Between the Sea and Sky

by Jaclyn Dolamore

  “The manners of an urchin,” the winged man muttered, heading for the door. He looked at Esmerine one last time. “You’ll tell him I was here?”

  “I will.”

  The man and woman left. Esmerine glanced at Swift, but he was already asking the other man if he needed anything. Swift took the man’s money for the history book and made a note in the accounts. “Good day, sir,” he said, back to his cheerful salesboy persona.

  “Good day.”

  The door shut. Swift flipped the coin the human had paid with and caught it, three times in a row, then dropped it in the coin box. “So you found the place,” he said.

  “I did. Was that Alan’s father?”

  “Yes. Did you tell him you know Alan?”

  “No.”

  “Smart. He doesn’t like anybody.” Swift sat behind the desk and kicked his feet up on the counter, flexing his toes. Fandarsee didn’t have the feathered wings of a bird, but their feet were shaped similarly for grasping something while in flight, with long toes and a small thumb on the back of their heel. “How do you know Alan anyway?”

  “It was a long time ago,” Esmerine said. “We were kids. He used to come to the islands and gather seaweed and we talked.” She spoke quickly, leaving emotion behind. Alan had seemed so unimpressed by her appearance after their years apart, so she didn’t want to make much of it either. “Why was his father here? He sounded upset.”

  “He’s always upset,” Swift said. “Whenever he visits we’d all rather be somewhere else. He loaned the shop some money a while ago and it hasn’t all been paid back. I think he loaned the money so he could keep some kind of tie on Alan. He’s that kind of person. But I wouldn’t care if Alan did go. I guess he used to be your friend, but I can tell you that he’s a pompous—”

  The door opened again, and this time it was Alan. Swift yanked his feet from the counter. Alan hung up his hat again and looked at Esmerine.

  “I went to the house,” he said. “I spoke to a young man there, who said a Lord Carlo had been visiting him when a mermaid came and ‘charmed’ them, and gave Lord Carlo her belt. He was not entirely forthcoming with this information, mind you, but I managed to get it out of him.”

  “Charmed them? No, they must have stolen it from her!”

  “I’m sure you’re right; I’m only telling you what he said.”

  “Thank you,” Esmerine said, tugging at her clothes, forcing herself to keep seated so her feet wouldn’t hurt, although she wished more than anything to be able to swim circles around the room. “But—she was no longer there?”

  “He said they departed a few weeks ago for the Diels—mountain country, which is apparently where Lord Carlo is from—to be married.”

  “Who is this Lord Carlo?” This was sounding worse all the time. “Dosia only mentioned boys.”

  “Maybe Lord Carlo is a boy,” Swift said. “I heard about a baby king one time.”

  Or maybe Lord Carlo had heard about Dosia somehow, or seen her from a window, and decided to claim her, Esmerine thought.

  Esmerine had come so far already. The more she learned of Dosia’s fate, the more she felt as if a piece of her own self had broken off and fallen into the ocean. But how could she follow Dosia to the Diels?

  “Are you … all right?” Alan asked.

  She nodded wordlessly. Panic made her flush. The room was unbearably stuffy.

  “Does Dosia still remember how to read?” he asked.

  “Only a little …” Alan had taught them both some letters, but she felt certain Dosia had forgotten.

  “Maybe you could get a letter to her.”

  “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She swallowed, thinking of the boys who had been killed in the ship’s graveyard when she was young, and the shock and grief their mothers had experienced. Sometimes terrible things happened and there was nothing one could do, but she had never thought it could happen to her family. And Dosia wasn’t even dead. Esmerine didn’t want Dosia to be dead, but if she was miserable and Esmerine would never see her again, it was almost worse.

  Was it awful to think so?

  Why did Dosia have to go after humans in the first place? Esmerine had warned her. She still went. Why did she have to be so stupid, so stubborn?

  “The Diels …,” Alan said. “I could be there and back again in four days … Might take me another day or two to find her, but I have no doubt that if I ask after her, I’ll find her quickly enough …”

  Esmerine knew it was too much to ask—a week of travel, for a girl he barely seemed to remember, just to tell Esmerine if she was all right. And if she wasn’t all right, Esmerine’s heart would scarcely be eased.

  “I could go,” Swift said. “You could spare me for a week.”

  “Have you ever been to the Diels before?” Alan asked.

  “No, but they’re just north, right? It can’t be that hard. We have maps around here, and I’ve been as far as Torna. I can ask at the messenger post there.”

  “I don’t know,” Alan said. “You’re rather young to be going that far by yourself. What if you run into trouble?”

  “What do you think I did to make money before you came along?” Swift said. “I used to steal hats sometimes when I couldn’t find better work. That was as dangerous as anything. I can take a beating. I doubt the Diels will give me worse than that. Anyway, you were a messenger last year and you’re only a few years older than me.”

  Swift was not so young as Tormy after all, then; he was just small for his age. Even so, Esmerine felt a pang of guilt. “I can’t ask you to go all that way for my sister. You don’t even know her.”

  “Fandarsee are supposed to see the world,” Swift said. “And you’ve come a long way looking for her. I want to do it.”

  “I suppose it’s up to Belawyn, in any case,” Alan said dismissively.

  “Think about what message you want me to bring your sister,” Swift said, but all Esmerine could think about just then was that she’d be spending at least a week in the human world, and all for just one exchange of a message.

  Chapter Eight

  “I don’t have any place to stay,” Esmerine said with some reluctance. She didn’t want to rely on Alan’s charity when he didn’t seem to bear even the slightest feeling toward her anymore. “If I sold this statue, would it be enough for an inn?”

  “There’s a spare room upstairs,” Alan said. “You can stay. It’s only a week.”

  She barely had a chance to thank him before a young man came in looking for political tracts, and Alan was more than happy to attend him.

  Esmerine flipped through the history book, although it was difficult to truly read when she was so distracted by her clothing. Her stays and tight sleeves held her shoulders back, and she couldn’t bend her elbows much, forcing her to hold the book in her lap. The stays were cutting into the sides of her stomach, and she was beginning to feel sore there. Dosia had been dressing like this for weeks now—almost two turns of the moon. How could she bear it? The more Esmerine thought of it, the more she itched and ached and fidgeted, and she just wanted to draw one deep breath. She hooked her finger beneath the stays and tried to pull them away to get some air, but not only was it impossible, her breast almost popped free. Flushing, she glanced Alan’s way but he was still talking to the customer, and Swift had slipped out the back.

  She stood to stretch, but her feet immediately ached with pain that vanished as soon as she sat down again. Human clothes were so sweaty and constricting! Panic crept over her. She slipped her feet out of her shoes, but the stockings were still itchy, and she could feel the tight ribbons above her knees holding them in place. How she wanted to tear those ribbons free! She could at least take off the bonnet, although she could hardly lift her arms with the tight sleeves she wore.

  “I was just discussing this with another customer; most of us agree that you can’t just let the people have free rein over the government, and yet …” Alan and the man were droning on with some discussion
. She tried to listen, but her mind rebelled.

  Heat spread through her chest, and her tongue was dry, her heart beating faster. She was feeling a little dizzy. She stood up and tried to walk to the door for some fresh air, but funny lights appeared inside her head, and suddenly darkness blanked her vision. She slumped, and although she didn’t quite lose consciousness, she felt disoriented and couldn’t see.

  “Whoa,” Alan said, and in another moment he had her arm and was helping her up. “When did you last eat or drink, Esmerine?”

  “I don’t know …” Her head was still black and spinning.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow,” the other man said. “I hope you feel much better, miss.”

  “I’m sorry,” Esmerine said, close to tears. “I didn’t think I’d faint … I just—I’ve never been so hot and my clothes are so tight and—I’ve been so much trouble—” Nothing was going as she’d planned.

  “It’s all right. It’s very different here.” Still holding her arm, Alan locked the shop door. “Can you make it up the stairs?”

  Her vision was starting to clear a little, but her heart was still pounding, and her feet stung, and she wanted to sob at the thought of stairs, but she said, “Yes.” She’d already done a good job humiliating herself around him.

  The narrow stairs made slow groaning noises when stepped on. Somehow or another she managed to make it upstairs and into the spare room.

  “Lie down,” Alan said. “I’ll get you some water.” He opened the window.

  Once she was on the bed, with a sea-scented breeze blowing across her, Esmerine began to calm a little. Despite the street noise, the room was airy and peaceful, and very much Alan’s taste. A bookshelf faced her from one wall, and on the other, a large desk with an angled top and stool, obviously meant to accomodate a Fandarsee’s wings.

  Just then, Alan returned with a cup of water and a bowl of berries.

  “You’ll feel better with something to eat and drink,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He regarded her a moment and then offered her his wing so she could pull herself upright. His skin was warmer than hers, but dry against her sweaty palms.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually faint. Even when I haven’t eaten.” She sucked down the cup of water he gave her and immediately started hiccuping. Every convulsion made her ribs ache. Just when she was starting to recover, Alan got to see her hiccuping. She desperately wanted out of the stays.

  “Esmerine, listen. You just got here. You’re not used to being stuffed into human clothes or being out in the heat and the dry air—sitting on rocks or beaches isn’t the same as going into the city. It’s perfectly understandable, and if you’re going to be here for a week, this won’t be the last of your miseries, I’m sure. Swift will go after Dosia, and you try and rest. I’m going to send Ginnia in here to help you out of your clothes.”

  He left the room. She wished he wouldn’t go, until she reminded herself that he was only being nice because she’d nearly collapsed in his bookstore.

  Ginnia was clearly the hired help, a girl in an apron with very kind eyes set in a round face that was homely but entirely likable.

  “No wonder you’re so miserable, miss. This dress is meant for somebody smaller.”

  “But I don’t have any other.”

  “Rest for now. Maybe you can get something in the market.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “I’m sure Master Dare will know what to do.” Ginnia took her empty water cup.

  “I didn’t come here to trouble him,” Esmerine insisted, but Ginnia was heading for the door and didn’t respond. Esmerine heard her murmuring to Alan in another room. She heard him say testily, “I can’t just—” The rest was lost, but it was obviously about her.

  The worst part was that she couldn’t simply leave and deny his help. She did need his help. Now that she was here, she wished she had never found him again. Her memories of him were so much better, and now they would be tarnished.

  She ate the berries and drifted off to sleep. The house had gone quiet. She woke some time later when Alan entered carrying a sky-blue dress with a cream-colored bodice. “Maybe this will fit you better?”

  “Alan, really—I don’t want you to go to any trouble on my account.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “No one is holding a knife to my throat. This wasn’t any trouble, and it’s out of fashion. I think you’re courageous to come so far looking for your sister. Foolish, maybe, but courageous.”

  “Well, I know it’s a little foolish,” she said, irked.

  He paused. “I heard my father was here.”

  “Oh yes. I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you.”

  “You spoke to him?”

  “It was after you’d gone. And then Swift came in while he was here.”

  “Did you tell him who you were?”

  “No. I remembered you telling me a while ago that he wouldn’t be happy if he knew we were friends.”

  He smiled weakly. “That’s good.”

  “Would he be upset that we talked even?”

  “Oh, he’s just—” Alan shook his head. “Fandarsee are supposedly so worldly and open minded, but it’s not true.”

  “So he doesn’t approve of mermaids?”

  Alan shook his head. “He doesn’t approve of anything out of step with our family’s reputation. He’d rather I was furthering my education back home, but he sees no point in the things I’m interested in, philosophy and such. He’s always asking me what it’s supposed to do for anyone. My family has been of a scientific bent, generally. One of my great-uncles discovered bacteria, and I told you how my grandfather discovered a planet. I guess he won’t be happy until I discover something.”

  Esmerine didn’t know what bacteria even was. Maybe some kind of medicine? “That doesn’t seem very fair! What if there aren’t any more planets to discover?”

  “Oh, I’m sure there’s something, I’m just not interested in planets and bacteria the way I am in … other things, like how people think, or what they believe. I don’t know why.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked to the window. The light was lower and cooler now, as even long summer days must come to an end. “Ah, well. It doesn’t matter. He won’t come around again too soon. He hates Sormesen. You just rest, and we’ll have dinner in an hour or two. I’ll send Ginnia to help you dress.”

  “I should write that letter to my sister for Swift,” she said.

  “Later,” he said. “I’ll show you how to write with quill and ink and paper.”

  One thing she had forgotten about Alan was how confusing he could be—irritable one moment, kind the next. Now, instead of resting properly, she found herself thinking of how he would arrive on the island, and she would suggest a story to act out, and he would protest and make excuses until she coaxed him into it. She remembered telling Dosia it was as if he thought he’d get in trouble if he had any fun, although no Fandarsee were around to witness him playing. Even other merfolk rarely took an interest in their island, which had no olive trees or other foods to entice gatherers.

  “Well, it must be awful to be a winged person,” Dosia had said. “The way he’s always talking about school. I think he’s too serious.”

  “But he can fly. That must make up for a lot.”

  Dosia rolled her eyes. “But he can’t swim. So we’re even.”

  Dosia was practical that way. She might desire things that were difficult to obtain, like seeing the surface world, but she never desired impossible things, like flying. And she never seemed to envy anyone.

  The thought started creeping back in, that Esmerine might never see Dosia again, and she shoved it down before it could fully flower. She needed her wits about her and her emotions safely buried, at least until she was back home again.

  Chapter Nine

  Ginnia returned before long to help Esmerine dress for dinner. She didn’t lace her stays as tightly, but Esmerine still hated
the feel of the rigid ribs and sturdy cloth hugging her chest. The sky-blue dress had loose sleeves that afforded far more movement, but she was used to her bare skin moving through soft water. She would never get used to the short breaths and the hem of a skirt getting underfoot.

  “Do I need to wear the shoes in the house?” she asked Ginnia, whose look of amusement was answer enough.

  “No sense wearing out those stockings.” Ginnia led Esmerine from the dim bedroom. Dusk had crept up almost unnoticed until Esmerine came into a dining room lit by a candle and glowing hearth fire. Sometimes the mermen started a fire on the islands for some purpose or another, but only certain men knew how, and children couldn’t come near, so Esmerine had never been close enough to fire to feel the heat. An older woman with gray curls spilling sideways from a squarish black cap was sitting quite near it, smoking a pipe. Could this be Belawyn? Esmerine couldn’t believe a mermaid would smoke.

  Ginnia went to stir the pot while Swift waved Esmerine to an empty seat. Alan was pouring something red into a glass. “Esmerine, do you want wine or water?” he asked.

  “I’ve never tasted wine.”

  He poured a little in a cup and handed it to her. She took a sip. It was not at all sweet or salty, just nasty and like nothing else she had ever tasted.

  Swift laughed. “She doesn’t like it.”

  “It’s an acquired taste,” the older woman said, giving Esmerine a sly smile. Her lips were thin and painted, and her eyes had a combination of squint and slant as if she were looking very keenly at everything. “So, Alan tells me you’re Esmerine. I’m Belawyn. I own the shop.”

  “And you’re … a mermaid?”

  “That’s right, my pearl.”

  “A siren?”

  “Not a siren. Just one of the common folk.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  “Well, the shop belonged to a former husband. We were only married a year before I guess he’d had enough of me and departed this mortal coil, leaving me with the shop. I’ve never been much for books, but one must eat somehow.”