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not,* Tailwalker signed, finally entering the conversation, though still visibly embarrassed. *She seeks to be my betrothed.*
    *But that would — *
    *That would destroy the planned alliance between our people,* Tailwalker said, fluttering his fins in agitation. *And she is very…persuasive.*
    *Persuasive?* she asked, again making the polite sign of inquiry.
    *You cannot perceive it, Seamage Flaxal’s Heir, but her time comes with the tide, and her scent fills the water of this grotto.* Quickfin’s tail fluttered again, and Cynthia realized that not all the males’ agitation was anger. Female mer put out a liquid scent when they wished to entice their mates into copulation, but the release of this scent was usually private. To do so in the company of more than one male bordered on indecent, and was certainly a brazen display. No wonder they were upset.
    *Let’s go for a swim, then, and let her scent dissipate while I say what I have come to say,* she signed.
    They agreed heartily, eager to leave and seek fresh water.
    *So, betrothed, why do you visit? You were among us only this morning.* Tailwalker ran his smooth fingers up her back in a gesture of affection, though she knew it was more camaraderie than amorous in intent. *Did you miss my company so soon?*
    *I received a message from someone who lives in the place where I was born.* There was no mer term for Southaven, just as there were no names for their own cities. *I must leave in three tides to see him. The matter is important.*
    The mer stopped their forward motion as if all three of their tails had been grabbed by a tangler squid.
    *Travel?* Quickfin made a gesture of alarm. *You are near your time of birthing, Seamage Flaxal’s Heir. This is not acceptable!*
    *What is so important?* Chaser asked, also clearly agitated.
    *This man is a mage, like myself. He tells me it is urgent, and I believe him.* She made a sign of steadfastness. *There is no option. I must travel.*
    *You must be back in time for the arrival of your heir, Seamage Flaxal’s Heir,* Tailwalker said, making the same sign of determination.
    *Of course, Tailwalker. I will be gone no more than thirty tides. My baby is not due for some time yet.* She made a point not to refer to her baby as The Heir, just out of stubbornness.
    *Thirty tides is too long,* Quickfin insisted. *Your new ship can make the trip in only five or six tides. You could be back in fifteen easily.*
    *I could, Quickfin, but I will not. I go to the place of my birth. I have friends there whom I have not seen in many seasons.* Cynthia stared down the three mer. For more than two years now she had done their bidding, eager to learn her role as a seamage and wary of insulting this easily insulted race. Unfortunately, she had found little guidance in her father’s diary regarding the mer. More often than not, he simply said they were difficult and that he treated them cautiously. She’d taken that advice, but this trip was important to her, and she would not be deterred. *I will be back in thirty tides.*
    *We do not know what is important that this other worker of magic has for you, but is there a reason he cannot come here?* Chaser made a sign of calming, obviously hoping to ease the tension.
    *His magic does not mix well with a sailing ship. He is also very old, and cannot leave his home.* The latter excuse probably wasn’t exactly true, but it sounded good.
    *What is his magic?* Quickfin put in.
    She had been afraid they would ask this, and she replied evasively. *He is a mage of the elements, as am I.*
    *And what is his element?* Tailwalker asked, calling her bluff.
    *His element is fire, as mine is the sea, Tailwalker.* The mer’s eyes widened in shock, and she almost laughed at how human their reaction was. Surprise was, it seemed, one thing they had in common. *Do not worry, my friends. He is a good man, and it is well that we are friends.*
    *I do not know if it is good to make a friend of fire, unless one is a worker of