Page 33 (2/2)

I wish I knew a siren ould soothe ht, that I can be happy, that I belong here Below

But the siren I know does not soothe

I lift the other shell to my ear

"Where do you live?" I ask

It’s late It’s dark She could be sleeping

But she answers

Maire lives in an aparthborhood not far from the deepmarket It looks co many all lined up in a row The sky is low here, so the narrow building is only two stories high It appears that there are only two small rooms per apartment, one rooht of the streetlah I knew my mother died on Maire’s doorstep, I’ve never knohere Maire lived I assumed she would live up in the Council blocks with the other sirens I picturedthere, in one of their clean-swept, candy-colored entryways The steps at Maire’s apartht

I’ve seen everything now My nia worn around another Minister’s neck, her office cluttered with someone else’s books, and now this, the place where she died

I’ve seen everything and I still feel like I know nothing

Before I can knock on the door, Maire opens it Compared to the diht, like she’s cracked open the sun "Coht you would live up near the Council," I say

"I prefer to live down here," she says "Up there they’re always listening Down here Atlantia is too loud for them to hear much"

"I’m surprised they allow it"

The lower room is a kitchen area with a bathrooh it and up the stairs to the apart room with a couch, where I assume she must sleep The shades on the s are dark and thick--blackout shades, to keep in the light I couldn’t even see a sliver of it frohborhood is not one of the nicer ones in Atlantia and the apartment is srand luxury in a city where space is at a premium

"I told you I was selfish," Maire says, as if she knohat I’ained for, all these years There are times when they need a siren who is not an empty, vacant puppet Sometimes they require someone who has actual power I do what they say, and they let estures for me to sit down on a red chair, upholstered in thick, fine velvet

The rooht there would be shelves croith jars full of s, shadows everywhere, not this place of order and light I expected s here are well-made, cared for--two chairs and a couch; a table; a delicate, green glass vase; a shelf of books; a jar of dirt I wonder if it’s real

On the table between us sits a large, golden bowl full of different-colored shells It’s odd to see so et all of these?"