Tide Knot
Page 15
“I can’t see—what are they?”
“Look carefully. I think they’re sharks, swimming above the trees.”
“Sharks! What—what kind of sharks?”
“I can’t tell.”
“I wish Saldowr would come back.”
“They’re not coming any closer. They’re just swimming up and down. Like they’re patrolling—”
“Patrolling! Conor—you mean like the guardian seals?”
The guardian seals patrol the borders of Limina, where the Mer go to die. The seals are prepared to kill anyone who threatens the peace of Limina. They almost killed Roger and his friend Gray. I shudder, remembering how the gray seals tossed Roger and Gray through the water like rag dolls. “Conor, do you think those sharks are patrolling the Groves of Aleph?”
“Maybe.” Conor stares up intently. His eyesight has always been sharper than mine. “They do look as if they’re on guard, like those seals in Limina. But it’s all right, Saph. Don’t be scared. We’re here under Saldowr’s protection, aren’t we? They’re not going to hurt us.”
I move closer to Conor and look up where he’s pointing. A familiar shape slides into focus. Long, sleek submarine body, underslung jaw. The shark glides across my vision and with a powerful flick of the tail doubles back on itself. And over there, a little higher, there’s another one—
“Why didn’t they attack us when we came here?”
Conor shrugs. “Just be grateful they didn’t.”
Saldowr is on his way back. He has put on a cloak that is the inky blue of a mussel shell. It swirls around him, wrapping itself over his right arm. There’s something in his hand, hidden by the cloak. Saldowr’s face is somber. His eyebrows are drawn together, frowning, but I don’t think he’s angry with us. His cloak swirls again, inky blue and black and pearl.
He stops, facing us. He spreads both his arms wide, and the cloak falls back. In his right hand there’s a mirror. It’s only a small mirror, about the size of my hand, made of a dull metal like pewter. There’s no decoration on it. In fact it’s rather disappointing. I thought it would be something more important. I stretch out my hand to touch.
“No!” cracks out Saldowr’s voice. I snatch my hand back as if I’ve touched fire.
“You may look but not touch. One at a time. Who will go first?”
“You first, Conor. You’re the eldest,” I say quickly.
“But you’re the most curious,” murmurs Conor. Then he catches Saldowr’s stern gaze. Conor straightens his shoulders and steps forward. Saldowr holds out the mirror.
“Look, but don’t touch,” he repeats.
Slowly Conor bends over the mirror, his hands at his sides. I can’t see anything. The mirror is hidden by Conor’s back.
Suddenly, his hands clench into fists. His whole body tenses. I think he’s going to cry out, but he says nothing.
Nobody speaks. Conor just keeps on staring into the mirror as if it has enchanted him. Saldowr holds the mirror steady. The shadows of the swaying waterweed above us flicker over the surface of his cloak. I watch the patterns they make, and after a few seconds I start falling into a dream, as if someone were hypnotizing me.
With a huge effort I drag myself back. I’ve got to make sure that Conor’s all right. How long has he been staring into that mirror? It’s probably only seconds, but it feels like minutes or even hours.
Saldowr’s our friend. He wouldn’t be trying to hypnotize me and Conor; I’m sure he wouldn’t.
At long last Conor steps back and stands next to me again. I reach out and squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t squeeze back. He tries to smile at me, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re blazing with anger.
“Are you all right, Con?”
“I’ll tell you later.” He sounds out of breath, as if he’s been running a race. Saldowr’s hand falls to his side, and his cloak wraps around the mirror, hiding it again. Isn’t he going to let me look into it?
“The mirror must be cloaked,” says Saldowr quietly.
“But—but you let Conor look into it.”
“Do you want to see what the mirror will show you, my child?”
“No,” says Conor, “that’s enough. Saph doesn’t need to look at it.”
“Don’t you think your sister has the right to know the truth?”
“Saph doesn’t need to see it! I’ll—I’ll tell her what’s in the mirror, Saldowr.”
Saldowr shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that. She must see with her own eyes and hear with her own ears.”
I stare at the folds of Saldowr’s cloak, where the mirror’s hidden. I do want to look into it, but I’m afraid of what the mirror’s going to tell me. Still, if I don’t see with my own eyes, I’ll always be left wondering what I might have seen if I’d been just a little bit braver. Very slowly I step forward. I’m glad that I don’t have to hold the mirror myself, because my hands are trembling. Saldowr’s face is expressionless as he raises his arms again, throws the cloak back, and reveals the mirror. Slowly he brings the mirror forward. There is no choice now.
At first I see nothing but the dull sheen of its metal surface. Perhaps I’m not going to see anything. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. Dull, silvery metal. It’s not even a very good mirror. You couldn’t see to comb your hair in it.
As if the mirror has heard my thoughts, a change comes over it, as sudden as a squall over the sea. Shadows gather and then race over the mirror’s surface. Shadows of branches and a breaking pattern of red and purple and blue. Dark blue, inky blue. The reflection of Saldowr’s cloak, that’s all it is. Suddenly the racing shadows part, like a curtain at the opening of a play. Yes, it’s just like a play. The actors are already on the stage, waiting for the audience.
A woman is sitting with her back to me. She must be a Mer woman, because there’s her beautiful strong, solid tail, like a seal’s tail, curled to one side. She’s leaning forward, absorbed in whatever it is she’s looking at, as if it meant everything to her.
Her rippling dark hair streams over her back. She’s wearing a fine woven green bodice. Elvira wore a bodice like that once. As I watch, the woman lifts her head. Slowly she turns and looks out of the mirror with a faint, happy smile on her face. Her face is a little like Elvira’s too. She has green eyes, like Elvira’s, and the same short, straight nose. But her smile is quite different.
The woman’s smile widens as if she had recognized someone. Is she looking at me? Can she see me? No, her eyes don’t meet mine. She’s looking at someone else, coming toward her inside the world of the mirror. As I gaze at her, I realize that she’s much older than Elvira. She’s a woman, not a girl. She could be Elvira’s aunt or an older cousin. She’s not old enough to be Elvira’s mother.
The woman moves a little to one side, still smiling. Now I can see what she was looking at. In a cradle of smooth stone, lined with silky weed, there is a Mer baby. The baby is asleep, eyes shut, feathers of hair drifting in the soft movement of the water. There are no coverings on the baby. I suppose you wouldn’t need to wrap up a baby here in Ingo. The baby’s arms are curled around its head. Its tail is the color of a pearl. Perhaps Mer babies are like seals, and their tails grow darker as they grow older.
As I watch, the woman lifts her hand in greeting and smiles. Her face is full of warmth and love. I wish she was smiling at me. I’d like to swim inside the mirror and get to know her.
There’s a shadow at the edge of the mirror. A figure. A man. One of the Mer, swimming toward the Mer woman. He lifts his hand too and waves at her. As he turns in a swirl of bubbles, I see his face.
The Mer man swims to the cradle and kisses the sleeping Mer baby on the forehead. Very gently, very lovingly. Dad always kissed us on the forehead like that before we went to sleep. My heart stops beating and then thumps violently, as if an electric shock has jolted through it. The mirror goes dark.
We say nothing for a long while, me and Conor, but we draw close to each other, shoulder to shoulder, touching.
“A true answer,” says Conor through his teeth. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yes,” says Saldowr.
“I suppose everyone here knew except us,” goes on Conor in the same cold, angry voice. “Does Faro know? Does Elvira?”
“Yes, they know. How could they not know? The Mer are not like you. We find it hard to have secrets from one another.”
I don’t want to even think about Dad. I want to wipe the image of him out of my mind.
“She looked like Elvira,” says Conor, “that—that woman. Is she related to Elvira?”
“She is their mother’s sister. But it is easier for Faro and Elvira because her husband, their uncle, is dead. They can be happy that Mellina has found happiness after long grief.”
“Can they?” says Conor grimly. “Did they know this all the time? Right from when they first met us last summer? I suppose they must have done.”
“You’ll have to ask Elvira and Faro yourselves.”
“We may not want to,” says Conor.
Saldowr says no more. He just watches us thoughtfully. I can’t think of anything to say. If I open my mouth, I’m afraid I’ll cry or yell like a baby. Faro knew all this time, and he said nothing. I thought he was my friend. We were so close, we could see into each other’s minds. Didn’t he know how much it hurt that Dad had gone? Didn’t he know how we would feel about this Mer woman? How could Faro be happy about something that made me and Conor so unhappy? Little sister Faro called me. I never understood why. Maybe he was trying to tell me we were more than friends; we were almost related.
“You have to understand that it is different for the Mer,” says Saldowr. “We do not own each other as you do.”
“Own each other? It’s got nothing to do with owning. My father was married. Married to my mother. End of story,” states Conor.
“But it wasn’t the end of the story for him. His love began to flow elsewhere.”
“She made him love her. He didn’t want to,” I say hotly. “That woman, Mellina. She sang to him. He’d never have known she existed if she hadn’t sung to him.”
“The point is that your father listened.”
“He should never have listened,” says Conor. “He had no right. He was married to Mum.”
“I cannot talk to you in this way about the forces that drive men and women,” says Saldowr sternly. “Should, would, could, might, ought. Those are human words, and even in our common language they mean nothing. We must live with what is, not what might have been or what should be. You saw the child. He has been born. He cannot be unborn again to suit your desires.”
“So you’re saying that our father can never return to us,” says Conor slowly.
“I am not saying that. I am only showing you what is.”
Conor draws himself up and says with sudden dignity, “Thank you for showing us what you showed us. We have no more questions.”
I look at him with admiration. I’d been on the point of babbling out hundreds of desperate questions about Dad, about the Mer woman, and about that little baby with the pearly tail who is—
Our half brother. That’s the right word for him. But I’ve only got one brother, and that’s Conor. And I don’t want another.
Our half brother, and Faro and Elvira’s cousin. The Mer baby’s mother is their aunt. His father is our father. It’s all so bewildering and strange that it makes me feel dizzy. Conor’s right. We need to go away and talk in private. It’s no good looking to Saldowr to solve the problem for us.
Saldowr is also looking at Conor, measuring what he’s said. Finally he bows his head in agreement. “As you wish,” he says. “But there is another reason for your being here, I think.”
“No. There’s no other reason.”
“Go with your sister now. Comfort each other, but then return to me. There is another subject on which I must speak to you.”
“Don’t you think we’ve had enough?” asks Conor savagely. “What else can there be?”
“It is a matter of the gravest urgency. Compared with it, what you saw in the mirror will lose its power to wound you. Each of us will die one day, and our loves and sorrows will die with us.” Saldowr shrugs. “Our troubles are not as important as we think. We are not as important as we think.”
“So I see,” says Conor. There is a bite in his voice I’ve never heard before. “Now that I’ve looked into your mirror, I see that I’m much less important to my father than I thought I was.”
“I shall speak to you again later. This is not the time; you cannot hear me,” says Saldowr. “Rest now. Talk to each other.”
His cloak swirls around him as he reenters his cave.
We sit together in silence, side by side. It’s comforting just to be near Conor. We understand each other’s feelings without having to speak. I have a confused hope that somehow Conor will know what we should do now. But he broods in silence, fists clenched on his knees, head down. At last he says, “I suppose you saw the same as I did.”
“Yes.”
“What a couple of idiots we were. Plunging into Ingo, believing Dad needed us. Thinking we were on some kind of rescue mission. I bet Dad had a good laugh.”
His voice is so bitter that I exclaim in protest, “No, Conor! Dad’s not like that. He did need us. He came to find me because he was unhappy. He does still want us; I know he does.”
“He didn’t want us enough, did he? He wants her more. And the—the—”
“The baby.”
“The Mer baby, you mean.”
“He’s our brother, Con.”
“He’s no brother of mine. He’s one of them, Sapphire. He’s got a tail, for God’s sake.”
“He’s our half brother then.”
Conor shrugs angrily. I don’t want to make things worse, but there’s something I’ve got to say. “He’s Elvira’s cousin too. And Faro’s cousin.”
Conor’s eyes flash with anger. “And they never said a word to us. Not one word,” he says.
“Maybe—maybe they wanted to, but they couldn’t. Maybe Saldowr had forbidden it.”
“Elvira never even tried.”
“But couldn’t it be why they came to find us in the first place, last summer? Because we’re linked, through our blood. Faro has saved us twice now, Conor. He saved you last summer when the guardian seals attacked Roger. And just now he brought you safely here. He even tried to dive into the Deep to rescue me. Why would he do all that if he wasn’t—wasn’t part of us somehow?”
Conor puts his head in his hands. “I don’t want to think about Faro and Elvira anymore, Saph. It’s too much.”
But I can’t stop thinking about the baby. His soft, feathery hair. His plump little fists curled up by the side of his head as he slept. His tail. Yes, his tail. It wasn’t horrific. It wasn’t shocking. It was part of him. It would have looked strange if he hadn’t had a tail. If he’d been cleft. My baby brother, and I don’t even know his name.
“It’s Mum I’m thinking about,” Conor continues, looking up again. “What’s it going to be like for her when she knows?”
I am shocked at myself. I haven’t thought of Mum at all. I can’t believe I could be so selfish. But when I’m in Ingo, Mum is never quite real. She is like a frozen image of herself that can’t speak or move until I come home again.
“Oh, yes, Mum,” I say feebly, trying to pretend that I’ve been thinking about her too.
“It will be terrible for her,” says Conor with absolute conviction. It’s clear that Mum isn’t a frozen image to him but just as real as if she were standing next to us.
“But does Mum have to know?”
“Saph. You can’t be serious. Of course Mum’s got to know what’s happened. Dad’s not only left her but completely betrayed her. She deserves the truth.”
“Mum’s got Roger.”
“Mum would never even have looked at Roger if Dad hadn’t
disappeared.”
I say nothing. I know that Conor’s right in a way. Dad’s entirely to blame, and we ought to hate him and support Mum. But I can’t do it. I can’t make it as simple as that. Good and bad. Black and white. Air and Mer. I belong to both sides, and it’s like standing on an ice floe that has cracked apart. One foot on one bank of ice, one on the other. I’ve got to choose and leap for safety, or else fall into freezing water. But I can’t choose. I don’t know how to. Maybe I’m a betrayer too. Like Dad.
“Cheer up, Saph,” says Conor suddenly, surprisingly. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“What?”
“This is not going to wreck our lives. I’m not going to let it. Listen, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going back home. I’m going to take care of Mum whatever happens and make sure Roger treats her right. I think he will anyway; he’s a good bloke. And I’ll tell you something, Saph: I’m never coming here again. Ingo.” He spits the word out with disgust. “All they do is lie to you. I thought Elvira was my friend, and all the time she knew…”
I nod as if I’m agreeing with Conor, but inside myself I am not so sure. The little Mer baby is my brother. All right, my half brother, but still my brother. My brother in Ingo. And there’s Faro and Saldowr and the whale and the dolphins and everyone else I’ve met in Ingo. Even Elvira. But this isn’t the right time to explain how I feel to Conor.
“Elvira does like you,” I say instead.
“She has a strange way of showing it.”
“All the same, she does.”
We don’t talk anymore after that. We know Saldowr’s going to come back soon, and in a way we’re glad to escape from what the mirror has shown us and concentrate on what Saldowr said. A matter of the gravest urgency. Saldowr is not the kind of person you doubt. There is a force in him that is invisible but real, like electricity. As he comes toward us, we both look at him eagerly.
“A true answer cuts to the heart,” says Saldowr again as he reaches us, “but I see that your hearts are strong and capable of healing.”
“If we want them to,” retorts Conor.