The Deep

by Helen Dunmore

  “Your son, Saldowr! Do you dare to say that in front of all of us?”

  “Yes, my son,” says Saldowr. He beckons to Faro and draws him close to his side.

  Faro brings himself up proudly, his tail strongly curved, his hands clenched at his sides. Saldowr continues. “Not my son by blood, but the son I have chosen for myself, Ervys, as I have the right to do.”

  Ervys’s cruel words echo in my head: One whose Mer blood is compromised.

  Little sister—that’s what Faro’s always called me. Maybe we’re more alike than he knew.

  Don’t mind so much, Faro, I want to tell him. It’s not so terrible to be partly one thing and partly another. At least I don’t think it is. The Mer can be so inflexible, though. They want life to follow set patterns. Maybe if you don’t belong in the patterns, they cast you out. Don’t be hurt, Faro. Saldowr has claimed you as his son. That means something, doesn’t it? I try to reach Faro with my mind. My thoughts touch on his and recoil from the pain and confusion there. Outwardly Faro keeps his cool. He won’t let Ervys know how his words have cut him to the heart.

  “Yes, my son,” says Saldowr again, “the one I have chosen to guide the Mer when I am gone and to receive my inheritance. But calm your hopes, Ervys—I shall be with you for many years yet. I speak of time as I know it and as Faro will come to understand it, not as you know and understand it.

  “To become a Guardian of the Tide Knot, and wise among the Mer, is not the work of one of your lifetimes. You think my power is here to be seized, Ervys,” says Saldowr, and his voice is suddenly resonant and forbidding. “You try to overcome me and take my place, but my place cannot be taken by force. Understand me, Ervys: I did not choose to be what I am. It chose me. I think that one day it will choose Faro, too.”

  Faro’s face is proud and solemn as he listens to Saldowr’s words, but those words chill me. Is Saldowr saying that Faro will become like him one day, able to see far back through the past and far ahead into the future? If that happens, Faro won’t be Faro anymore. At least, he won’t be the Faro I know. I can’t imagine Faro’s being wise and mysterious like Saldowr, wearing a long cloak and living on his own in a cave and having the kinds of powers that Saldowr has. I won’t be able to be Faro’s friend anymore, not as I am now.

  I don’t want Faro to have a magical destiny. I just want him to stay the same, calling me his little sister and teasing me and being a bit vain and incredibly courageous, and doing the best somersaults I’ve ever seen, and pretending he knows everything about life on earth when really all he knows is what the seagulls tell him.

  I’m not the only one who doesn’t like Saldowr’s prophecy about Faro. Ervys looks thunderous. Fury flashes from his eyes like lightning. “So I am to call another Assembly and tell the Mer that they will never be free to choose their own leader,” he says.

  I expect Saldowr’s anger to flash back at Ervys, but it doesn’t. Saldowr sighs deeply. He looks weary. “Ervys, will you never be able to content yourself?” he asks. “Will you never choose to use your strength for the common good? The Kraken is sleeping. Our children are safe. These children have given the Mer everything that they longed for.”

  “For now.”

  “For now. Can’t that be enough for you? There are no promises, Ervys. For now the Kraken sleeps.”

  The atmosphere has changed. The Mer faces surrounding us look troubled and uneasy. The feeling of victory has vanished. Ervys knows how to destroy things, all right.

  At that moment there’s a movement behind Saldowr. I recognize the man who challenged Ervys in the Assembly chamber. Karrek. He makes his way forward and bows his head briefly to Saldowr in greeting.

  “Greetings, Karrek,” says Saldowr.

  “Greetings, Saldowr. Since there is no Speaking Stone here, I must speak as I find, and hope that you will forgive my boldness.”

  “All may speak freely here, as Ervys has already discovered,” says Saldowr drily.

  Karrek looks round at the others. There is pent-up anger in his voice as he starts to speak. “It seems to me that we have quickly forgotten how anxiously we waited and watched and hoped just a short while ago,” he says. “We had no hope of defeating the Kraken by our own effort, and so we sent these children to the Deep because nothing else could help us. It seems to me that we have already forgotten that they did for us, what no one has done since the time of Mab Avalon.” His voice cracks out suddenly, making me jump. “Are the Mer so ungrateful? Are the Mer so forgetful? We should remember what has been done today for a thousand years. Our children are safe. Our mothers and fathers will not have their hearts broken. What else matters besides that? Why are you listening to Ervys when Ervys could not save your children?”

  A murmur of agreement runs through the crowd: “He’s right. Yes, Karrek speaks for us, Saldowr. His words are our words.”

  Faro glows with pride. I’m dreading that the clapping will start again, and Conor obviously just wishes the Mer would all go away now. Ervys is watching, gauging the mood, planning his next move. Even though Saldowr’s here and we’re under his protection, I’m still very afraid of Ervys.

  “Karrek speaks for you, does he?” says Ervys at last, smoothly and coldly. “Very well. Let him speak for you. Let Saldowr speak for you. Let the Mer live like a school of sprats scared by every mackerel’s shadow. I thought that the Mer were fit to live freely and choose their own leaders, but it seems that I was wrong. For now.” And he stares straight into Saldowr’s eyes, challenging him, before he turns with a powerful swish of his tail and plunges through the ranks of the Mer. They part to let him go, and I think I see some of them peeling away from the crowd and following him, but I can’t be sure.

  The tension dissolves. In small groups the Mer begin to drift away, talking in low voices, each one saluting Saldowr as he or she leaves. Some call to the dolphins; others swim away through the Groves. We watch the undersea light flicker on their shining hair and their strong, smooth tails. One moment the Groves of Aleph are full of life and movement. The next, the Mer have gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SALDOWR NEEDS TO REST, and Faro goes with him into the cave. A few moments later a figure appears in the dimness of the cave mouth. I think it’s Faro coming back again, but Conor knows who it is straightaway.

  “Elvira!”

  She swims forward, cradling something in her arms. A baby. A Mer baby, curled so that his tail lies over her arm.

  My mind goes dizzy. Elvira hasn’t got a baby, has she?

  “Elvira!” says Conor again. There’s a soft, annoyingly eager expression on his face. She smiles at him with equally annoying warmth as she swims toward us.

  “Whose baby is that?” I ask her. But as soon as I ask the question, I know the answer. Feathers of black hair, wide eyes, and a look that is so familiar, it makes me feel as if someone’s got their hands round my heart and is squeezing as hard as they can.

  It’s the baby I saw in Saldowr’s mirror way back last year. He was lying in his rock cradle, with Mellina bending over him. My—my brother.

  “My brother,” I say aloud, and to my amazement I find that I’m smiling at him. It’s not because I like him or anything. It’s just because you can’t help smiling at babies.

  Elvira comes close. The baby waves a fat fist through the water, greeting me. It feels as if there’s just Elvira, the baby, and me, and everything else has melted away.

  “Where’s his mother?” I don’t want to say Mellina’s name. It makes her seem like a real person.

  “She’s gathering kelp, so I’m looking after him.”

  Hmm. I don’t think that’s the real reason our baby brother has suddenly appeared, just when everyone knew we were in the Groves. Mellina must have wanted us to see the baby. Saldowr must have wanted it too, because he let Elvira bring the baby here, to his cave.

  I don’t even let myself think about what Dad must have wanted. There’s no point. I cling to Saldowr’s promise. The time will come when we kn
ow what Dad truly wants.

  “Do you want to hold him?” asks Elvira in her soft, sweet voice. Elvira is so exactly like a beautiful mermaid in a fairy tale that it makes her seem unreal. Conor can’t take his eyes off her. I’m still wary.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “He won’t cry. He likes being held.”

  He’s my brother, not yours, I think. Stop telling me about him.

  “Oh, all right then. Give him here,” I say grudgingly.

  I’m not sure how to hold a baby. In fact I can’t really remember ever holding one. This baby has a tail, which makes it even more of a challenge. I try to copy the shape of Elvira’s arms. Elvira smiles her radiant, irritating smile.

  “Not like that, Sapphire. Curve your arms more, and bring them close to your body; then he can’t slip away into the water. He can’t swim very well yet. That’s it. Hold still like that, and I’ll give him to you.”

  I panic for a moment as Elvira gently lifts the baby and puts him into my arms. What if he floats away? What if he’s all slippery? What if he doesn’t like me and starts screaming?

  None of these things happens. The baby’s eyes are fixed on mine, serious and a bit unsure, but he doesn’t cry. I smile tentatively. He feels much heavier than I expected. His tail is very smooth and soft, not like the tail of an adult Mer. I rest it over my arm, as Elvira did. I can’t believe this is happening. It’s one thing to know that you’ve got a little Mer half brother. It’s completely different to hold him in your arms. He’s so solid. So real.

  My brother. His little tail twitches. It’s like silk against my arm. He looks so—so Mer. If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t guess that he had a drop of human blood in him. And yet he’s still my little baby brother.

  Sometimes, when I was little, I used to nag Mum about having another baby. I wanted to be the big sister. I used to imagine a little baby in our cottage, sitting in a high chair, then learning to crawl and learning to walk while I held his hand. But Mum said two children were quite enough, and gradually I realized that no matter how much I nagged, it was never going to happen.

  It’s happened now, but it’s completely different from everything I ever imagined. My baby brother is never going to crawl or walk. He won’t do the things Conor and I did. He’ll never scramble up and down the rocks to the cove, or make fires and cook sausages on the sand. He won’t go to school or take a boat out, or eat French fries, or play soccer. He’s Mer. He’ll do everything that Mer children do when they’re growing up. I’ll have to ask Faro more about what it’s like to be a little Mer boy. What games they play, what they’re scared of. He’ll never taste sweets or ice cream. I wonder what kinds of treats Mer children have.

  I don’t even know his name. How bad is that? My own brother, and I don’t know his name.

  “There you are, little Mordowrgi,” says Elvira to the baby. “Say hello to your big sister.”

  “Mordowrgi—is that his name?”

  Elvira shakes her head. “No, it’s just what we call him. He’ll have his real name later on. We can’t name him until we know what he’s like, can we?” And she laughs as if the idea is ridiculous.

  “We’re given our names when we’re born,” I say.

  “How strange your human life is. What use is a name that doesn’t fit the person? Look, he’s smiling at you.”

  It’s true. The baby—Mordowrgi—is smiling a wide, toothless smile and reaching out for my hair.

  “Don’t let him pull it. He’s strong; it really hurts,” Elvira warns me.

  I turn to Conor excitedly. “Look, Conor, he’s smiling at me! Maybe he knows who I am.”

  But Conor just shrugs. “Babies smile at everyone.”

  “Do you want to hold him, Con?”

  “No.”

  The smile is widening on the baby’s face. He’s staring very intently at me, as if he thinks he knows me. The thing is, when a baby smiles at you like that, you can’t help smiling back.

  I glance up and see Conor’s face so cold and critical that it makes me jump.

  “Careful, Sapphire, you’re squeezing the baby.”

  Oh, no, the baby’s face is crumpling. He’s going to cry.

  “Don’t cry, Mordowrgi, I didn’t mean to hurt you, don’t cry.”

  Mordowrgi gulps and stares at me piteously, but at least he’s not crying. I hand him back to Elvira, and she rocks him gently as she swims up and down, up and down, a little way off from us. Conor can’t take his eyes off her.

  “At least we’ve got Saldowr’s promise, Conor.”

  “What?”

  “About Dad. About Dad getting the chance to choose whether to be Mer or human.”

  “Yes.”

  “You could try to sound more pleased about it. It’s the whole reason we went to the Deep.”

  “Was it?”

  “Of course it was, Conor! We agreed about all of it, you know we did. We wanted Dad to have the chance to choose. It wasn’t just my idea; it was yours as well—”

  “Listen, Saph,” says Conor, “I know. But now I’m not sure. You know when we were in the whale’s mouth? I thought that was it. The end. We’d never see home or Mum again. And it was…” Conor pauses, thinking it through. “It was unbearable, Saph. That Mum would think I’d wanted to leave her, just like Dad already had.

  “Dad’s already chosen, Saph. Face it. He chose to leave us. He wasn’t forced to go. I’m sure you’re right and he’s got loads of regrets, but he chose.”

  “But Conor, Dad never had a proper choice! He didn’t know; he thought he’d be able to come back to us.”

  “Did he?” Conor nods toward the baby in Elvira’s arms. “So where did he come from?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “He’s Dad’s son. Dad chose to have him. He chose a Mer wife and a Mer child. Face it, Saph. That’s what’s happened, and you can’t undo it.”

  “But Conor, we agreed it wasn’t fair. Dad never had a real choice.”

  “Fair,” says Conor bitterly. “No, it wasn’t fair. None of any of it is fair. But it happened.”

  I don’t believe that Conor is right. He hasn’t seen Dad and talked to Dad the way I have. He hasn’t seen the misery and conflict in Dad’s eyes.

  “You can’t make this baby not exist, Saph. Even if Dad did come back, you’ve got to think about what it means. Do you want Dad to abandon this kid as well?” asks Conor. “When he’s old enough to understand, he’ll feel just as bad as we do now. There’s no point in messing up any more lives. Dad’s here. Mum’s got Roger. We’re—well, we’ve got used to it, mostly, haven’t we? I just hope Dad’s happy with his choice.”

  “You know he’s not.”

  “I don’t know anything. All I know is that Dad should have stopped himself a long time ago, before he fell in love with that—that woman.”

  Even though Conor’s words pierce me, I’m not going to accept that they’re true. There’s still hope. Who would have believed we could defeat the Kraken? If that can happen, anything can happen. Saldowr has made a promise.

  Elvira swims up and down, singing a lullaby to my baby brother. The trouble with babies is that you feel you’ve got to put them first. But why should I? We were first, me and Conor. We were Dad’s babies long before Mordowrgi came along. Conor might be willing to give up and accept that Dad won’t come back, but I’m not. I haven’t got used to anything. I haven’t accepted anything. I’m going to keep on fighting.

  Conor’s eyes are still following Elvira. I feel a stab of alarm. Dad should have stopped himself a long time ago, before he fell in love with that—that woman. It’s all right to look back and know what Dad should have done, but Conor ought to think about himself. Elvira’s just as much Mer as Mellina, and Conor doesn’t seem to be stopping himself….

  Then you’ll just have to stop him, won’t you, Sapphire? I smile to myself. If I can survive in the Deep and win the battle against the Kraken, then I should be able to win my brother back from Elvira.
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  We see Saldowr for a few minutes before it’s time for us to leave with Faro. Everything has that late feeling, like the end of a party. There’s so much to think about, but I need to be home to think about it. Home is starting to become more real in my mind. Time is passing, passing. Mum will be waiting for us….

  Saldowr looks very tired, but not even Ervys would dare to say now that he’s ready for Limina. You can tell that he’s going to live. Maybe he won’t ever be as strong as before, but the raw wound on his shoulder has closed. It’s left an ugly scar, but it’s definitely healing.

  Maybe Saldowr’s getting better because Ingo is healing itself too. The Tide Knot is sealed again. The storm damage was just as bad here in Ingo as it was on land, but surely the scars will disappear in time. Things will come back to how they were. And the Kraken is sleeping. There might be peace in Ingo now, I think hopefully, but then I remember Ervys’s expression of fury, and I’m not so sure. Ervys is not defeated.

  Faro sits on the sandy floor of the cave with his tail curled under him. He’s sewing up a tear in Saldowr’s cloak with a fish-bone needle and a thread that must be angel’s hair seaweed. Nothing else could be as fine. The needle flashes through the water and in and out of the cloth. Faro looks as expert as a sailor mending a net. I didn’t know Faro could sew. There are still so many things I don’t know about him or about the rest of the Mer. They don’t let you into their lives easily.

  Time to go. I feel as if we’ve been here in Ingo for a hundred years, but maybe it’s only a hundred minutes.

  “I held the baby,” I say to Saldowr, knowing that he already knows. “He smiled at me.”

  “You have done well, my child,” says Saldowr gently. “You, Conor, and my own Faro. You braved the terror of the Deep for the sake of the Mer, and the Mer will remember it, as they remember Mab Avalon.” His words of praise do a little to ease the sore emptiness inside me. I still feel separated from Conor, and soon I’ll be separated from Faro too. I wonder if the day will ever come when we can all be together.