The Sea King's Daughter Read Free Page B

story I'd overheard once, as a child of seven, when my mathematics tutor fell to talking with my nanny.
    That afternoon I'd floated like a statue in a shadowy corner, listening to their scandalized whispers. They spoke of a young, impulsive merman who'd dared swim up close to a human ship, hoping to satisfy his curiosity. The fisherman had caught him up in their nets and hauled him to land like an overgrown liche.
    "They took him around, island to island, in a cage made of wood," my tutor said.
    "No!"
    "Yes, and they charged a silver coin to see him. One of Poseidon's chosen people, and the humans treated him like a common animal."
    "I never!"
    The tutor's voice fell even further, and my nanny leaned closer to hear. "Well, of course you've heard about the time they caught a mermaid. The daughter of a nobleman, no less. She'd gone up for her sixteenth birthday . . . "
    This was almost as exciting as it was horrifying. "What did they do to her?" I asked, forgetting myself in my curiosity.
    Two heads turned to stare at me. "Now, miss," my nanny snapped, her face reddening. "Such talk's not meant for little ears. Still, let this be a warning to you, now. Stay away from humans. They aren't our kind. No, they're not like us at all."
    Remembering this now, as I swam toward the ship, I resolved to keep myself hidden. I didn't completely believe that humans were savages. Still, there must be some truth to all the horror stories. There must be some reason why our two peoples kept entirely apart.
    As I drew near the ship, I could make out the carved swan's head decorating the ship's high curving wooden sternpost. They'd loaded the deck with jugs and bundles. Woven mats protected the cargo. It was the first time I'd seen a ship under sail. Always before, they were nothing but shadows sliding overhead or barnacled wrecks moldering on the bottom of the sea.
    There they were -- human men.
    My mouth fell open in astonishment. All the murals and friezes of heroes and gods couldn't prepare me for this moment. I stared, fascinated by the strange, fleshy sticks where their scaly tails should have been. Legs were such a strange idea, as if the men chose to stand up on an extra pair of arms. I tried to imagine growing legs of my own. I couldn't picture it.
    They wore short tunics, too, another foreign idea. In the sea we wore jewelry and other ornaments, but never cloth. I angled my head, trying to peek underneath and determine how the men's legs attached to their bodies. Unfortunately, their tunics blocked my view. My curiosity remained unsatisfied.
    The men ran about on the deck. They tugged at the ropes attached to the sail, pulled frantically at the oars, and called out to each other. The wind ripped the words from their lips. I could sense their fear as I swam in the ship's wake. All humans were afraid of the sea, sailing always within sight of land, but these men were panicking. They knew they were in trouble. The storm must have taken them by surprise. I'd seen enough sailor's bones to understand their terror. The same sea that cradled and protected the merfolk sucked men down and drowned them. I pitied them, but there was little I could do to help.
    Swells slammed the sides of the long wooden ship, slopping over onto the deck. I wiped the foam from my eyes and swam closer until I could almost touch the pitch-sealed planks. The men, caught up in their life-and-death struggle, did not notice me. The wind blew to the west, driving the ship away from land. Two sailors fought to lower the sail.
    Only one man stayed calm. He stood at the bow of the ship, shouting orders. My gaze lingered on his sensitive, fine-boned face. He was younger than the others, maybe eighteen or nineteen, but a mantle of authority already lay over his broad shoulders. In the dim light his skin shone gold. Rain plastered his dark curls to his head. Under his short tunic his body was slim and straight. He planted his legs wide on the wooden platform, bracing himself