Emilie & the Hollow World - By Martha Wells Page 0,38

on them,” Kenar said immediately. “If the night is their natural time, the light might hurt their eyes. They might think it an attack.”

“Good point.” Engal waved at Oswin, who bolted for the nearest stairwell, heading for the wheelhouse to pass along the order.

They waited, the air thick with tension. Miss Marlende arrived, a little breathless and with blood stains on her sleeves. “Three wounded,” she reported to Lord Engal. “They're all right for the moment, but it would be better if Dr. Barshion could take a look at them. A healing spell to prevent infection might make all the difference.”

“I'll make certain he does,” Lord Engal said, his eyes on the approaching boat.

It was drawing steadily closer and Emilie could make out the shape of it a little better now. A lamp hung on the prow, a few bare inches above the black glassy surface of the water. The boat itself was very broad, made of some kind of light wood, and looked more like a raft with a raised edge. But it moved swiftly and easily for a raft, and the people paddling it so skillfully were balanced on the very edges, one leg in the water.

Closer; and she could tell they weren't human people, either. One of the sailors said, “My Lord, they're the same as the ones who attacked-”

“I know,” Lord Engal said. “Steady.”

The lamps reflected off iridescent skin, which rippled and changed with every movement and shift of the light. “Look, they have fins,” Miss Marlende whispered, sounding fascinated. “I didn't notice that before.” She was right; they had long feathery fins along their arms and legs, with a similar crest on their hairless heads. “Kenar, have you ever seen anything like them before?”

He moved along the rail toward them, keeping his voice low. “I've seen water dwellers that looked something like this, but they can't live in the air for more than a few moments. These seem to be made for both.”

One of the merpeople lifted a hand, and called out in a language Emilie couldn't understand. The voice was light and soft; it was impossible to tell if it was male or female.

Lord Engal lifted his hand in response. Oswin had returned, and he said, “We've got men posted around the ship, to make sure this isn't a diversion.”

Emilie looked around; more crewmen armed with rifles had come out onto the deck. Lord Engal said, “Good. But if anyone fires on this raft without a direct order from me, I'll fling him off this boat. Understood?”

There were muted responses of “Yes, My Lord” from around him.

Dr. Barshion stepped out of the hatchway, moving up beside Lord Engal. “My God,” he said softly. “Do we know what they are?” Lord Engal shook his head.

With expert paddling, the raft came smoothly to a halt a few yards from the Sovereign. There were square openings in the bottom of the raft, presumably so the occupants could slip in and out of the water. A boat for people who are as at home in the water as out of it, Emilie thought, fascinated.

“Half in, half out of the water,” Miss Marlende said to herself. She caught Emilie's arm. “You could be right about that abandoned city. If people like this built it - merpeople...”

One of the merpeople waved a hand, speaking again. This close, in the yellow reflected light from the ship's lamps, Emilie was fairly sure it was a woman. Kenar shook his head, tapping his ear to show he didn't understand. He spoke to her in a language that was all breathy growls and clicks; Emilie thought it must be the Cirathi language. But the merpeople didn't appear to understand that, either. Two of them shifted around, taking a box out of a net bag that hung down in the water.

One of the crewmen shifted uneasily, and Lord Engal said, “Steady, men. They seem peaceable and they want to talk, and for all we know they're about to produce a Cirathi phrasebook.”

Emilie still had her reservations about Lord Engal, but she had to admit she thought he was handling this well. She leaned on the railing, finding herself barely five feet away from the merpeople as their boat drifted closer. The one nearest was staring curiously at her, and Emilie stared back. She felt certain this one was female too, just from the shape of the slim body. The hands curled around the light wooden paddle were webbed, and the nails were small and neat,