I raised the silver flask to my lips and drank.
CHAPTER NINE
The sea sorceress' potion exploded in my mouth. It scorched my tongue and throat as it burned a trail to my stomach. It tasted salty, metallic, and raw, like marrow sucked from a broken bone. I swallowed the liquid in three quick gulps and cast the empty flask onto the sand.
For a long moment, nothing happened. I wasn't sure whether to feel dismay or relief.
The change began with a faint tingling at my waist, where my scales shaded into pale skin. The tingle grew to a painful itch. When I touched my abdomen, my fingers came away silver with shedding scales. The itch worked down into my tail. I scrubbed hard with my palms and pressed my fingers into the burning, peeling skin.
My tail turned dry and brittle. It itched deep down under my scales where I couldn't scratch. I bit my bottom lip to stifle my cries. My silver star-scales turned black and flaked away. The skin underneath dried and curled. The flesh beneath felt raw and unfinished. Pinpricks of blood welled up, and I wiped them away. The cartilage at the base of my tail thickened and bulged as my caudal fin took on the shape of human feet.
Tearing pain shot down the center of my tail. I doubled over in the sand and gasped for air. My tail seemed to split in two; I wrenched the halves apart. The ripping sound sent shivers up my spine. Somewhere far off someone was sobbing. She let out a series of high, keening cries, like an orphaned baby seal. Minutes passed before I realized that I was the one who cried. I touched my cheeks. My fingertips came away wet. I stared at the wetness with awe. Always until now, when I'd cried, my tears were lost in the great salty sea.
I drew my new-split tail up to my chest. My legs smelled like decay, like rotting flesh. I hadn't expected anything like this. I'd imagined myself instantly transformed, made clean and new and whole. I hadn't realized how much it would hurt to be reborn.
After a long time, I sat up again. I gazed down on the wreckage that was my new legs. Shreds of scales and skin still clung to them. They stung in the cool night air. But beneath the swelling and the rawness, I could make out two shapely human appendages. I bent my knees -- I had knees! -- and touched my new feet, counting the tiny curling toes with awe. My neck, too, was smooth to the touch; my gills had melted into my skin and disappeared.
I scooped up a handful of sand and used it to scrub at my legs. The grains hurt against my tender flesh, but I didn't care. I couldn't let Lysander see me like this. I wiped the sand from my palms and ran my fingers through my hair. My nails caught in the tangles. I looked toward the sea. I longed to dive in and let the clean, cool water soothe the dirt and shredded scales away.
Then I remembered. The sea was poisonous to me now. I could never go back.
The village behind me loomed black and silent against a charcoal sky. Glancing up at the rocky hill to the west of the beach, I saw the manor house with its elegant columns. A candle flickered in one of the windows.
Did Lysander live there? I couldn't picture him in one of the modest homes down near the beach. No, he was a prince, I was certain of that -- maybe just a merchant prince, but a prince nonetheless.
I didn't think beyond finding Lysander, or imagine what would happen next. I would climb up to the grand villa and announce myself.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows and scrambled to my feet. I tried to stand on my newborn legs. But the instant I put weight on them, knives plunged into the soles of my feet and hard, shooting pain lanced through my bones. It was like standing on a bed of spiny sea urchins. I collapsed back onto the sand and moaned in frustration. What good were legs, if I couldn't even stand upright?
I scowled. I was as helpless on land now as when I'd had a tail.
I curled up again and closed my eyes, conjuring up an image of Lysander's face on the back of my eyelids. This was all for him. If I could be with him, all this pain would be worthwhile. I had to remember that.
After a time, I fell asleep. My slumber was fevered and strange, full of monsters. Once my father's sad, drawn face swam through my dreams, then blurred and faded away. My head throbbed, and when I touched my forehead it was so hot it scorched my palm. I laid my cheek on the cool sand and dozed off again.
I woke to the sound of voices.
I struggled up to squat behind a cluster of rocks. Peeking around the edges, I saw them -- Lysander and his friend, the one who'd called to him from the beach to go and get his supper. They paused just a few yards from where I hid. Both wore short tunics and long cloaks of purple wool edged with dark geometric designs.
"If you'd only tell me what's troubling you," Lysander's friend was saying.
"It's nothing, Phidias, nothing but a passing mood." Lysander kicked at a pebble on the ground. The stone skipped over the sand, skidded between the rocks, and struck me cleanly on one brand-new shin.
"Oh!" I cried, and stood up. My knees quavered and threatened to buckle. Pain lanced through my legs, but I ignored it.
Lysander and his friend stared at me, their eyes wide. "Great Zeus!" Lysander exclaimed. "Where did you come from?"
I tried to speak, but no sound came out. My tongue felt swollen and my throat seemed to close off, from thirst or fear, I wasn't sure. I leaned against the rock and stared back.
There was no recognition in Lysander's eyes, but at least I saw concern there. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"What's your name? Where are you from?"
I still couldn't speak. Lysander took a step toward me and I shrank back, suddenly afraid. "I won't hurt you," he said. He unslung his heavy cloak. "Here, let me. . . . You must be cold."
I allowed him to settle the cloak around my shoulders. For the first time, I realized my nakedness made Lysander uneasy. His friend Phidias, too -- he hung back, behind the rocks, averting his eyes from my bare breasts.
No one wore clothing under the sea, and I'd forgotten that human women always covered themselves. It seemed a foolish custom, but I didn't protest as Lysander adjusted the cloak's deep purple folds to conceal my body. The fabric felt rough against skin that had never known the touch of cloth. Lysander's fingers brushed my neck as he lifted my hair out from under the cloak and let it fall free. "There," he said. "That's better."
Up close, and fully conscious, Lysander was even more handsome than I remembered. He towered over me; my head came up only as far as his chest. He tipped my chin up so that my eyes met his. "Now, little one. Tell me where you came from."
"I -- I was -- " My voice came out a pitiful croak, and I cleared my throat. "I came from --"
I'd been about to tell him I came from the sea, that I the one who'd rescued him from the shipwreck. The word "mermaid" lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't say it. Instead, my throat closed and I could not breathe. I tried to cry out, but I could not. My hand flew to my throat, where the muscles moved convulsively under my fingers, then stood as rigid as iron pipes.
I remembered, too late, the sea sorceress' warning. She'd said I should not speak of my life under the sea. I'd tried to break that taboo, and now I could not take my next breath. Panic clawed at my chest. I felt as I had that first day I'd surfaced, like I might never breathe again. I clutched the rocks for support and said a silent prayer to Poseidon. Nothing happened. Of course -- why should the sea god help me, when I'd turned my back on him and his chosen people? I'd rejected the merfolk in favor of Athena's humans.
Lysander's face swam darkly before my eyes. I didn't want to die. It didn't seem fair, that I should come this close to my dreams only to suffocated because of a careless word. I wanted to live, and make Lysander love me. I wanted to find my own place in a new world.
Suddenly, the pressure eased and I was free. I staggered and gulped mouthfuls of fresh, delicious air. I wanted to shout for joy, but I was too weak for that. With a shuddering sigh, I let go of the rock and stood up straight.
My legs crumpled under me.
Lysander caught me. He swung me up into his arms. "Don't try to talk," he said. "Phidias, come on. We'll take her to my house."
I leaned gratefully against his shoulder. Lysander carried me up from the beach and along the path into the village. His friend trailed behind. As the pain in my throat dimmed and then disappeared, I found the strength to peer around.
It was still early morning, just past dawn, but already the air grew hot. The hard, clear light played across bright white limestone and bare brown earth. Sunshine fell heavily against stone foundations, mud-brick walls, and red clay tiles. Dirt was everywhere, even in the air. I felt it land on my skin and stick to me. For the first time, I missed the clean feel of the sea on my skin.
We passed a well surrounded by young girls drawing water. They stopped their work to stare at us as we passed. Children with dirty faces abandoned their games to scurry alongside Lysander and stare at me. He shooed them away. Their shouts rang sharp and loud through the air. The sound hurt my ears, which were made tender by a lifetime of muted sea-tones.
The dusty road wound through the village and then mounted the hill and curved toward the villa. Lysander carried me up the hill as though I weighed nothing. His house sprawled over the rocky clifftop. I saw marble columns, a patio of gray flagstones, and more than one fountain. It wasn't half so grand as my father's palace, but it was clearly the home of a wealthy man.
"We're nearly there, little one," he murmured into my hair. "My mother will take good care of you, I promise."
I nodded and nestled against his chest. Somehow, even in this strange land, I felt like I'd come home at last.
CHAPTER TEN
Lysander carried me through the gate and into the garden behind the villa. Women scrubbing clothes in wooden buckets looked up in surprise. Lysander pushed through a wooden door and into the hallway. "Mother," he called. "Mother, where are you?"
A girl scurried toward us, a dusty rag in her hand. "The mistress is in her weaving room. Shall I fetch her?"
"No, I'll go to her myself." Lysander brushed by the girl and burst into a room full of chattering women and girls. It reminded me of the tower room where the women gathered in my father's palace. Here, though, they were hard at work. They rolled wool over wooden instruments on their knees and drew it out again in long skeins.
A tall woman with Lysander's eyes and his broad cheekbones set aside her bundle of wool. "What's this, my son?" she asked. "Who is this girl?"
"I found her cast up on the beach, naked and alone," Lysander said. "She can barely stand or even speak."
His mother studied my face. "She's certainly not of this island." She reached out and touched my cheek with cool, soothing fingers. "She's burning up with fever. Quickly, take her to my private chambers." She turned to the other women in the room. "Lydia, Hygeia, come with me."
I nestled against Lysander's chest as he carried me to his mother's room and set me down on a padded couch. I let go of him only with great reluctance, and was gratified to see that he couldn't tear his eyes away from me. I did feel weak and ill, but for his benefit I added a little emphasis to my sigh as I nestled down into the soft cushions.
Lysander hovered over me. "Should I summon the physician?"
His mother shook her head. "We'll bathe and feed her, then let her sleep for a time. Leave us now, son." When Lysander still lingered, her voice turned crisp. "Go, Lysander. You may visit her later, when she's better."
Lysander obeyed. His mother brushed the hair off my forehead with gentle hands. "You'll be fine, child. Lydia, fetch water and a clean cloth. Hygeia, bring me some warm, honeyed wine."
I settled back, feeling safe and contented despite my throbbing head and the ache in my new legs. I closed my eyes and let myself drift away.
I dreamt of Father. He roamed the hallways and lofty rooms of the palace, just floating through, as if he were looking for something he could not find. Thetis appeared, too, and my grandmother, their faces as empty as their eyes. Thetis' lips moved, but no sound came out. I thought maybe she'd whispered my name.
"Here," I said. "I'm right here." I reached out and touched her shoulder. Thetis buried her face in her hands. She didn't turn around. In the dream, my voice echoed in my ears, but no one heard me. I moved through the water like a ghost.
Later, I felt a cold cloth against my skin. Someone lifted my head to help me drink something that hot and sweet. I lay down again. One moment I burned, the next I shivered and gritted my teeth against the cold. The blankets weighed me down and itched against my skin. I threw them off, but someone covered me again. Muddled voices played through my head. Faces came and went. The only one I recognized was the calm, kind face of Lysander's mother, and her comforting hands.
I slept. When I woke again I discovered a star come down from the heavens. It had settled on the table near my bed, where it flickered and shone with a buttery light. Too weak and awed to move, I caught my breath and stared. I'd never seen anything so beautiful. As I watched the star, its color deepened to orange, and all the while it bent and swayed like an anemone caught up in a current. Hypnotized by the movement, I lifted my hand and moved to touch it -- then gave a little yelp and jerked back in pain.
I stuck my fingers in my mouth and glared at the star. How dare it bite me! I stopped sucking on my fingers and examined them in the faint light. Instead of puncture wounds, I found a crop of tiny white blisters. Then, suddenly, I understood. This was something I'd heard of but never seen, something I'd barely believed existed. This was the element called fire.
Excitement eased the weariness clouding my mind. This was something truly new, something no mermaid had ever seen up close. Thetis had tried, once, to explain fire to me. "It's supposed to be like -- like the shock of an electric eel, but hotter," she'd said. "It's hot like water from the geysers near the kelp forest. Except fire eats up everything it touches." But I still hadn't understood. Thetis hadn't either, not really. Seeing fire was like discovering a new color, or opening an unexpected gift.
I curled up in my bed, under the scratchy blankets, and watched the little fire -- the thing called a candle -- until I fell asleep.
I woke with the sun in my face. Light glanced off the sea and reflected onto the ceiling. The wave prisms played across the whitewashed brick. Groaning, I flung up my arm to shield my eyes.
"Close the windows, Lydia," Lysander's mother said. She leaned over and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
"Can you hear me, my dear?" she asked. She pronounced the words with the same odd, lilting accent that Lysander did.
I nodded cautiously, then more vigorously as I realized my headache had disappeared. "Y-yes," I said. "I'm awake now."
She smiled. The skin around her eyes crinkled, and I saw that she was not so young as I'd first thought. It was her energy and her ebony hair that had misled me. "Good, good," she said. "Do you feel better?"
"Yes, much. How long did I sleep?"
"Two days and a night; but your fever broke this morning, so I no longer feared for you. My name is Corinna. Will you tell me yours?"
"Nyx," I said, starting to add from habit, "daughter of --"
Again, my throat constricted and I could not speak. But this time, the pressure eased more quickly. I'd caught myself in time. I coughed, and whimpered a little, mostly from fright. Corinna helped ease me down onto the couch and waited, with a worried frown, for me to speak again.
"I'm all right now," I said at last. My thoughts raced. If I could not tell her my true identity, or reveal my past, what would I say? These humans would want to know my history, yet Poseidon would not allow the truth.
Sure enough, I'd predicted Corinna's next question. "My dear, can you tell me where you come from, and how you ended up on our beach?"
Even the thought of telling the truth made me catch my breath. Mutely, I shook my head.
"Come, child." Corinna squeezed my hand. "There have been no storms of late, or I would suspect a shipwreck. Did you fall off a ship, perhaps? That is my son Lysander's theory."
"I don't know."
Corinna frowned. "Try to remember, my dear. Your manner of speech is strange to me, so you must come from far away. Your mother and father -- they must miss you terribly. Perhaps they even think you are dead. Surely you want to go home!"
I wondered if Father did miss me, after all. Probably he and the others were glad to get rid of me. I was nothing to them but a troublesome reminder of what my mother had done. "I -- I'm afraid I don't remember," I said. "I can't remember anything."
Corinna sighed. "Well, you must stay here with us until you are well, and I am sure your memory will return with a little time." She bent and kissed my forehead. "And now you must sleep again, Nyx. Sleep and heal."
She began to pull her hands away, but I held on, suddenly desperate not to lose the comfort of her touch. "Please, will you stay for a while?"
She smiled and stroked my hair. "Of course," she said. "Shall I sing to you? It helped my son to sleep when he was young."
"Please," I murmured.
She began to hum, and then to sing. Her voice was low and pleasant, though I didn't recognize the song.
Sleep, my pretty child, she sang.
Sleep while the goats graze
Sleep while the spiders spin
Sleep while the fires blaze
And may the gods watch over you. . . .
No one had ever sung to me before, not that I remembered. I brought my knees up to my stomach and clung to Corinna's hand as I drifted off.
My last thought was of Lysander. I couldn't wait to see him again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Sea King's Daughter Page 5
