Page 115 of The Knucker King

“Buccas!” he called, his voice echoing down into the depths.

More bubbles came, each larger than the last, bursting with deeper notes as their size increased. The scale of noises roused Mary, who had been sleeping soundly, and she let out a squall that made him flinch. He opened his paw, studying the baby. She shoved her chubby arms from the blanket, tossing her clenched fists in rage. Her chest was ragged in its pattern, and she sucked in laboured breaths.

Avice had taught him what that meant. He flicked out his tongue, brushing it over the crown of her skull, his healing saliva easing her discomfort. Trewoofe knew he needed to give her to a Good Neighbour with changing magic as soon as possible. Mary settled once again, bright green eyes looking up at him through her eye sockets.

“We will make you well, and soon,” Trewoofe promised.

A ripple caught his attention, and gentle waves lapped the talons of his forepaw.

Two eyes, obsidian and round, met his. They were set in a half-submerged brown face, topped with a mop of lake grass hair. Another Bucca popped up beside him. Her face was lined with age, and one eye was cloudy from the many turns of seasons she had seen. Then, a third. He was the most youthful of the three, his hair as bright as new shoots and eyes refracting the crystalline stalactites that plunged into the lake.

“Welcome, King Trewoofe,” they said in a chorus.

The Bucca Queen and her Prince Consorts cut easily through the water, only the slightest of ripples indicating their movements. A dozen more green-haired heads emerged from the depths behind them, but stayed where they had surfaced, watching intently with wide eyes.

“We heard what you did for us,” they continued, using their webbed, clawed hands to heave themselves from the water.

He cocked his head. “Did for you?”

“Yes, the iron and oil poison. You stopped it. We are glad to see you well,” they sang together.

Of course you did. Trewoofe knew what salacious gossips his subjects were.

Once the trio were clear of the lake, they slithered to him. They looked human, at least until their waists. From there – and down – they were eel-like, a single long tail propelling their movements.

“I did, and now I come to ask something of you.”

The Bucca Queen came closer, hairless brows drawn together. “What is it, Lord?” they asked in chorus.

“A human’s offspring. She has been Faerie marked,” he explained, lowering his paw so the Queen could see.

She slithered forward, flanked by her males, and heaved herself up on the edge of his paw. Her claws dug into the pad of his toe, making him bristle.

She brushed the back of her webbed hand down Mary’s skull. “So sweet,” they cooed together. She tilted her head, so her good eye could study the baby. “But what is this?” they asked. She pointed at the leaf mark on her chest. “This is a mark from the Greenfolk. How cruel of them to begin the change but not continue.”

“Greenfolk?” Trewoofe had not heard of them before, but the Bucca Queen had lived many more turns of season then he had. “Can you tell me more about them?”

“My knowledge is only handed down from my mother. The Green is where Spring goes to rest when she is done with her season. The Greenfolk serve her while she recovers,” they replied as a trio.

The Prince Consorts slithered up next, supporting their weight on his paw so they could observe the child. Using their own voices in a series of squeaks and whistles, they fussed over Mary, and she grasped at their waving fingers.

“She is lovely.”

Trewoofe stored the Queen’s words away, determined to give the information to Avice. He was certain her sharp mind could figure it all out. That she could put the pieces together to see how the marked children – Good Neighbour and human alike – and the long Winter were connected, as she had suggested to him before.

“She cannot breathe properly this way, the skull is too heavy,” Trewoofe explained. “Would you consider taking her in?”

The Queen blinked up at him, before chittering and clicking with her Prince consorts. “We could give her gills and webbed hands, she would be like us,” they replied in chorus.

“That may be the best chance she has. I have helped her as much as I can.” Trewoofe looked tenderly down at her and flicked his tongue at her in farewell. “You will be safe with them, Mary.”

With a coo, the younger Prince Consort lifted the bundled baby, glancing between his Queen and fellow male. “We will look after her. Mary will be Bucca,” they said.

“I will visit her in the future, and I know she will grow well under your care.”

The trio dipped their heads in deference and slithered back into the lake. Their bodies had been clumsy on the shore, but once they slipped back into deeper waters, they moved with the seamless grace of a bird on the wind. The rest of their pod circled them and let out a series of clicks, the sounds reverberating off the crystalline stalactites and making the lake surface ripple and chime.

Trewoofe watched as the Queen flicked her webbed fingers, and a bubble formed around Mary’s head. The pod tightened around their royal trio, spinning in a pattern that reminded him of the swirling seed of an ash tree caught on the breeze. A whirlpool formed as they swam faster, and one by one they slipped below the surface with dulcet pops, leaving a crackle of blue in their wake. He pricked his ears as all had dived but the Queen and her Prince Consorts. In a blink, they disappeared with Mary snug in the younger male’s arms.