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“You are upset,” she says in her melodic, lilting accent, scooping up another handful of the sea foam and staring at me through the bubbles.
How astute.
“What do you know about children leaving the harbor?” I ask quickly, hoping to get to the point instead of the familiar song-and-dance routine we always find ourselves in.
“What is wrong?” she questions, diving under the water to take a breath. “I can feel your energy, and I do not like it.” She shudders. “I do not think you like it, either.”
Remy makes a grunt of agreement, and I roll my eyes.
We’re running out of time.
The Mayima have a reputation of driving a hard bargain, usually to their benefit and to the detriment to the human who dares to agree to it. Which is the reason so many people despise working with them.
Working with Natia is difficult in an entirely different way, though, with the constant random shifts of her focus.
“Natia, this is important. Have you seen one of the ships taking children?”
She glances back and forth between Remy and me, but this time her eyes linger a bit longer on him. The corner of her mouth quirks up, and I turn in time to see Remy reciprocating it.
“Natia.” I pull her attention back to me. “Please.”
Her eyes snap back to mine, and it’s as if a cloud has lifted from her.
“Oh! Yes! I have seen them.” She pauses. “But this is not new information. Children are smuggled out to sea every day, and no one seems to care about them. Is this not a normal thing that humans do?” She says the words without accusation, only genuine curiosity.
Remy curses behind me, and my jaw clenches.
How many children have disappeared from the streets lately? How many were stolen or sold from right beside me when I was still an orphan?
I had been sure that was going to be my fate, too, until Mother found me.
I wish I could tell the siren that this isn’t normal. But that’s not true. Not here, at least. For Bondé, stealing children for labor camps or pleasure houses is an all-too-common occurrence.
“Which. Ship.” I bite out each word. The dark turn of my thoughts zapped the last of my patience.
She takes a moment to think it over, tapping a finger on her chin.
“I don’t know. It is difficult to keep track of all of you humans. So many coming and going from this harbor...” Her voice trails off.
Grabbing a minted gold coin from my bag, I hold it up and allow it to reflect the light. Natia gasps and swims closer.
“So shiny!” she says, her mouth stretching wide over her pearly white teeth.
“Natia, I will give you this coin if you can think really hard and try to remember who it was that you heard talking about the children. Or even if you just remember what they look like.”
She nods excitedly before her face scrunches up in concentration. Several minutes pass before she claps her hands.
“Oh! I know! It was the men with the four black lines on their arms!”
I run through the known tattoos of the local crews until something clicks.
Sands-blasted hells.
“Did it look like this?” I ask, drawing the four rigid lines that make up the letter P in the sea foam she’s been playing with.
Natia squeals in approval.
I toss her the gold coin and thank her, turning on my heels to leave. They aren’t far from here.
That’s the symbol of the Pillagers, Madame’s most lucrative recent... acquisition. She won’t be pleased to lose such a heavy source of income.
But I’m finding that I care less and less every day about whatpleasesMother.
