Kaitlyn Patterson - The Diminished

“Darling Ambrose,” Lisette trilled. “How are you? We heard about the unfortunate incident at the park this afternoon. You must be terribly unsettled.”

Patrise laced an arm through mine and leaned in conspiratorially. “You don’t believe it was a coincidence, do you?”

“Isn’t it odd that Rylain hasn’t yet arrived for your party?” Lisette asked, sending me a look full of meaning. “We’ve always suspected that she was up to no good, haven’t we, Patrise?”

Spotting Claes, I squirmed out of their grasp, only barely managing to keep a civil tongue in the process. Of all the singleborn, Rylain was far and away my favorite, the one with whom I felt comfortable enough to be myself. She was a historian who’d devoted her life to researching the cataclysm and its fallout. She had visited our estates often when my father was still alive, and always brought with her huge numbers of books for my father and me. After my father’s death, Rylain had been a great comfort, always ready to lend a sympathetic ear.

I refused to give weight to Patrise and Lisette’s ridiculous accusations against her.

Well-meaning members of the gentry stopped me over and over as I tried to make my way across the crowded room. The questions on all of their lips were about the incident in the park that afternoon, and I had no answers for them. None at all. By the time I reached Claes, the butler had just announced that dinner was to be served. I laced a hand through his and leaned in close to whisper in his ear, my false smile beginning to make my cheeks and jaw ache.

“How is it that every soul in this room has heard about what happened this afternoon?”

Claes squeezed my hand. “It did take place in Esser Park, darling.”

“Do you know anything else? Was it an assassination attempt?”

“Bo, honestly. How often is there an incident with the diminished in Penby? Once a month? Twice? The Shriven wouldn’t have taken action had the violence been committed by anyone not diminished. It had to be a coincidence.”

The assumption didn’t sit right with me, but I wasn’t about to argue with Claes in the middle of a dinner in my honor. The guests were beginning to find their ways to their seats. I glanced over at the Queen, flanked by the singleborn of her generation—Zurienne, Olivar and Turshaw, all wearing matching expressions of mild annoyance. Runa eyed the seat to her right, the place of honor I was meant to occupy. I took a step in that direction, but Claes kept hold of my hand and leaned in once more.

“An attempt on the heir apparent’s life, so close to the ceremony? Think of the scandal such a thing might cause. It would look as though one of the other singleborn was so desperate to usurp your place that they would try anything. No one is that stupid.”

Claes dropped my hand, and I sat down to my last state dinner before I became the heir. But his words sat like lead in my belly, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t quite sure if I trusted him or not.

CHAPTER FIVE

VI

The tide was low and the fishing boats not yet in the water as I walked, shivering, into the sea. Though the weight of the whole ocean pushed me back toward the shore, I slogged through the icy water as fast as my legs would propel me. The wind whipped black curls loose from my braid and into my eyes, but I kept my focus on the red marker bobbing in the water and the salty musk of the ocean. Five more strides before I could dive.

I checked my knives, my nets, my ballasts. I tried to breathe deeply, to get ready. Focus, Vi , I thought. This cold summer morning would be the last time I dove for the temple, and glad as I was, I wanted the ocean to myself to say goodbye. I knew the memory of this last dive would stick to me like a barnacle I’d carry with me forever.

I wondered what Anchorite Lugine would say when I left. She’d be glad, more than likely. I certainly wouldn’t get the tearful goodbye that Sawny and Lily had been given.

Four more steps.

My feet slicked around smooth rocks and sank into the sand. The seawater was as gray as the clouds. Gray as my eyes. Scummy foam laced the tops of the tiny waves and lapped at my shoulders. The chill would cling beneath the waves for months yet, turning lips and fingertips blue after a few minutes. But not mine. Not anymore. Not after today.

Three more steps.

Something sleek and scaled slipped past my calf in the cold water, breaking my reverie. I shuddered. It didn’t matter that I’d spent most of my nearly sixteen years in this same harbor—until I got underwater, the unseen creatures that swam past my legs still set my teeth on edge. My oil-slicked body had grown almost used to the cold.

Two more steps.

One last time, I checked that my tools were securely tied to my belt. As I pulled my goggles into place, I started taking deep breaths. Today’s dive would be easier than usual, with the water low and the tide nearly imperceptible.

One more step.

I took a last, long breath and sank beneath the waves.

The sea was never silent. The hushing crush of the water, the clicks and squeals of the few hardy sea creatures and the soft thud of my heart finally drowned out my racing thoughts. My goggles were older than me, issued by the temple when I first began to dive. The leather was cracked, and tiny bubbles in the glass left my vision hazy at best, but they kept the seawater from stinging my eyes and made it a little easier to see below the surface. I found the red rope net that surrounded the underwater bed of oysters the temple’s divers were harvesting this month and swam toward it. I had to focus.

When I reached the marker, I swam back to the surface and treaded water for a few minutes, breathing in the pattern I’d learned many years ago. A deep breath in followed by many little gulps of air.

Good luck would go a long way today, Pru. See if you can’t manage a bit for me? I thought.

Finally, on the third breath, I dove toward the ocean floor. I couldn’t hold my breath for as long as some of the older divers—only about seven minutes—but I was faster than most and a strong swimmer. I dug my fingers into the sea floor and yanked the rough shells of startled oysters from their sandy beds, my mind settling into the rhythm of the work. By the time my chest began to burn, my net bag was half-full. I ascended slowly, like I’d been taught, and as I caught my breath, I pulled my ballasts back up by the long lines that attached them to my belt.

I went down three more times, and when both my bags were full, I swam back toward the wharf, where I’d hidden my clothes. I had one last thing to do before I steeled myself to get out of the water. I tied the net bags, heavy with oysters, to a rusted iron ring that had long ago been sunk into the wood of one of the pilings halfway between the end of the dock and the shore. I swam back out toward the bay, keeping myself hidden under the dock.

I turned sixteen the next day, and I could finally bid farewell to the city, the temple and the anchorites. It was time to harvest the last of the pearls I’d been so carefully cultivating beneath the docks all these years. Since I wouldn’t be returning to the harbor again, I cut the ropes, after pulling the oysters from my lines, and watched them drift to the ocean floor.

When I got back to shore, I set my bag of oysters apart from the others before I dried off and dressed with numbed fingers gone blue and wrinkly in the cold water. The cool air was a shock after having gotten used to the water’s chill. Even in the summer, Alskad was never hot, especially early in the morning before the sun had baked away the mist and fog.

I stuffed my braid under my wool cap, kneeled on one of my folded sweaters and set to work. I needed to move fast. The others would be making their way to the shoreline soon, and they’d have questions if they saw me shucking oysters on the beach rather than under Anchorite Lugine’s watchful eyes. I could already hear the news hawkers on the docks, calling headlines about the declaration of the heir and rebel groups disrupting trade in Ilor. I thought of Sawny, hoping that he and Lily had arrived and settled safely as I slipped my knife into an oyster shell and twisted, popping it open.