author: lynn (
readerofasaph)
The mermaid was four generations removed from the sea. 'Coral', her mother had named her, out of respect for her father's heritage. Antaeus had merely shrugged, happy to oblige his wife. There was almost no ocean in Antaeus; most of his soul was shepherd and wind and jagged mountain path.
Not so with Coral. Whether because of her mother's romantic encouragements, or a congenital desire her father had unwittingly passed on, Coral craved water from the time she was old enough to splash in the stream where her mother bathed her. During her fourth lambing season, a shearer who'd just come back from pilgrimage gave her a fan-shaped seashell he'd picked up on his travels - so that she could learn the sound of the sea, he said. Thereafter she was often seen squatting on a flat-topped rock, pressing the seashell to her ear.
The year the storms came to visit Eristomai, she took to roaming outdoors in the rain. Antaeus searched through many a thunderous, moonless night until he found her small, drenched figure spread out on a ledge, drinking in the downpour. When the storms were over and the hills smelled of damp sheep, she and the other shepherds' children swam in the pools that had filled with rainwater and the overflowing streams. One of the children was Orestes, who had been in love with Coral since she was five and he was eight.
It was Orestes who, a few seasons later, took on the task of catching trout for Coral each day. Antaeus had long since wearied of the duty, and Coral would not eat anything else, not even the honeycakes her grandmother made for her fourteenth birthday. Coral spat out the first bite and demanded a drink to wash out the taste. To appease her, Orestes took her to visit a waterfall. "You can't be so selfish," he said, watching her kick the water.
Coral stared at him with grey, pearl-like eyes that held immaturity and very little else. She was slim and gawkish, with dark flawless skin; in a few years, she would be something quite out of the ordinary. Orestes looked at her and thought of fair bards singing stories of mortal ships and sea immortals, of merchants whose jeweled concubines lounged on balconies overlooking beach and sunlit waves. He thought of himself, with nothing more to offer than freshwater fish and the cool, rugged slopes of Eristomai, and he was unable to meet those eyes.
The traders brought seaweed to Eristomai the year Coral's mother grew pregnant again, after three miscarriages followed by ten barren years. The family invited the villagers to celebrate with a slaughtered lamb. They served goat's cheese and flatbreads, and seabream wrapped in kelp. When the moon was highest in the autumn sky, Antaeus poured out a libation to the goddess. He wanted a son.
Coral could not forget the taste of seaweed after that night. The next morning she was found in the village, asking where the traders had gone. After Orestes had to forcibly carried her away from the shopkeeper's, she refused to eat trout for three days. Matters continued to deteriorate in the following months. Between the pregnancy sickness and the frosty winds, Coral's mother could not be blamed for lacking the inclination to cosset a girl who had reached marriageable age; similarly, the women of the village could no longer smile on what they'd thought was a passing childhood peculiarity. In the face of their disapproval, Coral grew more intractable. For fifteen years she'd longed for fish and water, without the two coalescing to create a desire for the sea; now that the connection had been made in her mind, she spoke of nothing else.
When spring arrived, bringing with it a baby boy, Orestes decided to take her to the great port city of Lantesse. There, he hoped, they would meet with her kinsfolk, the merpeople of the deep ocean outside Lantesse. There, if it were still possible, he would find a way to return her to the sea she longed for.
He made his intentions known to Coral's parents. Her mother looked grateful. "Orestes, I am so delighted! I'd always hoped, you know, that something would happen to restore Coral to her birthright, but what could I do?" She cooed to the infant in her arms, who blinked sleepily.
Antaeus was repairing a fence when Orestes found him. He lashed wooden posts together in silence while Orestes spoke, hesitant since he could not gauge the older man's reaction. When he had finished speaking he simply stood there, wondering what the response would be.
"You're sure you can bring her to Lantesse safely?" Antaeus' eyes were a cerulean blue; despite their brilliant colour, they had always managed to look cool and rather detached.
"It's not a long journey. I've been there twice, with my uncle."
"Ianthe." A sheep bleated in the adjacent field while Orestes waited for an explanation. "That was my grandmother's name. She went back to the sea before I was born, but the city people may know where to find her if you ask around." He pulled up another length of the rope lying coiled at his feet. "When are you leaving? We'll have a farewell for Coral before she goes."
Coral and Orestes left a week later, supplied with a waterskin and some dried fish. Antaeus walked with them as far as the end of the valley. When they reached the carved post that marked the way out of Eristomai, he drew Coral to his breast and embraced her.
"You're a spoiled girl," he said, kissing her cheek, "but that's our fault as much as yours. Be careful when you meet our kin" - it was the second and final time Orestes heard Antaeus openly acknowledge his own heritage - "they're not like mountain folk. And don't forget to be kind to Orestes."
Coral's face was tear-bright as they made their way down the valley. Attempting to rally her spirits, Orestes chatted to her about the journey they were to make. "If we keep up this pace, we'll be at the Great Road long before sunset." The path was irregular and scattered with white sharp-edged rocks, but they barely noticed the steps and falls. "You've never been outside Eristomai, have you?" he asked, as they passed a particularly steep bend.
Coral shivered in reply. It was a cold morning: the wind was strong, and they were walking in the shadow of the mountain. Orestes smiled, unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around her.
"Thank you, Orestes." She grasped the edges of the cloak and drew them in tightly. "I think I might have reached the borders of Eristomai once, when I was looking for water. I followed the stream as far as I could, because the further I went the deeper it was. But the water became dirtier and dirtier as I went along, and in the end I went back. Do you think we could stop for a swim soon?"
"Perhaps not so soon; it's far too cold. There's a place where a spring feeds into a pool further down; we'll be there by midday."
They came within sight of the promised pool about an hour past noon. It was ten feet across, in constant motion with foam and ripples across its surface from where the spring flowed in. The spring itself came from an opening in a rock alcove; if the opening had been a foot or two higher, Orestes would have called it a waterfall.
Coral began to undress. "I'll wait for you there," Orestes said, nodding at an incomplete grove of trees further down. He turned to leave, but was interrupted by the sudden sound of water breaking, prompting them both to glance up.
A woman stood there, her wet hair drenched and partly floating in the pool. Her bare breasts hovered above the waterline. Orestes reddened and prepared to apologise, but Coral spoke first.
"Where did you come from? There was no one in the water before." She had already undone her cloak; she had to grasp it to prevent it from sliding to the ground. "Could you be... are you a mermaid?" She looked up in surprise as Orestes' hand closed tightly over hers.
"She's a water spirit. Pardon us for the interruption, madam; we shall be on our way now."
The lady cocked her head to one side. "Leaving already?" she said. "What a pity. Pray, tell me, where are you on your way to?"
It was unwise to speak to immortals, said the village elders; even more unwise to ignore them. "To the sea," Orestes said reluctantly.
"You are going to the sea?" Her eyes were on Coral. "Then You must be Ianthe's great-grandaughter."
Orestes released Coral's hand in surprise. "You know of Ianthe? Can you tell us where to find her?"
"Go back to your village. You are on a fool's errand."
"But we can't go back," Coral said. "I've dreamt of the sea all my life."
The lady's face softened. "What is your name, child?
Coral looked suspicious. "Coral."
"Well, Coral; you will not be able to live in the sea, because you are seven-eighths human, and human girls who are only one-eighth mermaid do not grow tails when they enter the water; nor can they breath underwater. The only thing that can turn you into a mermaid is a mermaid's magic, and the cost of that may be higher than you are willing to pay."
There was a lapse of silence then, punctuated only by the sound of the water entering the pool. It seemed as if the both of them had run out of words to say, but Orestes imagined for a moment that he could see an immense sorrow in the lady's eyes. Eventually Coral tugged at his sleeve.
"Let's leave, Orestes."
"Wait." The lady held out a long-fingered hand. "If you will not listen, then at least allow me to assist you." A strand of water rose from her outstretched fingertips; it spun in midair, and fashioned itself into a bracelet. "Take this bracelet with you; it will help."
Orestes stepped forward and took the bracelet warily. "Thank you."
"You are welcome." She looked at Coral once more; her lips shaped something that was almost a smile, and then she sank into the water and was gone.
The bracelet was transparent and patterned like braided hair. Orestes wore it on his left wrist; every now and then he would pull it off his wrist and examine it more closely. Despite Coral's wishes, he refused to let her keep it. "It was given to me, not you. Best to be careful with magical things."
She did not argue further, to his surprise; he was accustomed to her willfulness when it came to things related to the sea. They spent the greater part of the remaining journey in silence, occasionally passing the waterskin to each other. They were well along the Great Road now, and occasionally they met a merchant caravan or a group of pilgrims. Many travellers followed this route in springtime.
On the third day they came to the bridge that spanned a wide river. Orestes half-expected her to stop for a swim, but she did not seem tempted; the water was murky, with black eels just visible from the surface slithering through its depths. Coral stood at the edge of the bridge, watching the river currents. After a few minutes, Orestes touched her shoulder hesitantly.
"Do you think there are water nymphs here?" she asked.
He looked at her face, which seemed to be harbouring thoughts deep and complex beyond anything he had thought her capable of. "I don't know. I don't know much about water nymphs."
"My father told me a story about a water-nymph once. I thought he only told it to me to frighten me away from the water."
"Tell it to me?"
"Let me have a drink of water first." He passed her the waterskin and she took a long sip.
There once was a girl whose mother, being a mermaid, returned to the sea not long after her husband's death. After being left an orphan, the girl was brought up in the mountains by an aunt and an uncle, where she lived the life of a simple shepherd's daughter. Being half-mermaid, she often longed to swim, but as much as it was possible she suppressed those urges, for fear of being thought an outsider by the village people.
The girl eventually married and bore a son. As the years passed and her son grew up, it was noticed among the villagers that her face and figure never seemed to age; various rumours circulated about her ancestry, and although most sensible people believed the truth, which was no secret, there were enough whispers to make life unpleasant. It was some years after her son had been weaned that she began to be tempted by the lure of the sea. Memories of her mother, as well as dreams of sea breezes and deep, salty water, began to overwhelm her, and after many months she made the decision to leave her family and look for her mother.
She left her home in the middle of the night, without telling anyone, only taking with her some water and provisions. The journey to the city of merfolk was long and arduous. At last she arrived at her destination, discovering at the city's edge a wide bay with a small rocky island in the middle of it. And when she stood on the beach and looked out to the island she could see mermaids lounging on the rocks, her mother among them.
The woman was so glad that she immediately plunged into the water and swam across to the rock. Now, being half-mermaid, she could breathe underwater, but although her legs turned scaly and fish-like when she entered the sea, they fell short of becoming a true tail. Seeing the strange creature that was coming towards them, the mermaids giggled.
"Who are you?" asked her mother.
Surprised and hurt, the half-mermaid replied: "I'm your daughter. You left me when I was just a child."
"Are you?" Her mother looked bored. "I don't remember ever having a daughter. Do you remember my having a daughter?" she asked her companions. They tittered.
Day after day the woman returned to the rock island and pleaded, but her mother could not be persuaded to acknowledge her. It was as if her life on land had never existed. Finally, exhausted by the mermaids' mockery, she left the city and travelled back to the mountains. The stories say that on her way home she saw a river, and chose to kill herself at that spot. It is not known when or where or, in truth, whether she died; a body was never found. But some have claimed to see her ghost haunting the springs of Eristomai.
They arrived at the outskirts of Lantesse on the fifth day, and supped in the home of a young wizard and his wife. Orestes was temporarily worried that Coral's finicky palate would cause offense, but she helped herself to generous portions of bread and lentils.
"Can I have some cheese?" It was the first time he had ever heard her ask for any food that was not fish.
The young wizard passed her the platter of cheese. She broke off a hunk of it and then nibbled hungrily. As if she would never get another chance to taste cheese again, thought Orestes.
The wizard's wife smiled at them. "We get many travelers passing this way, but not often couples as young as the two of you," she said. "Have you come searching for work?"
Orestes weighed the advantages and disadvantages of keeping their purpose secret. "We are looking for a mermaid called Ianthe. Have you heard of her?"
"Ianthe?" The wizard's wife looked surprised. "That is a famous name in our city, but I have never met a traveler who came especially to look for her."
"There are very few reasons to seek out a mermaid." Her husband glanced at Coral with a wizard's keen eyes. "I have heard rumors that Ianthe of the Deep Sand once fell in love with a human shepherd, and abandoned the sea in order to bear his children. There is something of the immortal about you, is there not?"
"Ianthe was my father's grandmother." She said it simply, with poise, unconcerned. Indeed, since they had begun their travels she had seemed more self-possessed than she had ever seemed in her life, unwavering and clear in her destination, whereas Orestes felt himself weighed down by worries and fears, not least among them the fear of losing her forever.
She thinks nothing of losing me, he thought, she thinks nothing of losing everything she has ever known. The only thing she wants is the sea, which she has never known at all.
"I would be careful if I were you," the wizard advised. "A mermaid's magic is highly desired, and even your mixed blood - well, it is obviously enough to give you some affinity for the water, is it not?"
"Ever since I was a child," she said. "If you can see some mermaid blood in me, I'm glad. But I'm mostly human; I can't breathe underwater like my father can."
"So why are you here to see Ianthe? Is it because she is your great-grandmother?"
"I don't care about Ianthe. She abandoned our family a long time ago. But I want her to help me to live in the sea. It's true that I don't belong with the mermaids, but - as it is, I don't like living on land, either."
"I hope that you will not have cause to regret your words," said the wizard. "Tomorrow, I will take you to the bay, and you can see the mermaids for yourself. You are welcome to stay at our home as long as you remain in the city; beyond that, we can do nothing for you."
In another time and on a different sort of journey, Orestes would have liked to tarry in the city to savour its sights and smells. Lantesse was one of the greatest cities on the peninsula, boasting regular games and festivals and a level of culture and architecture that other cities of the region only aspired to; but Orestes, not having anything else in his experience to compare it to, only loved the noise and the tall stone buildings, the graceful accents of philosophers declaiming in the square. Coral, on the other hand, barely had time for anything except the faint, salty smell of the sea air, which she breathed in deeply, and the fish stalls in the marketplaces, by which she was appalled at.
"It doesn't seem right that they should do that to fish," she said, as they watched a silver cod flop around in a bucket.
"It's what they have to do in order for people like us to be able to eat it. Where do you think the seabream for your mother's birthday party came from?"
The wizard guided them deftly through the city streets, easily avoiding the moving throng of people and traffic. He was as knowledgeable as his profession might lead one to suppose, and had many stories to tell about the city and its history. Orestes enjoyed his company, although he did not like the way the wizard's gaze sometimes lingered on Coral's body.
"I meant to ask you," said the wizard, as they moved towards the outer periphery of the city, "what is the significance of the bracelet you are wearing?"
Since he already knew their mission, there seemed little point in hiding anything from the wizard at this point. Orestes told the story of the water nymph.
"How interesting! But there are no such creatures as water nymphs," said the wizard. "Are you sure you are not mistaken?"
"She was certainly not human," Orestes said.
"Well, perhaps she was an enchantress. Anyway, I sense no malice in that object, although it contains powerful magic. Sea magic too, I'd imagine. Look at how it responds to the sound of the waves!"
For they were out of the city now, and the rich smell of the sea flooded Orestes' senses. Beside him, Coral halted and grew wide-eyed.
They were at the edge of a bay that stretched a mile across, lined by a crescent of pale sand that descended unevenly to meet the lapping waves. Bunches of driftwood and clumped seaweed lay dotted on the beach, while several pairs of gulls circled overhead, calling as they flew.
Orestes took a moment to glance at his bracelet, which despite the wizard's words seemed unchanged. but Coral was already running towards the sea, and seemed likely to plunge straight into the water. By the time he caught up with her she was already waist-deep in the waves, her soaked tunic clinging to her skin.
"Wait!" he said. "Where do you think you are going?"
"Over there," Coral said, looking out into the distance. He followed the direction of her gaze and saw an island of large rocks on the outer perimeter of the bay. He could see what looked like human figures perched on the grey rocks.
"That is the favourite resting-place of Ianthe and her handmaidens," said the wizard. He was standing behind them further up on the beach, just out of reach of the waves. "You may swim out to meet them if you wish, but be careful; they are not friendly to humans."
Coral turned. "I'm going there."
"Coral!" said Orestes, catching her hand. "Do you plan to leave us so soon?"
His gaze caught hers, and held it, for a moment; it was one thing to tell himself that she had never loved him, had looked upon him only with the affection that a child gives a faithful servant, but the realisation that she would not miss him had never struck him so keenly before now. Orestes looked away first.
"Very well. But I will go with you to see Ianthe, at least."
She was by far the better swimmer. Orestes struggled with the sea tide, so different from the pools and shallow springs they were used to; even with his maximal effort, she arrived at the island a good fifty yards ahead of him. He surfaced finally, grasping at a nearby rock in exhaustion. When he succeeded in blinking the water from his eyes, he saw Coral already standing on a ledge of barnacle-encrusted rock. She was surrounded by mermaids.
Before he saw Ianthe, Orestes had thought Coral the most beautiful girl of his acquaintance. After seeing Ianthe, he was hard-pressed to call any girl beautiful ever again.
"...another tiresome human, come to bother us with her demands." Ianthe's voice was rich and rolling, with an accent Orestes had never heard before; it was the kind of voice that was never meant to speak trivialities, except that it would have made those trivialities sound like the most profound utterances. "Pray, human, tell what your purpose is in coming here?"
Coral said: "I came to see you, great-grandmother. I want something that you can give me."
"How offensive! She calls me great-grandmother, and demands that I give her something!" Ianthe rolled her tail languidly. "Humans have been growing more impudent of late, but this brat is something quite out of the ordinary, is she not?" She looked at her handmaidens, who giggled and made sounds of assent.
"I call you great-grandmother because you are my great-grandmother." Coral lifted her head; the wind blew at her damp hair. Her resemblance to Ianthe was striking, although her beauty was only a pale imitation of the other; still, even then, Orestes could remember why he loved her. "You can choose not to acknowledge it if you like. I promise I will not kill myself like my grandmother, your daughter, whom you abandoned shamefully when she was still a child. You are my great-grandmother, but I wish it were not true. I am ashamed of having a great-grandmother like you."
Ianthe's eyes flashed dangerously; they were very blue. "We are leaving!" she said to the mermaids around her. "This impudent imposter is spoiling my appetite for the sun." She slid off the rock she was on and smoothly entered the water; just as quickly, the handmaidens around her dove into the sea.
Coral looked around and saw him. "Orestes! Give me the bracelet." She ran to his side as the mermaids disappeared underwater, all at once. "Quick!"
He had already slipped it off his wrist. She snatched it from him and slipped on the bracelet even as she leaped into water. The water splashed in his face.
How much mermaid blood does it take to grow a tail? If being half-mermaid does not suffice, does it follow that being five-eighths mermaid would fare much better? It is undeniable that what Orestes saw, as he watched Coral disappear into the depths of the ocean, faster than he had ever seen her swim, looked very much like a tail. Many years later, when Orestes had learned to love someone else and have children and grandchildren besides, a traveling bard would come to Eristomai, bringing stories of a mermaid whose beauty only fell short of the Lady Ianthe herself, and whose tail resembled the colour of human skin.
Orestes returned to the wizard's house, where he stayed for a week, visiting the bay everyday. When Coral did not return, he thanked the wizard and his wife for their hospitality, and set out on the Great Road once again.
He found the old woman huddled in an olive grove in Eristomai, close to where the spring ran into the pool. She was surrounded by birds and small animals, as well as a pair of deer lying close to her naked body. The deer backed away but did not run when he approached.
Orestes knelt to have a closer look; her chest was still rising and falling with her breaths. He touched her wrinkled forehead; she opened her eyes. They were a brilliant, cerulean blue.
"You have a fever," he said gently.
"Has she gone to the sea?" asked the old woman. Her voice was cracked; there was nothing in it to suggest that it had once been rich and rolling, although, with the eye of faith, one might discern that her face had once borne great - even immortal - beauty.
He took off his cloak and wrapped it around her; once it was secured he put an arm around her waist and helped her to her feet. The deer continued to watch warily. It was probably their care that had saved her from dying of the cold, he realised.
"Yes," he said, when she was finally upright and clothed. "She has gone to the sea, although I do not know what will become of her now."
"It is enough," she said. She was very unsteady on her feet; Orestes kept a careful hold on her arm to keep her from falling. "What about my son? Does he still live?"
"Up in the mountains," said Orestes. "I will take you there. That is where you belong now, you know."
"Yes," she said.
the end