The Tide Knot (19 page)

  “Saph, what’s going on? What’s he saying?” asks Conor.

  Saldowr touches him lightly on the shoulder. “Your sister is speaking full Mer to me now. I am telling her that she has a purpose in Ingo. But we shall go back to speaking the common language. Understand this, Conor, it is neither a strength nor a weakness in your sister that she is as she is.

  She did not choose it; it chose her. She is part Mer and part human; you are both that. But in her, Mer and human are strangely and powerfully fused. She has gone to the Deep and returned alive.”

  “You’re just like Granny Carne!” exclaims Conor, staring at him.

  “Who is Granny Carne?” asks Saldowr.

  “A wise woman.”

  “Saldowr isn’t at all like Granny Carne, Conor, he’s the complete opposite. She’s Earth—”

  “Yes, I know, but Saldowr is to the Mer what Granny Carne is to humans,” says Conor impatiently. “She belongs to Earth, and he belongs to Ingo, but they’re like two sides of the same thing.”

  Saldowr is watching Conor closely, as if he wants him to say more.

  “Do people—Mer, I mean—do they come to you when they have troubles—when they want to know what to do?” goes on Conor eagerly. Saldowr nods.

  “I told you, Saph! They are doing the same thing, but in different—what’s the word?—
elements.
”

  “You seem to know a great deal about me,” observes Saldowr dryly. “Those who come to me usually come with questions, not answers.”

  Conor flushes. “We have come with a question,” he says.

  “Then ask it.”  

  But Conor turns away. His fists are clenched. “In a moment,” he says in a stifled voice. I’m sure that Saldowr already knows our question. Conor is right: They would recognize each other, even though he is not the same as Granny Carne. I raise my head and meet Saldowr’s eyes.

  “Our father is in Ingo,” says Conor slowly, “and we think—we believe that he is unhappy here. We believe that he made a choice without knowing what he was doing. It wasn’t a free choice if he didn’t understand it, was it? We want to know if that choice can ever be…changed.”

  “You want him to return to you,” says Saldowr sternly. His green and silver eyes flash as he draws himself up to his full height. “You think that he can return to the Air, just as your sister returned from the Deep.” He frowns and looks from one of us to the other. “It will take more than human tears to restore your father to you. Are you truly ready to know what has happened to him? Are you ready to know what choice he made?”

  I can’t speak. Conor answers quietly but steadily, “We are ready.”

  “A true answer can cut like coral,” warns Saldowr. “But if you want to know more, come with me now.” Without a backward glance to see if we are following or not, Saldowr swims away, toward the heart of the Groves.

 
W
e halt in the thickest part of the trees, not far from the cave. Its entrance is hidden by a curtain of silvery weed that sways gently to and fro. I wish I could go into the cave and thank Faro for what he did, diving into the Deep like that, risking his own life to help me. I feel a rush of gratitude and a shiver of fear for what could have happened to Faro and to me too. I’ve got to thank him.

  As if Saldowr has caught my thought, he shakes his head. “Wait here,” he says, and then dives through the curtain of weed.

  We wait. The light glows a soft, deep red as it filters through the dense branches above us. The rocks around the cave entrance glisten with mother-of-pearl. The sand is silver. It’s beautiful here in the heart of the Groves of Aleph, but it’s not a peaceful sort of beauty. It makes me tingle with anticipation. Something’s going to happen, or maybe it’s already happening, only we can’t see it.

  Suddenly Conor nudges my arm. “Look up,” he whispers.

  “Look up between the branches.”

  “I can’t see—what are they?”

  “Look carefully. I think they’re sharks, swimming above the trees.”  

  “Sharks! What—what kind of sharks?”

  “I can’t tell .”

  “I wish Saldowr would come back.”

  “They’re not coming any closer. They’re just swimming up and down. Like they’re patrolling—”

  “Patrolling! Conor—you mean like the guardian seals?” The guardian seals patrol the borders of Limina, where the Mer go to die. The seals are prepared to kill anyone who threatens the peace of Limina. They almost killed Roger and his friend Gray. I shudder, remembering how the gray seals tossed Roger and Gray through the water like rag dolls.

  “Conor, do you think those sharks are patrolling the Groves of Aleph?”

  “Maybe.” Conor stares up intently. His eyesight has always been sharper than mine. “They do look as if they’re on guard, like those seals in Limina. But it’s all right, Saph.

  Don’t be scared. We’re here under Saldowr’s protection, aren’t we? They’re not going to hurt us.” I move closer to Conor and look up where he’s pointing.

  A familiar shape slides into focus. Long, sleek submarine body, underslung jaw. The shark glides across my vision and with a powerful flick of the tail doubles back on itself.

  And over there, a little higher, there’s another one—

  “Why didn’t they attack us when we came here?” Conor shrugs. “Just be grateful they didn’t.” Saldowr is on his way back. He has put on a cloak that is the inky blue of a mussel shell . It swirls around him, wrapping itself over his right arm. There’s something in his hand, hidden by the cloak. Saldowr’s face is somber. His eyebrows are drawn together, frowning, but I don’t think he’s angry with us. His cloak swirls again, inky blue and black and pearl.

  He stops, facing us. He spreads both his arms wide, and the cloak fall s back. In his right hand there’s a mirror. It’s only a small mirror, about the size of my hand, made of a dull metal like pewter. There’s no decoration on it. In fact it’s rather disappointing. I thought it would be something more important. I stretch out my hand to touch.

  “No!” cracks out Saldowr’s voice. I snatch my hand back as if I’ve touched fire.

  “You may look but not touch. One at a time. Who will go first?”

  “You first, Conor. You’re the eldest,” I say quickly.

  “But you’re the most curious,” murmurs Conor. Then he catches Saldowr’s stern gaze. Conor straightens his shoulders and steps forward. Saldowr holds out the mirror.

  “Look, but don’t touch,” he repeats.

  Slowly Conor bends over the mirror, his hands at his sides. I can’t see anything. The mirror is hidden by Conor’s back. 

  Suddenly, his hands clench into fists. His whole body tenses. I think he’s going to cry out, but he says nothing.

  Nobody speaks. Conor just keeps on staring into the mirror as if it has enchanted him. Saldowr holds the mirror steady. The shadows of the swaying waterweed above us flicker over the surface of his cloak. I watch the patterns they make, and after a few seconds I start falling into a dream, as if someone were hypnotizing me.

  With a huge effort I drag myself back. I’ve got to make sure that Conor’s all right. How long has he been staring into that mirror? It’s probably only seconds, but it feels like minutes or even hours.

  Saldowr’s our friend. He wouldn’t be trying to hypnotize me and Conor; I’m sure he wouldn’t.

  At long last Conor steps back and stands next to me again. I reach out and squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t squeeze back. He tries to smile at me, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re blazing with anger.

  “Are you all right, Con?”

  “I’ll tell  you later.” He sounds out of breath, as if he’s been running a race. Saldowr’s hand fall s to his side, and his cloak wraps around the mirror, hiding it again. Isn’t he going to let me look into it?

  “The mirror must be cloaked,” says Saldowr quietly.

  “But—but you let Conor look into it.”

  “Do you want to see what the mirror will show you, my child?”

  “No,” says Conor, “that’s enough. Saph doesn’t need to look at it.”

  “Don’t you think your sister has the right to know the truth?”

  “Saph doesn’t need to see it! I’ll —I’ll tell  her what’s in the mirror, Saldowr.”

  Saldowr shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that. She must see with her own eyes and hear with her own ears.” I stare at the folds of Saldowr’s cloak, where the mirror’s hidden. I do want to look into it, but I’m afraid of what the mirror’s going to tell  me. Still, if I don’t see with my own eyes, I’ll always be left wondering what I might have seen if I’d been just a little bit braver. Very slowly I step forward. I’m glad that I don’t have to hold the mirror myself, because my hands are trembling. Saldowr’s face is expressionless as he raises his arms again, throws the cloak back, and reveals the mirror. Slowly he brings the mirror forward.

  There is no choice now.

  At first I see nothing but the dull sheen of its metal surface. Perhaps I’m not going to see anything. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. Dul , silvery metal. It’s not even a very good mirror. You couldn’t see to comb your hair in it.

  As if the mirror has heard my thoughts, a change comes over it, as sudden as a squal over the sea. Shadows gather and then race over the mirror’s surface. Shadows of branches and a breaking pattern of red and purple and blue.

  Dark blue, inky blue. The reflection of Saldowr’s cloak, that’s all it is. Suddenly the racing shadows part, like a curtain at the opening of a play. Yes, it’s just like a play. The actors are already on the stage, waiting for the audience.

  A woman is sitting with her back to me. She must be a Mer woman, because there’s her beautiful strong, solid tail, like a seal’s tail, curled to one side. She’s leaning forward, absorbed in whatever it is she’s looking at, as if it meant everything to her.

  Her rippling dark hair streams over her back. She’s wearing a fine woven green bodice. Elvira wore a bodice like that once. As I watch, the woman lifts her head. Slowly she turns and looks out of the mirror with a faint, happy smile on her face. Her face is a little like Elvira’s too. She has green eyes, like Elvira’s, and the same short, straight nose.

  But her smile is quite different.

  The woman’s smile widens as if she had recognized someone. Is she looking at me? Can she see me? No, her eyes don’t meet mine. She’s looking at someone else, coming toward her inside the world of the mirror. As I gaze at her, I realize that she’s much older than Elvira. She’s a woman, not a girl. She could be Elvira’s aunt or an older cousin. She’s not old enough to be Elvira’s mother.

  The woman moves a little to one side, still smiling. Now I can see what she was looking at. In a cradle of smooth stone, lined with silky weed, there is a Mer baby. The baby is asleep, eyes shut, feathers of hair drifting in the soft movement of the water. There are no coverings on the baby.

  I suppose you wouldn’t need to wrap up a baby here in Ingo.  

  The baby’s arms are curled around its head. Its tail is the color of a pearl. Perhaps Mer babies are like seals, and their tails grow darker as they grow older.

  As I watch, the woman lifts her hand in greeting and smiles. Her face is full of warmth and love. I wish she
was
smiling at me. I’d like to swim inside the mirror and get to know her.

  There’s a shadow at the edge of the mirror. A figure. A man. One of the Mer, swimming toward the Mer woman. He lifts his hand too and waves at her. As he turns in a swirl of bubbles, I see his face.

  The Mer man swims to the cradle and kisses the sleeping Mer baby on the forehead. Very gently, very lovingly. Dad always kissed us on the forehead like that before we went to sleep. My heart stops beating and then thumps violently, as if an electric shock has jolted through it.

  The mirror goes dark.  

  We say nothing for a long while, me and Conor, but we draw close to each other, shoulder to shoulder, touching.

  “A true answer can cut to the heart,” says Saldowr at last.

  “I am sorry for it.”

  “A true answer,” says Conor through his teeth. “Is that what you call it?”

  “Yes,” says Saldowr.

  “I suppose everyone here knew except us,” goes on Conor in the same cold, angry voice. “Does Faro know?

  Does Elvira?”

  “Yes, they know. How could they not know? The Mer are not like you. We find it hard to have secrets from one another.”

  I don’t want to even think about Dad. I want to wipe the image of him out of my mind.

  “She looked like Elvira,” says Conor, “that—that
woman
.

  Is she related to Elvira?”

  “She is their mother’s sister. But it is easier for Faro and Elvira because her husband, their uncle, is dead. They can be happy that Melina has found happiness after long grief.”

  “Can they?” says Conor grimly. “Did they know this all the time? Right from when they first met us last summer? I suppose they must have done.”

  “You’ll have to ask Elvira and Faro yourselves.”

  “We may not want to,” says Conor.

  Saldowr says no more. He just watches us thoughtfully. I can’t think of anything to say. If I open my mouth, I’m afraid I’ll cry or yell like a baby. Faro knew all this time, and he said nothing. I thought he was my friend. We were so close, we could see into each other’s minds. Didn’t he know how much it hurt that Dad had gone? Didn’t he know how we would feel about this Mer woman? How could Faro be happy about something that made me and Conor so unhappy?
Little sister
Faro called me. I never understood why. Maybe he was trying to tell  me we were more than friends; we were almost related.

  “You have to understand that it is different for the Mer,” says Saldowr. “We do not own each other as you do.”

  “
Own
each other? It’s got nothing to do with owning. My father was
married
. Married to my mother. End of story,” states Conor.

  “But it wasn’t the end of the story for him. His love began to flow elsewhere.”

  “She made him love her. He didn’t want to,” I say hotly.

  “That woman, Mellina. She sang to him. He’d never have known she existed if she hadn’t sung to him.”