Everything had gone spectacularly to shit.

There was a brief lull in the fight as Ariana's opponents stepped back in horror. She pulled her fist out of a heavily armored man's chest, a torrent of dark blood and shattered bone following. She shoved the body away and wondered how much longer she could hold out. If she wanted to hold out. As the unfriendly faces around her replaced their shock with anger, she shook her hand out and pushed the thought from her mind. She was still alive. She could still fight.

Ariana ducked under a wild swing and punched into the swordwoman's gut. She held back, not wanting to waste any more strength on the showy move that had taken out their leader and shaken the group. They had seen what she was capable of. They feared her and it made them hesitate. She kicked the woman, staggering her completely, and snatched the sword away. Reversing the grip, Ariana brought it up in an arc and took the arm off the man approaching from behind. Continuing the motion, she abandoned the sword in the chest of another enemy. She didn't need weapons. She was a weapon.

They feared Ariana, but it hadn't been enough to save her.

*     *     *
It was just another job, or at least that's what she thought when the notice went up in the town square. It was a village, really, too small for the bigger merchant clans to care, too small to get lost in. Mercs like her clung to it like maggots on a corpse. She should've known something was up when she caught wind of the pay. Nearly double the going rate, strange for something as standard as an escort. The thing about mercs was they didn't care what the job was, they cared about the money, so that was all the talk was about. Ariana was more selective. She cared about the job, and she made sure to keep that to herself lest word got out she was soft. She had a reputation to maintain.

She had something else other mercs didn't. Some kind of sense, an intuition maybe, about which jobs were good and which ones were bad. She had relied on it when she was a kid on the streets, knowing who to beg from and who to run from. It got stronger as she grew. She never ignored it, until her first job as a merc. She had been a scruffy, cut up street kid, but she wasn't broken in the way some kids were. Until she ignored her instinct. Until that first job.

Ariana pushed down the memories. There was nothing in those that would help her. It had been a few weeks since she’d had work and money was running out. It was always running out. She was in a coveted corner table of a tavern, legs kicked up over the spare seat, sneering at anyone who got close. She had ripped the notice off the wall, much to the disgust of the barman, and read it again. It was a simple escort job, a few carts, some minor merchant's daughter. She'd done that sort of thing dozens of times before. The destination was nowhere special, a port town south of the capital. She frowned when she read the pay again, but was it really that strange? Ariana felt her stomach cave, like a hole had opened up in her gut. She was probably just hungry. She raised a hand and a serving girl scurried over to take her order.

*     *     *
Ariana really should've known something was up when she found herself at the west gate of town when their destination was decidedly northeast.

She stood next to the middle of three wagons, the passenger wagon. It had cutout windows with thick drapes brocaded in seagreen and gold. Waste of money for something meant to keep the dust and rain out. Ariana snorted, then looked over the other mercs. She recognized many of the men and women, being in the business for half her life. She exchanged nods, grunts, and glares with a few. It wasn't uncommon for mercs to get into dustups. That's why most got into the life. Not obedient enough for the military, not refined enough for a personal guard. She'd laid out one scowling youngster just last week. Most got over it quickly enough, but the brats still cared about pride. They'd get over it quickly enough. Mercs didn't have pride, everyone knew that.

There was just the wagon and two carts. It wasn't that much, to Ariana's eye. Certainly not enough to have hired on twelve mercs at the price they were paying. It must've been something rare, or special, though Ariana didn't think either word applied to the prairie. It was all grass, wind, and dirt. Good for growing stuff, for the odd seam of copper, but nothing special. She thought about asking questions, going against one of the few rules mercs had because they did have some standards, but that was when she saw her.

The rough talk and laughter kept up, so she knew no one else had noticed the woman approaching. If they had the idiots would have turned to mocking and catcalls, at least until they realized no one would walk up unless it was the fucking client. Or maybe they would have been too stunned to react, like Ariana. Only years of staring down people trying to kill her kept Ariana's face blank, kept her lungs pumping.

She was stunning. Dark brown skin, a thick braid of ebony pulling hair away from her face, a sharp nose above soft lips. But her eyes, that's was drew Ariana. A piercing sea green that cut through Ariana's core with a wicked glint. The woman was dressed like the rest of them, all dusty linen and leather, a long knife in a plain sheath at her waist, a sack over her shoulder. The woman was frowning as she looked the group over, then her eyes landed on Ariana. She suppressed a shudder and met the other woman's gaze with the same dull, hardened look. The woman smiled and walked up to her.

There was something practiced in the way she moved. Each step was intentionally placed. Ariana fought the urge to look at the woman's hips and kept her eyes trained on her face. As she neared, Ariana saw her skin lose the smooth flawlessness that distance imparted. She was near Ariana's age, maybe older, marked with the fine tracery that would eventually age her, roughened by hard travel. The woman was beautiful, and soon standing right in front of her.

Ariana blinked. The others were still crowing at each other, not noticing the newcomer or dismissing her as just another merc. In all her years working up and down the coast, across the prairie, into the high desert and even through the mountain passes into the states perpetually caught in civil war, Ariana had never seen anyone like her. She would have remembered. The woman was standing like she was ready to take a punch. Ariana tensed. The woman's smile broadened, and she put her hand out.

"Meila," the woman said. Her teeth were like pearls. Even her fucking teeth were gorgeous.

"Ariana," she replied, taking her hand. Meila had a strong grip, calloused fingers, and a palm smooth as silk. "New around here?"

"You could say that," Meila said. She had a soft accent that rounded out the ends of her words. Where was she from? Beyond the mountains? The woman's next words pulled Ariana from her musings.

"I'm your client."

*     *     *
Meila never got in the wagon but walked beside it. A few miles outside of town the caravan stopped. Two figures rose out of the grass. Ariana barked an order and the mercs got in a loose line around the carts. Normally they would have fought for the position of captain, but no one wanted their ass handed to them by Ariana.

A strong hand fell on Ariana's shoulder. "They're mine," Meila whispered in her ear. Ariana had the mercs stand down. The two newcomers approached. They wore thick cloaks in prairie colors. Underneath was the cold glint of steel. They wore heavy plate and were armed to the teeth. Both got into the passenger wagon. At a nod from Meila and a whistle from the lead driver they were back on the road.

They stopped in the middle of nowhere. This deep in the prairie everywhere was nowhere. One time Ariana thought if she walked far enough into it she could become no one. It hadn't worked.

The sun was setting and the wind was picking up. Ariana allowed fires to be built, and soon the sweet, almost nauseating smell of burning dung and three bean soup permeated their camp. It wasn't likely any ragtag bunch of bandits would attack a group this large, and their keen-eyed sentries would spot them from miles away.

Ariana took her bowl of soup and walked far out into the grass to eat it. She watched the sunset paint the endless grasses in red and gold, rippling and parting under the wind. Ariana sat on the ground, flicking rocks from under her ass. She sat in silence and ate, teeth catching on the slightly undercooked beans. After a while the grass rustled as someone approached. Normally Ariana would be annoyed by the intrusion, but this time she waited in anticipation.

"It's lovely," Meila said, sitting down next to Ariana. They quietly watched as the sun continued to sink, as the colors grew deeper and darker.

"It looks like the ocean," Meila said. "But more kind, more forgiving."

"The sea's a brutal thing," Ariana said, voice gruff.

"She gives and she takes," Meila replied, and Ariana felt the words had some deeper meaning. "Have you seen her?"

Ariana snorted. "Seen it? Aye, and I've pulled an oar in my time."

"Oh? Did you grow up on the coast?"

"The capital," Ariana confirmed. "Didn't go to the docks much. Too dangerous for a stray brat. Once I got out, though, I took a few jobs on merchant craft." Ariana shrugged, unused to telling so much about herself.

"So you were a street rat?" Meila said, a smile in her voice.

"River rat." Ariana shrugged again. Rivers and canals cut through the capital city in erratic lines. Nasty things most of the year, only clean when the city opened the floodgates and washed the filth into the bay. "Best way to run from marks is to jump in the nearest canal and crawl into a sewer pipe."

"A sewer rat, then?" Ariana laughed.

And so the days and nights passed. They traded barbs and banter. Ariana revealed more of herself and her past, in defiance of her usual reticence. Sometimes the back of her mind screamed and her bowels churned, reminding her how dangerous trust was. How vulnerable her confidences made her. Ariana burned with questions for Meila. The woman answered some, but just as often smiled and demurred. She remained mysterious and elusive, which drew Ariana, but more than anything Ariana wanted to know her.

It was a dangerous feeling.

One night, drunk off her ass from some dubious grain liquor the mercs had passed around, Ariana expressed some of that feeling to Meila.

"I want to crack you open like a nut," she slurred, realizing the next day how terrible that sounded. "Like a clam. I want to see the pearl inside you."

"Do you?" Meila said with that terrible smile of hers.

"Yes," Ariana hissed, leaning towards her.

"Maybe I'll show you my pearl," Meila said with a wink, and Ariana leaned away and cackled.

"But you know," Meila continued once Ariana was able to breathe. Meila's voice was low, almost sad. Ariana frowned, willing her blurry eyes to focus on Meila's face.

"That eventually kills the clam."

*     *     *
A few days after her drunken confession the first bandits struck.

Ariana knew things had been too quiet. Even with a crew this big there were people desperate enough to try them. She had thought someone might snatch something off the carts while they were in town resupplying. Ariana considered riders, rare as they were given the cost of a horse. You'd get more out of selling the damn thing. What she hadn't expected was an ambush.

Most caravan fights were quick hits, in and out. Scrawny bandits didn't want to get tangled with the mercs who were always ready for a brawl. Ariana knew this time was different. It wasn't a simple road robbery. These ambushers were out for blood.

They were just talking about stopping for the night when arrows thwacked into dirt, not striking anyone but coming damn close.

"Ren, Kira!" The two burly bruisers looked at Ariana. "Get the archers." They nodded. "Go!" They nodded and bolted in the direction the arrows came from, arms covering their heads. Shadowy figures sprung from the grasses to engage them, but were easily knocked aside by the charge.

"Gino, get the shields. Shields!" Ariana cried as an arrow struck her thigh. Meila had her knife out, crouched and scanning the area like some feral thing. The two warriors in the cart started to move, but Meila punched the side and they settled down. Screams from the dark let Ariana know Ren and Kira had found the archers. The target quickly became clear as the melee ambushers came straight for the passenger cart.

Ariana cursed, ripped the arrow out of her leg, and ran at the closest enemy. She jammed it into an unprotected eye, lifted them by their clothes, and threw them into a second ambusher. Gino had gotten shields to half of the mercs; the rest would have to make do with their gear on hand. Cudgels and knives sang through air, cutting throats and cracking skulls. The young boy Ariana had beaten, Loonie he called himself, was going to town with a handaxe and a demon's grin. Meila ran up to join Ariana, but Ariana pushed her back.

"You're the last line of defense," Ariana said. "Let us do our job." Meila looked pissed at that, but nodded and retreated. Most of the mercs were handling their own in individual fights, but a few were getting beaten down by bigger, stronger, or more skilled opponents. Ariana always helped the youngest mercs first; no sense getting offed before you had a real chance in the world. So she joined up with Loonie and knocked his opponent's head off with her fist. Loonie watched in awe as the head rolled away in the dirt and the body fell back.

"What the fuck was that?" he shouted. "Oh Ais," he said, invoking the prairie goddess's name. "I never should have fucked with you."

Ariana grinned at him. "Don't worry, I go easy on brats. Stay focused, more are coming." She swiveled and kicked the ambusher approaching from the side, cracking half their ribs and likely their spine. The person dropped and never got back up.

In the moment each second of the fight stretched forever. The smell of blood and vomit, piss and dirt, invaded Ariana's senses, stoking her joy and her rage. She worked back and forth, pushing the ambushers back, circling around when the fight spread to the other side of the cart. It was strange they had only come at them from one side of the road, but Ariana didn't linger on that thought, focused on taking the next person down. It felt like it lasted forever, but really it was only a few minutes. Mercs were vicious and brutal, but on a job they were also efficient. Soon all the ambushers were dead or dying, the mercs cut up and bruised but very much alive. Ren and Kira came out of the grass dragging two bodies apiece.

Ariana, unscathed and a bit out of breath, walked up to Meila. "We took them all out," she said. "What do you want done with the bodies?"

"What do you think is best?" Meila seemed untouched by the bloodshed that had erupted around her. She had even put her knife away. Ariana felt a rush of heat at the confidence her client had in her.

"It's too late in the year to burn them." Ariana said. "Too dry, the grass might catch it. Mercs typically grab food and coin, leaving the rest for scavengers."

"Scavengers?"

"Kids, usually, from one of the settlements. They get weapons, armor, clothes, leave the rest for the animals."

"I see. Well, go on then." Meila paused, looking Ariana over. "Are you injured? You're soaked in blood."

"Oh." That was pretty typical for a big fight like this, though Ariana had to admit her style of fighting got her dirtier than most. "It's not mine."

"Hmm." Meila cocked her head, then gestured for Ariana to come closer. Ariana was puzzled, until Meila grabbed her collar and shoved her tongue down her throat.

*     *     *
The crew started calling them the Boss and the Boss's Lady. Ariana ignored the jeers and focused on her conversation with Meila. The jig was up. Whoever Meila had wanted to throw off the scent had covered the roundabout western route. They had a map rolled out between them that showed more of the world than Ariana had ever seen, even the outlying islands where only the greediest merchants dared to sail. The prairie was an empty swathe that dominated the center, showing only the major roads, the lone river that ran lazily through it, and the few larger villages. Settlements tapered off as the western road approached the mountains, and the land between roads was near empty of human life. Just the endless grass and the infinite sky.

"Is there an easy route between here," Meila pointed at where she believed they were, "and here?" she asked, pointing to an unmarked bit of coast. "Can we cut straight through?"

Ariana grunted. She had little use for maps. Her time on the road was carved into her body, and the prairie was carved into her soul. City-bred though she was, her ancestors had ties to the land that bound her. The caravan had traveled so far west that Meila's direct route came dangerously close to the Heart of the Prairie. Ariana grimaced at the insane roundabout route her client had revealed to her. Straight west to the mountain, then circling back around through the foothills. It made no sense. So why? Had she wanted to get lost out here?

Ariana focused on the map. Despite how it looked, the prairie wasn't flat. Parts regularly flooded in springtime, gouging paths hidden by the dense plant life that could easily break a horse or human leg. It was serene from afar, deadly up close. Low growing cacti with poisonous spike, scuttling stingers with enough venom to take out the whole team. Wild dogs that ran in packs, vicious and fearless. The land was packed with so many small dangers Ariana barely felt confident to get through it herself, much less twenty people, three carts, and six horses. She made her decision.

"I'll talk to the other mercs, see how many are prairie-bred. Maybe a few are good enough to scout ahead with me." If there weren't Ariana had another option, and Ais knew she had spilled enough blood to pay for it.

*     *     *
To their credit, they got nearly two days into the prairie before being forced to stop.

Ariana crept from under Meila's arm, nodded to the two mercs on watch, and walked out onto the prairie. There were several hours until dawn, and it would be a long and dangerous walk. Dangerous to others. Ariana was favored.

It wasn't hard for her to find the spot. Her heart was drawn to it with every beat, every breath she took, no matter how far from home she was. And this was home, even if she was the last of her people. Even if she had never traveled with the other nomads, moving herds through the seasons. Even if she had been born in a dark room in a darker alley and had never known what it truly meant to breathe. The prairie pulsed with life around her. The comforting buzz of insects seeking out warm flesh, the patter of mice scurrying away from light-footed hunters. The soft sage-sweet breeze that threatened to unravel her braid. With each step she took, deeper into this wild and free land, something opened in Ariana. The fear and the anger that kept her on constant edge wound into a more true, more necessary emotion that keened her senses and loosened her muscles: survival. It was such an immediate and natural thing. Ariana wondered at how easily she lost sight of it.

She arrived just as the sun kissed the horizon, painting the prairie in imperial violet. This place didn't stand out from its surroundings, all grass and scrub and rich clean earth. She fell to her knees and sank her fingers deep, weaving between roots.

"I need your help."

Tell me something new.

A bush shakes, and a prairie dog lunges at Ariana, golden fur shining in the dawn light. She doesn't move. The dog sinks her jagged teeth into her wrist, working back and forth, tearing skin and tendon until she hits bone. Blood gushes from Ariana's torn skin, soaking into the ground.

What have you brought me?

A snake slithered from the other side, wrapping around Ariana's uninjured arm and sinking his fangs into her skin, pumping white hot venom into her veins.

"Life. Death."

Always more death with you, though.

"Life is the space between death," Ariana said through gritted teeth.

Don't quote me. What do you need this time?

"Safe passage to the shore."

Done. If that was it, why did you come all the way out here?

Ariana said nothing.

Ah, you just wanted to see me.

She felt ghostly arms wrap around her. It reminded Ariana of her mother. She wanted to sink into it, but it was just a sensation. There was nothing there.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect them. I'm sorry you're alone now.

"It wasn't your fault."

But it was my responsibility. And I suppose you aren't so alone anymore, with that pretty girl around.

"She's a client, and too old to be a girl."

Be careful around her. She belongs to ... someone else.

"Belongs to? You mean like me?"

Yes, to one of my ... sisters.

"You have sisters?"

Don't you have a job to do? Yes, I have sisters. She smells like one of them. Now go, and next time bring me a little less death.

Seeing as it was part of her job, Ariana wasn't sure how to pull that off. She stood, wiped the blood, dirt, and venom from her skin, and walked back to the camp. Her head filled with the new path she'd set the caravan on.

When she arrived she found Meila waiting expectantly. She moved closer and drew the other woman into a hug, a little embarrassed to be doing it in the daylight, in front of so many inquiring eyes. She pressed her face to Meila's neck and inhaled.

She smelled like the ocean.

*     *     *
Ariana had grown up in a port town. She had traveled up and down the coastal road more times than she could count. She had pulled an oar on a ship, pulled up nets filled with silver fish that glistened like jewels. She had seen the ocean. Yet every time she saw it again she was struck by its vast, relentless beauty.

She stood on a dune with old shells cracking under her feet. A bitter breeze pushed brittle grasses against her legs. To her side stood Meila, legs spread as if she were about to capsize, arms crossed against her chest. Ariana looked at the other woman's face and for a moment was stunned. Meila had such a raw, vulnerable look, her eyes stormy with despair. She looked heartbroken.

No word or gesture seemed like they would fit, would ease the pain on Meila's face. Ariana just stood and watched, until one of the drivers hollered for them. Meila turned back first.

It was all business from then on. In a few hours they'd be in town, at Meila's destination. Ariana had no idea what to expect when they got there, and an even worse idea about where she'd go next.

Ariana stood to her side as Meila finished up her deals. Everything was going. Bolts of cloth, unsmelted ore, casks of salt packed fish. Basic things, nothing Ariana would figure to require so much protection. The carts sold too. The wagon driver cracked his reins and headed down south. Meila paid off the mercs, who headed for taverns and inns, drawing eyes and causing a ruckus. Then it was just Ariana and Meila.

Meila had a sack over her shoulder and watched the dust kicked up from the wagon's passage.

"You didn't get good prices," Ariana said.

"I know."

"You didn't even barter."

"No, I didn't."

Meila turned to look at her. Her sea green eyes distant and fathomless, asking for something Ariana didn't know how to give.

"Will you come with me?"

*     *     *
Several nights later they made camp some distance off the road. For the most part other travelers were content to leave them to their own. When larger parties passed them it put Meila, and in turn Ariana, on edge. They went without a fire, shivering close together as a chill breeze came off the sea to blow away the lingering summer heat.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" Ariana asked. It had been a point of contention between the two. The tension told her they were headed for something, into something, and she wanted to be prepared.

"Do you have a home?" Meila asked. She looked over the sea, watching waves break against shore under the moonlight. Ariana looked at her, then followed her gaze to watch the water.

"No. Not anymore."

"What happened to it?"

Ariana shrugged. "Nothing much. Nothing different than what always happened, except it was worse this time. The fights, the battles ... there weren't many of us left to kill. In the end it was me and mama, and then it was just me."

Meila pulled her closer, wrapping a strong, warm arm around her.

"What would you do to protect it? If you still had it."

Ariana didn't have to think. "Anything. Why're you asking?"

Meila moved her hand up, threading fingers through Ariana's hair. "Trying to put me to sleep?" She felt Meila smile against her cheek.

"The islands I'm from ... we can't support ourselves anymore. We're too many, have relied on trade for too long. It's my duty to protect them."

"Duty?"

"I think you know what I mean. There were more like us, before. The seas, the mountains, the rivers and prairies. People given strength by the land. Protectors."

"Never met another one before," Ariana said quietly. "Didn't even know others existed."

"So, you see, you understand what I mean when I say I must protect them. That I would do anything, be anything, for them. Even if that means ..."

"What?"

"Even if that means I can't go back."

"What do you mean?" Ariana sat up, waving at the canvas of sea spread out before them. "It's right there, we can walk down the beach and—"

"No," Meila said, voice breaking. "She won't take me back."

To Ariana's confusion and horror, Meila started to cry, sobs racking her body. Ariana held her close, not knowing what else to do, not moving for the rest of the night.

*     *     *
"Ah, the pirate princess. We've been expecting you."

Ariana glanced at Meila, wondering at the title she had been given. They had arrived at the capital that morning and came directly to this merchant's mansion.

Meila frowned at the man seated before them. Ariana had a vague idea of who the man was, some self-proclaimed leader of the merchants. The richest among them set themselves up as a kind of ruling class. Ariana wasn't interested in politics. Rulers came and went, and it made no difference to the people at the bottom. Same thing, different name. To her it was just a rich man in a fancy house, showing off a lot of jewels and sharp steel, calling himself a merchant king.

"We are not pirates. Never have been and never will be, even if you've convinced the people of the continent otherwise."

"Forgive me, I didn't realize it was a sensitive topic." The man grinned. Ariana wondered if it was okay to off him. She didn't think Meila would be that put out.

Meila's shoulders stiffened. "Stealing our ships, our livelihoods, our very people, souring contracts we've had for decades ... After what you people have done, you dare mock us? Me?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Did you bring it or not? You wouldn't be here if you didn't accept our terms."

Meila dropped her bag to the ground, rummaging through it. She pulled out a small purse of blue silk, then tossed it to the man. Smiling, he caught it and opened the bag. A small conch shell tipped out into his palm.

"The Heart of the Sea! Such a lovely little thing. Does it do everything the legends say?"

"That and more," Meila spat out. "You have it, now leave my people and our islands alone. Stay out of our waters."

"Is this really okay?" Ariana hissed. "That thing, the shell ..."

"It's fine," Meila said, voice firm.

The man returned the shell to its bag and tucked it into his coat. "Well, I suppose our business is over. Guards?"

The very decorative looking guards who had been flanking the merchant took on a sinister look. More swarmed out of hallways, through the front doors, surrounding Ariana and Meila.

"Betrayal, is it?" Meila asked, sneering. "I expected as much. No honor among thieves."

"Betrayal?" The man laughed. "Honor? What does a sea rat know about such things?" He stood up and stepped off his ostentatious little dias. "As if someone like you could be betrayed. As if someone like you has honor." The man's smile twisted with ridicule. "You aren't sophisticated enough for it."

A guard lifted an ornate tapestry woven in thread of gold, revealing a passageway, and the merchant left with a dramatic sweep of his robes.

Ariana cracked her neck, her wrists, her knuckles. Meila watched the man's retreating back, though soon it was blocked by the guards that now crowded the room.

"Did you expect this?" Ariana asked.

"I did, but I hoped it wouldn't happen. I hoped the shell would be enough."

"Is this why you brought me?"

Meila looked at her sharply.

"It's fine, I'm good in a fight."

"No, that's not—"

Meila's answer was cut off by the roar of an eager guard. He ran at them, swinging a ridiculously large mace around his head, nearly clubbing his comrades in his bid to get at the two women. Ariana stepped forward, ducked under a wild swing, and slammed her fist in his jaw. He fell back, taking down several other guards, and the fight was on.

*     *     *
Ariana stood, dripping gore, among the carnage. She kicked bodies aside, looking for where Meila had fallen. It had taken a lot for the other woman to go down. An unlucky strike to the back of her head had knocked her out, and Ariana had been too swarmed by enemies to catch her. She found Meila pinned under another body. Ariana roughly lifted the corpse and tossed it aside.

The older woman's rich brown skin was ashen and sticky with blood. Her eyes were closed. She could have been asleep.

Ariana laid a hand on Meila's neck, feeling for a pulse, for something, anything.

"I didn't know you could fight like that," she whispered. "Like a storm over the ocean. You were unstoppable."

Ariana stood and went in search of the merchant. He wasn't hard to find. Through the hidden passageway, past servants quarters, she heard dull thuds and low moans. She found the door and kicked it in. A servant had her skirts rucked up, and the merchant was underneath. Before their embarrassed squawking began, Ariana pushed the woman aside and slammed her fist into the merchant's throat. His eyes bulged out, and his mouth worked at trying to form words. The servant scrambled out of the room, screaming for help. Ariana ignored her and silently watched as the merchant thrashed and clawed and slowly suffocated. She dug the silk pouch from out of his discarded coat. Then she went back for Meila's body.

*     *     *
The canals were still disgusting, but Ariana didn't care and Meila was in no shape to. Ariana hated the capital, never wanted to run through its streets and sewers again. But the merchants were agitated at one of their own being taken out, and the sewers led where she needed to go.

She jumped down from the gaping maw of one such sewer, onto a beach of broken shells and seagulls pecking at offal, littered with sewage and dead things. Some distance down the beach, a kid fanning flies away from a rack of drying fish watched her procession towards the water. The kid was canny enough to keep his mouth shut.

She laid Meila down in the rising tide and waited.

Time passed.

The kid and the birds left.

The water lapped at Meila's body, and sand hissed away from underneath her.

The sun began to set.

"Take her back."

Ariana knelt beside Meila and glared at the water.

"I know you can hear me. I know you're there. Take her back."

Wavelets caught Meila's dark, dark hair, pulling strands from her braid.

Ariana took the silk purse from her pocket and shook out the conch shell. She stood up and brandished it at the sea.

"Is this what you want?" She shouted. She threw the shell far out into the water and watched it sink under the waves. Then she lifted Meila into her arms and waded into the sea.

"She killed for you," Ariana said as waves broke against her legs. "She died for you."

The water filled her boots, soaked her clothes, dragged her deeper into the water. A wave crashed against her, tearing Meila from her arms. Ariana spiraled beneath the surface, losing all sense of direction, torn mercilessly between breakers and the implacable current. Her head broke the surface. She hadn't realized how far from shore she had been. Ariana swam hard, fighting the unusually powerful waves that beat at her back. The water grew shallow, and she clawed at the sand, dragging herself up the beach. She laid there, shivering and coughing, as the world grew dark around her.

She could still smell Meila on her skin.