The Octopus Queen (A Little Mermaid Retelling)

26 - The Sea Witch's Not-So-Triumphant Return

Twilight is falling and true night is ready to bloom by the time the selkies deposit me on a pile of large boulders near the border between Farbarrow and Rollinsville. I'm naked—not a state I prefer to be out in the open in, but I don't have to bother drying my clothes. I thank the two females, who bob their seal heads and vanish with nary a ripple back into the ocean.

Bippi pops up where the selkies were just floating. "I will search the coastline," he says. "I'll even check the bay near the duke's castle, just in case the princess was able to gain access."

"Good," I say, pulling small clothes and a plain brown dress from its water-tight satchel. "I'll find a tavern for the night and ask around to see if anyone has seen a girl with pink hair." I reach into the bag and withdraw a kerchief and wrap it around my hair. Unlike Amanthara, I don't have distinguishing features and unlike in Farbarrow, most Rollinsville citizens do not know me on sight. As long as I don't pass by employees from the bookshop or market, I should be fine. And as much as I don't like to admit it, my face has changed, losing its girlish roundness for a more mature countenance.

Everyone knows about the sea witch from Farbarrow, but have they truly seen her?

Bippi blinks and sinks below the surface. I finish getting dressed and eye the boulders leading up to the grassy top. I haven't climbed anything like this in a long time, but it shouldn't pose a problem. At least, that's what I'm telling myself as my foot slips and I curse. Gritting my teeth, I wedge my fingertips and toes into cracks and crevices, slowly but surely hauling myself upward.

I'm only a little winded as I reach the top. But I've done it, I think with a smile. That's when I'm suddenly seized from behind, the tip of a knife placed against my ribs.

"Oh," a rough male voice growls, "looks like I've got me a selkie."

My heart jumps and I twist my head around. That was a bad idea because his breath is simply awful: putrid, rancid, and everything in between. He also smells as if he hasn't had a good bath since birth.

"C'mon, darling," the man continues, nuzzling my neck, his free hand coming up to grope my breasts. I flinch and the knife digs a little harder between my ribs. "Now, now, the less you struggle, the sooner it will be over."

Not likely.

The sea rolls beneath my skin and I call to it. This close to the water, my power is at its strongest. I reach for it as the man begins to drag me backward into a small copse of trees.

"Let's see what I've got—urgh!"

A whip-thin column of water arcs out of the ocean and snags the man around the waist. The knife draws across my dress, tearing fabric as the would-be rapist is pulled off me.

"Help! Hel—" His words are cut off by the water that flows over his mouth. All that comes out are bubbles and muffled, terrified gurgles.

I pivot and fold my arms, staring into his wide, frightened eyes. "You chose the poorly," I tell him as he struggles ineffectually in the column of seawater. "Let this be a lesson to you. May the Grey God judge you fairly." I flick my hand and the column of water goes crashing over onto the rocks. There is a crunch; the only sound is the waves lapping against the boulders.

Nausea clenches my stomach, but I force it away. I have no time to be sick. That man deserved it; if not me, he would have ruined some other poor girl's life. Smoothing my hand over the tear in my dress, I adjust the belt around my waist to hide it.

Leaving the copse, I make my way to the road, following the signs toward the nearest inn.

The inn I choose isn't too poor nor is it too high-brow. It's a modest white-paneled three-story affair in the merchant district with a small barn and two large paddocks for renters' horses and carriages. It's also relatively close to the duke's castle. The main room has about a dozen patrons sitting around, drinking tea, wine, or beer and exchanging gossip.

I approach the front desk and find a woman around my age with mousey brown hair caught up in a series of braids piled on her head. She wears a light blue paisley apron over a white blouse and a blue embroidered skirt.

"I'd like a room, please."

Shrewd hazel eyes study me from behind wire-rimmed glasses. "It's a silver a day; one silver upon check-in, the rest upon check-out. Housekeeping is ten coppers, meals are included for an additional ten coppers."

I pull a silver from my purse and set it on the cream-colored wooden desk, followed by a ten-copper piece. "Two days, plus meals." I hope I won't be here for two whole days, but I have to think ahead.

The clerk picks up the silver and studies it. "Katavetchia silver, hm?" she asks, turning the coin over to see the triple-eagle mark.

"Is that good?" Most of the treasure the merfolk and selkies pick up from the seafloor are of foreign make.

"Perfectly," she replies shortly, pulling out a ledger. "Sign your name and address here, please."

I scrawl a fake name and address, Kavia Johanssen and a street that doesn't exist in the nearby city of Vesturbourg, in the ledger. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a girl with light brown skin and pink hair around these parts, would you?" I inquire as the clerk makes some notations in the ledger.

The clerk's gaze sharpens shrewdly. "Who's asking?"

I don't know if she suspects something, so I have to tread carefully. "She's an old classmate's daughter," I bold-face lie. "She lives here now and her mother asked me to check in on her when I was in town."

"She didn't give you an address?"

Shit. "She did, but when I got there, the landlord told me she had moved."

The shrewd look in the woman's eye softens somewhat. "On the run from mama, huh?" The clerk laughs as if it's some sort of joke I'm not a part of. She looks off into the distance, then back at me. "Now that you mention it, I did hear the head housekeeper talking about a pink-haired girl in the market this afternoon. Vasta!"

Some of the patrons in the common room look up, but almost immediately go back to their drinks and conversations. A matron wearing the same white blouse and blue skirt, but with a plain brown apron and cap, pops her head around a corner. "Yes?"

"Weren't you telling me about some slip of a girl in the market this afternoon? One with pink hair?"

"Oh yes," the older woman replies. "She was asking for directions to His Grace's castle with a pad and pen. Walked funny."

"Palsy," I reply immediately.

The housekeeper glances at the front desk clerk. "Mistress Johanssen is friends with the girl's mama. Was asked to look in on her while she's in town."

"Oh. Well, I can only tell you that she was headed towards the castle when last I looked. Can't be helped to be curious about a girl with strange hair."

"Thank you," I tell the women. The housekeeper nods and ducks out of sight; the clerk hands me a heavy key, with a number attached to it. "Women's rooms are on the third floor. Bathing room and water closet are located at both ends of the hall. We don't encourage traveling between floors at night," she adds pointedly. "Breakfast is from six to nine in the dining room, no eating in the rooms. Dinner is from six to ten."

I nod and go up the stairs to the third floor. My room is on the right side of the hallway, closest to the bathing room and water closet. I insert the heavy key that could double as a weapon and enter the room, swiftly closing the door behind me.

It's a simple room: wooden floors covered by a non-descript brown and gold rug; bed with fresh linens and three plump pillows; a small writing desk with chair; and a chair upholstered in green and brown paisley sits by the window overlooking the street. There's a tiny coal-fired stove, a bucket of coal, and a shovel, as well as a single candleholder with six tapers. I immediately lock the door and go over to the desk, taking items out of the satchel, and laying them with precision on the scarred top. After closing the curtains, I light the candle and get to work.