• Ezekiel woke with a start, looking all around him in a groggy panic. The leaves that he had gathered that night had been scattered by the wind and Asmara was nowhere in sight. The whisper of a wanted dream, he had heard a damsel in distress’s scream and was awakened to find his travel companion missing. Faint footsteps marked the ground where she had walked and he obediently followed them.
    He felt suddenly thirsty and something triggered at the back of his mind. The sudden thirst wasn’t a coincidence and Asmara had fallen into their trap. He knew exactly where they were headed. The kicked his feet at the ground in take off, stretching his stiff limbs in flight.

    * * *

    Asmara winced as underwater plants that had been tightened around her wrists bit into her skin. She jerked away from the pain, and her bones jarred under her skin, at the impact. A piercing laugh drifted upward to her. She hung her head in an attempt to see. It felt like a wet noodle, and she looked down at the producer of the sound. A woman stood below her, pointed teeth flashing, her scales glistening in the green light. It was a fishwife. She wore elegant pearls around her neck, paper-thin fins fanning outward on either side of her fish-like face where ears would have been.
    The fishwife’s yellow, round gaping eyes sparkled up at Asmara. “What a treat you are! Marvillon will be pleased. We haven’t had elf in a really long time. You are a luxury.” The fishwife almost doubled over in laughter, then calmed herself and said. “Now let’s get you fixed up shall we? We don’t want to disgust the king.” The fishwife’s eyes shifted uneasily, to her surroundings and laughed. It was an unnerving sound, like a gutted pig’s cry in pain. It made her hair stand up.
    The fishwife reached up, carefully maneuvering around her makeshift air bubble that she had cast on Asmara so she could breathe. The fish woman hummed a little tune to herself while she worked at the slippery knotted plants that imprisoned Asmara. Asmara shifted her attention to their surroundings. She was in a huge room with transparent walls that looked out on the underwater life beyond her enclosure. Small groups of freshwater fish swam dubiously by as if the large structure didn’t exist. Long tongues of plants waved in the ripples of water catching air bubbles as they floated idly by.
    Asmara felt herself slowly slipping down the bubble like wall and took her chance. She swiped harmless scratches at the fish woman who was untying her and the woman laughed at her mockingly. As soon as the other plant was slipped from her wrist, she lost all strength in her body and went limp in the fishwife’s arms.
    The woman chortled in her ear. “Did you really think that I would trust you that easily?”
    The fishwife half carried, half dragged Asmara to the bathing room. The bathing room’s floor consisted of carefully placed river stones, that were bleached white in the sun, and them cut to fit in the large room simultaneously. There was a deep crevice in the center of the room, also lain out in the same white stone. The hole was filled to the brim with clear river water that had been quickly heated with the fish woman’s magic.
    Asmara was quickly stripped of her drenched clothing and placed in the bath, the scorching water reaching up to her chin. The woman bathed her, cleansing the dirt and grim from travel, from Asmara’s body. The water was left brown. She clucked in disapproval at her wear of travel and then dried her in a silky towel made out of plant. Then she was led to a dressing room that was off to the side of the bathing room.
    I was a great deal smaller than the bathing room, and had pearl flooring. On the pearl dressing table, placed gently to the side was a dress of the same material as the towels in the bathing room, except for a few delicate details, after all it was a dress. The hem of the dress was embroidered in a rich gold thread made by the fresh water coral that decorated the outside walls of the room she had been tied up in, and a large pearl was set in the center of an intricate design woven at the breast plate of the dress, the design woven by the same golden coral as the hems and sleeves.
    She gasped at its beauty and tried to move to pick it up and touch its soft material but she stayed paralyzed to the spot by the fish woman’s spell. The woman saw Asmara’s expression of awe and brought the dress to her, putting the complex design at the breast up to Asmara’s limp hand to brush it against her fingers, so that she could feel the rough but soft texture.
    The fishwife smiled at the wonder that was plain on Asmara’s face and slipped the dress over Asmara’s head. The silky feel as it slid over her skin felt wonderful and she watched it smoothly bellow to the ground in a swift flowing motion. She was then dragged over to a floor length mirror on the opposite wall and she gasped at her own beauty. Her cream colored hair fell like a curtain around her face, working wonders next to the deep green dress that she wore. The pearl at its center was the exact same color as her hair.
    “You look beautiful!” The fish woman gushed. “Now let’s work on your hair.”
    The woman got to work on her hair, using coral brush and pins. She pinned up her hair and working on individual strands one by one, twisting them into springy coils and letting them fall expertly framing her pointed face.
    “The dress goes great with your eyes. Marvillon will be very pleased.”
    Asmara had forgotten her situation in the comforts of the bath and the feel of the dress and most of all her striking appearance in front of the mirror. She had all this before, but they had all been forgotten in the hardships of travel, and none of her dresses had as great an affect on her. Her face fell. The fishwife’s fish-like lips curled into a pretend smile, revealing her sharp teeth. Asmara shivered and realized that the spell had been released. The fish host’s smile twisted into a blank mask.
    “Behave yourself for the king or you will suffer a fate worse than death.”
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