Surface Tension

by Valentine Wheeler

  The wide blue expanse made her nostalgic for her time on the ship, before the crash, and she stared at the clouds for a long time before she finally drifted off to sleep.

  IRENE HAD BEEN right, Sarai decided, about her needing a day off. As she walked along the street outside her boardinghouse, basket in hand, a light feeling of freedom blossomed in her chest. She had a job, and she was building a life—not what she’d dreamed of as a child—not the sea, but not pigs either. And she liked Irene and the painters she’d met. Things were secure.

  The street was nearly empty less than an hour after dawn, but there was a figure weaving toward Sarai. Sarai eyed the woman as she made her way toward her.

  She was stumbling, tripping over her feet, and Sarai wrinkled her nose, wondering who could possibly be drunk this early in the morning. She swerved out of the woman’s path, but the woman veered back toward her. Sarai raised her head to make sure she dodged her grasping hands, when the woman whispered, “Sarai! I knew it was you.”

  Sarai froze at the sound of her name.

  The woman stopped in front of her, swaying gently. “Sarai, please listen to me.”

  Sarai stared at her pale unfamiliar face, the long, pointed nose, the high cheekbones, the wide eyes with huge, dark irises, and shook her head. “Do I know you?”

  The woman’s brows furrowed. “Do I look very different, wearing one of your skins?”

  Well that was a terrifying thing to say, Sarai thought. The woman tipped to one side and Sarai reached out automatically, saying, “Miss, are you all right?” She clasped the woman’s upper arm as she swayed in a firm breeze.

  “It’s me,” said the woman, and the dark eyes suddenly looked even darker and Sarai realized—

  “Oh my god,” Sarai said. “Ydri? But—how?” Ydri’s green skin was a light brown, instead of its gorgeous deep green, her lips pink, and her legs long, strong, and unsteady. She rocked on her wide hips like a landsman on his first ocean voyage who hadn’t gotten her land legs yet.

  “A witch, a spell, it doesn’t matter,” said Ydri impatiently. “Come with me, please!” She grabbed Sarai’s hand and tugged her into a dark alleyway between two buildings, weaving and pointing up at the sky. “There’s no time for conversation!”

  “What’s happening?” Ydri’s hand was cool as ocean waves, firm and silky strong against Sarai’s. “I don’t understand!”

  “You and your people are in great danger,” Ydri said. “The ocean floor quakes, and our brethren across the ocean have sent us warning of a great rise.” She leaned in closer. “It is coming, and nothing can be done to stop it, not with all the magic of the sea and the machines of the land. Perhaps with this warning, though, your people can move to safety in time. Otherwise, much of this city and the people in it will be lost, Sarai.”

  “A great rise—” Sarai searched her memory for the phrase. “Oh no.” She’d seen pictures of huge waves breaking across beaches in the books in Ydri’s library, crushing people and buildings alike. The last wave had been when Sarai was a child, hitting the area north of the city. She had distinct memories of her father packing a cart full of supplies to bring to the damaged farms. They’d lived too far inland to be affected, but he’d told her to remember that disaster could strike anyone. He always said when hard times struck them someday, the farms up north would remember and repay his generosity. A strange bit of memory, one she hadn’t considered in years.

  “You see,” Ydri said, glancing from side to side, eyes narrowed in the bright glare of the sun. “You must warn your people.” She pointed upward. “When the sun is straight above, it will come.” She released Sarai’s hand and stepped back on still-wobbly legs. “My spell will end soon.”

  “Wait!” said Sarai. “I’ll have to tell people about you, you know. They won’t believe me, otherwise. I mean, they probably won’t believe me even if I talk about you, but if I can’t tell them how I know—”

  “You were right,” interrupted Ydri. “It’s time we were less of a secret, anyway. Please do not tell them where to find us, or about the specifics of our magic. I know you learned some of how it works, despite my efforts. Our existence, however, you may share with those you trust.”

  “Thank you,” said Sarai, hand reaching out to flutter over Ydri’s shoulder, finally settling and giving it a tight squeeze. “I know what doing this means for you.”

  Ydri’s cheeks stained faintly red, and her eyes grew wide, and she backed away quickly, slipping off toward the shore.

  One of the legends she’d read in Ydri’s library had told of the mythic origins of the great rises of the ocean. The serpent who created the world had been mortally wounded by the sun, and the drops of its blood from the blow that landed on bare earth became humans while those that landed in the ocean became the merfolk. The legend said the death throes of the great serpent would continue until the end of the world, each thrash a tidal wave, years apart. She’d loved the idea, loved the thought that somewhere there was a creature who lived so long their death took more time than the lives of millions. It seemed less charming now.

  She looked up at the clock tower in the square and swallowed, clutching her basket once more and striding toward the palace gates. She had less than three hours before the tidal wave hit.

  She tried the town guards first. She wished suddenly that her brother Jon had stayed in the guard. He might not have believed her, but at least he would have listened and given her a chance.

  “A tidal wave?” scoffed the guard on duty. “There hasn’t been one of those in a decade. We’re not likely to get one now. And how, exactly, do you know this?” He leaned in, smirking. “Did you have a bad dream, honey?” He leaned closer. “I could help you sleep more soundly.”

  Sarai leaned away, dodging his grasping hand aimed at her rear. “I can’t tell you how I know,” she said impatiently. “But would it hurt to take precautions?” Behind her she sensed another guard coming up, and she turned, keeping her back to the wall.

  “Why don’t you tell us more about it, sweetie?” said the other guard, leering at her, then exchanging a quick glance with his fellow guard. “I’ve got a nice place nearby we can talk about it.”

  “No, thank you,” she said, shaking her head and sliding back toward the main road. “Could you at least let the captain know? Maybe he’d send someone to watch the water and send warning if the tide draws back suddenly at the shore—”

  “I’m not going to cause a panic because one girl had some kind of premonition,” he replied, eyes going hard when she dodged another questing hand. “Run along home, before I cite you for disruptive behavior.”

  Sarai fled. She’d have to find another way.

  She tried Irene next.

  “I’m sorry, girl, but today’s my biggest day of the week for sales; you know that.” Irene wrapped a brown paper parcel with string for a customer. “I can’t close down, even for your theories. If I do, I won’t be able to pay my bills. Including your own wages.”

  The men at the docks laughed at her, shooing her on her way, as did the market guards, and she finally found herself outside the servants’ entrance to the castle, staring up at its giant edifice.

  She’d hoped someone familiar would be working, but no such luck. The first woman she saw glared at her, shooing her from the door. “We’ve deliveries coming, girl. No gawking.”

  “I’m looking for my cousin,” she tried to say, but the woman had already disappeared back inside. She tried the stables next, but a big horse reared in its stall as she tried to pass, giant hooves pawing at the air. Sarai beat a hasty retreat. At last, in the courtyard, her luck finally changed. “You’re Gretchen’s cousin, right? The one who couldn’t fold?” asked the kitchen girl rinsing vegetables in a fountain, the same one who’d taken her to Gretchen the first time she’d come to the castle. That seemed so long ago. The girl looked older already, maybe ten years old with short, curly hair. “Didn’t think you’d be back. She’s right upstairs, I’ll take you to her.�
�

  Gretchen was folding table linens in a storeroom three flights up, and her face lit up when she saw Sarai. “Sarai? What are you doing back here, sweetie?” Her face fell a little as she took in the wild look in Sarai’s eyes. “Hey, honey, what’s going on? You look upset.”

  “You’re not going to believe me,” started Sarai, not moving from the threshold, instead lingering awkwardly in the doorway, “But there’s a tidal wave coming, and we need to get everyone to safety.”

  “Sarai—”

  “I know it sounds insane; there hasn’t been one for decades; how could I know; yes, those are all good points, but please, can you trust me?” She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. They were all going to die. There was nothing to be done. If Gretchen dismissed her—

  Gretchen sighed. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay. I trust you. Of course, I trust you. Tell me more.”

  Sarai took a deep breath, fighting back tears of relief, and started from the beginning, through the shipwreck, the rescue she barely remembered, the abduction, the land under the sea, everything, and when she finished, Gretchen had a calculating look on her face. “So that’s why you were so strange when you came for a job.”

  “Yeah,” said Sarai. “All I need, really, is someone to tell the guards I’m not crazy, and to maybe get some sandbags up around town and ask people to stay inland for the afternoon.”

  “I know what we have to do,” said Gretchen. She swallowed, throat bobbing, and stood reluctantly. “Come with me. And let me do the talking, okay? This is kind of a delicate situation.” She ushered Sarai out of the small room into a main hall and stopped beside a tall, skinny woman in a well-kept, businesslike dress. Sarai had seen her around in her time in the castle, giving orders and moving things from place to place with an air of hurried importance. She was Gretchen’s boss, she recalled. Sarai had only lasted a few days under her eye before being foisted off on Agatha in the kitchens and laundry. Gretchen cleared her throat. “Carlotta?”

  The woman turned. “Oh! Gretchen! Finished already? And who’s this?” She cocked her head to the side, staring at Sarai. “Aren’t you the girl who disappeared?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, I’m finished. And this is my cousin, Sarai. She has something to tell you. Something I think you should hear.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “It’s about the merpeople.”

  “Mermaids!” Carlotta’s eyes lit up. She dropped the fabric samples in her hands in a heap on the table. “Did you see one?”

  Gretchen tugged Sarai closer. “Even better, I promise. I know you wanted more information on the local ones. Well, they took Sarai and brought her back with a message.”

  Carlotta’s gaze swung to Sarai, buzzing with excitement. “They’re highly psychic, you know. Very intelligent. But I’ve heard this story before. They like to experiment on humans, see how they work. You’re lucky if they let you remember any of it!”

  “Well,” said Sarai, a little flummoxed by the woman’s excitement. Gran had been stoic in her belief in the supernatural, always stressing how terrifying and dangerous the merfolk were, how much they needed to be avoided. This woman seemed thrilled by them, as if she was ready to join them without knowing anything but the legends. “Um, this one didn’t experiment—not much, anyway. She just had questions. She kept me in her city.”

  “Only questions?” Carlotta’s brows drew together. “That’s not like them. Are you sure—” She trailed off, apparently not quite ready to outright accuse Sarai of faking her encounter.

  Sarai’s fists clenched. She ignored Gretchen’s insistent hand tugging at her shoulder. “I know where I’ve been. Ydri said she was unusual. She didn’t study what others of her kind do. Most of them study our bodies and our artifacts, not our minds.”

  “We never hear their names. No one does. And no one remembers so clearly. They don’t let you.” Carlotta crossed her arms. “Gretchen, who did you say this girl was?”

  Gretchen’s panicked face made Sarai’s decision for her. Her cousin was the only person left on land who gave a whit what happened to Sarai. She wasn’t going to hurt her credibility with the woman who controlled her life and livelihood, whatever Gretchen said about Rory and the farm. “Look,” she said. “They left me this.” She turned and reached under her hair, baring the back of her neck. She shivered as Carlotta and Gretchen both leaned over her, staring at her skin.

  “They’re tracking you!” said Carlotta, a gleam of envy in her eyes, and her earlier suspicion forgotten. “Oh, I’ve never seen an implant up close before, only etchings. May I?” Without waiting for an answer, her fingers prodded at the small lump on Sarai’s neck.

  Sarai pulled away, turning, skin prickling uncomfortably. “You believe me then?”

  “Of course!” said Carlotta. “I’m so sorry. Oh, I’m as bad as the townsfolk, not taking you at your word. I’ve read about cases like yours, where they’ve put some sort of charm under the skin. You’re sure the implant is the only physical mark of your time with them?”

  “I got that the first time,” Sarai replied. “I’m not sure what they did then. I didn’t even notice it afterward, and I didn’t remember that encounter, but when they took me again, Ydri showed me where the bump was. I don’t think she meant to show me—they aren’t supposed to take a person twice, you know. But she was so surprised to find it, she pointed it out. The second time, I remember clearly, and they were very nice, actually. Until they kicked me out, anyway.”

  Nodding sagely, Carlotta said, “You’re lucky there. Most people only remember fragments, and those come years later.”

  “That’s the magic,” said Sarai. “It only works once.”

  Carlotta stared at her, obviously trying to figure out what to ask next, then sighed. “We are absolutely returning to that statement, but first, you said you had urgent news.” She reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a thick piece of vellum and a quill with a bottle of ink. She shoved the ink on the windowsill, dipped the quill, then began scribbling, looking back at Sarai expectantly. She paused. “And did you say the first time? They’ve taken you more than once?”

  “I don’t remember the first time. They don’t let anyone remember if they can. But I have a very urgent message. Please, you have to help. I promise I’ll tell you everything afterward.”

  Carlotta leaned forward, eyes wide. “What did they tell you?”

  “The important thing—the only important thing—is there’s a tidal wave on its way,” said Sarai, feeling a bit like the town crier. Carlotta scribbled notes on her vellum as Sarai spoke. “It’s coming this afternoon and it’s going to hit us. We need to prepare, only no one believes me. I tried the guard, the merchants—”

  “Oh, my! Of course, they don’t believe you!” Carlotta shook her head, scribbling, a worried crease forming between her brows. “The sea folk know their currents and waves, and I’ve tried to tell the townspeople we should watch for their signs, but they refuse to believe me. They’re known for their knowledge in all the legends. And they talk to each other across the ocean, says my ma.” She put her hands on her hips, tapping the quill against her leg, thinking hard. “I can’t exactly order anyone, but I can at least warn the guard and see if they can move people inland. I’ll send a message to Matt.” She flagged down a page in the hallway and began scribbling a note.

  “Matt is her husband,” said Gretchen quietly. “He’s a lieutenant in the guard. He thinks she hung the moon, so he’ll definitely start things moving in the right direction to please her even if he doesn’t believe it.” She looked at Sarai seriously. “You’d better be right about this. Carlotta’s my boss. I can’t lose this job, Sarai. I can’t. Not yet.”

  “I am,” promised Sarai. “Ydri didn’t lie.”

  “I hope not,” said Gretchen as Carlotta came back over.

  “Well, Matt will get people moving and get sandbags in place. I told him to call it a drill.” She stared at Sarai’s neck, yearning clear in her eyes. “Y
ou’ll come back? After all this is over, you’ll tell me everything?”

  Sarai nodded, fighting the urge to slap a hand over the bump on her neck to avoid her hungry scrutiny. “I will. I promise. You’ll get the whole story.”

  Carlotta nodded, tearing her gaze from Sarai and taking a deep breath to collect herself. “Now. Back to the draperies—”

  Another woman, this one tall and thin with a razor-sharp nose cutting across her pale face, bustled down the hall, coming to a stop beside Carlotta. “What’s this I hear about you telling more of your wild stories? We’ve a feast coming up, Carlotta. We don’t have time for your theories.”

  “Marla!” Carlotta’s face pinked. “I was just—”

  “Carlotta’s supervisor,” whispered Gretchen to Sarai, quietly enough that the other women couldn’t hear her. “Head attendant to the queen. Younger daughter of Lord Fairclef.”

  Sarai nodded, grateful for the information. The palace was filled with beautiful, well-dressed women bustling by and her head was spinning a bit from all the faces. She’d spent most of her time working there in the back hallways, seeing only other servants, common-born and low-ranking. These well-coiffed women were nothing like the ones she’d known.

  Lady Marla sighed, hands on her hips. “Carlotta, what have I told you about this mermaid business? The guard doesn’t have time for your nonsense. Stop spreading rumors that will cause a panic and set us farther behind, and get back to work.”

  “We could be in danger!” protested Carlotta. “It can’t hurt to be prepared!”

  “But mermaids, dear, really?” Marla shook her head. “You can’t bother the king’s guards on a day like this one with something as crazy as mermaids.”

  “I was only—”

  “Mermaids?” said a rich voice, and with a rustling of silk, a tall, dark-skinned woman in a deep-blue gown turned the corner into the room.