Fathom by Cherie Priest Page A

respond, so she let it slide.
    “Also, I doubt you would be cheered to learn that all of this—” It swept a fingerless hand at the wall, the ground, and the sky. It left the appendage pointed at her. “—all of it was to save you. The water witch, she would’ve killed you. She would have drowned you and fed you to the creeping things with shells and claws. But I thought . . . I thought I might find another use for you.
    “I watched the way you fought, and the way you ran. You were afraid, but you were thinking—and it might surprise you to know how rarely I’ve found men who can manage both states at once. I think the water witch was right to try a woman this time. And the woman she took, that woman was kin of yours.”
    My cousin. So beautiful. I wanted to be like her.
    “I know terribly well how complicated kinship can be. I’ve learned it over the lifetimes of continents, so it means much more to me than to a flesh-and-blood spark like yourself. You’re born, you live, and you’re gone, and it’s as if just one short cycle of the tides has passed. Before I’ve had time to notice you, I’ve absorbed you.
    “But if you lived a longer stretch, and if you saw the arc of time as I do—like the curve of the planet’s surface, like something immense, taken for granted more than known—then you’d have time to know real betrayal and real conflict. In the end—” It paused as if to take a breath, but a thing so made does not need to breathe. Soon it recovered its intent. “—in the end, most of it comes down to kinship, of one kind or another.”
    My cousin,
Nia thought again. A name flitted through her memory, but she couldn’t catch it and didn’t try very hard.
She isn’t dead, is she?
    It had lost its train of thought. It picked it up again and continued. “The other girl, the one she took—that girl must have been wicked from the inside out. Did you know that, when you were with her? Did you see her for what she was all along, or did you only figure it out too late?
    “The water witch must have been watching her from the moment she landed on the island. She used you, too, though you couldn’t have known it. Convinced you to lure your cousin into the ocean. She won’t come far onshore, herself. The earth slows her. It weighs her down and costs her too much to cross. So yes, you were used that night. First you were used by the water witch, and then I used you myself.
    “At least, I set you up to be used. But I think that once you understand, you will not hold it much against me. Once the cost becomes clear, you’ll come to agree that what I did, I did for the purpose of good.”
    Nia watched the creature shift and settle in its improvised bones. It moved a shoulder in a guilty shrug and she wondered idly where it had ever learned to lie.
    I can’t trust you, can I? Not even a little bit
.
    The thing met Nia’s eyes with a perfect, dedicated stare. “No, you cannot. But there’s no one else to tell you anything, except for the water witch herself—and you already know what she’s made of.” It shuffled itself loosely, and its grassy lips simulated a scowl. “Eventually, the imbeciles who frequent the ground at your feet will succeed, and then the water witch will learn of you. If you’ve ever been given to prayer, I might suggest that you do so now—petition whatever gods might hear you. Ask them for time. Beg them for the incompetence of men. Because if those ridiculous people setting small and futile fires ever achieve their goals, they’ll summon up their water witch and then, my darling, she’ll destroy you before you have time to be born.
    “So wait, girl. Pray, and watch. Even from incorrect procedures you might learn something. You sleep through their rituals now, but you’d be well served to observe them. Watch them confound themselves. It’ll tell you plenty.”
    From the feet up, the creature began to dissolve itself, not so much collapsing as letting the ground