No Slithereen May Fail
II. Disgrace (Siren)

The orange sea fades slowly to black, and she knows her time is almost up. She has given no orders since the discovery of the chalice’s absence, but her Guard has organized itself into squads and scoured the city. Yet, for all their efforts, the chalice has not been found. Now night approaches.

The last patrol takes its dejected place on the parade square and her heart sinks, a prayer dying on her lips as cold reality hits her. There is nothing anyone can do now – it has been three days since the battle. Three days of searching, three days of praying. Three days of fear.

The chalice is long gone from the city. My fate is sealed, she thinks. There is no need for searching or praying any more.

The fear remains.

She puts her blades down gently, like a brood-mother puts an infant in its cradle, and thinks of the uncharted Doldrums: the warm seas where uncountable levianths live and die in their crude cities, the stagnant waters from which none of her kind have ever returned alive. Scattered rumors by stealthier and more fortunate mer-folk speak of captured Slithereen working as slaves, or sacrificed in unholy rites to Maelrawn.

These blades have done everything that was asked of them, she thinks, unlike me. So now they go to the Vaults to wait for their next bearer. Now I go to my doom.

She unbuckles her armor, letting it fall slowly to the floor, and thinks of her family. Her parents are past their prime, and her stipend as commander of the Guard is– was, she corrects herself – a large part of their finances. What will happen to them when I am dead? She imagines them begging on the streets, pride at her accomplishments souring into shared disgrace for her crime.

Mother, Father, I apologize, she whispers. Your daughter has failed you.

She lifts her helm from her head, turning away from her– the assembled Guard, and thinks of him. He is far away, patrolling the deeps, and she will probably be gone before he returns. She wishes he were by her side, so she can see him one more time.

“Would he even want to see me?” She wonders aloud. “Perhaps this is for the better.”

She doesn’t know if she can bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. Her shaking hands clench into fists. The helm hits the stone with a soft clunk.

She thinks of him and the tears come at last.

She forces herself to be calm when four Guards approach her with a pair of heavy manacles. She lowers herself before them and extends trembling hands surfaceward, and the click of the cold metal is the only sound in the square. It rings impossibly loud in her ears.

Only now, bound beyond any reasonable hope of escape, does the thought of making a break for it cross her mind. No, she thinks quickly, gripped by the fear (irrational, she knows, but no less real) that someone is listening to her thoughts. I have broken my oath once. I will not break it again.

She tells it to herself again and again, willing it to be true.

The Guards take her to a small nondescript building just outside the gates, where a masked enforcer applies a warmed iron to her scales. It is over quickly, her markings dissipating into the water like a kraken’s ink-cloud. Then the enforcer begins unfastening a bell (a gift from him!) from her fins and she speaks up in protest for the first time.

He – she can tell once he speaks – is sympathetic but unyielding; she is guilty until proven innocent, and the law is the law. She considers begging but quickly dismisses the idea. It will not make a difference.

Passers-by stop and stare by the light of the glow-lamps as she is led to the Elders. There are no unkind words; no jeers or hurled insults. Every member of the crowd knows who she is and what she has done in defense of their city.

She keeps her head down the entire way. Locking eyes with her parents would undo her.

The Elders disagree and discuss and debate; the sentence is banishment until the chalice is returned. It is just as she has been expecting, yet her veins still turn to ice when she hears the verdict. She struggles to breathe as she is led out of the hall.

Many are reluctant to see her leave in disgrace, but the law is the law.

On her way back to her living quarters, one of the four escorting Guards tells her that her parents will be fed and sheltered. She stays silent for a moment, then smiles with some effort and thanks him.

She enters the room – their room – and is alone at last; the Guards will return at dawn. She tries and fails to choke back a sob, and begins to pack.