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Neesha swam off.
    Fare watched her go, then turned his attention back to the guards, only vaguely discernible in the faded light that came and went with the waves above. There was a faint sparkle along the cliff side, and on staring hard at it, he realized it was the mermaid.
    What is she thinking?
Fare wondered. Was she planning to attack them? Ridiculous! The guards were easily twice her size! Even though he could still feel the bruises she’d inflicted on him, he was certain she was no match for one of the mermen, let alone four. He forced himself to grip the rock tighter, fighting the urge to help her. If she did have a plan, attracting attention to himself would surely ruin it. Hating the necessity, he kept still.
    Neesha clung to the cliff, pulling herself closer to the quarry, freezing whenever she thought she’d attracted attention, then moving stealthily forward. Finally she was close enough. Reaching into the natural pouch in her belly that would one day hold her young, she plucked out a blowpipe, and from a quiver attached to it, a specially treated sea-urchin spine. She paused, centering herself. She needed to be fast; she needed to be accurate. Her life depended on it—and perhaps the lives of her people.
    She aimed and forced a precisely calculated amount of water through the pipe, propelling the dart toward her first victim. There was a slight
tock!
as it struck his neck; then his muscles froze and he floated quietly, drifting. Another . . . and another. Then the fourth guard turned and saw her. Startled, he flung his trident at her, then snatched the net from around his waist. The mermaid curved around the trident as she brought the blowpipe up. Her shot went wild, and the guard bore down on her, strong and swift.
    He flung out the net but she spun upward, avoiding it and delivering a painful slap to his hands. He rolled in the water, reducing the force of the blow. Recovering, he swept his tail at her. Neesha evaded it, but only just. As he came around again, she plunged a dart into his tail. The net caught her tail fin and she rolled in panic, only drawing it tighter. Before he could pull her in, the drug began to take effect. He gritted his teeth, fighting it, and reached out; he slowed, then stopped.
    The young mermaid hung in the water, exhausted, and watched consciousness fade from her adversary’s eyes. In the distance, the cousins played, and the other Creesi still dreamed, heedless. Relief flowed through her, washing away fear. She dragged off the net and let it drop.
    Now to see where this cave leads,
she thought.
    Fare was already on his way to her, knife in hand. When he’d seen the guard attack, he’d sprung out of hiding. Two of them might overcome the fellow, big as he was. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over—the guard drifting in the current, the mermaid motionless in the water. Was she hurt? Then she looked up, those silvery eyes flashing in a moon-beam as she shrugged out of the net and gestured him forward.
    As soon as they entered the dark passage into the cliff, Fare knew there was something wrong. The water was foul, and there was a feeling about the place that made the back of his neck draw tight. At any moment he expected something vile to grab him. After what seemed an eternity he saw light. Looking up, he saw the flicker of torches through the murky water.
    A face, upside down, loomed before him. A pale face with the eyes of a man tortured past sanity. A clawed hand reached for him, and Fare cried out, thrusting himself feebly backwards. The mermaid flashed between them, catching that deformed hand. She looked over her shoulder at him and gestured that they should surface.
    Neesha drew Fare toward the side of the pool and surfaced carefully. The two of them listened. They looked around and saw nothing alarming. The pool was well below the torches, and she thought it must be deeper when the tide was in, for the rock was wet a long way up.
    Then