Between the Sea and Sky Page 8

  After that, it became more difficult. What happened to you? she wrote. Are you all right? From there, she hardly knew what else to say. That felt like all that really mattered at the moment.

  She didn’t realize how long she’d been there until Swift appeared in the doorway, munching on bread, hair mussed from sleep. “Is the letter ready?”

  “Um … almost.”

  He peered at her paper. “Do you need help?”

  “No—well—I can write, but—”

  “That doesn’t look like much of a letter,” Swift said.

  “I know it’s not!” She sighed. “I have no idea what to say. This might be the last time I ever get to communicate with her …” She bit her lip, as if it might loosen the constriction in her throat.

  “Why don’t you add that you miss her and—I don’t know—you hope she’s happy?”

  “Well, sure, but—that sounds so feeble. And I’m so afraid I’ll make things worse. I don’t want her to cry.”

  “Does she cry a lot?”

  “She doesn’t cry a lot, but she might cry from my letter no matter what I say. I’m afraid I’ll cry trying to write it.”

  Swift frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t have family. But if she’s going to cry no matter what, you might as well write what you think.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  He left, and she wrote as quickly as she could—each letter had to be formed carefully. I miss you so much. If there was anything I could do to save you, I would. Every day and night I wish you hadn’t gone back to see those humans, but since there is no undoing it, I just hope you find some happiness. However far away we might be for the rest of our lives, we’ll always be sisters, and I’ll think of you every day … I have to end this letter now so I can send it along. I’m afraid I’m about to cry horribly …

  She folded the letter and pressed it to her chest, as if it could stem the bleeding of her heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  She brought the letter downstairs, tucked between the pages of Tales of Many Lands.

  “I’ll be back soon, and tell you everything,” Swift said, before he spread his wings and flew away. She watched him vanish from sight, which didn’t take long, as three- and four-story buildings blocked her view of the broad sky.

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  Esmerine turned to see a pretty young girl wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat trimmed with an excess of flowers. Her dress was equally fussy, made of glossy peach-colored fabric with ivory ribbons. An older woman, in a plain dress, followed her and carried a parcel—a chaperone, Esmerine guessed.

  “I’m looking for a book. Something that won’t bore me to death. What book do you have there?”

  “Tales of Many Lands?” Esmerine kept it clutched to her chest.

  “Is it any good?”

  “I like it,” she said hesitantly.

  “How much?” The girl motioned for the older woman to step forward and presumably produce money.

  “Oh no—this one’s not for sale. Maybe there’s another copy.” Esmerine opened the door. The girl followed, almost stepping on Esmerine, as if impatient with her pace.

  “We aren’t open yet,” Alan said. He was standing on a stool, arranging a few books on the shelf, and didn’t even look over.

  “You’re all here,” the girl said. “Why wouldn’t you be open? I want Tales of Many Lands.”

  “We don’t have it,” Alan said, still fussing with the shelves.

  “Then I want the one she’s holding.” The girl motioned for the older woman again. Coins were brought out. Alan finally stepped down.

  “It’s not for sale,” he said. “That’s a personal copy.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have books on display that aren’t for sale.”

  “You don’t want that book anyway,” Alan said. “You probably want some tripe like A Courtesan and a Gentleman, like girls always want. It’s no wonder humans think women can’t handle education. My God, they don’t teach them a thing about proper—”

  “Do you know who I am?” the girl interrupted. “I am the daughter of Lord Elbasio, and—”

  “I don’t really care who you’re the daughter of, particularly not if you’re going to make such rude demands—”

  “I make rude demands? When my father hears about this—”

  Esmerine watched all this with horrified fascination. Despite a certain satisfaction in watching Alan yell at the girl, who had been less than polite about obtaining Esmerine’s book without even caring what it was—it was no way to sell anything.

  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Esmerine said. “This book, you see, it’s really for children. I just happened to be holding it to show some children I know who’ll be stopping by later. But if you want something that isn’t boring— Alan, do you remember that book about that man who goes to this island colony, and he doesn’t mean to stay, but there’s a girl there, and that part with the fire? And she has a pet monkey, I think?”

  “You mean Penelope’s Island? We do have that.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” the girl said, still looking peeved at Alan. “Is it any good?”

  “Yes, it’s wonderful. Oh, there’s this part I always loved where he first comes to the island, and she has this little house, and she invites him in and they have tea—I’ve never had tea, but it sounded like the most delightful thing to have, and the way everything is described is so fascinating. There’s that one, and there’s another one that is very good about this family who works on a farm in some other country where it’s cold—”

  “That would be A Measure of Prosperity,” Alan said.

  “It’s sad in a few parts, but it makes the happier parts better. The characters in that one are just so real, even though I didn’t know anything about snow or farms, I just liked them all so much. Alan, do we have two copies of them? I want to read them again just thinking about it. I can hardly remember the best parts anymore!” Esmerine had almost forgotten she was talking to anyone, remembering the stories Alan had read her while she sat beside him and followed the words and how she had cried when the father died. It had been so long since she’d read them, it would be almost as good as the first time, if she could even see them and hold them—

  “Well, I suppose those do sound good,” the girl said. “I’ll take a copy of each.”

  Alan took her money, and she left with the only copies of the novels. Esmerine never even had a chance to look at them.

  On the other hand, she had sold two books without even a hint of hoodwinking. She turned to Alan. “Don’t you think you were a little rude to that girl?”

  “She was being ridiculous. Books on display? It wasn’t on display, you were holding it, and I don’t care if her father is the Lord of the Dead—”

  “She was just some rich girl who wanted to buy any old thing that wasn’t boring. You didn’t even try. Don’t you want to pay off your debts to your father?”

  “She bought the books,” he said, “because you sounded so passionate about them.”

  Just then, Belawyn came hobbling in the door. “Good morning, my pearl. Ready to do some hoodwinking?”

  “I suppose so,” Esmerine said.

  “Well, obviously we won’t send you out to hawk in the square like Swift. You can just sit outside and sing your little siren heart out. Alan, carry a chair out front for the lady, would you?”

  It was well known that siren magic was more effective on some humans than others, but it was fairly effective on everyone. It did feel like hoodwinking when, within moments, two fair-haired men with packs on their backs halted their marching, folded their maps, and watched her. When she finished singing, they applauded, and when she motioned them into the shop, they went. They came out some time later with parcels.

  Shade was nonexistent, and once she began to feel hot, she started noticing all the other little discomforts. She nudged her feet out of her shoes. Proper or not, no one would notice under her skirts.

  B
efore the sun rose too high, Belawyn brought her in and sent her upstairs for a drink of water and some bread and cheese. When Esmerine finished lunch, Belawyn said, “We’ve already sold as much in a morning as we usually do in a day.”

  “Do you think they like the books?”

  “When they hear your music, they seem to want something beautiful,” Belawyn said. “Make of that what you will.”

  Esmerine smiled.

  “If you’d care to rest your voice, I could use some help inside the shop. I’m sending Alan off with some deliveries.”

  “Of course.” Esmerine was glad to stay inside out of the hot sun. Belawyn was sitting at the counter, smoking her pipe. The one customer currently in the shop, a broad-chested man in a bright-green coat, seemed content to browse alone. Alan donned his hat, tipped it at Esmerine in an automatic way, and left with a parcel.

  “Sit with me, my pearl. I want to know a little more about you.”

  Esmerine sat, a bit apprehensively.

  “So, tell me. You came looking for your lost siren sister, is that right?”

  “Of course.” Belawyn already knew this.

  “And in a week’s time, Swift will return with news, and you will return to your family in reasonable contentment, besides, of course, some lingering regret over your sister.”

  “I’ll never be content …”

  “Do you know, most of the time when sirens leave the sea, their family doesn’t chase after them at all?”

  “I know. But most merfolk, of course, don’t know how to walk, so coming after a siren may not be an option. My sister and I used to play with Alan on the islands out in the bay. Alan couldn’t go underwater so we had to go to him. We walked a lot.”

  “I must say, I’m trying to imagine Alan playing with mermaids on an island, and I can’t, but of course I believe you. Still, I think you must have sacrificed a lot, and pushed aside all the stories of human cruelty you have ever heard, to come here looking for a sister you know you can’t save.”

  Esmerine shrugged one shoulder. “She’s my sister. I had to try. Why did you come here?”

  “I swallowed the lies I was told for a long time,” Belawyn said. “I was told how humans were dirty and stupid and cruel, down to the last teat-sucking babe. But I was secretly fascinated by human ships and buildings, though it was shameful to say so aloud. My mother thought I’d be chosen as a siren, but when they asked me, I refused.”

  “You refused becoming a siren?” Esmerine had never heard of anyone refusing such an exalted position.

  “I didn’t want to spend my life sitting on rocks, hoping some fisherman would steal me away when what I really wanted wasn’t a fisherman, or any man, but simply a different life. So I apprenticed to the village healer instead. I thought I might find that more fulfilling.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No. I saw my life narrowing around me, as much a prison as any stolen siren. I kept sneaking away to the surface, to watch the human village in the distance. My father caught me trying to walk, and he was so furious that he threatened to lock a ring around the base of my tail so I couldn’t change. But why do we have the ability to change into humans if none of us are ever meant to walk among them? I wondered that then, and I still do.”

  Esmerine had never wondered why. She had always simply accepted it, like she accepted the phases of the moon. It was fascinating to consider there might be a purpose. “Do you have any theories on why we can change?”

  “I’m no philosopher,” Belawyn said. “Don’t want to be one either. I don’t want to read theories about why people do this or that.”

  “I guess Alan is just curious about the world and he looks to books for answers. He’s always been like that.” Esmerine might argue with Alan, but she would still defend him to Belawyn.

  “Now, when did I ever name names?” Belawyn grinned. “All I know is, the sea and the land have a relationship, and some of us feel it in our bones. Some of us want to be here, and there’s no harm in it, if we’re willing to make the sacrifice. Tell me what’s the harm in living on our own terms? I’m my own woman, and a damned happy one. Don’t ever bother with what people say about you.”

  “Well,” Esmerine said. “That makes sense. But I don’t want to stay here. My family misses me.”

  “I’m sure they do, but I wonder at your phrasing. Do they miss you, or do you miss them?”

  “Of course I miss them too! I hardly need mention it.” Esmerine’s family wasn’t like Belawyn’s, that was certain. They would never forbid her from turning her tail to legs. “Are you the only mermaid in Sormesen?”

  “Oh, besides a few stolen sirens, there are a handful of us, from different villages all along the coasts. They never talk about us back home, I imagine.”

  “I’d never heard of a mermaid leaving home who wasn’t a siren.”

  “There are a few mermen too, although they have a harder time with their feet. Humans are more likely to accept a lame woman than a man.”

  “But how do you ever get used to it? The clothes? The pain?”

  “Just like you get used to anything,” Belawyn said. “When you really want something.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The next few days passed in what could have been a routine manner, except that nothing felt routine in the surface world. Every day brought new people from around the continent, with their varied clothes and accents and manners, and new foods. One day Alan came home from making deliveries with balls of dough drenched in honey and nuts. She had never tasted anything so sweet or so delicious, and she didn’t tell him she had a stomachache all night. She never slept well anyway, so the discomfort seemed worth it.

  In the morning, she sang for the shop, and in the afternoon, when Alan was usually out running errands, she watched Belawyn sell books in a languid way that drove her mad—if Alan was too snobbish about his recommendations, Belawyn seemed more interested in gossip than bookselling. Esmerine suggested books when she could, for as days went by, she grew acquainted with some of the stock, especially books she remembered from her childhood. In the evening, she read the shop’s contents. It was almost difficult to enjoy them, seeing so many at once and knowing she would never see them again at week’s end. She held the memories close for when she was back under the sea.

  Alan remained distant, even when they were alone with Ginnia at mealtimes. Sometimes Belawyn joined them for dinner, but not always. Usually Esmerine and Alan ate with their respective books open at their plates, but she had trouble concentrating. She would have rather talked to him, known how his life had been since their childhood.

  Finally, one morning she decided to ask. “Alan, you said you used to be a messenger?”

  “That’s right,” he said, still looking at the book. “Not for long.”

  “Why not?”

  “I hated it.”

  “Why?”

  Now he looked up. “Why the interest?”

  “I just wondered what you’d been doing since I last knew you. How you ended up here. I mean, we used to be such good friends, it seems strange not to even talk when we have this week.”

  “Oh.” He closed the book. Thank goodness. She had started to hate whatever book he was reading. “It’s not very interesting. Most Fandarsee go to the Academy and then become messengers for a time. We’re supposed to see a bit of the world before we go on to further education or apprenticeships or so on.”

  “Why did you hate it? It seems travel would be interesting.”

  “Well, the messenger years are sort of the ‘wild’ years, your first time away from home and all. You’re supposed to come back ready to settle down into adult life. I found the messenger culture distasteful, running around to different cities every day, drinking wine late into the night at the messenger posts …”

  “That sounds fun, though. I mean, not the wine, I don’t care for it. But you must meet lots of people.”

  “It’s all very hollow,” he said. “And somehow I was supposed to come b
ack from that prepared to settle into a life of research and marriage like my father? If those were my wild years … well, they seemed wasted. So I quit and came to Sormesen, seeking some other fortune that suited me. I ended up here, where at least I can learn around books and different kinds of people, without all the running around and other nonsense.”

  “Oh.” Esmerine thought it strange that he had left home to live with humans. It had been such a heavy decision for her to come just for a short while to help Dosia. Strange that he had done all this yet never come back to visit her. “Have you made a lot of friends here?”

  “That isn’t the point.”

  “What is the point?”

  “Esmerine, my God but you ask a lot of questions.”

  “Well, I’m going to ask another one!” she said, her voice rising. “Why do you make me feel stupid for asking if you have friends or why you don’t like fairy tales? Is your life only about books and studies and philosophies? When we used to play together, I looked forward to the books you brought and the things you told me, but we also used to have so much fun.”

  “We were children! I—I put those things aside when I went to the Academy. The whole world looks to us for knowledge. Maybe such frivolity is all right for merfolk because you don’t have that reputation.”

  Esmerine made a face. He might not mean to insult her, but he still sounded superior. “Your people are very strange.”

  “My people are strange? What about how the other mermaids teased you because I brought you books? What about the fact that they didn’t like you to take on a legged form? Seems to me they were afraid of what you might learn.”

  Esmerine had finished most of her soup, and couldn’t eat more anyway. She pushed the bowl back. “They were trying to protect me from danger! Danger like what Dosia’s gotten herself into.”

  “Danger? From me? A boy of ten with a book of fairy tales?”

  “Well, they must’ve thought—” Yes, what had they thought? Why did they care if she learned to read? “I guess it was just that you were strange to them.”