them had a vested interest in making sure the Blood Water stayed peaceful.

    And that was why Ketevan was out here on this boat in the middle of the sea. If anyone did cause trouble, the nearest kingdom immediately dispatched its navy to deal with them. Since in this case it was a group of pirates robbing merchant ships, a small battleship disguised as a trading vessel had been sent out as lure. Vakaryan''s coast had long since disappeared behind them. They were sailing aimlessly in circles, waiting for the pirates to notice them. With each hour that went by it looked more and more like the pirates either hadn''t fallen for the deception or had moved to a different part of the sea.

    The cannons were concealed behind boxes conspicuously labelled "Spices", "Olives" and "Tinned fish". Why someone had bothered going to that much trouble when they didn''t expect the pirates to get close enough to read them was a mystery to Ketevan. The sailors wore everyday clothes instead of their military uniforms. Ketevan herself was dressed as an ordinary passenger. The whole thing seemed more like a ridiculous charade than a serious attempt to catch pirates. She wished for the umpteenth time that her mother had sent her brother or one of her sisters instead.

    It was a pointless wish, of course. She knew perfectly well why her mother had chosen her. Ketevan and Queen Khvareshan often had what were politely termed "differences of opinion" (and less politely termed "blazing rows"). The most recent one had been about Ketevan''s brother-in-law. She never had and never would make any attempt to conceal her dislike for the man. He had been especially obnoxious one dinnertime, so Ketevan had picked up a knife and threatened to stab him if he didn''t shut up.

    She''d thought her behaviour was perfectly justified. How could anyone listen to someone talk about tax policies during dinner without feeling the urge to resort to violence? Alas, her mother had disagreed. The next thing Ketevan knew she was sent out of the city on this ludicrous mission.

    The ship had been at sea for twelve hours now and they hadn''t seen anything but seabirds and the occasional fishing vessel. If this went on much longer she might very well jump overboard.

    As if on cue, something finally happened. A small dot appeared on the horizon. It grew larger and larger until everyone could see it was a ship. And it was approaching at speed. Far more speed than their own ship was capable of.

    <hr>

    Hariye didn''t mean to travel all the way to the sea by the river. He hadn''t even realised it was possible until he tried it. The minute he fell into the water it was as if he suddenly had a compass in his mind and it pointed him directly to the nearest sea. All he had to do was follow the river.

    The journey was blurred and confused when he tried to remember it. He had a distinct memory of discovering he no longer had legs but instead had a tail like a fish''s. He also had a firm impression of catching and eating fish underwater. None of that made any sense. Even he knew you had to remove a fish''s bones to eat it, and when he finally left the water he still had legs.

    He only climbed back onto dry land because the river grew too shallow for him to continue swimming. For the last stretch of its journey to the sea it was just a wide sheet of water mere centimetres deep. But that didn''t matter, because beyond it was a vast grey-and-dark-blue something that reached out as far as the eye could see.

    If he''d been asked what the sea looked like Hariye would have said, "Like a large fishpond." Now he was confronted with the real thing, and he realised he might as well as have said Mount Atagzi was like a large pebble.

    His first instinct was to run down the beach and jump into the water. But something stopped him. He didn''t know why or how, but he had an ominous foreboding of danger.

    Hariye looked around warily. There was nothing on the beach except a few seagulls. Out to sea there was only-- Wait a minute. What was that black thing?

    Gradually it drifted close enough for him to recognise what it was.

    For some reason a boat was floating around on its own. And -- though he had no idea how he could tell from so far away -- it smelled of blood.

 Chapter II: Adrift

    Don''t get fond of psychos. It''s a bad idea. -- W. R. Gingell, Between Homes

    Ketevan had made two very important discoveries in the last hours. The first was that the pirates had at least one magician among them. No ship could naturally move that fast or repel cannonballs.

    The second was that she was well and truly lost.

    Everything had gone to hell from the minute the pirate ship attacked. It came at them so fast that they hadn''t time to mount a proper defence. Cannons were fired irregularly and conflicting orders were shouted. Within minutes the pirates knew they weren''t attacking a merchant ship and began returning fire. They were much better-organised than the royal navy, and oh how that galled. When she got back to Tavgirid the first thing Ketevan planned to do was organise a complete overhaul of the navy. Adding a few magicians would be a good place to start.

    Assuming of course that she ever got back to Tavgirid. Because the ship had begun to sink, the captain had ordered everyone into the lifeboats, and Ketevan was now drifting at sea in a boat with four dead sailors for company.

    The pirates had guns as well as cannons. When they saw the lifeboats escaping they opened fire. Three of the men in Ketevan''s boat had been killed instantly. One had been shot in the stomach and died two agonising hours later. Ketevan herself had escaped with nothing more than a graze on her cheek where a bullet had flown past her.

    She would have been more grateful about her miraculous survival if the future had looked optimistic. As it was she had no charts, no idea where she was, no food or water, and a set of oars so heavy and unwieldy that she could only use one at a time.

    After the fourth soldier''s death she''d sat in a daze for a while, barely able to comprehend everything that had just happened. At some point she pushed the four bodies overboard, acting mainly on a vague idea that if she was washed ashore somewhere it would look suspicious if she was the only person alive in the boat. Eventually she fell asleep in spite of herself. The current carried the boat into the darkness and further away from Vakaryan.

    <hr>

    A jolt awoke Ketevan. She stared up at the strange grey ceiling. Funny. She couldn''t remember her ceiling ever being that colour before. Her bed was rocking in a very unpleasant way. If her bratty nieces were playing hide and seek under it again--

    Overhead a seagull squawked. Ketevan abruptly came back to reality. She wasn''t safely at home in her room, she was floating out at sea and the gods alone knew where she was. Dried blood still covered the inside of the boat.

    The water lapped against the lifeboat''s sides. With a jolt she realised it was moving -- not smoothly, as she would expect if it was caught in a current, but in fits and starts, and if something was dragging it and finding it harder than expected.

    Ketevan sat up and looked around. The first thing she saw was a beach growing steadily nearer. It was the sort of rocky beach that would never be a popular destination for tourists, and there wasn''t a single house or sign of human life, but under the circumstances it was the most welcome sight imaginable.

    Oddly, there was no other boat towing hers. The tide was just starting to go out yet she was travelling against it towards the land. Ketevan looked back over her shoulder just to make sure no one had climbed on-board while she slept or the boat hadn''t magically started rowing itself. Then she leant over the side to investigate.

    One of the ropes that had been used to hold the boat to the ship was still attached to its bow. It disappeared under the water, but it was taut as if something was pulling it. When she squinted she could just make out a dark shape below the water. Whatever it was, in its movements it resembled nothing so much as an overgrown eel.

    Ketevan''s instinctive reaction was shocked horror. A monster was dragging her back to its den! Common sense took over almost at once. Why would a monster drag her towards a beach instead of further out to sea? There were no caves or cliffs here for it to hide among.

    She sat back and thought things over. No matter where she was, she couldn''t have drifted far in one night. She''d been heading away from Vakaryan. Therefore the land ahead of her was either ?arisar or southern Sui.

    Of course there were tales of strange sea creatures in the Blood Water, but no one had ever seen any since the last merfolk disappeared centuries ago. If any of the merfolk had come back it would have been known all over the world by now. Their scales were considered the most beautiful and valuable material on the planet, and they had been hunted almost to extinction by people who wanted to harvest their scales. Even if any merfolk were still around they would want nothing to do with a human boat.

    Ketevan peered over the side again. The boat was rapidly approaching the shore. The water was cloudy so she still couldn''t get a clear view of the eel-like creature, but she was almost sure it had scales. She could see the light glinting off them.

    A dragon, perhaps? Not a zimej from the northern mountains; they breathed fire and reportedly hated water. But the merong from the seas east of Sui were said to live in water and occasionally help people lost at sea.

    The rope went slack. The boat stopped abruptly. It lay motionless for long enough to make Ketevan begin to wonder if the mysterious eel-like creature had left. She looked over the side. Black shapes moved beneath the surface. Then she realised they were only seaweed.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    A hand grabbed the boat''s side. Ketevan recoiled with a yelp. It was a human''s hand, but with webbing between the fingers and strangely sharp, pointed nails. The skin was dead white with hints of blue and green. Horrible ideas of drowned people returning as ghosts filled her mind. She reached for the nearest oar. Then all thoughts of ghosts disappeared, because another hand joined the first one and their owner pulled themselves up so they could see into the boat.

    No living human had ever seen a mer. The only surviving evidence of their existence was in the drawings in historical documents and the jewellery made from their iridescent scales. But Ketevan had seen enough of those drawings to know what they looked like. They had gills at their neck, patches of scales on their face, upper arms, and torso frilly fins along their arms and back, and below the waist they had a long tail like a fish''s.

    The person staring at her over the boat''s side looked as if he had stepped right out of those drawings.

    Two things flashed through Ketevan''s mind in an instant. One, there were still merfolk in the Blood Water. Two, one had just dragged her boat to the shore.

    "Oh good, you''re not dead," the mer said brightly. He spoke ?arisarian, of all languages. If she''d been asked she would have assumed merfolk couldn''t speak any human language. "Is that your blood?"

    She looked at the dried blood as if she''d never seen it before. It took her a minute to remember whose it was. She shook her head.

    "Good! Can you swim?"

    Ketevan tried to speak and found her voice wouldn''t work. She nodded mutely.

    "I can''t pull you any further in because the water''s too shallow. Jump in and I''ll help you to shore."

    Don''t trust it, warned a little voice at the back of her mind. It''s a mer. It''ll kill you as revenge for what humans did to the other mer.

    Common sense shouted down that voice. Don''t be ridiculous. If it wanted to kill me it could have done it long ago without going to all this trouble.

    Ketevan climbed unsteadily to her feet. The mer let go of the boat and swam a little way off. For the first time she got a good look at it. Her mouth dropped open. None of the drawings did justice to how beautiful its tail was. Its scales were dark blue and its fins -- lighter blue and streaked with white and purple -- flared out like a cape. Years ago she''d seen a sort of fish called a halfmoon-tail[1]. This mer''s tail looked exactly like its.

    "Don''t worry, the water isn''t deep," the mer said.

    Ketevan climbed warily over the side. She briefly panicked when she couldn''t feel the seabed. She was neck-deep in the water before she finally touched it.

    "I thought you said the water isn''t deep," she complained without thinking. Then she could have slapped herself, because potentially offending something that could kill her was a bad idea.

    "What?" the mer asked, looking confused.

    It took Ketevan a minute to realise she had spoken in Vakaryanese. So it understood ?arisarian but not Vakaryanese. She filed that information away for future reference.

    Seaweed brushed against her legs. Ketevan took a step forward, got tangled up in blades of kelp, and fell underwater with a yell. As she struggled against the kelp she suddenly found herself being pulled forward. She broke the surface and found herself in water that was now only waist-deep. The mer shook his head disapprovingly.

    "You''re very clumsy," he said.

    Ketevan, secure in the knowledge he couldn''t understand her, told him exactly what she thought of kelp and people who called her clumsy. He listened with interest.

    When she finally ran out of things to say he said, "Are you going to stand there all day?"

    It wasn''t far to the beach. Ketevan stumbled out onto dry land in a way that even she had to admit was clumsy -- though only to herself. She turned, expecting to see the mer had gone back to the sea, and got yet another shock.

    The mer had followed her onto the beach. But he was no longer a mer. His gills, scales and tail were gone. In their place was a perfectly normal, apparently perfectly human teenage boy. He was pale, yes, but it was a normal, human paleness without any corpse-like undertones. He tried futilely to wring the water out of his hair and shirt before giving up.

    "Come on," he said. "There''s bound to be a town around here somewhere. Oh," he seemed to have realised something suddenly, "you can''t understand me, can you?" In stilted and very ungrammatical Classical Tinranu[2] he said, "Town near. Food there. Find way home."

    "Thank you," Ketevan said in ?arisarian. The mer -- the boy? -- gave a surprised squeak. "If you don''t mind my asking, who are you?"

    "I''m Hariye Zi--" He broke off abruptly. Ketevan took note of that at once. "Who are you? How did you get out here anyway?"

    Ketevan weighed up the pros and cons of lying and decided it could do no harm to tell the truth. "I''m Ketevan Diashamij?. My ship was attacked by pirates. I have to get to Tavgirid to report it."

    "Tavigird!" Hariye sounded excited. "That''s very far away. You''ll have to get a ship."

    Ah, so I''m in ?arisar, Ketevan thought. Curious, she asked, "Do your family live around here?"

    Hariye shook his head. "They all live in Konunkaya and G¨¹zenbeyli."

    G¨¹zenbeyli. The capital of ?arisar, more than thirty miles inland. Hardly a place for a family of merfolk. An idea began to take shape in Ketevan''s mind.

    <hr>

    Events of the next few hours strengthened Ketevan''s idea. Hariye never mentioned his mer form. He had apparently never visited the sea before. He had no clear idea of where the nearest town was, and once they found it he didn''t know where the nearest port was. When she tried very carefully to ask how he was able to swim so well he shrugged and said he''d been surprised too. It looked more and more as if he honestly didn''t know he was a mer, or else had only just discovered it and didn''t understand the full implications of that.

    Two ideas warred in Ketevan''s mind. One, whoever had a fresh supply of mer scales would become one of the richest and most powerful people in the world. If she forced him into his mer form she could harvest his scales. Two, he''d saved her life. He was young and na?ve and had no idea he was in danger from people who would want his scales.

    As they had dinner in an inn -- thanks be to the gods, she still had some money in her pockets -- she tried to put both ideas out of her mind and focus instead on what she''d do now.

    "I have to get home somehow, but I haven''t enough money to buy passage on a ship. Do you know where the nearest Vakaryan embassy is?"

    Hariye shook his head. "I''ve an idea. When we get to a city I''ll walk into the mayor''s office and demand he gives you a ship."

    Ketevan looked up sharply. Were merfolk treated with great respect in ?arisar? If so things must have undergone a dramatic reversal over the centuries, because ?arisar had gained most of its wealth through harvesting mer scales. "Why would he listen to you?"

    "Because..." Hariye looked around and lowered his voice. "I''m a prince. I know it sounds hard to believe, but I''m the Great Khan''s grandson."

    "...What a coincidence. I''m a princess."

    "I''m serious!"

    "So am I."

 Chapter III: Weighed in the Balance

    Pulvis et umbra sumus. (We are but dust and shadow.) -- Horace

    Ketevan carefully counted her money and found she had enough to pay for two rooms at the inn. Hariye, after rummaging through his pockets, discovered he had enough money to pay for a carriage to the nearest city. Between them they could manage to at least get to the docks and have some money left over.

    Ketevan said nothing that evening, but she knew Hariye''s idea was complete nonsense. If he walked into the mayor''s office and proclaimed he was the missing prince, he''d be sent back to his father before he knew it. If she walked in and proclaimed she was a foreign princess, it also wouldn''t end well. But if she walked in and proclaimed she was a shipwrecked foreign merchant, maybe they had a chance of getting on a ship. The best chance of all was to simply find a Vakaryanese ship, explain who she was, and get home that way, but Ketevan didn''t know yet if any Vakaryanese ships came to the nearest port.

    If worst came to worst they could always stow away.

    She lay awake for hours thinking about the situation in general and Hariye in particular. On one side was the memory of mer-scale jewellery. According to gossip the Sui emperor''s entire throne room was decorated with those scales and it was the most breath-taking sight imaginable even after years had dimmed the scales'' vibrancy. On the other side was the thought of Hariye himself. His willingness to help, his complete lack of awareness that he might be in danger, his bright eyes and brilliant smile. Ketevan found she didn''t want to do anything that would make that smile disappear.

    All of the historical records agreed that merfolk couldn''t survive having their scales harvested. It was basically skinning them, after all. Usually the harvesters killed them first -- not so much to spare the merfolk pain as to make the process of harvesting easier and safer for themselves. But what if a mer gave up his scales willingly? It wouldn''t be much different from a human cutting a lock of their hair.

    Two things were certain. She had to find some way to bring Hariye home with her. That shouldn''t be too hard; he was a teenager running away from home and willing to join in her "adventure". Then she had to conceal what he really was from everyone else.

    <hr>

    The first part of Ketevan''s plan went with astonishing smoothness. They arrived in the city, went down to the docks, and found a Vakaryanese ship anchored there.

    "Wait here while I speak to the captain," Ketevan said. "Don''t jump in the water!"

    Hariye looked at her as if she was silly, which was ironic when she''d seen how obsessed he was with the sea. Every time it was in sight he stared at it as if he wanted to dive in and never come out again.

    <hr>

    Captain Gobalij? welcomed her aboard. Ketevan didn''t tell her who she really was, but she knew her formal speech and accent marked her as someone of consequence, someone it was worthwhile listening to.

    "My ship was once attacked by those pirates," the captain said when Ketevan finished. "Damn them! They stole my entire cargo. One hundred and fifty bags of coffee beans all gone at once! If I ever get my hands on the bastards I''ll make them wish they were never born!"

    "I intend to catch the pirates as soon as I get home," Ketevan said. "Will you help me? I promise you''ll be richly rewarded. Take this as a guarantee."

    She removed her ring. It was stamped with the crest of Onomi, the lands always given to the queen''s third child. To a foreigner it would look only like an ordinary metal ring with a design shaped like an eight-pointed star. The captain glanced at it, then looked again with more attention. Her eyes widened.

    "You''re--"

    Ketevan interrupted her. "You see why I need to get home and why I would prefer not to make my presence known?"

    The captain nodded. "Of course, your highness. I mean, of course, ma''am."

    <hr>

    Hariye had spent his entire life under the watchful eye of someone. If not his nursemaid, then his siblings. If not his siblings, then his father. If not his father, then his servants. If not his servants, then the palace guards. Even when he was physically alone he knew other people were never more than a few rooms away and would come running if he gave the slightest indication he needed anything.

    At some point he had realised that he was treated differently from his half-brothers. They could go anywhere they liked and were left alone when they wanted to be. When he was younger he''d asked his older sister why he wasn''t allowed to behave like them.

    "It''s because you''re so much more important," she''d said. "We have to keep you safe at all costs."

    Back then Hariye had accepted this explanation without question. He''d spent weeks being insufferably smug because he was more important than his brothers, in fact. Now, after being away from his family for almost a week, he looked back at that and began to wonder. What on earth was so special about him that he was treated like he was made of glass? And for that matter, how had he managed to sneak out unseen? It had seemed like extraordinary luck at the time but now made him wonder if his servants had just plain been sick of watching him all the time.

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    In addition to a constant lack of privacy, he had only been allowed to read fairy-tales and adventure novels. He''d assumed that was normal. It had come as a shock when he met boys his own age among the merchants and had learnt that they''d stopped reading those books years ago.

    The main effect of his upbringing was that he had no idea how life worked outside the palace, and he assumed his reading material reflected reality. He assumed it was perfectly normal for humans to gain tails when they fell into deep water, because things like that regularly happened in fairy-tales. He had no idea that he should be wary of strangers because he''d never met any, and in the fairy-tales a stranger was likely to be someone very important in disguise. He''d lost count of the number of stories he''d read where the protagonist saved someone''s life and then discovered it had been a test of character and the person they saved was actually a fairy godmother who gave them everything they''d ever wanted.

    So far Hariye''s adventures had followed the usual plot of his favourite stories: he''d run away from home, saved a stranger, and now the stranger was about to leave for somewhere foreign. Wherever she went, she was sure to have an adventure, and Hariye didn''t want to miss out on it.

    Another unfortunate consequence of his upbringing was that he had very little understanding of how his actions affected other people. It never occurred to him that his father and siblings were worried sick over him and imagining all sorts of horrible fates that might have befallen him. None of that ever occurred to the protagonists in fairy-tales, and Hariye had unconsciously begun to view himself as one. Why should he think about going home yet? Going with Ketevan would be more exciting.

    So when Ketevan returned and announced that the ship''s captain had agreed to take her home, Hariye immediately declared, "I want to come too!"

    Ketevan stared at him incredulously. "You want to come?"

    "Of course!"

    "I''m going to hunt pirates. It''ll be dangerous, especially for someone so young."

    Even with his inexperience of other people Hariye had a faint impression that she said this more to encourage him than discourage him. "I''m not young! And I want to come too! I don''t care about danger!"

    "All right," Ketevan said.

    Something nagged at the back of Hariye''s mind: Shouldn''t she have tried a little harder to make me go home? But he disregarded it. Now he was really going to have an adventure! He thought of all the fairy-tale protagonists who went to foreign countries and came back with great riches. His siblings would be green with envy when he returned!

    <hr>

    The voyage back to Vakaryan passed much more quickly than Ketevan wanted. She spent the whole time lost in thought. The most important thing on her mind was still the question of Hariye. Publicly reveal he was a mer? Have a special swimming pool constructed on her land and keep him in it? Take his scales or keep him safe from everyone who wanted them?

    Her room on the ship had a tapestry made of imitation mer-scales. Ketevan ran her fingers over it, watched how the gold and silver threads glittered, and compared them to her memory of Hariye''s scales. It was the difference between a torch and the midday sun. That tapestry would have cost more than the average Vakaryanese farmer''s yearly income. Ketevan suspected it was actually part of the cargo that had been hastily removed from its crate in honour of the ship''s important passenger. And yet a mere handful of Hariye''s scales would be worth more than the highest price this tapestry would ever fetch.

    Years of wars with the north-eastern barbarians had left Vakaryan in debt to Sui for their military aid. If she took Hariye''s scales she would be able to pay that debt several times over. She could restore Vakaryan to the wealth and glory it had enjoyed in the reign of Queen Nestan the Great.

    And yet the price for that glory would be Hariye''s life.

    If anyone else learnt Hariye was a mer they would have none of Ketevan''s qualms. They''d kill him and take his scales for themselves without a minute''s hesitation. He didn''t know he should hide what he was, so sooner or later someone else would discover it. When they reached Vakaryan the first thing she had to do would be to keep him safe and far away from other people. One of the old fortresses along the coast would be an ideal place. Then she could decide what to do with him.

    For most of the journey she could see only two possibilities: kill him or keep him prisoner. A third possibility presented itself as the Vakayranese coast appeared in the distance. Both Hariye and Ketevan were on deck watching it grow steadily nearer. Hariye leant so far over the side that Ketevan briefly feared he was about to jump overboard. She grabbed his arm to hold him steady.

    He tore his eyes away from the land to flash her a reassuring smile and say something that sounded like, "Don''t worry, I won''t fall."

    Ketevan hardly heard him. Her mind was suddenly filled with a completely new idea. His skin was so warm and soft under her hand. She''d assumed a mer''s skin would be cold and rough. And he was really very pretty with his large eyes, inky black hair, and pale skin. He was young, of course. She hadn''t asked his age, but if she had to guess she''d say about fourteen or fifteen. That was old enough for marriage -- Vakaryanese boys came of age at fourteen, and she''d heard that in ?arisar and Sui a boy could be married at twelve[1].

    Years ago Ketevan had realised her view of marriage was very different to her sisters''. She looked for nothing in marriage beyond gaining more power through her husband. Love never entered into it and the thought of physical intimacy was downright distasteful to her. Hariye was no exception -- the idea of ever consummating this hypothetical marriage turned her stomach -- but she would certainly gain power if she married him and convinced him to give up some of his scales. She would also keep him safe so no one could ever harm him. And even though she didn''t want to sleep with him, she had to admit he was nice to look at.

    Marrying him would solve her dilemma once and for all. Now she just had to find some way to make him agree to it.

 Chapter IV: And Found Wanting

    ...you have been weighed in the balances and found wanting... -- Daniel 5:27, ESV

    Within hours of their arrival in Vakaryan, Hariye found himself whisked off to a gloomy castle in the middle of nowhere. All right, so it wasn''t exactly gloomy. It was large and well-lit, not to mention full of people, but it was surrounded by fortifications and had such heavy doors that it was clearly still used as a defensive structure. And it wasn''t exactly in the middle of nowhere; it was built on a hill overlooking the sea, and in the distance he could just about make out a town by the shore. But it wasn''t the sort of place he expected to go on this adventure, especially when Ketevan made it clear she wanted him to stay here and not help her catch the pirates.

    "But I can help!" he protested. "I beat two of my brothers at archery last year!"

    Ketevan brushed him off, to his annoyance. So he went down to the armoury, found a bow and arrows, borrowed a bracer from one of the soldiers, then fired every arrow in the quiver at the targets. Most of them hit the target dead in the centre. The ones that didn''t still land close to the red circle.

    Hariye looked back to see Ketevan''s reaction. She stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the training yard. From this distance it was hard to see clearly, but Hariye could have sworn there was something dark and ugly in her expression. Then she turned sharply and walked away without a word.

    <hr>

    That evening Hariye found himself summoned to the room Ketevan was using as her office. He went warily. Although he was na?ve he wasn''t stupid. This was reminiscent of when his father and grandfather had summoned various relatives to their studies to be thoroughly reprimanded, but he couldn''t think of what he''d done to deserve it.

    He opened the door and stepped in. Ketevan stood at the table, staring down at something in a box.

    "Close the door," she said -- unnecessarily, because he''d already closed it. "Look at this. Do you recognise it?"

    At first Hariye thought she meant the box. Then he got close enough to see what was inside it. His eyes widened. It was a necklace made of multi-coloured jewels that glittered when the light caught them.

    "Did you know that removing a pearl from an oyster''s shell kills the oyster?" Ketevan asked.

    Hariye nodded. "Are those pearls?"

    "No, but they have similarities. This necklace is over four hundred years old and made entirely of mer scales." She gave him an odd, searching look. "What do you know about merfolk?"

    Hariye searched his memory before finally landing on something his history tutor had said once. "They were a sort of fish that was hunted to extinction for their scales."

    Ketevan seemed to be waiting for him to say something else. When he didn''t she said, "Do you really not know anything else about them?"

    He shook his head.

    "Not that your grandfather''s palace and my mother''s crown are decorated with their scales? Not what they looked like?"

    "I suppose they just looked like fish," Hariye said dubiously. "What''s this about?"

    Ketevan opened a drawer in the table and lifted out a book. She flipped to a page and pointed to it. "That''s a mer."

    It was a drawing of a strange creature like something out of Hariye''s fairy-tales. From the waist up it was a human, but it had a fish''s tail covered with painstakingly-drawn scales. Hariye stared at it. A sudden queasy feeling formed in his stomach. Maybe he was misremembering, but when he was in the river-- He glanced down to make sure he still had legs.

    "For years it was believed the merfolk went extinct," Ketevan said quietly. "If a living one was discovered he would be locked up and his scales would be ripped out one at a time. He''d die in agony and no one would care." She gave him that searching look again. "I believe some of the merfolk intermarried with humans. Their descendants wouldn''t know what they truly were unless they went into the sea."

    The world was spinning around Hariye. The ground no longer felt solid beneath his feet and his stomach seemed to have tied itself in knots. The only thing that remained steady and clear in the room was the necklace. It seemed to laugh at him when it glittered.

    Without thinking he lunged forward and grabbed the necklace. It was cold. He could almost imagine it was wet with blood. He flung it at the wall with all his might. Then his stomach twisted and he fell to the ground retching.

    When he came back to himself he felt Ketevan''s fingers combing through his hair. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp. He knew she meant it kindly but it made his skin crawl.

    "It''s a good thing I met you," she murmured. "If anyone else knew what you are they''d..." She trailed off and continued stroking his hair. "So you see, you must stay here. You''ll be safe as long as you don''t go near water. I''ll make sure no one finds out. You just have to stay in the fortress."

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    Something nagged at the back of Hariye''s mind, something that told him this wasn''t right. But he felt sick, and tired, and his whole world had just been turned upside down. He nodded and allowed Ketevan to lead him to his room.

    <hr>

    For the next few days Hariye barely dared to venture out of his room. He hunted through the history books for references to the merfolk. Everything he found confirmed what Ketevan had said.

    His final wild hope was that they were both wrong. He wasn''t a mer. He hadn''t gained a tail when he went swimming. It was all just a misunderstanding.

    Ketevan gave him a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom and left him with strict instructions to keep the door locked and only open it for her. Hariye, thinking of that necklace and his grandfather''s palace, agreed to everything she said. When he was younger he''d thought his grandfather''s palace was the most beautiful place he''d ever seen. Now he felt physically sick when he remembered the way it glittered in the sun.

    Ketevan and a contingent of soldiers set out from the fortress one day in search of the pirates. Hariye locked his bedroom door, hauled a chest of drawers in front of it to make sure, then locked the bathroom door too just to be absolutely certain. Then he filled the bathtub. He didn''t know if it would work or not -- he''d never turned into a mer when he had a bath before -- but it was the only way he could think of to find out. He certainly wasn''t going to go down to the sea.

    In spite of the locked and barricaded doors Hariye still felt far too vulnerable as he filled the bath and undressed. He kept looking back over his shoulder to make absolutely sure no one could get in. When the bath was full almost to overflowing he climbed in.

    At first nothing happened. Hariye hardly dared to breathe. His mind kept flying back to the drawing of the mer in that book. It danced before his eyes until he couldn''t tell if he had a tail or if he was just seeing things.

    He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe slowly. Gradually his heart stopped battering against his ribcage. When he felt calm enough he opened his eyes. Somehow he both was and wasn''t surprised to see his legs had disappeared and been replaced with a long tail covered in blue scales.

    Hariye felt bizarrely distant, as if he was a spectator at a play, as he considered what this meant and how it would affect the rest of his life. Acting more on a vague wish to make his life go back to normal than on any conscious thought, he began to claw and tear at his scales. They wouldn''t move. They were anchored too deeply into his skin for that. He''d have to get a pair of pliers or peel his skin off like a snake to remove them. But he continued trying until his hands were scratched and raw.

    He lay in the bath until the water was icy cold. Out in the courtyard he heard the clatter of horse-hooves approaching. Ketevan was back. Hariye clambered out of the bath. As soon as he landed on the floor his tail turned back into legs. His shins were covered with tiny cuts from his nails. His fingers were bloody. But he hardly noticed any of that as he pulled his clothes back on without bothering to use a towel first.

    <hr>

    All in all the expedition had been a resounding success. Ketevan had discovered the hiding place of the pirates and had already sent word to the military garrison in Rahatka to come and provide support. Now she just had to plan how and when to attack.

    "How is my guest?" she asked the seneschal.

    He shrugged helplessly. "He''s locked himself in his room and refuses to come out. I''ve ordered food to be left outside his door, but when the trays are collected it looks like he hasn''t eaten anything."

    Ketevan pursed her lips. If Hariye thought she intended to let him starve himself, he had another think coming.

    She went up to his room and tried the door. It was locked, but she had spare keys for every room in the fortress. She unlocked it and found it still wouldn''t open.

    "Hariye, open this door!"

    There was a shuffling sound and then the noise of something heavy being pushed back. Hariye opened the door. Ketevan was promptly taken aback by how haggard he looked. His skin was even paler than normal, his eyes seemed positively enormous in his face, and his hands were bruised and bloody. There were red dots on his trouser legs that looked ominously like blood.

    Ketevan stared at him. "...What happened?"

    Hariye shrugged. "I tried an experiment. It confirmed what you said."

    A wave of horror and rage combined swept over her. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "Did you tell anyone else what you are?"

    "Of course not!" he snapped. It was the first time she''d ever heard him sound angry. "I''m not suicidal. I filled the bathtub."

    Ketevan looked at his fingers, then at the blood on his trousers. An inkling of what he''d done dawned on her. She glared at him. "Never harm yourself again. I forbid it."

    Hariye''s eyes had gone eerily distant after he finished speaking. Now he seemed to snap back to reality and he looked at her in shock.

    "Who do you think you are?" he demanded, for the first time sounding like the prince he was. "You have no right to forbid me to do anything."

    "I have every right," Ketevan said, only just restraining herself from shouting. "You''re in my land, in my fortress, under my protection. You saved my life so I am repaying you by saving yours. Don''t you understand that you''re in extreme danger? I''m the only one who can protect you."

    Hariye took a deep breath. His whole body seemed to shake like a leaf. "I want to go home."

    That idea sent a surge of possessive rage through Ketevan. "Didn''t you know before we left ?arisar? Didn''t you hear? Your father is offering a reward to anyone who finds you. But never in the entire reward poster does he ever say you''re his son. He calls you a runaway slave who''s stolen valuable jewellery. Don''t you see? He knows you''re a mer and he sees you as just a source of money. I''ve no doubt he plans to steal your scales some day."

    Hariye collapsed onto the bed. His hair fell over his face so she couldn''t see his expression, but she could tell from his voice that he was fighting back tears. "It''s not true. My father... He always treated me well. He''d never..."

    "Then go home," Ketevan said. "Go home and see for yourself how he reacts. Think of all the mer scales in your grandfather''s palace."

    Hariye gave a choked sob. His body shook with the effort of holding back tears. Ketevan sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around him.

    "I know this is a terrible shock," she said in her most reassuring voice. "But don''t worry. I''m here and I won''t let anyone harm you. I''ll take you far away so no one can find you."

 Chapter V: A Visitor

    "Mademoiselle, if you had not intended it, it would not have happened," said Poirot. "Hands do not move unless minds make them move...." -- Sophie Hannah, The Killings at Kingfisher Hill

    When Ketevan came of age her mother had given her Onomi Manor for her main residence outside Tavgirid. It was tradition, of course. Before her it had belonged to her uncle, and before him to his uncle, and so on back through the generations. When her older sister became queen it would eventually go to one of her children.

    There was one main consequence of the way the manor regularly changed hands. All of its staff were loyal to the Diashamij? family, of course, but the majority were more loyal to the family''s current head -- which was not necessarily the current monarch, illogical though it seemed. The head of the family was whoever was oldest. Currently that was Great-Aunt Gulisa, who cordially detested Ketevan.

    If she brought Hariye to Onomi the news would reach Great-Aunt within hours. From there it would go immediately to Ketevan''s mother, who would barge in and demand to know exactly what was going on.

    Ketevan didn''t like the thought of anyone knowing about Hariye. The soldiers at the fortress had to know, and the fear of losing their job would keep them from gossiping, but she did not want anyone else to find out. He was hers. No one else had any right to know about him. So going to Onomi Manor was out of the question.

    She rode out in search of somewhere she could hide him. After spending a morning riding around the countryside she could come up with no better solution than a summer house belonging to one of her cousins. Most of Vakaryanese high society -- and indeed everyone else who could afford it, regardless of class -- owned summer houses along the coast where they went to escape the crowds thronging the summer markets. The size of the house ranged from "a palace in all but name" -- most common along the shores of the Hrazdin Inlet -- to "a modest-sized house with at most four bedrooms" -- most common along this part of the shore.

    Cousin Revaz''s house was the latter sort. Since it was autumn the house had been shut up last month. It would be checked intermittently until next summer. Knowing Revaz and his boring hobbies, Ketevan doubted it would be checked more than once a month. No one was likely to break into a house notable mainly for containing an astonishing collection of watercolour paints and sub-par landscape paintings.

    Years ago she''d learnt how to pick locks. She picked the lock on the gate and the front door, then went back to the fortress to collect Hariye.

    <hr>

    Don''t think of it as hiding for your life. Think of it as an adventure, Hariye told himself as Ketevan showed him into the house.

    Ketevan said, "I''ll be gone for a day at most. When I return I''ll have dealt with the pirates and I can bring you to a place where you''ll be permanently safe. Here''s plenty of food, there''s a well in the kitchen courtyard, and I''ll make up the main bed for you. Lock the door after I leave and don''t open it to anyone."

    Hariye nodded silently. No matter how much he tried to think of it as an adventure, he couldn''t help feeling more like a hunted animal. He didn''t feel like exploring the house just then. All he really wanted was to curl up in a corner somewhere, go to sleep, and hope this would turn out to be a nightmare when he woke.

    When Ketevan was about to leave she hesitated in front of him. There was something strange in her eyes again. Her hand came up to rest on his chin and her thumb brushed over his lips.

    It had to be innocent, of course. Probably it was some Vakaryanese custom he was unfamiliar with. But it unsettled Hariye. He drew back slightly. Anger flashed into Ketevan''s eyes for the briefest moment before she smiled.

    "I''ll see you tomorrow," was all she said.

    <hr>

    After she was gone and the front door was safely locked -- Ketevan had hunted through the kitchen until she found a key for it, though she couldn''t find one for the gate -- Hariye went up to the main bedroom and slept for hours. His dreams were confused and frightening, but he couldn''t remember them when he woke up.

    It was evening. The sun was just above the horizon. The shadows cast by the trees outside the gate were long and sharp. They made Hariye think of fingers reaching out to grab him. He shuddered and tried to avoid them as he left the room.

    Once he was out on the landing the world ceased to look quite so grim as they had a minute ago. Here he was in a foreign country, in a strange house, with no one else around for miles. This was exactly the sort of situation he''d enjoyed reading about in fairy-tales. Usually the protagonists of the stories found some important information in places like this that helped them later. He couldn''t see how he could find anything that would help him specifically -- unless the house contained a book of spells that could turn a mer into a human -- but it was still exciting to wander around a strange house.

    Hariye explored the landing first. It was little more than a balcony overlooking the entrance hall downstairs. The main bedroom''s door was at the top of the stairs. Another door at the end of the landing opened onto another bathroom. There was only one other door on the second storey, to the other side of the main bedroom and next to the window. Hariye opened it and found an empty closet.

    Before going downstairs he paused to look out the window. The house was built in the middle of a small forest. Beyond the trees he could see a green hill rising up steeply. On the far side of it, even steeper and looking like something out of a painting, was a huge snow-covered mountain. Hariye had seen snow before -- contrary to popular belief ?arisar winters were in fact cold enough for snow -- but he''d never seen such a mountain before. Bare rock showed black through the white coat. It was beautiful but it scared Hariye in a way he couldn''t explain. He shuddered and turned away.

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    The stairs and the floor of the landing were bare wood. Downstairs the floor was stone covered by a rug. The walls were white-washed but undecorated. Hooks in the walls suggested tapestries or paintings were hung there when the house was inhabited. The front door had windows on either side of it to allow light into the house and let people inside see guests as they arrived. Hariye peered through one window to see if Ketevan had reappeared yet. The gates were closed over and as long as no one looked closely they appeared to be locked.

    He went into the first room on the left at the bottom of the stairs. It was a dining room with the table and chairs covered with dust sheets. He went to the room on the other side of the hall. Judging by the shelves it was meant to be a library, but all of the books were gone. Hariye felt mildly disappointed even though he knew he wouldn''t have been able to read them. He understood only a few words of basic Vakaryanese. Ketevan always spoke to him in ?arisarian so his knowledge hadn''t increased much since meeting her. Through the window he saw a small meadow beside the house.

    He tried the room beyond the library. Finally, a room with something interesting in it! It was full of rectangular objects wrapped up in cloth. He moved one of the cloths. Beneath it was a painting of... something. After a minute''s confused staring Hariye realised it was meant to be a field covered with flowers. Or were those shapeless splashes of paint meant to be cows?

    Another door beneath the stairs led into a hallway. Hariye opened each door and was disappointed to find only two more bedrooms -- much smaller than the others and obviously meant for servants -- and the kitchen. Ketevan had left a loaf of bread in a cupboard, a bottle of milk in the cool larder, and a few oranges on the kitchen table.

    Hariye sat down at the table and began to peel an orange. Just as he was looking around for a bin to put the orange peel in -- this was someone else''s house after all; it would be rude to leave litter around for the owner to clean up -- he heard a noise that made his blood run cold. It was the squeak of a gate opening.

    It''s only Ketevan, he tried to reassure himself.

    Hariye scurried back along the hall and peered out past the stairs. From here he could see through the windows. His worst fears were instantly confirmed. Whoever was outside, they weren''t Ketevan. He couldn''t see their face, but they were much taller than Ketevan and had jet black hair instead of her light brown. They rode a reddish-brown horse instead of Ketevan''s grey horse. Metal glinted at the side of the horse''s bridle.

    He shrank back into the hall. Nervously he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one could see him from the kitchen windows. The horse hooves stopped outside the front door. For a minute there was silence. Hariye waited to hear a knock at the door. He reached into his pocket and grasped the key to make sure it was still there. Its weight was the only comfort he had in this situation.

    Finally the knock came. Hariye almost jumped out of his skin, because instead of the front door it was at the back. For a terrible moment he was frozen, afraid to go anywhere in case the person outside saw him. How did he know there was only one? The house could be surrounded for all he knew. Then anger took over. He was a prince, damn it! He wasn''t going to cower in a strange house like a criminal hiding from the police!

    Hariye marched into the kitchen and, taking the precaution of crawling on his hands and knees to avoid being seen through the windows, went through the cupboards for a knife. They were all completely empty. The only weapon he could find was a poker. He picked it up and took a deep breath. Then he stood up.

    No one was at the door.

    Hariye stared out the window in confusion for a minute. Strange ideas of ghosts and disappearing passengers darted through his mind. Before he could start thinking anything truly silly, the stranger reappeared in the courtyard.

    It was a woman, perhaps ten years older than Hariye, dressed in a black trousers and a long black overcoat with white embroidery at the collar and sleeves. The overcoat had a v-shaped neck revealing a white shirt underneath. On her head she wore a long red veil that reached almost to her knees, held in place with a silver headband.

    Her horse''s saddle was red with silver decorations and had raised parts at the front and back. The bridle was a length of red cloth. As far as he could see it didn''t have a bit. Nor was the rider wearing spurs; else he''d have heard them clank as she walked. She had no sword at her side. She looked more like she''d just been at some festival than a potential threat.

    Hariye watched as she led her horse over to a water trough in the courtyard. She tied it to a hoop in the wall, went over to the well, and brought back a bucket which she poured into the trough. She patted the horse''s neck as it drank and said something in Vakaryanese. Then she turned and approached the door again.

    Apparently she didn''t see Hariye in the darkened kitchen, because she went up to the door and knocked loudly. He gripped the poker harder. The door didn''t have a lock; just a latch that he easily unfastened. He flung the door open and stared up at the stranger with his best attempt at a "go-away-and-stop-trespassing" expression.

    Belatedly it dawned on him that she might very well be the house''s actual owner, and if so he would have some awkward questions to answer.

    The stranger blinked down at him with a startled expression. She was more than a head taller than him and very thin, and there was something odd about her eyes. She spoke in Vakaryan, saying something that had entirely too many consonants for Hariye to even begin to parse it.

    "What do you want?" he asked in ?arisarian.

    The stranger paused, made a few hastily-cut-off attempts to speak, then finally managed in very heavily-accented ?arisarian, "Food for my horse. Where?" Seeing Hariye''s hesitation she added, "Can pay," and produced a bag of coins from her pocket.

    He could hardly explain that he didn''t know where or if there was any food in the barn without inviting questions about who he was. Inspiration struck when he remembered the small meadow he''d spotted through the library window.

    "There''s a field round there," he said, pointing. "You can let him graze there."

    And I hope you''re gone before Ketevan comes back, he added mentally. The stranger had shown no sign of being suspicious or dangerous, but he would prefer to avoid explaining this situation.

    She thanked him and left to take her horse round to the meadow. Hariye went back into the kitchen and closed the door. He set the poker down by the fireplace and collapsed into a chair. Only then did he realise just how frightened he''d been during the whole conversation.

    At least it''s all over now, he thought. Then his eyes fell on the oranges, and the loaf of bread in the open cupboard.

    He wavered from a moment. The stranger was very thin. If her horse was hungry, then she probably was too. But with every minute she stayed here the danger increased. He should leave her alone and hope she left soon. His family would have heart-attacks if they ever found out he''d let a guest, however uninvited and unwanted, leave without being fed. He didn''t have a knife to cut the bread. But maybe she''d leave faster if he gave her food.

    As he picked up the loaf and an orange he told himself repeatedly, I must be out of my mind!

 Chapter VI: Malice Aforethought

    If there was anything that depressed him more than his own cynicism, it was that quite often it still wasn''t as cynical as real life. -- Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!

    The stranger was sitting on the fence watching her horse graze when Hariye found her. She accepted the bread gratefully and produced a small knife from one of her pockets. Hariye suppressed his instinctive desire to recoil in alarm. All the same he watched very warily to make sure she put it back in her pocket after cutting the bread.

    "Are you looking for someone?" he asked, mainly to find out if she knew the house''s owners and would later let it slip to them that someone else was living there.

    She shook her head. "On my way home. Got lost again. I already hear Jahan laughing about it." Seeing Hariye''s confusion she explained, "My sister. She always thinks I will get lost."

    She handed him back the loaf. He noticed there was something odd about her left hand. Although she could move it to hold her slice of bread, the fingers seemed stiff and she didn''t close them fully around the slice.

    Oddly that reassured him most of all. A partially crippled woman couldn''t be dangerous. His mind instinctively went back to its default setting of viewing the world as if it was a fairy-tale. In his favourite stories, injured strangers asking for food were usually good fairies in disguise and would bless anyone who helped them. He doubted the stranger was a good fairy -- though considering the last few days nothing would surprise him any more -- but still.

    "Where are you from?" he asked curiously. Her clothes and the silver ribbon tied around her hair made her look like she''d just stepped out of a book''s illustration.

    "Tsalenlaki," she said. Seeing that he hadn''t caught that, she repeated slowly, "Tsa-len-la-ki. And you are from ?arisar."

    Hariye started. "How did you know?"

    The stranger gave him the sort of look his older brothers had used when he said something stupid. "You speak ?arisarian."

    ...Oh. "I''m Hariye," he said, judging that was a common enough ?arisarian name to avoid raising suspicions.

    "Rusudan," the stranger said. "What are you doing here? You are very far from home."

    In spite of his worries Hariye found himself pouring out an edited version of his story. He carefully avoided mentioning merfolk or scales. As she listened Rusudan took out the small knife again and peeled the orange, holding it against her chest with her bad hand to stop it rolling away. Her expression changed a few times from surprise to disbelief and finally to something like horror. When he finished she sat in silence for a while, watching her horse graze and chewing one of the orange segments.

    "How do you know you can trust Ketevan?" she asked. "You said she keeps you safe from the pirates, but who keeps you safe from her?"

    Hariye blinked. He''d never looked at the situation from that angle before. "Well... I saved her life. She''s repaying me by protecting me."

    Rusudan continued to look grim. "You said she told you the pirates would kidnap you or slave merchants would steal you to sell as a slave. Why? Why you specifically? What puts you in so much more danger than any other boy your age?"

    He could hardly explain he was a mer, so instead he came up with, "It''s because I''m a foreigner and no one knows me here."

    "She brought you from your home, stops you talking to anyone else, then says you''re in danger because of things she could have avoided by leaving you alone?"

    ...Huh. Put like that, Hariye suddenly found himself wondering about Ketevan. He forced those thoughts away. She''d never been anything but kind to him. He told Rusudan so.

    She remained unconvinced. "Has she ever told you that your family are untrustworthy? That you should be afraid of other people?"

    "Yes, but there''s a good reason," Hariye said.

    Rusudan made a gesture that suggested she was struggling not to throw her arms up in exasperation. "What reason?"

    How could he say ''People would want to skin me alive if they found out what I am'' without sounding insane? Or worse, revealing he was a mer to someone who might want his scales too? He couldn''t. The best he managed was, "It''s a good reason but I can''t explain it."

    The sun was sinking below the horizon. Overhead the first stars were starting to appear. The house and the meadow were in rapidly-deepening shadow. Rusudan looked around. Hariye finally realised what was odd about her eyes: one of them moved more slowly than the other and seemed to have a faint film over it.

    "I have to leave now if I want to reach the river before midnight. I won''t ask you to come with me -- I''m a stranger too and you have no more reason to trust me than Ketevan -- but young man, I advise you to run. Run as far away from Ketevan as you can. Go home to your parents."

    "I can''t," Hariye said quietly.

    Rusudan whistled and her horse trotted over. She jumped down from the fence and swung herself into the saddle. Holding the reins lightly in her bad hand, she reached into her pocket and took out the knife. "Take this in case you ever need a weapon. Consider it payment for the food," she added when he started to protest.

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    Hariye took it reluctantly. "Ketevan protects me, though."

    In spite of the darkness he could have sworn he saw Rusudan make a disgusted grimace. She urged her horse forward. It trotted obediently through the gate. Then she reined it in and looked down at Hariye again. "Has Ketevan ever done anything to you that you didn''t want? Ever touched you in any way you don''t like?"

    Hariye was about to deny it when he remembered the strange way she''d touched his lip. His hand reflexively flew up to his mouth.

    "No," he said, but he knew his denial was unconvincing.

    Rusudan was silent for a minute. She shook her head. "I''ll say it again: run. Get the hell out of here and make sure Ketevan can never find you again."

    <hr>

    After Rusudan left Hariye found himself replaying everything Ketevan had ever said or done to him. She meant well. She had to. But he couldn''t deny there were some things that just didn''t seem right. It was only because of their different cultures. Probably he said or did things that Ketevan found odd too. Rusudan didn''t know the full context. She was jumping to conclusions based on incomplete evidence. Nothing was wrong.

    Then his mind would go back to the way Ketevan had touched his lip. He remembered the way she''d looked at him as she did it, and the last time he''d seen someone look like that. His brother and future sister-in-law gave each other that sort of look. For as long as he could he tried to convince himself he was misinterpreting it. There was no way Ketevan could have looked at him with desire. He was so much younger than her! Why, she had to be nearly thirty! She was at least ten years older than him at any rate!

    "Has Ketevan ever done anything to you that you didn''t want? Ever touched you in any way you don''t like?"

    Although Hariye was na?ve he wasn''t ignorant of certain things. He knew exactly what Rusudan had been implying. She was wrong, of course. She had to be wrong. Ketevan might be a little odd but that didn''t mean...

    He didn''t risk lighting a candle in case someone saw it. When he went back inside he latched the back door, felt his way along the hall and up the stairs, and went into his bedroom. Although he lay down on the bed he didn''t sleep. His mind continued to replay everything about Ketevan on an endless loop.

    What could he believe out of everything she''d told him? He was a mer, yes, but was it true that his father wanted to kill him for his scales? Was it true that anyone wanted to kill him for his scales? Had she told him the truth always, sometimes, or never?

    It was almost morning when Hariye heard the gate open.

    For a moment he thought, he almost hoped, it was Rusudan returning. True, he didn''t know her any better than he knew Ketevan -- less, perhaps -- but in some way he couldn''t explain he preferred her concern to Ketevan''s. After thinking about it for a while he realised that it was simply because Rusudan had told him what to do for himself, while Ketevan always told him what she was going to do for him.

    Outside a horse stopped outside the front door. Its tack jangled metallically and its hooves sounded heavier than those of Rusudan''s horse.

    Hariye listened intently. Someone was doing something at the front door, something that scratched and clicked like a lock being picked. Then he heard the door open. He pulled the quilt up to his chin and pretended to be fast asleep. Footsteps came up the staircase. Spurs clinked as the newcomer approached.

    The bedroom door slid open. Hariye kept his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly. Through the flickering light playing across his eyelids he could tell the newcomer had brought a candle. They set the candle down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed.

    As they leant over him Hariye caught a whiff of their scent. Rusudan had smelt of wood and flowers and leather, while Ketevan always smelled of horses and sweat and the sea. He knew at once it was Ketevan in the room. She hovered over him and he knew she was studying his face intently.

    Years ago Hariye had perfected the art of pretending to be asleep so he could eavesdrop on his brothers'' conversations in their shared bedroom. He''d learnt some very useful blackmail material from those conversations. Something told him that if he stayed still now he''d learn something even more important.

    Ketevan didn''t move for a while. Then suddenly he felt her lean down. Next all thoughts were driven out of his mind, because she pressed her lips against his.

    Only shock and outrage kept Hariye from opening his eyes. He lay frozen as she got up and left the room. As soon as the door closed behind her he opened his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling, just barely visible in the pre-dawn light, and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It was so shocking that he could hardly believe it hadn''t been a dream. But it couldn''t be a dream when he still felt her lips on his.

    He sprang out of bed and rushed over to the wash-basin. Hardly caring if she heard him or not, he splashed water on his face and tried to wipe away the feeling of her kiss.

    Now he had proof positive that Rusudan had been right. No matter what other differences there were between the two cultures, both ?arisar and Vakaryan agreed that a kiss on the lips was reserved for married couples.

    I don''t understand, part of him thought helplessly. Why would she fix on me? Why me, when she can find someone her own age and from her own country?

    Another part of him, inspired by some of the things Rusudan had said, thought, I suppose it''s because she can control me and she couldn''t control an adult.

    That raised another, even more disturbing question. Did she deliberately set out to bring me here and keep me prisoner?

    Rusudan''s words came back to him: "I''ll say it again: run. Get the hell out of here and make sure Ketevan can never find you again."

    Suddenly that sounded like excellent advice.

    <hr>

    The bedroom window overlooked the kitchen courtyard. Hariye slid it open slowly. It didn''t creak and there was no sound from the other bedroom. He looked down at the ground below. It was a long drop, but ivy clung to the house''s wall. He didn''t dare risk going downstairs in case Ketevan heard him. The ivy it was, then.

    Hariye climbed out the open window. He pushed it closed as soon as he was safely on the outside windowsill. Then he carefully placed his foot on the closest stem of ivy. It was thick and clung securely to the stone. He set his other foot down on a lower stem. Slowly he climbed down. A few of the stems bent under his weight, but none of them broke and he reached the ground safely. He ran round the house, past Ketevan''s horse tethered outside the front door, out through the gate and down the road.

    Only one thought filled his mind. He had to reach the Blood Water. He had to hide in the deepest part of the sea where no one could ever find him. That was the only place he''d be safe.

    <hr>

    Ketevan started awake. She knew at once that some noise had disturbed her. For a minute she listened to hear if Hariye was moving around in the room next door. Nothing. It was something outside, then.

    She got up to investigate. When she was half-way down the stairs she spotted the cause at once. The gates were ajar.

    "Hariye!" she shouted back up the stairs.

    No answer.

    She knew what she would find even before she checked his room. Sure enough, he was gone.

    Ketevan ran out of the house, mounted her horse, and galloped off. Wherever Hariye was, he couldn''t have gotten far. She''d find him and then she''d take him somewhere he could never run away from again.

 Chapter VII: Hunted

    When once a man is launched on such an adventure as this, he must bid farewell to hopes and fears, otherwise death or deliverance will both come too late to save his honour and his reason. -- C. S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

    Never in his life had Hariye run so fast before. Even his escape from the Peacekeeping Corp was nothing compared to this. He sprinted down the road and never slowed until he reached a crossroads. There he paused only long enough to pick the route most likely to lead to the sea before he took off again. His legs ached and his lungs burned but he didn''t dare slow down. Ketevan had a horse. She could easily overtake him if she guessed where he was going.

    The sun rose higher and higher. The land changed from forest to hills and fields. Hariye passed farmers driving carts who stopped to stare at him. But he didn''t care what they thought, because in the distance he could see the sunlight dancing on the sea.

    With everything else he had to worry about -- mainly Ketevan and the very real possibility she could appear at any minute -- he had no time to think about anything else. He barely even noticed how tired he was. Then his foot caught on a rock, he tumbled to the ground, and all the exhaustion and pains caused by running so fast hit him all at once.

    Hariye couldn''t move for what felt like an eternity. He lay frozen in place, gasping for breath and straining his ears for approaching hooves. No one came along the road while he lay there.

    Finally he recovered enough to move. His legs hurt too much to stand, so he crawled over to the side of the road. The grass was cool and still had drops of dew clinging to it. He scrambled painfully across it until he reached the hedge separating the road from the field beyond. In front of the hedge was a ditch, deep enough for an adult to lie in without being seen -- as long as no one looked too closely. A small stream trickled through it.

    Hariye slid down into the ditch. It was muddy, but the water soothed his aching muscles and the hedge shielded him from the sun. He lay there for a long time. Birds chirped overhead. A rabbit poked its head out of the hedge, spotted him, and immediately bounded away. Once he heard footsteps on the road. He tensed until he heard children''s high voices. No one else came along the road.

    Gradually he slipped into a doze, and then he fell deeply asleep.

    <hr>

    Ketevan had two advantages over Hariye: she had a horse, and she knew the countryside. She deduced that he was heading for the sea. Obviously he would go right at the crossroads, because the left road went inland towards the mountains. But what he didn''t know was that the right road would lead him through a village before he got to the sea. She guessed that in his current mental state the last thing he would want was to go near people.

    If she was in his position she would hide somewhere until evening and only venture out when the village was quiet. So she based her plans on that assumption.

    She rode slowly, stopping to examine any likely hiding places. When she passed farmers on the road she stopped to ask if they''d seen Hariye.

    "I seen him," one man said. "Running like the police were after him, he was."

    "He''s a thief who broke into my house and stole my mother''s jewellery," Ketevan told him. "When you get to the next town, tell the constable to raise the alert."

    <hr>

    Hariye jolted awake. For a minute he couldn''t tell where he was. Everything was cold and wet and slimy. He seemed to be lying in a puddle. Something tapped against his nose and made him feel like he was about to sneeze.

    He opened his eyes. For a minute he blinked at the green things waving in front of his face. They resolved themselves into blades of grass. He raised his head and looked around. A bird took fright and flew off the hedge when he moved.

    If it wasn''t for the fact he was still lying in the ditch he could have dismissed the last few hours as a nightmare. But he knew no nightmare would have made him go to sleep in a muddy stream. Anyway, he could still feel Ketevan''s kiss lingering like a phantom pain.

    He began to sit up. Then he froze. A horse whickered gently somewhere nearby.

    Hariye didn''t dare lie down again in case he splashed the water. He couldn''t sit up in case someone saw him. All he could do was kneel in the ditch and hold his breath, waiting for some sign of what was happening.

    A faint thump reverberated through the ground. It was followed by another. Hariye listened intently, trying to piece together what was happening. When the thumps reached the road they turned into the clip-clop of a horse''s hooves. From that he deduced that the horse had wandered onto the grass. Its rider couldn''t be in a hurry or they''d have urged it on.

    The horse stopped again further down the road. He couldn''t have explained how he knew it, but somehow he was sure that the rider was scanning the countryside intently. After a terrifying pause, in which he expected someone to discover him at any minute, the horse moved on again. The noise of its hooves faded away into the distance.

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    Hariye sank back down onto the muddy ground. To his own surprise he found he was shaking so badly that he couldn''t stand up. All the strength seemed to have gone out of his limbs. He waited until he''d recovered. Then he waited a bit longer to give the horse and rider time to get well ahead of him. When he judged it was safe he scrambled out of the ditch.

    The first thing he noticed was that it was mid-afternoon and heading for evening. The sun''s light gave a golden tinge to everything it touched. He spotted a moving shape in a distant field. His heart stopped for a second before he realised it was only a farmer and a team of horses doing some work. The farmer gave no sign of having seen him.

    His shoes squelched as he walked. His clothes were filthy and dripped muddy water with every step.

    I have to find somewhere to hide, he thought. Anyone who saw him in this state would at best assume he''d had an accident and at worst think he was up to no good. Either option meant more attention than was good for him. I''ll find a river to clean up in. Maybe I can follow it down to the sea. And I won''t go much further until it''s dark.

    Ketevan would have a hard job finding him in the dark.

    Hariye followed the road until it went through another forest. Then he left it and climbed down the hillside. The trees were starting to lose their leaves and gave less cover than he''d hoped. But he was close enough to the sea to smell the salt in the air. Best of all, he could hear running water somewhere nearby.

    Travelling through the forest was harder than he''d expected. Everywhere he went there was undergrowth to trip him up. No matter which direction he tried, he never seemed to get closer to the water. All he knew for certain was that he was still going down a fairly steep hill.

    Suddenly the ground opened up in front of his feet. In the ravine below him a river roared past. Hariye stared down at it in dismay. This wasn''t the sort of river he''d wanted to find. Going swimming in it was out of the question. He couldn''t even reach it to splash water on his face.

    It''s heading down to the sea, he told himself firmly. If I follow it I''ll get there somehow.

    Following the river was easier said than done. As the light faded it became more dangerous to walk beside the ravine. Mer or not, Hariye didn''t fancy the idea of having to swim in that water. It was too fast-flowing and had too many rocks.

    At last he left the forest. The ravine had now become a shallow gorge but the river was no slower. Hariye stopped to look around.

    Behind him was the forest. Now he saw that what he had mistaken for a hill was actually a small mountain. This part of the shore was much more mountainous than the part he''d seen when he first arrived in Vakaryan. Ahead of him was still part of the mountainside, sloping down to the sea in a series of hills. The river ran down it. In the distance he spotted the road again. It crossed the river over an arched bridge. As he watched five people on horseback trotted over the bridge.

    Hariye knelt down at the side of the gorge and splashed water on his face. He could do nothing about his clothes, but at least he felt slightly less dirty now. Then he sat down beside the river and waited for the sun to set.

    <hr>

    Ketevan had learnt as a teenager how to track both animals and people in all sorts of terrain. She put that knowledge to good use now. Hariye had been running in a panic, taking no care to cover his tracks. She easily followed him along the road. At some point where the ground was drier she lost him, and by the time she reached the forest she guessed he''d turned off somewhere before there.

    She continued anyway. There was only one place he could be going, and if he was trying to take a short-cut to the sea he would have to cross Treshin Bridge. No one could swim the river -- not even a mer could get past the waterfall beyond the bridge -- so if he followed the river he would have to come onto dry land for the last mile or so.

    When she passed the watchtowers along the road she repeated her story about Hariye stealing from her. Soon she had a contingent of soldiers posted along the road, keeping an eye out for anyone matching Hariye''s description.

    It was almost dark. She reined in her horse in the middle of Treshin Bridge. The lamps were lit on both sides on the bridge. They shone out onto the road, not back onto the bridge. From a distance no one would see her while she could see them. Beside her was a short stretch of land and river that ended in cliffs and a waterfall.

    Years ago, when she and her mother were still able to interact without it ending in a fight, her mother had taken Ketevan hunting. Khvareshan had shown her how to follow a deer''s tracks and predict where it was going to appear next.

    Her mother had said, "Sometimes you get a feeling you know where it''ll be although you''ve no solid proof to back this up, and usually those feelings are right."

    Ketevan had taken that lesson to heart. She had a feeling that Hariye would cross the road somewhere near the bridge, and so she waited.

    <hr>

    The sun had set and the stars were twinkling overhead by the time Hariye reached the road. He was dusty, his clothes were coated with dried mud, he was terribly tired and hungry, and now he saw that he couldn''t reach the sea from here unless he wanted to jump off a cliff.

    He weighed up his options and decided that the road to the left, which travelled downhill, was the best direction. He didn''t risk walking on the road itself. The lights from the bridge shone onto it and he''d be obvious to anyone watching. Instead he walked along the slope beside it, able to keep it in view while hopefully staying out of sight.

    A horse neighed behind him. Hariye jumped, tripped, and rolled down onto the road. A shadow fell over him. Someone blew a whistle. He scrambled to his feet. A horse and rider emerged from where they''d been concealed by the bridge''s lights.

    Hariye turned and tried to run. The rider spurred their horse to a gallop and overtook him easily. A sword -- still in its sheath -- was pressed under his chin, forcing him to look up.

    Ketevan stared down at him. Even in the darkness he knew she was smiling.

    "Silly boy," she said in a chillingly gentle voice. "Whatever were you thinking of? Why did you run away like that? You know it''s dangerous."

    Hariye shuddered but forced himself to return her stare. "I''m going home and you can''t stop me."

    Her hand descended like a vise on his shoulder. "Perhaps not, but I can tell everyone what you are. Do you think anyone on either side of the Blood Water would let you live?"

    "I don''t believe anything you''ve ever told me," he said defiantly.

    "But are you willing to risk it?"

    Footsteps and hoof-beats approached behind Ketevan. Hariye craned his neck to see what was happening. A group of soldiers had come on the scene.

    "No need to look any more," Ketevan told them. She smiled down at him. "I''ve found him."

 Chapter VIII: Blood Water

    Human nature is always interesting... And it''s curious to see how certain types always tend to act in exactly the same way. -- Agatha Christie, The Thirteen Problems

    Hariye was silent for the whole journey to the nearest watchtower. Ketevan hadn''t expected anything else. In an undertone she explained that she''d accused him of theft, and in the morning she''d take him to her own manor in Onomi. She took the time to add that Onomi was inland and far from the sea. As for how she''d keep this from Great-Aunt Gulisa... Well, she could cross that bridge when she came to it.

    The watchtowers had been set up on the cliffs to watch for smugglers or pirates. They had fewer rooms than the fortresses along the coast, but when the commanding officer heard who Ketevan was she immediately agreed to let her and Hariye stay the night. Ketevan came up with an explanation for why he had to stay in her room instead of in a cell.

    "He overheard something my cousin would prefer to keep quiet, and I don''t want him shouting what he knows to anyone who''ll listen."

    "Of course, your highness," said the commanding officer.

    Hariye made no attempt to speak to anyone. Nor did he eat anything, not even when Ketevan went to the trouble of paying the commanding officer to give them freshly-cooked fish.

    "You are a most ungrateful young man," she said rebukingly.

    Then finally Hariye spoke. He looked up at her through eyes that suddenly seemed twice as large as usual. Quietly he said, "Boy."

    Ketevan raised an eyebrow and waited for him to elaborate.

    "I''m a boy. Not a man. I''m fifteen. And you''re... You''re old!"

    "I''m twenty-seven," Ketevan corrected him, more amused than offended. "Is that what bothers you? The idea of marrying an older woman? Because you will have to marry me," she added in response to his appalled expression. "I must keep you near me to keep you safe, and the only way to do that without causing a scandal is to marry you."

    "Is this not a scandal?" he snapped. "You''ve held me prisoner, I know you''ve lied to me about some things, maybe everything, and you kissed me last night when you thought I was asleep!"

    Ketevan poured herself a cup of tea. She offered the teapot to Hariye, but he refused to take it. "You''re overwrought. Go to sleep. You''ll feel much better in the morning."

    <hr>

    Hariye didn''t sleep at all that night. Ketevan oh-so-generously let him have the bed while she slept on the settee. That didn''t make him feel any safer. Not when she was between him and the door. It was locked and she had the key in her pocket. She also had a sword by her side. Trying to escape was hopeless.

    When he thought she was asleep he risked sitting up to examine the window. Even from a distance of several feet he could see that it was the sort of window that couldn''t be open. He slumped down in despair.

    Something heavy pressed against his side. Hariye reached into his pocket to see what it was. His fingers touched cold metal. At once his eyes snapped fully open. He bit his lip to stop from giving a delighted exclamation. Until now he''d completely forgotten about the knife Rusudan gave him.

    It was a small knife, barely more than a penknife, and not very sharp. He ran his fingertip along the blade and didn''t cut himself. But if it was stabbed with force it would certainly break someone''s skin.

    His thoughts raced. For the rest of the night he was in such a state of excitement that he could hardly lie still and pretend to sleep.

    Ketevan lay so motionless that he strongly suspected she was also awake, waiting for him to make a move. He wanted nothing more than to jump up, stab her in the heart, then take the key and unlock the door. But he forced himself to do nothing. Ketevan was armed with a real weapon and she was much more experienced in using it than he was. Even if by some miracle he managed to kill her, he still had to run the gauntlet of all the guards outside who believed he was a criminal. No, he couldn''t take action here. He had to wait until they left tomorrow.

    Through the window he watched the sky turn grey, then purple, then pink. Finally the sun''s first rays fell into the room. Ketevan either woke up or gave up the pretence of sleep. Hariye heard her sit up and put her boots back on. She crossed to the table and he heard the sound of rustling paper.

    "I know you''re awake," she said. "Get up. We have a long journey ahead of us."

    Hariye sat up without a word. Ketevan was wrapping up the remains of the food in a sheet of paper. She put it in her bag. Then she jerked her head sharply to tell him to follow.

    "Let''s go."

    <hr>

    Ketevan''s horse whickered a welcome as she opened the stable door. Hariye had to stand next to Ketevan as she put its tack on. She grabbed his arm and dragged him closer if he tried to move away. He could have fought her off, but that would have meant fighting all the guards too.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    When the horse was fully saddled and bridled she lifted him into the saddle. For a split second Hariye considered jumping down and making a run for it. Then Ketevan climbed up behind him. When she took the reins he was bracketed in by her arms. She urged the horse to a walk, then to a trot as they reached the watchtower gates. The soldiers opened the gates. Then they were out on the road, heading up the road towards the bridge.

    After the initial panic of being trapped wore off Hariye found himself able to view the situation almost calmly. Calm wasn''t quite the right word for it -- it was closer to indifference, as if he was watching something happening to someone else -- but it allowed him to think.

    Rusudan''s knife was in his pocket. Ahead of them was the road leading along the top of the cliffs. Below those cliffs was the sea. And he could breathe underwater. He craned his neck to see down over the cliff-edges. There were places where the rocks reached out into the water. But there were also places where the cliffs rose out of the water with no rocks beneath them.

    "Don''t worry," Ketevan said, misinterpreting his thoughts. "Someday I might let you visit the sea again. If you prove I can trust you."

    Hariye said nothing.

    With every step the horse took they drew closer to one of those sheer cliffs and rockless stretches of water. He counted down from a hundred silently. By the time he reached thirty-one they were at a part of the road that ran close to the cliff-edge. He felt Ketevan tense behind him.

    She expects me to make a run for it now, he thought.

    He didn''t move. Slowly he continued counting. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the knife, moving less than an inch at a time so Ketevan wouldn''t notice. The knife was small enough to be fully concealed in his hand. Its blade pressed against his fingers. It was too blunt to cut them like this, but he knew that if he tightened his grip it would break the skin.

    Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

    Hariye clenched his fist around the knife''s handle. He drove the blade into the horse''s shoulder. It reared with a shocked, pained neigh. Ketevan, caught off-guard, lost her grip on the reins. Hariye flung himself off the horse''s back.

    The impact of hitting the ground knocked the wind out of him. He forced himself to stand up as soon as he could breathe again. In the background the horse was still screeching.

    Hariye ran. He ignored the pain all along his right side where he''d landed on the road. He ran from the cliff-edge. Without pausing to think or worry or even realise what he was doing, he flung himself off the edge.

    The sea rushed up to meet him.

    <hr>

    Ketevan jumped off her horse as soon as she saw Hariye get up. She wasn''t fast enough. For a second she saw him on the cliff-edge. Then he was gone.

    By the time she reached it there was nothing to be seen in the water below.

    Ketevan stared intently down at the sea. Waves broke against the cliff. A gull wailed overhead. No body floated up to the surface. Not even a mer could have survived a fall from that height. Hitting the water would have been like falling off a castle tower and landing on stone. Probably Hariye''s body had been destroyed beyond recognition by the impact.

    And yet she refused to accept such an obvious solution. He had already escaped her once. She would wager everything she had on him surviving.

    Was that foam or was it the sunlight reflecting off scales? There it was again, further away this time. Ketevan watched and watched. Whatever she''d seen, it didn''t reappear.

    Her horse had recovered from its shock. Ketevan checked its shoulder and found a shallow puncture wound. She could have kicked herself for not thinking to search Hariye for weapons.

    She waited on the top of the cliff for hours, staring out to sea. Eventually the sunlight reflected on the water grew too bright for her to see anything. Reluctantly she turned away.

    <hr>

    "I need your help."

    "Do you indeed? I thought you despised me and everyone associated with me."

    Rusudan listened to Ketevan''s story and mentally compared it with Hariye''s. She thought of Hariye as she''d seen him that evening: so young, so innocent, so convinced Ketevan had his best intentions at heart. It seemed he''d finally woken up to her true nature.

    "In my experience someone who disappears without trace doesn''t want to be found. My advice to you is give up, go home, and mind your own business. I won''t help you."

    She could say a whole lot more, but she didn''t to commit a murder in a public place. Too many witnesses to pay off. Too much trouble when someone identified the victim.

    Ketevan left, clearly thinking things not lawful to be uttered. Rusudan stayed seated and continued spinning a stone on the table. Her mind was a thousand miles away.

    Where was Hariye now? She would like to believe he was back home, safe and sound where Ketevan could never touch him. That would be the sort of happy ending found in a novel. But she knew better than to hope for a happy ending in real life. Hariye was probably keeping a low profile under an assumed name, still trying to find his way home. For all she knew he might even have fallen in with someone worse than Ketevan.

    I wish you luck wherever you are, Hariye Zinoth han-Teyar, she thought.

    <hr>

    The fishing boat Kajalik had come back empty-handed after almost every expedition lately.

    "I think something''s scaring the fish away," one of the sailors opined to anyone who''d listen.

    The captain, unconcerned with fanciful ideas about scared fish and very concerned about being able to pay his bills, ordered the boat to go further than usual out to sea. They let down the nets. Minutes later something jarred the whole boat. When they pulled up the nets they found them shredded to pieces.

    The merchant ship Queen Ketevan I had made an uneventful journey from Vakaryan to Sui. On the way home one of the look-outs spotted something odd.

    "Hey, are there dragons in these waters?"

    Everyone laughed at her. "Dragons? Don''t be ridiculous. No one''s seen a dragon here for centuries."

    "I know I saw a long, scaly creature off the port bow," she insisted.

    The night before they reached the port a strange scraping, tearing sound kept the sentries awake. None of them could find where it was coming from. The next morning everyone knew. The name Ketevan painted on the ship''s side was now illegible. Something with long, sharp claws had torn up the boards.

    A rumour started in one of the ports. No one knew which boat it had happened to or which sailor had first told it.

    "There''s a strange creature lurking in the Blood Water. If I didn''t know better I''d say it was a mer. My brother saw it sitting on the rocks near Boruyaan Lighthouse. When his boat got too close it turned and snarled at them. And he said -- I know it sounds impossible, but he swears it''s true and my brother isn''t a man to invent or imagine -- he said its face and throat and torso split open to reveal thousands of teeth like a shark''s."

    Rusudan overheard that story in a pub late one night. She thought of everything she''d ever heard about merfolk. She thought of a young boy who''d jumped, apparently to his death, off a cliff shortly before the monster sightings started. And she wondered.

    END OF BOOK ONE