Poul Anderson - The Merman's Children

“Not quite,” Tomislav answered. “By rare grace, they keep their pa..,t lives, their knowledge and skills in aid of our poor countrymen. It’s a long story, but marvelous.”

“I. . . would like to hear.”

The humans considered Tauno for a silent while, wherein darkness thickened. Ivan’s gaze grew less distrustful, Tomislav’s ever more kind.

At last the zhupan said, “Well, I suppose there’s no reason why you shouldn’t. I make a guess you’ve surmised most of it already. I think, too, that you’ve your own reasons for being here, which you’ve not let out; but I dare hope they’re innocent.”

“Better than innocent,” Tomislav added. “Andrei-Vanimen that was-he told me about certain children of his who were left behind. . . . You needn’t say more till you feel safe in doing it, Carolus. Let me help you understand that you’re among friends. Listen to the tale, ask whatever questions you will.”

Even ashore, Tauno could move sQake-softly when he chose. None saw him glide from his room, down a corridor and a stairway, forth into the shadow and mist of the court, through an open gate where a pair of sentries nodded at their pikes. Once out among the villager homes, he stalked upright, for nobody was awake and no dog would dare bark. The sky was clear, amply starful. Evening chill had quenched the stenches of habitation enough for his nostrils to pick out the odors he sought: a hint of waters more deep and broad than any baptismal font.

Already several merfolk dwelt in human households. He passed them by. Nor did he consider seeking the settlement on the lakeshore which others, who were now fishers, shared with children of Adam. A few small dwellings, fragrant with fresh timber, had arisen on the edge of Skradin for the rest of the newcomers. These were chiefly females. . . no, women, he thought, mortal women who must in propriety no longer go adventuring.

A certain blend of cool fleshly scents brought him to a door whereon he knocked. Ears within had kept their Faerie keeness. A voice called, “Who is it? What will you?”

“It is Tauno, Vanimen’s son,” he answered. “Let me in, Raxi, lover that was in Liri.”

He heard whispers, scuffle of feet, fumblings about. The time seemed endless before the latch clacked free and the barrier swung aside. Two stood beyond. They had thrown on shifts, but he knew them at once: Raxi, the merriest lass in his tribe, and lean bluetressed Meiiva who had been his father’s special friend.

He felt the unsureness of his smile as he spread his arms wide. The girl gasped, sprang back, buried face in hands. Her older companion remained calm, yet it was with an effort that she said, “Welcome, Tauno. How good to know you live, you and Eyjanand to have you here at last-But you must cover yourself.”

Tauno glanced down. When he left his bed, he had not bothered to don clothes anew, save for knife belt; the spirit bone hung always around his neck. “Why, we’re alone, Meiiva,” he replied in a puzzlement that was half fear, “and you both know this body well.”

“I am not Meiiva any more, Tauno, and she, my sister in God, is not Raxi. We are Jelena and Biserka.” The woman turned about. “Wait here. I’ll fetch you garb.” The door closed.

It reopened shortly, a crack, and she reached out a coat. He belted it around his middle, sniffing with a thrill that it was his father’s. When Meiiva-Jelena-let him into the humble building, whose rafters made him bow his head, she had lighted a clay lamp from the fire banked on the hearth. “That’s better,” she said, and actually touched his elbow. “Be not ashamed. You’ve everything to learn. Sit down, dear, and let me pour you a stoup.”

Dazedly, he settled onto a chest. Biserka crouched in the opposite corner. Her look upon him was-fearful? Wistful? He could not tell, but he heard how quickly she breathed.

“Why are you here too?” he asked her roommate.

“Andrei, your father, my husband, is off to war,” Jelena explained. “For seemliness as well as shared help, I invited Biserka to come stay here meanwhile. She’s unwedded, and, well—” Aforetime frankness was gone; it was hard to finish: “She had a home with a family, but the eldest son was beginning to show lust for her, and that would not be the best match she could make.”

“You, Raxi?” Tauno blurted. “Why, I sought you tonight before all others!”

Jelena sighed, though in the dull yellow glow her cheeks smoldered. “I know. May the merciful saints aid me in remembering what you are, and not to blame you but to try to show you the way onward.” Having filled three bowls with mead, she brought him one. “Dismiss carnal thoughts, Tauno. This is not Liri, we are not what we were, and God be praised.”

“Well, there are some hussies!” flared from Biserka. She huddled back, crossed herself, and added fast, “Ask not their names,”

“Surely you’ll find one of them among us who were merfolk,” Jelena said, where she stood tall above Tauno. “We’re too newly born. How I pray we’ll never soil the spirits in us, fresh from God’s hand!” She paused, stared beyond him, and mused, “Oh, we will, I fear. To feel sure of our own righteousness, that would be a mortal sin in itself, pride. But may we always have grace to repent when we fall, to keep striving.” Her glance sharpened and speared him. “If any man would seduce us, let him bear in mind that we can yet wield edged weapons.”

“Then you do recall your past lives?” he mumbled.

She nodded. “Aye, though they seem strange, dim, like a dream that was long and vivid but is fading. We’ve awakened, you see. There before the altar, we awoke from the half-life of beasts to life eternal.” Suddenly she, who had been strong as Vanimen, wept. “Oh, that moment, that single first moment with God! What...remains...to abide for...but the hope of finding it again, forever, in Heaven?”

A waning moon had cleared eastern heights when Tauno entered the forest. It had not taken him long, for he ran the entire way across plowlands; stalks and ears of grain left welts in revenge for his trampling. However, the hour had been late when he could finally win free of the women, cast off his father’s coat at the door, and bolt.

It was not that they cursed him. They had been affectionate in their pleading, their wish that he too take the gift of an immortal soul. It was not even that they were utterly changed, flesh once delightful now housing an alienness greater than that which sundered him from the tribe of Adam. It was that-he thought, somewhere in his staggering mind-that they were carriers of doom. In them was the future, which held no room for Faerie. When he sprinted, he did not only seek to work out some of the despair wherein his quest had ended. He fled the unseen, while stars looked down and hissed, “There he is, there he goes, that’s his track to follow.”

The breath heaved raw in his throat before he found shelter. This was below an oak, for it spread darkness and upheld mistletoe. At last he moved on into the wilderness, toward the lake he could sense afar. He would bathe in yon waters, fill his lungs with their cleanliness, maybe catch a fish and devour it raw like a seal or a killer whale. Thus he would regain strength for returning to the castle and whatever was going to happen there.

Trees gloomed, underbrush entangled a heavier murk, on either side of the game trail he took. Moonlight filtered in streaks through the crowns, to glimmer off vapors which streamed or eddied low above the earth. It was a touch warmer here than out in the open, damp, smelling of growth a-drowse. Rustlings went faint, a breeze, an owl ghosting by, the scutter of tiny feet. Once a wildcat squalled, remotely, noise blurred into music by all the leaves around.