The Sea King's Daughter

by Simon, Miranda

  Everyone said that I, of all Nereus' daughters, looked the most like my mother. I certainly didn't look like Father or my sisters. But I didn't see my resemblance to Aphrodite's statue. She boasted high cheekbones and exotic, slanting eyes, while my own face was round and pale as the moon. As far as I could tell, the only thing I shared with my mother was the color of my scales. Coppery-green crescents covered my father, grandmother, and sisters' tails. But my tail was alight with silver scales, each like a sliver of the pale moon. When I was born, my father said, I reminded him of the night sky. He named me Nyx for the goddess of darkness.

  I longed to see the night sky for myself, to see the moon and the stars and the dark above the waves. I began to swim in restless circles, plotting my escape. Grandmother couldn't confine me to my chambers forever. The upper world was a siren song, beckoning me with an irresistible force.

  Sooner or later, whatever the consequences, I vowed to answer that call.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thetis and I sat together in one of the tower rooms, a large round chamber with a marble frieze of Poseidon on the ceiling. Late afternoon light filtered in through amber windows and glowed against the floor's gold-inlaid tiles. My sisters and the other ladies of the court reclined on couches, gossiping and snacking on tiny pink damsel fish. Most days I avoided the tower room as if it swarmed with sharks and spiny sea urchins, but today I'd come looking for Thetis.

  "Please, Thetis. You've got to do it," I said.

  "Oh, Nyx. I don't know." Thetis' pale lips puckered into a worried bow. As usual, she wore her hair pulled severely back, emphasizing her sharp face, thin nose, and huge black eyes. Her delicate, almost transparent skin lacked the high color that earned me such praise. Still, in spite of her outward plainness, Thetis possessed an otherworldly serenity. Her expression, her eyes, the way she held her body and folded her fingers together on the table -- everything about her reflected the quiet stillness of her inner self. My inner self, on the other hand, resembled a frenzied shark feeding.

  "I'm begging you," I whispered, reaching across the table to take Thetis' hand. "If you don't help me, I'll go mad."

  I'd spent the past four days confined to the palace grounds, where I moped about and avoided my grandmother. I wanted desperately to go up to the surface again. On this particular afternoon the water felt wonderfully charged with energy, and the fish darted by like arrows shot from a bow. Like me, they could feel the storm brewing above the sea.

  "Please," I said. "Just tell Grandmother you'll go along and keep an eye on me." I glanced over at Galatea and Amphitrite, who giggled and shot nasty glances in my direction. Ino and Nysa had their heads together, too. I wrinkled my nose. "If you don't help me, I swear I'll murder someone," I told Thetis. "Probably one of those chattering imbeciles you call my sisters. Look at them. They can't wait for me to do something wrong so they can run and tattle to Grandmother."

  "They're not so bad." Thetis glanced at her reflection in the surface of her jade-studded silver bracelet. Today she seemed even dreamier and more distracted than usual. "You should try harder to get along with them."

  I gave a short, sharp laugh. "I'd rather kiss a stinging jellyfish. You're the only sister I can stand, you know that."

  Thetis frowned. "I won't be around forever, Nyx."

  I felt a stab of fear. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I don't know," Thetis said. She twisted her bracelet around her wrist with a far-away expression in her eyes. "I'll get married someday."

  I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, that. I'll just visit you."

  Thetis turned her face away. "Of course." She hesitated. "Nyx, I --"

  "What?"

  "Never mind. If I help you go off alone for an hour or two, what will I do with myself?"

  I smiled. "I don't care, just as long as you stay out of sight," I said. "So you'll do it? You'll tell Grandmother you're my chaperone?"

  A worry line creased Thetis' brow, but she nodded. "I wish you'd really let me go with you. What if something happens? What if you get hurt?"

  My cheeks burned at her fussing. I hated the way everyone, even Thetis, treated me like a child. I knew Thetis would never agree if I told her my plans. "I can take care of myself," I said. "Nothing will go wrong. I promise. I'll be home before dark."

  Six feet under, the water was calm and sleepy, but I could feel the pressure of the waves above my head. The wind blew hard, driving muddy white-crowned crests before it. Rain speckled the surface. The fish exploded in all directions. Sars climbed up from the bottom and dived again. Mullets and bass jigged under the boiling carpet of rain. Their excitement was contagious, and I longed to join the celebration.

  Before I poked my head out of the water, I hesitated. I remembered the panicky feeling of suffocation from the first time. I dreaded the pain, but I craved the new experience more. Gathering my courage, I burst up out of the sea and into the rain.

  Surfacing didn't hurt so much the second time. Drawing my first breath, I felt a piercing ache in my lungs. But I didn't choke, and there was no terror. This time, I knew that half a dozen breaths would loosen the iron band around my chest.

  When my heart stopped pounding and my lungs no longer ached, I looked around. This storm-tossed sea was a different creature entirely from the calm, shining surface I'd seen the week before. Gray clouds closed in over my head, matching the slate-colored waters. The rain pelted my hair and my cheeks. I tasted the fat, cold drops. The fresh water shocked my tongue.

  I missed Ios, but I saw no sign of my favorite dolphin. She never came when I wanted her. Instead, she appeared and disappeared at will, tagging along for a while and then leaving me behind. Sometimes I thought she only came to see what trouble I'd get into next.

  I swam through the center of the storm. It felt marvelously wild and exciting. Minutes passed like seconds. Clouds blocked out the sun, but I could tell by the gathering dark that night would fall soon. I knew I should turn back. Thetis would worry.

  At that moment, as I was about to dive, I spotted the shadow of a sail in the distance. The temptation was too great to resist. I made my way toward the storm-tossed ship. Wave after wave broke over my head.

  I'd known this was a day for adventure. I would see my first human today.

  I had to be careful, of course. I couldn't help shivering a little as I remembered a 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 against the rolling of the boat. He had a kind of glow about him, some special quality I'd never seen in any young merman. I couldn't look away from him. He was the most gorgeous creature I had ever seen -- despite the little shock I got every time I looked at his strange human legs.

  Mesmerized, I fell back and followed the ship at a distance. I had to know whether these sailors survived Poseidon's wrath.

  The men succeeded in loosening the ropes. The sail crashed down on the deck. Steersmen tugged on the double oars. Lightening cracked in the sky. Waves battered the ship. The boards groaned and creaked and began to split apart.

  Gull-gray water swamped the deck. I remembered the other wrecks I'd seen on the bottom of the sea. Upholstered with rust and weeds, they looked just like underwater rocks. Black mussels, corals, sponges, mollusks, and worms covered their rotting planks. Ancient lead anchors lay nearby in the silt.

  Soon this ship would join the others on the bottom.

  The sailors scooped desperately at the water with clay basins, but it rushed in faster than they could bail it out. A huge swell broke over the deck, knocking one of the sailors overboard. He cried out, clawing at the water, sinking down and then bobbing up again. As the wave swept over my head, I could see his flailing legs and his face contorted with fear.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and bubbles gushed from his mouth. Instinctively, I flicked my tail and darted closer. I'd always learned that merfolk had no business interfering in the lives of men, but my instinct to help was stronger.

  Hands reached down from above and caught hold of the drowning man, hauling him from the water. Relieved, I rose to the surface myself -- in time to see that the sailor's rescue came too late. The ship rolled and foundered. Another bolt of lightening ripped across the sky. In the pale flash I saw the young man standing in the bow, his skin like marble, his face grim and rigid. Then he went over with his ship and I lost sight of him.

  With an unearthly screech, the ship broke apart. Wood and cargo littered the surface of the sea. Men cried out. They clutched at the foam on the waves, treading water with so little skill that I had to wonder whether they knew how to swim at all. Some grabbed on to floating debris. I scanned their frightened faces for the handsome man who'd so fascinated me, the one who looked like a young prince, but he wasn't among them.

  My heart hammered. Where was he? He was too beautiful to die. I dove down into the churning water. He was young and strong. He should be swimming with the rest of them, clinging to the wreckage, maybe even striking out for shore.

  I had to find him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I dove down and swam under the water. I muttered a prayer to Poseidon under my breath. After what seemed an eternity, I found him. His eyes were closed. His lashes rested on pale cheeks. His hair around his head like tendrils of algae, and his chest no longer rose and fell.

  Up close, I could see that he was only a few years older than me -- sixteen or seventeen, no more than that. I reached out and touched his perfect face. It was like alabaster, beautiful and cold. What a terrible waste. Just a moment ago he'd stood tall and strong, the master of his ship. Now he was dead.

  Suddenly his eyes sprang open. They were blue, and dark as the deepest sea. We stared at each other for a long moment. He seemed to see me, really see me, and I read a silent plea in his eyes. I gave him a reassuring smile. His lids fluttered, his eyes closed, and he let out a sigh that sent silvery bubbles streaming toward the surface.

  I was alone again, but now I knew what I had to do. I wrapped my arms around his waist and bore him up with half a dozen powerful strokes of my tail. His head rolled back onto my shoulder. His hair brushed my cheek. I swam harder.

  We exploded up through the waves and into the pelting rain. I took three quick breaths to expel the water in my lungs. I saw no sign of the wreckage through the mist and spray, but I could hear the shouts of the survivors. I strained to stay afloat. The young man in my arms weighed me down. He still wasn't breathing. His body was so lifeless I began to feel afraid. I pushed his head off my shoulder and it rolled forward limply.

  Just when I was sure he'd drowned, he lurched in my arms and began to cough. I fought to keep his head above water as he retched painfully and vomited seawater. Then he took his first labored breath. My own breath caught in my throat in sympathy. I bore him up and waited until his breathing grew less ragged

  He was still unconscious when I struck out for shore.

  At first, it wasn't too difficult. I floated on my back and kept one arm tight around his chest as I paddled with the other. I wished I could dive down and burrow under the whitecaps, but with my human burden that was impossible. Instead I rode the waves. I let them carry me toward the land. It was dark now, and I couldn't see the beach, but I knew where it was.

  The storm eased. The rain stopped, the waves flattened, and the gray clouds scuttled away before the wind. Looking up into the sky, I saw stars for the first time. They glittered coldly. I could make out several of the constellations I'd learned from star-charts -- an eagle, a dolphin, a horse. A full moon cast spangles over the water. I dragged my rescued prince backward down the path made of moonlight. I kept his back pressed to my chest. His head lolled sideways onto my shoulder. Each of his shallow breaths tickled my earlobe.

  As the minutes drifted by, my muscles began to burn. I fought to breathe, my lungs bursting, my neck cramping. Even my tail ached. I told myself fiercely that I must not give up. This was the most important thing I'd ever done. I couldn't bear to let him just slide down in the water and die. I switched paddling arms and swam on.

  We closed in on the rocky shore of an island. I twisted my
head around and searched the coast until I located a thin, silvery strip of beach in a tiny half moon of a bay. A cluster of buildings clung to the hills above the beach. Red terra cotta tiles topped walls made of mud brick. High above the village, on a moon-kissed cliff, rose the shining white columns of a temple. I knew from my father's stories that humans must live nearby. They would find my prince and help him.

  I shook with exhaustion as I paddled the last few yards into the bay. Once, then twice, I faltered and began to sink. Each time I gritted my teeth and forced myself up again. I shifted my burden in my arms, careful not to let him slip away.

  At last, after what seemed an eternity, the waves washed us up onto the coarse sand. I collapsed in the surf, gasping. I still clutched the unconscious man in my arms. We lay together like lovers. The sea sighed and tugged at us with wistful fingers.

  My body felt heavier on land, heavy beyond simple exhaustion. Water no longer cradled me and held me up. The night breezes playing over my skin were foreign and almost unpleasant after a lifetime in the water.

  I wanted to look around, to enjoy my first foray onto land, but I couldn't. Exhaustion overtook me. My eyelids fluttered closed and I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Pain woke me -- pain and the itch of drying scales. I groaned and rolled over in the sand. Slanting rays of sunshine played over the water. Waves the size of my palm crept up to the shore, folded over onto themselves, then slipped out to sea again, leaving fingers of foam on the beach. The tide had crept away from me while I slept. It had stranded me at least a half-dozen tail lengths from the water.

  I gave the young man I'd rescued one last glance. He was no longer unconscious. Now, in the first light of dawn, he slept more easily. Color stood high in his cheeks. Dried salt crusted white in his hair. Sometime in the night, he'd brought those foolish man-legs up to his chest so that he lay curled into himself like an elaborate salmon-pink shell.