Coquina's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

Coquina had the address, but the address sat three days upriver. She could not walk it. She could not swim it either. River water was fresh, and fresh water burned her gills. Her salt was already thinning. Two hours of skin left, maybe less. She sat behind the tea seller's shop and stared at the brown current sliding past the pilings. The pearl moved farther from her every hour, and she had no way to follow. The back door creaked. The young girl from the crowd slipped out. She carried a wet bundle in her arms and a small round creature perched on her shoulder. The creature was a bear cub, pale pink and blue, its fur catching light like frost. It blinked at Coquina with huge eyes. The girl set the bundle down. "You can't swim the river," the girl said. "I heard you say it inside." She pulled a cloth off the bundle. Underneath sat a wide clay jar packed with dark green weed and gray silt. "Reef mud. And bloodwort. My grandmother packs gills with it when she moves live fish upriver. It holds the salt in. Keeps them wet inside." Coquina touched the mud. It was cool and thick. "How long does it last?" "A day. Maybe more if you stay under." The girl looked back at the shop. "He's coming. The fisherman. Someone rode ahead to warn him. You have to go now." Coquina packed the mud into her gills with both hands. It stung, then steadied. The burn eased. She could feel the salt hold, sealed under the silt like a wet second skin. She lowered herself off the pilings into the cold brown water. Her tail found the current. The gills pulled, and for the first time the fresh water did not tear at her. The bear cub leaped from the girl's shoulder and landed on Coquina's back. It gripped her hair and would not let go. "He won't stay behind," the girl said. "He likes you. Take him. He'll warn you if anything follows." Coquina looked up at the girl one last time. "Why help me?" "Because they won't." The girl pointed past the wharf, upstream, where the water narrowed toward the hills. "The white castle is up that way. Follow the deep channel. Don't surface near the boats." Coquina pushed off the piling. The current took her. The cub pressed flat against her spine, warm and shaking, its small claws hooked in her hair. Behind her the wharf shrank. She swam into the fresh water and did not dry out. But the girl's warning stayed with her. The fisherman knew she was coming. He had a head start and a boat. She had a day of borrowed salt, a stolen route, and a bear cub who could not talk. Somewhere upriver the shell-white castle waited, and the man who took her pearl would reach it first.