The Glimmering Sea

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Armida no longer tracked the days.

She played with a green gem in her bond-necklace as she scanned for evidence of Paolo. The water must hold the shape of him somewhere. The sand must show his passage.

The void her fingers found, the missing shell, was an absence. Like Liath and now Paolo. She wished for Liath's supportive presence, the presence of anything familiar.

It remained possible to turn back and report she had seen no signs of either Delfina or Paolo. Not that she had specific signs to search for. She wouldn't turn back, though. Not when Marea would remind her of Paolo. Not when it would reveal cowardice.

Her innate sense of direction comforted her. She'd righted herself after losing her way only once. She headed south toward what Torquato had named the Ionian Sea. She was not to stray too far from the coastline to her left because when the land ended, she had to turn east. Then she would need to swim north and around the bulge to find the Aegeano, the home sea of Erastus and the Thalassans. Between the Ionian and the Aegeano, she would travel the great sea. The Mediterraneo had formed between two vast landmasses and was of a size Armida would never travel in a lifetime.

Before reaching the Mediterraneo, she would pass through the Otranto Narrowing. The land on the east would nearly touch the western land. Armida trembled at the thought of the Otranto. Reality was enough for her to be afraid. Mythology made it worse.

She shoved her imaginings aside and faced reality.

The Otranto was where ships sailed to Venice, most often with the goods Terrans desired, like those the Mareans salvaged from shipwrecks. But the warships with soldiers and weapons used to kill, not merely defend, also sailed these waters. Armida feared the Terran craving for their valuables and the lust for territory. She would never believe Terrans and Mareans had once coexisted in harmony. Maybe the history was like the learnings of the Provided and the Delivered she now doubted. Maybe mutual peace was a myth.

She swam on while the turmoil of her mission absorbed her. When hunger pangs were not to be ignored, Armida focused on her surroundings.

How long have I been mindless of where I am?

She slowed and swayed with the current. The foreignness of the Otranto was days away, yet the waters here were already clearer than the furthest edges of Marea. She had grown accustomed to the contamination from the Terran workshops and foundries and the mysterious flow from the north. Here, in the crystal water, her vision extended further; she spotted a few prawns that made her stomach rumble. The distance allowed them an easy escape. She consoled herself with a krill ball ahead. She drifted until the first were within reach and scooped up several mouthfuls. They would have to suffice, but they did not satisfy her hunger. Neglecting food was not a recipe for survival.

When the crusted hull and broken mast of a shipwreck loomed, Armida relaxed for the first time since departing Marea. Wrecks meant food.

The shipworms boring their way into the wood were Armida's least favorite. She bypassed them to search among the sea sponges and coral taking up residence along the hull. She knew where the delicacies would hide.

Profuse cargo captured Armida's attention. She sifted through sand and mud to find beautiful glass bowls, clay amphorae, and bronze sculptures. The ship had never been salvaged, so she put the location in her memory for when she returned to Marea. It was outside the usual salvage zone, but its pristine nature would make the distance worthwhile. When Armida paused in her efforts, she realized her mistake.

Night was coming.

✧✧✧

The novelty of the surroundings had dulled Armida's awareness of time, and because of the water clarity, she had been heedless of how light penetrated to the depths where she swam. Darkness fell quickly here, lacking the seasilt of Marean waters to alter perception. A sudden blackness came without the opportunity to adjust.