But there is no doubt that the sirens saved us.

The voice stops.

What if the children who didn’t harden their hearts were the first miracle?

Then we have already had all three, and the people are waiting for something that will never come.

“How do you know this?” I ask Maire. “Where did you find that voice?”

I heard it in the walls one day, Maire says. I think a siren saved it there long ago, asked the walls to hold someone’s voice when they were speaking so we could know the truth later. I think that in the past there were many sirens with that ability. But I don’t know anyone else who can do it now.

“How did you hear it?”

I was listening.

“Why?”

Because that is another important part of a siren’s power, Maire says. Most of the sirens now do not understand that part at all. But you do.

“Am I the last siren?”

You are the last one that I know of, Maire says. But I do not know everything.

“Do you think there are more?”

I hope so.

It’s frustrating that I have to ask for every piece of information, that she can’t volunteer more than I request. Maire did this so that I would trust her and it’s helping, but I also wonder what she would say if she hadn’t made these rules.

And there’s something else. Maire set the rules and spoke them. So does this mean she can control herself? If I make a promise, in my real voice, will I be unable to break it, no matter what?

Stop thinking too far ahead, I tell myself. You can do this. You can earn money for the air tank and get Above.

“Where can I get pressurized air?” I ask.

Silence. I can imagine what she wants to say:

You can’t get out on your own, Rio. The mines will kill you. Don’t try to go through those doors in the ocean room.

But that’s not how I plan to leave.

I ask again. “Where can I get a tank full of pressurized air?”

And it must be that she can’t break the rules she set, because the words sound almost torn from her. Ennio in the deepmarket, she says.

“Is he a crook?” I ask.

When he sells air, it is good. It’s not his fault everyone dies.

Ennio. I knew it.

“How could someone convince him to sell her a tank of air,” I ask, “without having to use her real voice?”

And again she has to answer.

I think.

I’m almost sure.

But I’m never completely sure, when it comes to Maire.

Tell Ennio, Maire says, that he owes me a favor, and that I’m calling it in on your behalf.

“Will he believe me?” I ask.

If you tell him a name, Maire says, he will.

“What’s the name?”

Asha, Maire says.

I almost ask who Asha is, but then I decide I don’t want to know. I have too much to hold in and keep back as it is.

“Thank you,” I say to Maire. “Do you know why I want the air?”

Yes, she says. Of course she knows. She isn’t stupid. She knows what I want to do. But she doesn’t know how I’ll do it.

“Is there a better way to the surface?” I ask. “If my voice is strong enough, can I just tell the Council to put me on a transport and send me Above?”

The Council doesn’t tell the public this, Maire says, but the transports are controlled by the people Above. They are kept at the surface except when in use.

“Then what is the best way to go Above?”

The best way to go Above is with me.

Her voice sounds small and strained. I can barely hear it. Even Maire’s power has its limits, and she is growing tired.

In a strange way, I trust the mines in the water. They are made to do something and they do it. They’re not alive. They’re not complicated, like my mother and Maire and Bay.

There are more questions I want to ask Maire. Do you know who killed my mother? and Was it you?

But I don’t. Something stops me. Maybe I don’t want to hear the truth. Maybe I’m afraid she’ll find a way to lie to me. Or I’m afraid that if I ask her those questions, she won’t answer any others, and there is so much I need to know.

“That’s all,” I say, after a few moments.

It’s not a question, so Maire doesn’t answer. The shell is silent, except for the sound that’s always there, the ocean or the wind.

I put down Maire’s shell and pick up Bay’s instead. I know Maire told me the sounds were captured earlier, but it’s easy to imagine that Bay really is singing to me, missing me, right this moment. I whisper a question for Bay. “Why did you leave?”

She doesn’t answer. She keeps on singing.

I lean back and close my eyes, thinking of all that Maire can do. Like all sirens, she has the ability to persuade, but she can also mimic voices perfectly, ask questions that people from the past have been waiting to answer, and save what someone has said inside the small world of a shell.

The woman speaking from the past was right.

It is beautiful and terrible to be a siren.

CHAPTER 11

“I thought of something,” True says. “They’re not quite ready for you to use yet, but I’m pleased with them.”

He’s brought his cart all the way over to the racing lanes again, and he takes a bucket from one of the shelves at the back. “Thanks to your last swim, I’ve had some more interest in my fish,” he says. “I thought I’d bring the cart right down here to take advantage of that. I’ve sold seven already. We’ll have that ring back for you soon.”

He hoists the bucket up onto the top of the cart. “I wish I were having better luck talking to Fen’s family, though. I’ve been trying, but they’re still distraught and they don’t seem to know anything. And Caleb’s told me everything he can.”

“Bay spoke with my aunt before she left,” I say, “but so far I haven’t been able to find out much about what they said.”

“We’ll keep trying,” True says. “We’ll get there.” Then he reaches into the bucket and pulls out something silver and sinuous.

“You made an eel,” I say.

He nods. “I thought of it after I saw you swim.”

“You’re comparing me to an eel?”

“Yes,” True says, grinning. “It’s a compliment.”