are long dead.”
“Ours are—”
“Yours are anathema. Even the weak All-Council would say that. The king should take all your young fry and give them a proper education before you turn them into dim-souled, land-bound humans.”
“Try it and die,” Konomelu snarled. The furious orange tattoos shimmered on his skin and his tendons stood out in sharp relief.
“I should.” But Lieutenant Orike turned away. “I cannot wait until you are all dead, and I can serve my king in a noble role that better fits me.”
He kicked through a cloud of squid. One bumped into the lieutenant. He sliced it in half with his trident, deflating it like a bubbling human balloon. It dropped in ribbons, and the other squids clustered around the free snack.
One of the older youths pushed past Ciran. “How could you leave us, Orike? You make such a handsome squid-herder.”
The rest of the youths tittered.
Konomelu patted the youth’s shoulder with approval.
Lieutenant Orike stopped and turned back, eyes narrowed. “Nuno. Your true king awaits the day you venture out of shallow waters and realize you are more than a caretaker for young fry.”
Nuno’s jaw flexed.
Like the other youths, Nuno had mostly bare skin with a tattoo of foreign creatures and plants over his heart. But unlike the others, he his chest had broadened into a warriors’, and his daggers fastened to thighs and biceps that had filled out to an adult’s measure.
“Do you never wish to become a warrior?” Lieutenant Orike pushed.
For the shortest moment, a dark longing stole over the male. And then it disappeared. A cocky grin split Nuno’s face. “Sure, but then I remember I’d have to look you in the eye and pretend to respect you. I’d rather strap myself to a pair of electric eels.”
The youths tittered again.
“So be it.” Lieutenant Orike kicked to his warriors. He assigned one to patrol and led the rest into deeper water.
The youths jeered at the Luscans. “Squid-sucking sunfishes! Jelly-for-brains sea slugs!”
Konomelu shooed the taunting youths. “Enough, my trainees, enough.”
The youths swam deep into the cavern.
Konomelu and Itime rolled a boulder along a groove. It grated against the stone and sealed the cavern.
Neat but ultimately useless.
“What two warriors can close, other warriors can open,” Ciran said.
“We do not close out the warriors.” Konomelu released the boulder and floated to Ciran. “We close out those wretched squids.”
Fresh cuts nicked his forearms, but he was surprisingly healthy for an exile.
“I am Konomelu of Sanctuary.” He waved a hand at Itime. “You have met my colleague.”
Itime nodded.
“Once we served together as lieutenants of Lusca. Now?” He rotated to take in the shallow cavern lagoon filled with excited young fry and a deflating, sinking raft. “This is our city.”
The water level was twice as deep as Ciran was tall, but for a mer, it was the shallowest of pools.
But they had started the formal introductions, so Ciran stiffened and made the salute of Atlantis. “I am Ciran.”
“What is an Undine doing with two humans?” Konomelu asked.
“I am formerly Undine.”
Their brows both lifted. Itime’s subtly curled around his trident.
A warrior never voluntarily left a city, and only the worst crime resulted in exile.
He pushed through the discomfort. “Now, I am from Atlantis.”
“Atlantis?” Konomelu’s chin jerked back. “The ancient fable?
The two warriors moved to form a subtle wall separating him from the rest of their haven. He’d given them two answers they disliked.
The raft fully deflated and panicked splashing broke the calm lagoon’s surface. Their supplies dispersed and the crowbar fell to the cavern floor.
“Please let me assist the humans,” Ciran said. “Both are injured, and one is not used to shifting.”
Konomelu vibrated loudly without looking, “Nuno? Trainees? Help the humans.”
The young fry converged on the women.
Konomelu popped his trident out of his elbow and gripped the long metal rod. “Where are you from, really?”
“I am from Atlantis.”
“Why did you tell me Undine?” Itime asked, casually, as if he didn’t care about the answer.
“On the plane? I did not bother to correct you because there was little time. King Kadir found the ancient wreckage and is rebuilding the platform to unite humans with mer.”
Both warriors regarded him skeptically.
The continued splashing wore on Ciran. “Have you listened at no echo points?”
“We do not care about the opinions of the weak All-Council,” Konomelu sneered. “Atlantis is a myth. Your honor markings are Undine.”
“And? Your honor markings are Luscan.”
Konomelu lifted his chin proudly. “We are the only true warriors of Lusca left.”
“Be that as it may, if you had listened at any of the echo points, you