Proteus's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Word reached Proteus the next morning, carried by a merchant on Coral Row. Triton had been talking. In the shining storefronts, among limestone and gold, Proteus heard his own name twisted. The prince called the arena show a cheap trick. He said the seals were trained like dogs, not commanded like subjects. He said a bastard who herds pups cannot sit beside true-born heirs. The respect Proteus had won was curdling into doubt. Proteus moved through the crowd of Atlantean citizens in his old-man shape. They watched him sideways now. A woman in a purple sash pulled her child close. Two days ago they had gasped at his power. Triton's words had done their work. If Proteus answered nothing, the doubt would harden into truth. He found Triton beneath the great archway, laughing with a cluster of young nobles. The prince held court like he always did, crowned and easy, the conch at his hip. Proteus shed the old man. His grey hair darkened. His back straightened into the young god beneath. The nobles went still. "You call my seals dogs," Proteus said. "Then let me show the court what a dog cannot do." He did not strike his staff. He spoke to Triton alone, loud enough for all to hear. "Three nights past, ten ships sank in a storm. The court blames rough currents." He let the words settle. "I saw the storm's true mother. I see the past as plainly as you see this archway." Triton's grin flickered. "Ghost stories," he said. "That's— that's all you've got? A fish-herder guessing at weather." "Not guessing." Proteus lowered his voice, but the nobles leaned in to catch it. "I know who raised that storm. I know whose grief tore the hulls apart. Shall I name her before the court, brother? Or shall I hold my tongue, as a wiser man would?" Triton's face changed. He knew the answer, and he knew Proteus knew it too. The threat was plain. Name his sister, and the scandal would burn the whole family. "You wouldn't," Triton said. His bored tone was gone. "I keep my knowledge for those who earn it," Proteus said. "I only share what the capturer deserves. You have not captured me. So be careful what you call a trick." He turned to the watching nobles. "Judge my power for yourselves. Not by his jokes." Then he swam off before Triton could answer. The nobles whispered as he left. They did not whisper about seals now. They whispered that the Old Man of the Sea saw the true cause of the sinking ships. A seal followed him out, slow and silver. Proteus had stopped the slander. He had proven his word carried weight no prince could laugh away. But he had done it by threatening a secret he should not hold. Triton would not forget it. And somewhere in the palace, a sister he loved had become the knife he had chosen to carry.