said something about this, too: that it had been stupid to go after such a big ship. She’d said Luce almost broke something, the teemeeka or the teemaya . . .
“What’s wrong with it being a big ship?” Luce finally asked.
“And what do you mean, ‘clean up my mess’?” Samantha just stared at her, first with disgust, then with exasperation. Then finally she burst out laughing.
“I’m forgetting how much you have to learn,” Samantha admitted. “You’re still metaskaza.” Whatever the word meant, Samantha made it sound more than a little insulting. “Let’s go find i 57
everyone. I bet Catarina’s done sulking by now.” There was a flick and a flash, and Luce was alone in the cave.
The idea of diving into that dark, surging water frightened her, even though she knew she’d done it just yesterday. But yesterday, after all, she hadn’t done it on purpose!
If she let herself hesitate much longer, though, she’d never find Samantha and the others . . . Luce gathered her courage and swung her head around toward the sea. Her tail seemed to move by itself in a single whipping motion, and suddenly Luce found herself slicing through black water.
She had such force, such speed. She’d almost forgotten how magnificent it felt, this rushing power, the clear water parting around her shoulders, the sting of salt on her tongue. She could see a slightly brighter blot in the darkness, and she knew that must be the underwater tunnel Catarina had dragged her through the night before. With a sudden burst of delight Luce let her tail spin out, driving her faster. She hurled through the tunnel so quickly that she almost knocked her head against a bend in the rock.
Then she was in the open sea. It was vast, silvery, and treach-erous, full of drifting life. Ice floes drifted and bucked in the distance. She started at a moaning, coughing sound that shivered through the water around her before she realized it was only the barking of seals. Luce was afraid to go any farther alone what if she couldn’t find her way back to the cave? A giant reddish octopus pulsed by, and farther off there was the sinuous dipping of a small group of porpoises. She pushed her way to the surface and looked around at a lonely expanse of peaked water and craggy rock walls, an overcast sky, feeling her body rise and fall rhythmically with the swells. A chill wind whistled in her ears, 58 i LOST VOICES
and she began to feel something of the sickening, icy abandon-ment she’d felt that night on the cliffs. How could they all have gone off and left her on her own when it was all so new to her and she had no idea which way to go?
The whistling became brighter and sweeter, too musical for wind, and Luce realized it wasn’t whistling at all. The mermaids were calling to her from a place just around a zigzag in the coastline. It was something else they could do with their voices, Luce suddenly understood: disguise them as wind, just in case any humans were close enough to hear. As she listened, Luce even recognized the voice: it was Catarina. Carefully, experimentally, Luce tried to make the same sound in reply.
It came out in a long, beautiful gust. And it was much more powerful than she’d intended: a luxurious rush of sweet, high sounds. Luce was so delighted she laughed out loud and dove again.
She understood how it worked now. She still needed to breathe, yes. But a single breath was enough to last her for a very long time.
She found them in a skinny, pointed beach squeezed between high rock walls: a beach no human could ever get to without a boat, where protruding crags would block the view of anyone who chanced to pass by. The mermaids were cracking mussels on the rocks and sucking them down raw. Luce’s stomach roiled with nausea at the sight, but then the nausea turned into hunger.
“Hey, Luce! I was just about to go back and look for you when we heard you answering.” It was Catarina, who looked more beautiful than ever in the
“What’s wrong with it being a big ship?” Luce finally asked.
“And what do you mean, ‘clean up my mess’?” Samantha just stared at her, first with disgust, then with exasperation. Then finally she burst out laughing.
“I’m forgetting how much you have to learn,” Samantha admitted. “You’re still metaskaza.” Whatever the word meant, Samantha made it sound more than a little insulting. “Let’s go find i 57
everyone. I bet Catarina’s done sulking by now.” There was a flick and a flash, and Luce was alone in the cave.
The idea of diving into that dark, surging water frightened her, even though she knew she’d done it just yesterday. But yesterday, after all, she hadn’t done it on purpose!
If she let herself hesitate much longer, though, she’d never find Samantha and the others . . . Luce gathered her courage and swung her head around toward the sea. Her tail seemed to move by itself in a single whipping motion, and suddenly Luce found herself slicing through black water.
She had such force, such speed. She’d almost forgotten how magnificent it felt, this rushing power, the clear water parting around her shoulders, the sting of salt on her tongue. She could see a slightly brighter blot in the darkness, and she knew that must be the underwater tunnel Catarina had dragged her through the night before. With a sudden burst of delight Luce let her tail spin out, driving her faster. She hurled through the tunnel so quickly that she almost knocked her head against a bend in the rock.
Then she was in the open sea. It was vast, silvery, and treach-erous, full of drifting life. Ice floes drifted and bucked in the distance. She started at a moaning, coughing sound that shivered through the water around her before she realized it was only the barking of seals. Luce was afraid to go any farther alone what if she couldn’t find her way back to the cave? A giant reddish octopus pulsed by, and farther off there was the sinuous dipping of a small group of porpoises. She pushed her way to the surface and looked around at a lonely expanse of peaked water and craggy rock walls, an overcast sky, feeling her body rise and fall rhythmically with the swells. A chill wind whistled in her ears, 58 i LOST VOICES
and she began to feel something of the sickening, icy abandon-ment she’d felt that night on the cliffs. How could they all have gone off and left her on her own when it was all so new to her and she had no idea which way to go?
The whistling became brighter and sweeter, too musical for wind, and Luce realized it wasn’t whistling at all. The mermaids were calling to her from a place just around a zigzag in the coastline. It was something else they could do with their voices, Luce suddenly understood: disguise them as wind, just in case any humans were close enough to hear. As she listened, Luce even recognized the voice: it was Catarina. Carefully, experimentally, Luce tried to make the same sound in reply.
It came out in a long, beautiful gust. And it was much more powerful than she’d intended: a luxurious rush of sweet, high sounds. Luce was so delighted she laughed out loud and dove again.
She understood how it worked now. She still needed to breathe, yes. But a single breath was enough to last her for a very long time.
She found them in a skinny, pointed beach squeezed between high rock walls: a beach no human could ever get to without a boat, where protruding crags would block the view of anyone who chanced to pass by. The mermaids were cracking mussels on the rocks and sucking them down raw. Luce’s stomach roiled with nausea at the sight, but then the nausea turned into hunger.
“Hey, Luce! I was just about to go back and look for you when we heard you answering.” It was Catarina, who looked more beautiful than ever in the
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