So Josiah was wrong, or he lied to me. The people Above are the ones who put the mines in the water to prevent us from trying to escape.

They don’t care about us, and they don’t care about our city.

I have always wanted to leave Atlantia, but I never wanted it to die.

The temple, with its aquamarine-painted wooden door and rusty hinges. The plaza, shimmering now with water. The gods in the trees and the leaves we take such care to put back on, the apartments painted pink and blue and white and orange. The mining bays, the beautiful broken drones, the dark ocean room and the metal scraps glinting in the sky room. The prows and bellies of the gondolas, their sleek way of moving through the canals. The priests, who wear robes and minister to others, and the workers who throw gold coins into the wishing pools and the children who sing as they run across the plazas, their feet fast and their arms open wide.

And True. Most of all, True.

“We may lose everything,” Maire says. “We need you to join us. Will you?”

When she says it like that, there is only one answer I can give.

CHAPTER 21

Peacekeepers lead Maire and me through a tunnel at the back of the Council buildings and to a waiting transport. It’s full of people—the other sirens are already here. I count heads quickly. Including Maire, there are twenty-seven of them, far fewer than I would have expected. One of the sirens asks who I am, and when she does, I recognize her voice. She’s the siren who spoke to Atlantia during the breach in the deepmarket.

“Rio is another siren,” Maire says, gesturing to me. “One who’s managed to stay hidden until now.”

“Can we hear her speak?” asks another siren, a man.

“No,” Maire says. “Nevio wants her to save her voice. It will be more powerful that way.”

Something about the way Maire tells them this forestalls further questions, though I can see that the others are intrigued.

I am the youngest siren on the transport. “So I am the last,” I say to Maire under my breath.

“As far as we know,” Maire says. “But I believe there may be many more to come, if Atlantia survives.”

Someone hands us blue robes to wear over our clothes. For a moment I am speechless at the beautiful cloth in my hands—it is a lovely, iridescent turquoise, shot through with golden threads and silver and green and white and even black. I am wearing the ocean. The cloth feels ancient, a remnant of a finer time.

“Sirens used to wear these when they went to the surface,” Maire says. “The cloth was made with a technique unique to the Below that we have since lost.”

I slip my arms into the robes. The sirens also wear makeup—including the men. The cheekbones and contours of their faces are brought out with shading. They—we—bring to mind those sharp-faced animals from the Above, the ones called birds. I’ve seen them in pictures. One of the sirens comes toward Maire and begins marking up her face.

It’s not hard to see that, to the people Above, we are supposed to appear otherworldly, powerful and strange. We are meant to impress and convince them.

“Don’t we need to wear masks?” I ask. “Isn’t the air dangerous up there?”

“We won’t wear masks today,” Maire says. “It’s more powerful that way.”

The other sirens have decided to be civil to me. Some of them look guarded, but most seem to regard me with something bordering on reverence. “Oceana’s daughter, a siren,” one says.

So they’ve figured out who I am. I wonder if they’ll also make the connection between Maire and me, if they’ll realize that she’s my aunt.

“See?” Maire says, her voice dry. “You’re not alone in worshipping her.”

Everyone speaks of my mother, but I can’t stop thinking of Bay. This could be the very transport she used to go to the surface. I’m going to the surface. I wish there were windows. I want to see what it’s like, all the way up.

“You’ll love it,” one of the sirens says, leaning close to me as she brushes my face with iridescent powder. “Do you know what they think about us Above?” She smiles. “They think we are the gods.” She reaches for a dark pencil, smudges lines above my eyes. “It’s intoxicating.”

“It’s magic,” one of the other sirens says.

“How do you know this?” I ask. “Have any of you been Above?” And how much do they know of the real history of the Below, the one I heard from the shell and from Maire?

They all fall silent.

“No,” Maire says. “None of us have ever seen the Above.”

“But Nevio and the Council told us how it would be,” another siren says, “and we’re ready. The people of Atlantia will love us again after this. We’re about to perform the third miracle.”

Maire smiles and there is no mirth in it. She doesn’t believe that the people Above think we are gods anymore. She doesn’t believe that the people Below are going to worship and love us again.

Maire’s eyes meet mine, and I think, The people Below will never know what the sirens do today. Nevio will never tell them. If this doesn’t work, Atlantia will die, and if it does work, Atlantia will go on as it always has. Nevio won’t give the sirens credit for this.

“Where do we go when we get Above?” I ask Maire. I’ve always pictured myself walking alone on a shore, where there are trees and sun and sand. But I know it won’t be like that.

“The Above is a large island,” Maire says, “with many smaller surrounding islands. The dock for the transports that bring people up is on one of those smaller islands. We are to wait on a platform there for the citizens of the Above to come meet us.”

“Is it the same spot where they brought Bay?” I ask.

“Yes,” Maire says. “It’s been the meeting place since the Divide.”

“How is this going to work?” I ask.

“They say that our voices are even more powerful up here,” the deepmarket siren tells me. She has a clear, calming inflection. “That when we speak, our voices go much farther and last much longer. There is no way to avoid us or disobey us once we have given a command. If they try, they hear our voices in their minds speaking to them again, even though we have long since gone back Below. Our voices haunt them. It’s why they stopped us from coming Above long ago. But the Council agrees that it is time for us to go back.”