The Seascape Tattoo Read Free Page B

did not fully comprehend all the changes.
    The males approached the rock, the two females a little farther back. He saw gray in the largest female’s flowing locks, and reckoned that she was a grandmere, that perhaps the younger was a daughter, with other children and grandchildren hidden beneath the waves.
    â€œCome,” the largest of the mermen said. His voice was very clear, even with that slight gargling quality common to his people. They were coiled in the shallows, the waves washing over their scaled torsos. Neoloth clambered over a boulder and slid down to stand just above a tide pool where they could reach each other, human and Mer, each without leaving the comfort of his native environment.
    â€œI am here, M’thrilli,” Neoloth said. “As always, you call, I come.”
    â€œWe have what you seek,” the merman said. “Do you have what we agreed to?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen … see,” M’thrilli said. As if he had made an invisible gesture, one of the other males swam forward and held out his hands. The object was no larger than an infant’s forearm, a cylinder of brass sealed with threaded caps. It was covered with glyphs Neoloth had seen before on one of the great Mayan time wheels. He held his breath.
    The fabled device was a reality … at least real in that it conformed to descriptions in whispered myth. It was a talisman, the talisman in fact, an object of fabulous value that had not, as feared, disappeared forever beneath the waves.
    If the legends were true, it was a relic of Azteca, used to store mana from the bodies of the sacrificed. What was it doing here, half a world from its origins? Again, if the legends were true, then it was simply a matter of a wizard who had outstayed his welcome, seeking to flee north when his vessel was caught in a storm.
    Or was it pirates? Or sudden illness? True, a mighty enough wizard should have been able to deal with any of those things … but perhaps not several at a time. Looking at it, Neoloth understood that he might have been grasping at straws, but in times like these, one grasped at whatever floated.
    The merman saw the hunger in his eyes. “Your part,” he said.
    Neoloth opened his pouch, presenting M’thrilli with a variety of tempered steel spearheads. Their eyes were now the ones burning with hunger. Craft the Merfolk possessed in plenty, and strength, and clever hands. But the workings of fire were known only to those on the land, and that was a good thing for those who spoke the Mer-tongue.
    It gave such men something to trade. What did they want with spear points? Hunting? Protection? Fighting over territory? Now that the magic was dwindling, did the surviving Merfolk find themselves battling over good hunting currents?
    â€œWe fight not with each other,” M’thrilli said. And, again, Neoloth was not certain if his mind was being read or they simply anticipated his chain of thought. It was not the first time he’d had that impression.
    â€œThe magic wanes. Our numbers wane. There is fish for all,” he said.
    â€œThen why?” Neoloth asked, sorry as soon as the words left his mouth.
    â€œOur bones have power,” M’thrilli said solemnly. “We must protect ourselves from those who hunt us.”
    The merman’s eyes were sad. “Soon. Today, or in ten thousand years, we will be nothing but myth. But for now, we stay in the deeps, where the mana is still strong.”
    The mermen to either side took the tools and deposited the talisman in its stead. Fearing even to breathe, Neoloth bent and gathered it into his hands. Even with the precious thing in his possession, he could barely believe it.
    â€œWhy?” he asked. “Why would you trade this to me?”
    â€œWe have no need for it,” M’thrilli said. “It requires spells our tongues have never shaped. We are magic. We do not wish to be a part of men’s