“We mean no harm to you, Briah,” said the king, managing her name with difficulty. “And certainly none to your son. Please sit down, and we will explain.”
Briah kept her arm firmly around Pup. “What about him?” she asked.
“You have returned him to his home, and for that we are grateful. We never meant to exile him, only to cause two great sorrows to heal each other. Some of that, perhaps was accomplished, as he clearly wishes to remain with you.”
Briah nodded, grateful for Pup’s slightly familiar presence among all this strangeness. She settled herself gracefully on the rock, as she often had with the seals on her cove, setting Pup on her lap.
“We took your son,” said the seal king, “Because he may be our last hope. Kamin is half roane. The man you knew as Lir was once one of us.”
CHAPTER 16
Briah’s ears roared. The cave and everyone in it wavered, as if in a dream about to end. “Let it be a dream,” she prayed. “Please, let this be the moment I awaken.”
There was movement beside her, and a young seal brought her water in a shell cup. She drank it and the world slowly settled back to normal—if sitting in an underwater cave with a group of talking seals could be considered normal.
“Tell me,” she said at last.
“What do you know of our kind?” asked the king.
“Only stories of seals who can shed their fur and live for a time as humans. And that if you’re angered you can send storms.”
The king shook his head. “‘Tis our northern cousins—called selkies—who react to injuries with such violent revenge. The roane have found such ‘justice’ usually punishes the innocent, while the guilty never learn from such warnings.”
“I am pleased to hear that,” said Briah. “I would like to think I can trust you to not hurt me—or my son.” She swallowed hard and forced herself to ask. “Yet if you are as you say you are, how can the monster who raped me have been one of you?”
“That is a long story,” said the king. “It began many years ago, with a different king and queen. As with many of your peoples, it has long been our custom for our rulers to hand down the responsibility of leadership to a descendant—usually a son or daughter. He who was king before me had but one child, and she cared little for the throne—cared for little else than the selkie she took to mate. This daughter had a son who greatly desired to be king.
“Since the old king lived to see his grandson reach manhood, and had been teaching him kingship, everyone believed the boy would be their next king. But there was something… something… wrong with him. The king could see it.”
“It was his selkie blood!” said one of the seals.
“Nay,” said another. “It was the blood-red moon on the night of his birth. ‘Twas an evil omen, as everyone knows.”
“Whatever the cause,” said the king, “the man you knew as Lir was twisted—even as a child. He wanted the title of king, and the power it conveyed, but had no love in him; no sense of duty to his people.
“His sickness became clear the day Lir’s closest—perhaps only—friend was killed by a seal hunter. His grief was real enough, but it overwhelmed his self control.”
“Such as he had,” said the queen.
The king smiled sadly. “Among Lir’s father’s people, it is common to seek revenge by sending storms to punish the killers. But it is not our way. Lir was warned, but he did not listen. His selkie blood gave him power greater than any roane, and he used it to call down a terrible storm. He called it close to land—to catch the man who killed his friend, he said. But the storm wiped out an entire human settlement, and a colony ship as well. More than a hundred women and children died, as well as men who never hunted a seal in their lives.”
“Did he at least get the one who killed his friend?” Briah asked weakly.
“That one, we believe, escaped,” said the queen.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Lir was declared unfit to rule, and another chosen in his place,” said the king.
“I suppose everyone knew there would be trouble,” said the queen. “Lir was hot tempered and violent—things that made him unsuitable to rule. So of course he would not take his grandfather’s rejection well.”
“Still,” said the king. “No one was prepared for what actually happened.”
It seemed to Briah that the mood in the cave became very somber. All the seal folk listening had their heads down, and Pup pushed himself deeper into her arms. Briah thought about some of what she had seen Lir do, and wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what happened next.
The king pressed on. “He went mad with rage. The king, his grandfather was dead; there was nothing Lir could do to him—or so we thought. When he heard the news, Lir took the king’s body from where it was being prepared for burial, and mutilated it. Next, he slew the new king, and declared himself the one true seal king.”
The king was silent, but the queen continued. “But his rage did not stop. He killed others—all those who tried to protect the new king, then all he cast his eye upon, stopping only when—” Her silver whiskers trembled and her voice broke.
“Only when what?” asked Briah, horrified, yet needing to know.
“Only when he killed his own mother,” said the king. “Then he left the sea, never to return.”
Briah told herself that nothing Lir did could possibly surprise her, but the king and queen’s words shook her. How could a monster like Lir have ever walked—or swum—among such a gentle people? And what threat could he still pose now, as far from the sea as he now dwelled?
Then she remembered the seal furs that adorned Lir’s’ bed.
“Yes,” said the king. “I see you understand. Lir has fled from his past, but he is not yet finished paying us back for the insult he suffered. He has committed himself to our destruction.”
Questions tumbled through Briah’s mind. Could any of this be true? Could any of this be happening? Finally she asked, “How can Lir live so far from the sea? Pup said you can only keep your human shape for a short time.”
“Lir has ceased to be fully roane,” said the queen. “To be safe from our justice, he knew he had to get as far inland as possible; to somewhere we could not follow. And, as you pointed out, we can only travel from the sea for a short time; one or two days at the most. Lir is said to be living a twenty day journey from the nearest reach of salt water.”
Briah thought back on her journey from Lir’s home and nodded. “That sounds about right. But how can he still live? And how does he maintain his human form at all times?”
“Once he was safely inland, Lir made a bargain with the dark forces; spirits who deal with human and faerie alike—for a price. Lir sold his roane gifts to them, and what you would call his soul. In return he gained the ability to live on land—and immortality.”
A very old seal who sat beside the king spoke up. “Not immortality. The terms, as I heard them, were thus: ‘no weapon forged by mortal man could harm him and none but blood of his blood and seed of his seed could slay him’. I have also heard it said that he does not age.” The seal looked at Briah as if for confirmation.
She nodded. “It’s true. When I last saw him, he had the body of a young man. But his eyes were old—and haunted.”
The king sighed. “To live with such guilt would make anyone look haunted.”
“Lir feels no guilt,” said a young seal woman bitterly.
“Then why does he pay so much gold to those who hunt us, if not for some desperate belief that by erasing us, he can erase his past?”
“For protection,” the woman replied. “He knows the terms of his bargain better than anyone. Even twenty days journey inland, he fears one of us will still reach him.”
“He fears nothing!” said another.
“But he does!” Briah looked around to see who spoke—and discovered it was she.
Everyone was looking at her, surprise and hope in many eyes. “You may speak freely here,” said the king.
“Haunting him?” said the queen repeating Briah’s earlier description.
“Yes. This may not make much sense, but I could smell the fear in him.”
There was much agitation in the cave now, seals all taking at once for the first time since Briah arrived.
The king called for silence, while the old seal beside him leaned over and whispered to Briah, “Your words give us hope. As does your son.”
Briah started to ask what he meant, but stopped when the king began to speak again.
“Lir hid himself inland to be beyond the reach of any roane—or selkie or merrow, for that matter. It is likely that he has taken great pains to prevent fathering children—although the pain has always been others’, not his own, has it not Briah?”
“Yes,” she said bitterly. “He sates his lust on children, and never lets a girl leave his stronghold if he thinks she might be—”
All at once, Briah remembered why she had come here, and how it was connected to the story being told. Kamin. Her son. And Lir’s. Only someone of Lir’s own blood could destroy him. And no roane could travel so far inland. But Kamin was human. Of Lir’s blood, yet human.
Briah turned on the king and queen with blazing eyes. “My son! You stole my son to make him an assassin! You want him to murder his own father!
“Do you really think of Lir as a father?” asked the queen. “Kamin’s or anyone else’s?”
“No, of course not! But... I want to forget him! Not raise my son to think he has to hunt him down and spill his blood! Maybe if I thought he could succeed, I would help you, but you have no idea how powerful Lir is.”
Bleak, whiskered faces stared at her. “Oh, yes we do,” said the king.
Briah lowered her gaze. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
“We have examined Kamin,” said the queen. Briah’s chest tightened. “He appears to be a full mix of human and roane. With proper instruction, he can learn to control his seal self. He will become able to shift into seal form and to breathe in the depths and travel as we do. Yet, when the time comes for him to challenge his father, he shall have the ability to travel over land as a human, with a human’s innate ability for violence. He will succeed,” she added fervently.
A cold anger filled Briah. “You think you can just take my son from me, end his life before it’s even begun, and I’ll stand by and do nothing?”
“Just what do you think you can do?” asked one of the younger seals.
Briah was silent only for a moment. Then she eyed the challenger coldly and said, “I got this far, didn’t I?”
“Stop this!” roared the king. He glared at Briah’s challenger, then turned to the woman. “Kamin’s life will not end before it’s begun. It is true, we will ask him to take a great risk, but he will be fully prepared when the time comes. And once he has succeeded, Kamin’s life will hold greater promise than anything you alone could have given him. If he chooses to live as a man, we will give him enough silver and gold to live any way he wishes. If he wants to remain with us, he shall be welcomed—and greatly honored all his life. In fact, many here—including my son—believe it is Kamin’s destiny to become king of the roane after I am gone.”
Briah shook her head. “I know that your need is great, and your hearts are good. But gold and silver, or even a home below the seas will never do my son any good. As evil as Lir is, he is still Kamin’s father. And among my people, the slaying of a father by his son is the greatest of all sins. It doesn’t matter how noble the cause—-Kamin will be cursed forever. Wherever he goes.”
“That is your belief,” said the young seal who challenged her earlier. “Not ours.”
The king pointed a wrinkled flipper at the young hothead and spoke coldly. “Leave this council, Arghul. I will see you in private when it is over.”
Briah knew enough about expressions—even on seal faces—to watch the smug arrogance vanish from Argul’s face. He fairly slithered out of the cave.
When the king turned again to Briah, she had the wit to fear for herself; until a moment ago, she would have doubted she possessed the strength—or lunacy—to challenge faerie creatures in their own kingdom. These folk didn’t need her now that they had her son, and here she was threatening them! She guessed most human kings would have killed her in the next instant.
But the seal king’s voice grew gentle again when he spoke. “We did not know you held these beliefs. We do not share them, but this does complicate things.”
“Things became complicated the moment this human arrived,” said the old advisor. “But I suppose we should have known she could not be ignored. The bond between the boy and his mother was clear from the beginning.”
“Just how long have you been watching us?” Briah asked.
“From the moment you came to our shore.”
Her face grew hot. “You mean all this time I thought I was so strong for surviving on my own and it was never me? Only you—”
“Not at all,” said the queen. “We said we watched you. Other than games in the water and the occasional fish dinner, we never interfered with anything you did. You—and Kamin—survived because of you, Briah. No other reason.”
Mollified, Briah asked. “Why were you watching?”
“To see if Kamin’s tainted blood would rule his soul, as many here believed it would. But it did not. Perhaps it would not have anyway. But I believe it was your love; the goodness in your soul, Briah, that made the difference.”
“I didn’t do anything special.”
“You loved a child conceived of rape,” said the queen.
“Of course I love Kamin. He’s my son. How he got here isn’t his fault.”
“The wrecked ship you found was filled with gold,” said the king. “Why didn’t you take any?”
“What good would gold have been to me? The sea and the cliffs gave us everything we needed. Besides, I knew I’d have to carry Kamin the whole way back. The gold would have been much too heavy.”
The king and queen smiled at each other. “If you don’t see how special those things are,” said the queen. “Perhaps you don’t remember very much about your own kind.”
Briah was suddenly very weary. “Could I please see my son, now?”
Again the king and queen exchanged a look, this time strained. “I won’t try to take him away,” Briah said quickly. “Just let me see him.”
At last the king said, “All right.” To the queen he said, “Prepare a place for our guest.” The king dove into the water and swam deeper into the cave. Several other seals followed.
Briah gave the sleeping Pup to one of the queen’s attendants, and then nervously dove after the king. To her relief, she found the honeycombed cave had sufficient places to come up for air. All sense of direction, however, was lost early on. She would just have to trust the roane to lead her back out again.
CHAPTER 17
Glowing mosses of blue and green gave off soft light in the chambers the roane used for sleeping. Perhaps, Briah thought, they find it comforting, but she just found it eerie. Then, she heard the music, drifting from the small chamber before them. Briah recognized it at once, but now, for the first time, knew she was fully hearing it. This music was faerie magic, and unfiltered by the mortal world, was more beautiful than anything she had ever known. They entered the chamber.
Sitting beside a cradle, was the ugliest creature Briah had ever seen. He had the upper body of a man, and the tail of a fish. His skin and scales were green and he had a sharp red nose in the middle of a small, pig like face. He was singing to the cradle’s occupant, while several roane women looked on.
Then she had no time to wonder about strange creatures or beautiful music, because at that moment, a familiar cry erupted from the cradle.
“Kamin!” cried Briah, running to her son.
“Mama!” Kamin lurched to his feet and held his arms out to his mother.
“Oh, Kamin.” Briah snatched her child from the flippers of softly exclaiming nurses and held him to her. He seemed healthy enough. He had clearly eaten in the past seven days—more than I have, Briah realized. No signs of neglect or abuse marred his soft brown skin.
“Mama, seal people!” said Kamin. He grinned as he pointed to objects and creatures in the room, and babbled excited introductions.
“Yes, I know,” said Briah. “They took you away from me!”
“You here now!” said Kamin.
“Yes, and we’re going to go home soon—”
“No! Kamin stay. Mama stay.”
When Briah realized that her son was not only happy here, but not angry with her for leaving him, the knot that had been growing inside her for seven days finally melted, leaving her weak with exhaustion and relief. She sagged against Kamin’s cradle, only to discover it had been floating in the shallows. Briah flopped most ungraciously into the water, Kamin slipping from her arms as she tried to catch her balance.
“Ho, there, lass!” Briah felt strong arms catch her, and found herself looking into the pig-like face of the creature who had been singing. He set her gently onto a rock. Kamin, who had righted himself with no trouble, swam up behind Briah and climbed up her hair, clinging to her much as a young seal would cling to his mother’s fur.
“You’ll be all right,” the man continued. “It just takes a bit o’ getting used to.”
Briah took a deep breath and tried to relax—or at least make the world right itself. “I know you,” she said. “Are you not the one who sang to me from the waters? And brought me gifts?”
“Aye, ‘twas me.” The creature turned away and busied himself rearranging rocks in the nursery. This wasn’t the reaction Briah expected. Then again, nothing about him was what she expected. She felt strangely disappointed, and more than a little afraid. Not because of his looks, though perhaps that was more a part of it than she wanted to admit, but because her fantasy lover might well have helped kidnap her son.
The Seal Queen Page 12
