The Seal Queen

by Sandra Saidak

  “Something like that. I don’t claim to know the ways of the gods. But, yes, I think in death, Lir could claim Kamin’s spirit; mark it somehow, as his own was marked.”

  “Then what will happen to you if you kill him? Won’t it be your soul he takes?”

  Briah shrugged. “What difference will it make? I’ve already killed one man. Can killing another harm my soul any further? Make me into something I’m not already?”

  “You had good reason to kill Agor. ‘Tis the difference between you and us. Everyone in the shrine today understood the seal hunter’s need; his reason for hunting seals; his amazement at finding they were more than he thought they were. That is where those miracles you speak of come from. There’s no magic involved. Kamin could kill Lir, and still return to the roane.”

  “You’re wrong, Taran. You can’t make a man an assassin, and then turn him back into what he was before.”

  Her friend sighed. “If you’re right, Briah, then ‘tis you who’ll come back cursed. But if I’m right, there will be a place here for you, when you return.”

  Briah’s eyes shone. “Then you’ll help me?”

  Taran sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You can start by telling me, word for word, the terms of Lir’s contract. We’ll see where it goes from there…”

  ****

  “...and when he found he could not defeat the swan, the monster stomped his foot so hard that the ground opened up and swallowed him forever. Then the mother swan spread her wings and flew across the land to where her baby waited, and they lived happily ever after.”

  Kamin smiled sleepily at Briah, and she smiled back, desperately hoping the story she told would be true. “Feather,” said Kamin, so Briah began his favorite song. It was one she had made up herself, while making her feather cloak during their first year on the shore.

  Something else to hold in my heart, Briah thought as she sang. Even with Taran to sing more beautifully than any human voice, my son still wants me to sing to him at night. Would he ever forgive her for what she was about to do? Briah shook her head. It was best not to think of that.

  Then Taran swam up, silent as always, when Kamin was close to falling asleep. He carried a small bundle, wrapped in kelp cloth.

  “Did you get it?” Briah whispered.

  “Yes. Is this enough?” He opened the bundle, and Briah saw several large pieces of silver. Some were actually coins, others were broken from cups or jewelry lost in storms. There were a few small bits of gold, none of them whole, but very valuable. Briah was glad they were small.

  “That’s plenty. Will the Roane be angry when they find you’ve taken it?”

  Taran snorted. “They’ll likely not even notice.”

  “What if they need to make a deal with another seal hunter?”

  “There’s plenty left for that. What about food? Maps? ‘Tis a long journey you’re taking.”

  “Food I can get from my cave, before I set out. Clothes, too. As for maps?” Briah shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter: I couldn’t read one anyway. I’ll need to travel by boat from Erin to the mainland. Then it’s twenty days journey east. The gold and silver will help with that.”

  “I brought something else that might help.” Taran took something from the bundle; something that seemed out of place here.

  A pair of boots.

  They were dark gray, and after studying them, Briah realized they were made of sharkskin. Shark teeth protruded from each toe. Inside, a woven feather lining, similar to her cloak, made them soft and warm against her feet. After working the laces for a time, Briah got the boots to fit perfectly.

  “Where did you get these?”

  “I made them,” said the merrow, shyly.

  “But how? Who do you know besides me who has feet?”

  “I’ve seen drowned sailors. I’ve always wondered what it was like to travel on land; to depend on feet the way we depend on fins and tails. After you left for your visit above, I began to think you would return there eventually, and I wanted to give you something you could use there. So I copied what the sailors always wore.”

  “Oh, that’s so wonderful.” Briah surged forward and threw her arms around him, then kissed his scaly red face.

  Taran wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her hungrily on the lips. Briah kissed back, marveling at the sweetness of his strange lips and rough skin. This would be all for now, she knew: anything more would have to wait until she returned. And that, she knew, was reason enough to come back alive. As great a reason as Kamin.

  After an eternity, Briah pulled back. “If we don’t stop now,” she said shakily, “I’ll never begin this journey.”

  Taran nodded and stepped back as well, and Briah could have sworn by the sudden deepening of the red of his face that he was blushing, just as she was. Yet another difference to ponder about interspecies romance.

  “There’s something else I made,” he said, his voice just a little higher and faster than usual. Taran reached down and pulled a flap of skin from the top of one of Briah’s new boots. Beneath it was a small compartment for a knife, similar to the one Briah had made for her departure from Donal’s House of Pleasure. But the knife that Taran drew from it was made from a single piece of red coral.

  “I knew it would have to be sharper and better balanced than those metal knives used above, to even the odds if you must fight.” He flicked the knife against a broken shell lying in the sand, and the shell split into two without a sound.

  Briah stared in wonder at the tiny, beautiful, deadly thing. “If I come back alive, it will be because of you. Thank you. For everything.”

  A hungry cry told them Kamin had awakened from his nap. Briah took a deep breath, and braced herself for what she must do.

  “Do you want me to help?” asked Taran.

  Briah shook her head. “But stay nearby, please. Kamin will need you when I go.”

  She brought her son raw fish and sea urchin eggs. She held him and cuddled him while he ate. When he was finished, Briah spoke softly about her journey, and how much she would miss him. If Kamin did not understand the words, he at least understood some of the feeling behind them.

  With a shell comb, Briah combed Kamin’s dark, silky hair, pleased at how long it had grown. With the new coral knife given her by the Taran, she cut off a lock of it. Kamin didn’t seem to mind.

  I wish the next part was as easy, thought Briah. Aloud, she said, “Among your grandfather’s people, Kamin, when a boy reaches manhood, he is circumcised. It is a thing never done by a woman, or to a baby, but in this new land, I always find myself doing new things.” She spread a paste made of willow bark and marigold petals over Kamin’s genitals.

  Briah had made a knife of shell for this purpose, but she laid it aside, and again picked up the knife the Taran had given her. It was an act of faith she knew that he understood.

  With the knife, she cut away the loose skin that surrounded Kamin’s penis. He howled with surprise and pain, but Briah continued until the entire piece of flesh was removed. There was more blood than she expected, and she was terrified that she had done something wrong. She wrapped the knife in oiled cloth and shoved it into its sharkskin holder.

  With shaking hands, Briah cleaned and bandaged the area and held Kamin close, whispering apologies she knew he would not hear.

  Kamin screamed and pushed her away. Briah had expected it, but it tore her heart just the same.

  Taran hurried over to take Kamin, but Briah fought to hold onto him.

  “Let go,” the merrow said gently. “He doesn’t understand now, but he will, I promise you.”

  “I can’t leave him like this!”

  “The longer you stay, the harder it will be.”

  Briah knew he was right. She set her son in her lover’s arms, where Kamin clung, as he so often did to her. She kissed him one last time, then turned and ran, until the rocks and air disappeared, and she found herself in the ocean depths. Desperately, Briah swam to the surfa
ce, hoping Kamin’s cries wouldn’t still be in her ears when she reached the land.

  CHAPTER 24

  Briah sat on the edge of the low cliff, carving a large, straight piece of driftwood into a walking stick. Her meager possessions—-a full water skin, three days worth of dried fish, one change of clothes and a pouch of gold and silver—were tucked neatly inside her rabbit skin blanket. The bundle lay beside her on the rocks ledge.

  Everything else she owned was on her. She wore her heaviest clothing: a shirt of tanned rabbit hides and a skirt woven of feathers and strips of rabbit fur. With her boots and feather cloak, Briah was covered from head to toe. This was good in that it kept her warm in the chill morning mist, and would also keep her body out of men’s notice. She hoped. If not, she would have to rely on the large knife that hung from her belt, or the pouch of stones that hung low next to the knife—or the knife strapped to her thigh, or the third knife that rested in a leather sheath between her breasts.

  The fourth knife—the coral one—she would not touch until she reached Lir’s stronghold.

  The tide continued to recede, and Briah’s feet swung over less than a foot of water. Soon, the hidden passage that brought her here would be clear, and her journey would begin.

  She glanced out at the roiling sea, unchanged since her arrival here nearly two and a half years ago.

  “If I don’t come back,” she told the sea, “I just want to thank you for all you’ve done. You gave me a home and healed my soul. If I die out there, it’s because of you that I will at least have lived.” Briah nearly laughed at herself. Did people often speak that way? But it didn’t matter. There was no one to hear but the waves, and they understood.

  The water sluiced out of the now visible passage, leaving a narrow window of time. Briah grabbed her bundle and jumped from her perch, landing in the soft wet sand. Though not an expert carver, she had shaped the staff well enough. It felt good in her hand as she slipped through the tunnel inland, toward the place she had once fled.

  Even in the short daylight of late winter, traveling east toward Finool was easy enough. Her journey back was faster than the flight away, for now she walked proudly along the trails and roads instead of cowering in the woods. Not being pregnant added speed to her journey as well.

  There were few travelers about in the heavy mist that threatened to turn to rain at any moment. A large man in rough furs, moving faster than Briah brushed passed her, a freshly killed deer across his shoulders. A hunter on his way to sell his kill in the town, she guessed. A farmer with a wagon full of winter vegetables passed her soon after. Everyone kept their heads down and ignored Briah. She took it as a good omen. Any fear she felt at the thought of returning to the town where she arrived as a slave; where she had killed a rich and powerful man; she kept tightly controlled.

  There’s no other way, she reminded herself. Finool is the only town you know; the only place to find passage to the mainland.

  You could have simply told the Roane what you wanted to do, another voice argued. They could have taken you through the waters, and brought you up on the shore of that huge land that stretches forever. Then it would be just twenty days of walking to reach Lir’s stronghold.

  Except that the roane would never have helped with this insane undertaking. For all their kindness and compassion, Briah sensed that the Roane held very strong opinions, and if their opinion was that Briah should be held in a small cave until she came to her senses, then that’s just what would have happened.

  She slept that night under an oak tree, well away from the road, and reached Finool the following afternoon.

  It was different from the way she remembered it. After more than two years of isolation, the sights and sounds and smells of many hundreds of people were overwhelming. Yet at the same time, it was less intimidating than before. Briah moved through crowds, stepped around brawls, and ignored the hawkers who tried to sell her things and the leering men who shouted obscene invitations—all with a curious detachment. She was here to find a ship that would take her across the first leg of her journey. Nothing else mattered.

  Since she was seeking a ship, there was no need to leave the shore, and risk getting lost in the rabbit warren of the town itself. Still, Donal’s House of Pleasure was closer to the wharf than Briah remembered, and once, losing sight of the water, she took a wrong turn and found the place in front of her.

  For a moment, Briah’s composure shook. But she put one hand on her dagger and took a stone from her pouch with the other, and made herself look at the building.

  In the poor light of the late afternoon, Donal’s establishment was a pathetic sight. The roof sagged, and the whitewash was chipping away. Even the ragged line of smoke that rose from the eaves seemed thin and wan.

  “This place cannot harm me,” Briah said to the empty street. Then a pair of young sailors staggered past her, heading for the brothel. Briah turned to go, but moved slowly, like someone with nothing to fear. She didn’t walk like a slave and she didn’t act like one. That, more than anything else, kept her safe that day.

  When it came time to leave the island, however, her luck faltered. Even in the summer, ships did not leave Eirann for Gaul every day. During winter, sea travel often stopped altogether. Fortunately, the weather was mild enough now that a few small ships and coracles were at the pier. One was being readied for departure.

  But when Briah tried to inquire about buying passage, a scrawny, black haired young sailor only jabbered at her in a language she didn’t know, and pushed her out of the way. She tried again, saying “Gaul,” and holding up her smallest piece of silver.

  Now the sailor’s eyes widened, but not in a friendly way. Glancing around quickly, he reached out to snatch the silver. Briah barely held onto it as she tried to back away, only to find the sailor had her by the hair and was pushing her to her knees. No one intervened, though there were many people present. Panicked, Briah kicked out and caught the man in his shin. It wasn’t a hard kick, but the shark teeth on the toe of her boot bit deep.

  The man let go with an angry cry. As he sprang to attack her again, Briah brought her staff down squarely upon his head. He landed with a thud and made no move to get up again. Breathing heavily, Briah considered running. Just then, a large blond man with an air of authority came over. Briah’s attacker was sitting up now, shouting at the other man, and pointing at her.

  To Briah’s relief, the big man just laughed, raised the fallen man and clapped him on the back in what might have been a friendly gesture—except it sent him sprawling farther than Briah’s staff had. Then he spoke in angry tones at the smaller man until he scurried back to the ship.

  Turning to Briah, he said in the local dialect, “What are you doing out here alone, woman?”

  “I’m seeking passage south and east, to the mainland. I can pay.”

  The man snorted. “A woman? Traveling alone? Not very safe.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  The man grinned, showing crooked yellow teeth. “I saw. But I was thinking it wasn’t safe for the captain who takes you.”

  “Why?”

  “Women make trouble—look what just happened with that fool Garreth.” He nodded to the young man who had attacked Briah, now sullenly tying together bundles of provisions.

  “You’re blaming me for that?”

  “Not you—it just seems to happen. Then there’s always the trouble I’d have if whoever’s looking for you finds you with me.”

  Briah tried to keep the fear she felt from showing in her face, but without success.

  The captain laughed. “Don’t worry—I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. If I did, I wouldn’t have a crew.”

  Briah let out her breath. “Then how about helping me? Surely you can never have too much silver.”

  “I couldn’t help you anyway. My ship is heading east, to the island of Alba.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you anyway. Do you happen to know of anyone heading for Gaul?”

>   “That one.” The captain pointed to a large trading vessel—disturbingly similar to the slaver that brought her here. “They’ve just arrived from the Misty Seas. They’ll trade for a few days, then head southeast to the mainland.”

  A few days? Briah didn’t know if she could make it through the rest of this one. And where could she sleep? Could she possibly stay awake until the ship sailed?

  But she said nothing, only thanked the captain, and walked away, trying to look like she belonged here.

  When a hand landed on her shoulder, Briah shrieked, grabbing the dagger in her belt as she jumped. But it was just an old woman, who scurried back to her stall of baskets and brooms with a plea for protection against evil.

  Briah followed her. “Sorry, grandmother. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  The old woman cackled. “No. I suppose you’re scared enough for the both of us. I was just going to say that if you need a place to stay, there’s a shrine to the goddess Brigid not far from here. All travelers are safe there.”

  Briah hadn’t learned much about the local gods beyond what Gresta had told her about Faerie, but she had heard of Brigid. In her own childhood, there had been holy places where anyone seeking sanctuary would be safe. Since then, however, experience had taught her to forget about such notions.

  But it made more sense to at least look at the place than to spend the night on the street.

  Following the woman’s directions, Briah came to a small, well tended stone building. Behind it was a huge garden, bigger than the shrine itself.

  A middle-aged woman in a white robe greeted Briah at the stone fence that surrounded the complex.

  “Greetings in the name of the Goddess,” she said kindly.

  Briah returned the greeting. “I was told I might find a night’s shelter here?”

  “As many nights as you need,” said the woman. And for the next three days, little else was said. Briah slept each night on a rough pallet beside the priestess and the three novices who lived there. During the day, she helped in the garden, and with any small thing she saw that needed doing. The women accepted her help with pleasure, but never asked for it—nor did they ask Briah for anything but her name. Much to Briah’s delight, the priestess even shared her knowledge of healing, while they worked side by side in the garden.