Mire

by Vivien Leanne Saunders

  “And people don’t eat plain food, or walk to the other side of the island.” he goaded me, and won an unbidden smile in return. I threw him a bruised nectarine from the basket. He dropped it, and a wasp sped down to drink the sticky juice.

  “Do I have to feed you like a baby?” I demanded, and held out a misshapen strawberry. He watched me warily as I ran the point of the berry along his lip. “I really should send you back to the others. They’ll feed you grapes and honey.”

  “They already did that until my stomach turned.” he pushed me away gently and threw the fruit towards the wasp. It buzzed angrily and rushed over to sting us. I clapped my hands together around it. The whining burr stopped, and I pulled the stinger out of my palm as I cleaned the mess off.

  “I cannot imagine your friends protecting me so fiercely.” The man said. I shook my head.

  “They would. We all would. You’re not here to be hurt. We’re here to make you happy. I don’t think bee stings are wondrous.”

  “Why do you want to make me happy?”

  “Because you’re here.” I shrugged when he made a scoffing noise, “Don’t take it personally. You’re not smarter or more handsome than anyone else. We would do the same for an old miser or a one legged pirate. Frankly, we find it insulting that you keep refusing to enjoy yourself.”

  “Oh, I’ve hurt their precious feelings?” he threw himself down on the grass and stared at the canopy of leaves, “They don’t have feelings. They’re made of ice. You’re the first woman to actually ask me what I want.”

  “I don’t care what you want. I just want to know if I can keep this wine for myself. They save the best flasks for the visitors, so I’ve never tasted it.”

  He opened one eye and studied my stubborn face before taking the wine out of my hands. It took him a moment to pull the stopper out, but when he did he took the intricate carafe and drank straight from it. I gaped at him, feeling hours of etiquette lessons falling to ashes. The man smirked at my expression and handed me the flask. Before I took it he treated me to the loudest belch I had ever heard.

  I met his eyes, tipped up the flask, and kept drinking until he applauded and snatched it back.

  Janine would never have thought to play-act the fool. She was so austere that her spine could have been used as a broom handle. I wondered how she had been matched with this man in the first place. Perhaps he liked her look. There was something compelling about her shadowed eyes and pale skin. I could imagine her pouring every scrap of her art into this man, not realising that he could see right through her.

  As the wine softened my body I started to enjoy myself. I laughed at the man’s jokes and made a few back, even cuffing him lightly when his stories grew cruder. He teased me for being a prude and then pulled me into his lap, playfully tickling me until I wriggled my way free. He caught me and held me still until I stopped giggling. I felt limp and oddly unfocused, as if my skin had become a tingling blur underneath my dress.

  “You really are drunk.” The man laughed and made a great show of supporting me against his shoulder. I nestled my face into his neck and laughed at the rasp of the scratchy stubble against my skin. I barely noticed his mood shift until he drew a deep breath, and I realized he had unlaced my bodice and was treating himself to the sight of my bared breasts. His hands started to wander greedily across my body. My skin warmed and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from panting. He laughed darkly and started pushing my skirt up, his breath heavy as he moved over me. I forced my foggy mind to form words. “We should go…”

  He smiled mockingly. “Where? Is there a rule for that, too?”

  I nodded. When you walked downwind from the pleasure building you could smell perfume and hear laughter. All of my careful training had made me think there was something ordered and profound about the whole thing. I wondered how the sight of two people rutting in the dirt would fit in with that beautiful, elegant illusion.

  How could I convince a man to walk halfway across an island for a pleasure that was already in his arms? He started kissing me, and I felt the stickiness of wine on my throat and shoulders before I tasted it on his lips.

  He pushed me onto all fours before he took me. Perhaps he had a woman back home who he wanted to think of, or maybe the earthy musk of the woods made something animal rear up in his drunken mind. He could have been any man I wanted. When flutters of pleasure rippled through my body dizzy images of the handsome men I had spied on came into my mind, but all I could really think of were the prickly leaves under my knees. Black ants tickled my right hand as the man’s clumsy thrusting pushed me forwards. The whole thing was ridiculous, and I had to bite my lips to keep from laughing.

  I enjoyed it, then, in a strange way. Breaking the rules was as intoxicating as the actual pleasure, and when he woke up and reached for me again I knew that I had done well. I had succeeded where Janine and the other Siren had failed.

  I’m afraid to say that my victory gave me an undeserved arrogance. I hadn’t been skilful; the man had simply wanted someone different. My surly, mocking act drove other men away. Finally, Dahra beat me for ignoring the lessons she had taught me. After that, I was as insipid as everyone else.

  The Siren weren’t whores looking for conquests. We wanted the Mainlanders to trust us. We could have done the same thing with liquor, or drugs, or even a soft word and a motherly kiss. Most Siren only resorted to sex when everything else had failed.

  We were as frightened of disease and pregnancy as any woman on the Mainland. Our medicines could help us, but they could not always protect us. Some of the older Siren were addled by syphilis that had been discovered too late to be cured. Some had bellies which were swollen from years of taking the thick green paste that kept us barren. Dahra had already forced a shot of protection liquor down my throat. I knew that it would work. Other women made mistakes when they brewed their cures, but Dahra was unfailingly accurate.

  I escorted my charge back to his room and sent for poultices for his aching head, but he was snoring before they arrived. One of the other Siren took his limp hand and smiled at me. He would be unconscious for hours, she said. Her eyes wandered over my filthy dress and grazed hands. She did not say a word, but I flushed in shame as I realized how I must look.

  I had made it halfway to the apprentice village before I remembered that I no longer belonged there. I hesitated, and someone cleared their throat. One of the old women was waiting for me by the shrine. I groaned inwardly and thudded over to her.

  “I know what you’re going to say, but it wasn’t my fault. He laughed when I said we should…” I blushed and looked down at my feet. The woman made a strange humming sound, and I realized that she was amused.

  “It’s not my place to tell you off. The awkward ones are always hard to reason with. You’re not the first girl to be tumbled in the mud, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

  “Was it you who was watching me?” I couldn’t meet her eyes, but I saw the loose skin on her chin wobble as she nodded. There was a bulge under her cloak which hid a crossbow, and a paring knife was bared at her belt. If I had been in danger the old woman would have killed the man in a heartbeat. When I was in training the thought of being protected made me feel safe, but that morning I felt so humiliated that I wanted the ground to swallow me up. The crone pinched my ear to make me look at her.

  “You have to report back to Sweetwater. I already told her what happened; don’t let her hear the rest from the gossips or she’ll mark you so badly you won’t work for a year!”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself! I was watching, remember.” The filthy old witch cackled and I felt blood rushing to my cheeks.

  Sweetwater laughed too, when she saw the state of me. “I guess you had to do more than just stay awake, after all.” she hooked her long finger under my chin and flicked it upwards. “Don’t feel too sorry for yourself. You’ve done well, but you haven’t done enough. You’ll be going back to hi
m at sunrise, and for as many sunrises as it takes to get your answers.”

  She held a sheet of paper out to me. I took it and willed the words to swim into focus. It was a list of questions which Sweetwater told me to memorise. I was to find a way to ask the man each one, and make sure he answered honestly. If I could prove that he trusted me, I would earn my place among the Siren.

  Sweetwater made me repeat the questions back to her until she was satisfied that I had them memorized. She snatched the paper away from me and locked it into a drawer. The key chimed shrilly when she hooked it onto the keyring which hung from her belt. The noise made my head hurt, and I wished that I hadn’t drunk so much wine.

  The questions hadn’t made much sense to me. ‘Do you know how to tie sailor knots?’ ‘Where did you used to play hide and seek?’ ‘If you had a sweetheart, would you ask for a lock of her hair?’

  “What do you really want to know?” I asked. The old woman shrugged a shoulder up to her ear and let it fall back. A ripple of wrinkles moved across her neck.

  “Does it matter? He’s just skin and secrets, like the rest of them.”

  “But if you want me to find out, shouldn’t you tell me?” I was too tired to think straight, or I wouldn’t have dared to be so impertinent. I flinched when the High Mistress slammed her hand onto the desk. She did not even bother shouting at me, just glared until I backed away and ran down the tower stairs.

  When I was halfway down the trail I looked back and saw the glint of a spyglass looking back at me. It followed my steps until the tower was swallowed by the trees.

  CHAPTER 15

  Sweetwater refused to treat me like a real Siren. I was to stay in one of the servant’s rooms above the bathhouse. It would stop me from having to walk the miles between my old room and the pier. No-one knew how long I would be there, so the servants had sent over everything I owned.

  Dahra found me in a daze as I sifted through the bags looking for a nightdress. She dug me out of the room like a tick. As she looked me up and down her face was a peculiar mixture of disgust and pride.

  “Well.” she said in an exasperated voice. “You’re the only person in the world who can get filthy inside a bath house.”

  “I haven’t washed yet.” I mumbled, “I’m looking for…”

  “I’ll look for it.” The woman caught my shoulder and marched me to the baths. She handed me over to one of the old women, who took pity on me and let me doze in the hot water while she soaped my hair. When she woke me up she struggled to make me leave the bath. Every part of my body was starting to ache, and my head spun after its night of liquor and wakefulness. The woman wrapped me in a towel and helped me back to my room. All of the bags had been unpacked, and Dahra was sorting through my clothes with a frown puckering her immaculate lips.

  “Clay…” she started, and then took a look at me and closed her mouth with a snap. Looking over my shoulder, she gestured for the maid to leave. I sat down on the edge of the pallet bed and my fingers sank into the soft down mattress. I looked around at the claustrophobic rainbow of fabric and wondered which of my dresses the man would end up ruining tonight.

  “Go to sleep.” Dahra snapped. It was the easiest order she had ever given me. I passed out before she could even find a blanket.

  My dreams were troubled. Everyone seemed to be a little further forward than I was. Sweetwater knew who the man was, and why he was here. The Mistresses knew that I was hungover and they knew what I should be doing to get ready for another night of work. Everyone was doing their best to help me ask a Mainlander three stupid questions. I woke up even more ignorant than I had been the night before.

  Dahra had been unimpressed with my clothes. She sent Janine to the seamstresses to fetch something which might suit. The girl had no reason to like me, but she was not the sort to ignore her own talents just to spite someone else. She chose a dress which had only two seams left to finish, and spent most of the night completing it to my measurements. The dress was made of a soft brown fabric embroidered with light grey and yellow leaves. An elegant rivulet of blue ribbon spilled out from the waistband and trailed down the back of the skirt. Janine was about to knot it into a bow when I stopped her. I preferred it with just a simple knot. Janine might know fabric, but I knew myself.

  My Mistress returned from her own work an hour before sunrise, just when I was getting nervous. She pressed her hand down onto my knee to stop me jiggling it, and then sat down beside me. She was holding a bread roll, which she tore in half before sharing it with me.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  She looked sharply at me until I gave in and took a mouthful. She might well have been watching me to see daintily I ate, but once I tasted the warm bread I wolfed the rest down like a starving dog.

  “Next time, make sure you eat before you drink wine.” Dahra looked at her own piece of bread and ruefully took a mouthful. I was shocked to hear her speaking with her mouth full of crumbs. “It will stop you from getting drunk as quickly as they do, and you will not get as sick.”

  “I’m never drinking again.” I muttered. As always, the woman pretended that I hadn’t spoken.

  “The best thing is not to get drunk in the first place! Close your mouth when you raise your glass. Only drink when they’re watching. Did it help?”

  I blinked at the sudden change in topic and stared down at my bread. I hadn’t even realized I was tearing the roll into shreds. “Yes.”

  She smiled at me and kissed my cheek. The gesture was so unexpected that I pulled away and earned a slap instead. “You must teach your body to obey you, Clay. What if you had done that to a man? If he thinks you don’t desire him then he will not trust you. Do you want to go back to this man’s bed?”

  I nodded and confessed, “I don’t know how to make myself pretend like that. When he touched me I felt soft, and when he did not I felt empty. I cannot teach myself to feel any differently.”

  “Then you really do desire him.”

  “I like the way it feels. Is that the same?”

  “It’s as close as most of us get.” she ran her fingers through her black hair – another oddity, as I had never seen her nervous before. Her voice was very careful. “Enjoy it, Clay. The next time will be more difficult. You will not always desire them. Remember how this feels, and the things you say and do, so that when you need to pretend you will be convincing.”

  I reddened and she laughed. I looked up at my Mistress, and for the first time I saw her as someone like myself and not as a poised, perfect idol. What did she think of to make herself blush? I was so accustomed to her sharpness and cruelty that I could not imagine the woman who she pretended to be every time a man drew her close. She was only thirteen years older than me. How many years had it taken to harden her heart?

  It was the only time I ever truly admired her. Before then I had idolised her, and a few days later I could barely stand to look at her. I loved her. Even when I hated her I could not bear to take her out of my heart.

  They sent me back to the man’s room and he pulled me into his sleep-warmed bed before I could say a word. There was a frantic fury in his rutting which frightened me, but as the mattress shuddered beneath us the fear turned into a pleasure that was so sharp that I cried out and sank my nails into his back. The man growled and pinned me down as he finished, cursing as his last few strokes pierced me to the quick. Afterwards he shoved me away, his eyes narrow with suspicion as I forced my trembling legs to stand.

  I did not understand, then. Perhaps he had to prove to himself that he had really claimed me, or maybe he wanted to frighten me and see if I would turn on him. He knew that there was no reason for the Siren to bow to his desires. He was naturally suspicious, and his instinct was to challenge every rule and force every detail to the breaking point. I had been on the island for so long that I couldn’t see how uncanny it felt to outsiders. Many of the Mainlanders could have been sober yet still believe that they were inside a fever dream. Frightened that they were losing their m
inds, they would cling to anything that made them feel complete, if only for a few delirious minutes.

  I couldn’t make myself think on any of that as I stood in front of him. In my naïve way I told myself that he had wanted me so badly that he couldn’t control himself. I stopped flattering myself with such notions quickly enough.

  “You wanted to explore the island.” I said the lines I had practiced. I had imagined smiling coyly as I spoke, not nervously pulling my skirts back down over my hips, but oh well. “Do you still want to do that?”

  He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, and stood up. When we walked out of the building he took my hand and trapped it between his fingers, meeting the eyes of every woman who smiled at him. Under the general noise I heard a woman moaning and a man grunting in effort. Realisation made me blush. The walls were paper-thin, and they would have heard everything.

  I had planned to take him back to the orchard, but I was afraid the smell of apples would make me retch. Instead, we climbed down the wooden steps onto the beach and walked along the coast. The tide was coming in, and every twenty steps we had to skip away from the waves or else get our shoes wet. The dry sand on the dunes was far too soft to walk on, and so sheer that they crumbled under our feet. I looked back and spotted the silhouette of my guard creeping along the shore.

  We walked all day. The dunes gave way to scrub grass, which in turn bled into a marshy estuary. The pools of tepid water stank in the summer, and invited hordes of gnats and mosquitos from spring until autumn. In the winter the marshland either flooded or froze. Over the centuries there had been attempts to build – here, a solid stone structure with a cellar filled with stagnant water. There, a swarm of rotten wooden houses built on stilts. A thin miasma of fog covered the village like a down blanket. Because the twilight air was hot, the damp air was difficult to breathe. Our hair plastered itself to our faces, and we had to stop and rest.

  “You see?” I panted, waving a hand at the rotting ruins. “It’s not beautiful at all. Are you satisfied?”