Authors: MaryJanice Davidson
Thirty-two
Later, Fred was sitting thoughtfully by the pool. The sun had gone down about an hour ago and she had a lot to think about. Thank goodness she finally had a little bit of—
“Okay, that’s enough sulking, Fish Face. What’s the matter?”
Jonas. Of course. Her mouth said, “Die painfully, Jonas, and preferably quietly.” Her mind said,
Thank God. I really need to talk to him. He’ll understand and he’ll tease me and he won’t judge and then I’ll feel better. God, if you’re paying any attention at all up there, thank you so much for dropping Jonas in my life when we were in elementary school.
“C’mon,” he was coaxing. “Spill.”
“Don’t you have bouquets to sniff or china to pick out?”
“Done and done . . . Barb and I registered today. Feel free to buy us many grossly expensive gifts at Macy’s, Crate and Barrel, and Tar-jhay.”
“It’s Target, numb wad, and I’ve got up until a year after the wedding to cough up a gift.”
“You
did
read that copy of Miss Manners I left in your room!”
“Shut up.” She sighed, cupping her chin in her hand. She was sitting on a lawn chair and staring into the pool. “Something bad happened today.”
“You wore white after Labor Day?”
“Hilarious. I fell into the shark tank at the aquarium.”
Jonas coughed, except it sounded oddly like a muffled laugh. “Oh?” he managed.
“Yeah, and never mind how it happened. The thing is, everybody was staring at me. And I didn’t—”
“—want to shift to your tail in front of the whole damn aquarium, sure. I get it.”
“Artur didn’t.”
“Oh. You guys have a fight?”
“Not really. It’s just—he didn’t get it at all. He was almost . . . I had the impression . . . I felt like he was sort of . . .”
“Ashamed of you?” Jonas asked quietly, sitting cross-legged at her feet.
“Well. Yeah.”
“He’s under some pressure,” Jonas reminded her. “The missing mermaids and all, like you were telling me.”
“Yeah.”
“And he wants to marry you
because
you do weird-ass stuff like flailing around in a tank in your flip-flops instead of stripping to your birthday suit and growing a tail. You think you’re the only engaged couple who come from radically different backgrounds?”
“I didn’t think about it like that,” she admitted.
“ ’Cuz you’re stupid,” he informed her cheerfully.
“Thanks so much.”
“So what was Thomas doing while you guys were working out radical cultural differences?”
“Uh. Holding me.”
Jonas groaned and stretched out on the concrete. He lay there, corpse-like, for a few seconds, then propped himself up on an elbow and went into scold mode. “Fred, Fred, Fred! You’ve made your choice. You strung both of them along for . . . what? Two years? And now you’re engaged . . . to—are you listening?—Artur! Enough with the dancing! Ow, I think I just scraped all the skin off my elbow.”
“I didn’t string them along,” she protested, stung. “They’re the ones who kept disappearing. At least Artur made it clear from day one that he wanted to marry me.”
“Ahaaaaaa!” he yowled. “What you meant is,
Thomas
kept disappearing on you. So you picked Artur.”
“Yes, and my choice had nothing to do with the fact that he loves me and will make me a princess and show me things I could never, ever have discovered on my own.”
Jonas held up his hands, as if he were being robbed. “Fair enough. I’m not arguing any of that stuff. But my point is, you made your choice. So enough with the wishy-washy bullshit.”
“Artur was embarrassed. But Thomas pulled me out of the tank. He jumped right in and hauled me out. And he
knew
why I didn’t pop my tail.”
“Big surprise, you were raised by surface dwellers and another surface dweller gets you.
I
get you. It doesn’t mean Artur’s embarrassed, or ashamed, or regretting anything. You’ve got years to work all this crap out. Why is it bothering you so much tonight?”
“I don’t know. I absolutely don’t. It’s been a weird week.”
Massive understatement.
“And you’ve got another weird-ass mystery to solve. You’re the Daphne to their Shaggy and Fred.”
“The hell! I’m Velma, dammit.”
“And you’re on television and in papers and you hate the attention.”
“So?”
“So. Give Artur a break. You’re not exactly at your best right now. And he was
still
glad when you said yes.”
“That’s true.”
Jonas leaned over and gave her a friendly slap on the leg. “See? All is well when you listen to your uncle Jonas.”
“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any creepier.”
“You can’t imagine my levels of creepiness. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to bone your boss.”
Fred shut her eyes, but the awful images wouldn’t disappear.
Thirty-three
Fred didn’t dare go in the house, which was a shame, because the mosquitoes were a real bitch tonight. But Jonas and Dr. Barb could get pretty loud. She prayed they were at least doing it in their bedroom.
“Fredrika?”
She turned and looked. Her father had stepped out onto the patio. “Oh. Hi, Farrem. What’s up?”
“Nothing is up. Only . . .” He hesitated. She had the odd feeling he was shy, or embarrassed. “I have not had the chance to speak with you in private. Do you mind?”
“Mind? I’d love the distraction,
believe
me. Have a seat. Hope you brought a can of Off!”
He chuckled. “You poor thing! Mosquitoes don’t like how Undersea Folk taste. What an awful heritage to inherit from your lady mother.”
“Thank God!” Fred exclaimed. “A UF who understands a surface-dweller reference. Usually I get a blank stare.”
Farrem’s laughter cut off abruptly. “Yes, I know that Off! is an insect repellant. I know many things about the surface world, as I have had to spend much time here.”
“Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring the party down.”
He sat in the patio chair beside her. “You did not. I will carry my shame for the rest of my days, and deservedly so; your comments have no effect on what I have done. But there have been compensations for banishment. I am sitting beside one of them.”
“Aw,” Fred teased. “I’m blushing.”
“It is too dark for me to tell,” he replied.
“Farrem, can I ask you something?”
“Because I was arrogant and thought my wishes were more important than sparing lives. Because I was cruel and foolish.”
“Um. I was going to ask where you’ve been living all these years.”
“Oh! Awkward,” he said wryly, and Fred laughed again. Damn! It was great to talk to someone who didn’t sound stilted, or from another
(species)
country.
“I have seen much of the planet. In my despair, I traveled much of the world during my first decade of banishment . . . starting, of course, with the East Coast of this country. Specifically,
“Specifically,
“Indeed! My encounter with your lady mother was the one thing that kept me from despair. I had forgotten a very basic fact. Although my own people despised me, there were many people who would not know of my shame. She was kindness itself. She . . . saved me.”
Fred said nothing, but her thoughts were awhirl. She and Jonas had long ago agreed never to tell Moon that Farrem had only taken her out of despair, had come ashore because he had, literally, nowhere else to go. But Fred was having second thoughts.
She . . . saved me.
Moon deserved to know the wonderful thing she had done for a man she didn’t know.
How often, Fred mused, had she taken her mother’s generous nature for granted?
Since day one, of course. Did anyone ever
really
appreciate their mom?
Farrem had been silent while she pondered these things, and when he continued, it was in a low voice. “I had been planning my own destruction. I had planned to find land, get as far from water as I could, and die by dehydration.”
“Jesus!”
“It is very difficult,” he said simply, “for one of our kind to kill themselves. I supposed I could have let myself be eaten by a great white. Messy, though, and quite painful. But!” He sounded more brisk. Slightly more cheery, thank God. “Your lady mother made me rethink my course of action. So I went a’traveling. I saw many things.”
“How did you—you know . . . Live? Make money? Whatever?”
“At first, I caught and sold fish at various coastal markets. When I wound up in
“Yerrggh! Stop, you’ll make me barf.”
“What?”
“I’m allergic.”
“Stop that. You are teasing me.”
“I’m absolutely not. I can’t eat any kind of fish.”
Her father went into gales of laughter at her confession. Most Undersea Folk did. They thought her hideous affliction was hilarious. “Oh! Oh, in the king’s name! A child of mine, allergic!”
“I’m thrilled you’re getting such a kick out of this.”
“I do beg your pardon, Fredrika. But it
is
funny. I noticed you have your mother’s teeth; it’s actually quite a good thing you can’t eat fish. Frankly, you don’t have the dentition for it.”
“Good point. So, you were in
“And eventually made enough money to buy a fishing boat. And due to my . . . ah . . . affinity with the sea—”
“You always knew where to find the fish!”
“Just so.”
“How many boats,” she asked slyly, “do you have now?”
“Twenty-two. And homes in
She laughed. “
“I assure you, I will, and quite soon. I also,” he went on with what she felt was justifiable pride, “supervise a staff of several hundred.”
“So you did sort of get your own kingdom, after all.”
“I had not thought of it that way. You are wise for one so young, Fredrika.”
“I s’pose you’re going to tell me you’re eighty years old or whatever—Never mind, I don’t want to know.
“Not to mention saltwater pools on all my properties.”
“That’s great, Farrem.” She meant it. She was proud of him, despite what he had done. At least he’d learned. He hadn’t let it get him down and, by God, he’d grown. Made something of himself. She’d known plenty of humans who couldn’t let go of the past. Who
wallowed
in the past.
Shit, who
hadn’t
fucked up when they were younger?
“I think you did really well in a pretty difficult situation. And I’m glad you found me. I admit, I’ve been curious about you.”
“And I, once I saw your picture, about you. You are the only hybrid I have ever known. It never occurred to me that I might have left your lady mother in pup. I am embarrassed to say I never came back to check on her.”
“Well, like you said. You couldn’t have known. Frankly, I’m amazed myself—two species usually can’t mate successfully. You don’t see any tiger/monkeys or seal/dolphins around.”
“Ah . . . no. I sometimes wonder,” he mused, “if the fool things I did in my youth had a purpose. One beyond my selfish desires. Because they led to you. And look what you have done, for your mother’s people and for mine. You have changed . . . everything. Everything.”
“Oh, it wasn’t me,” Fred said, startled and embarrassed. “The king’s the one who said his subjects could choose to show themselves or not. I’m just . . . trying to help with the transition.”
“And I am certain you had nothing at all to do with that decision,” he said slyly, and she laughed.
“You should hang around,” she said. “You’re good for my ego.”
“That is part of why I wanted to speak with you. I dare not hang around. At least, not much longer. I will not jeopardize your standing among my people. We are an old race, and a stubborn one. And we blame the children for the deeds of their parents. Illogical, yes, but part of who we are. Surely you have already run into prejudice because I am your sire.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You are kind. But if you are to rule, you must not have me forever reminding our people of the terrible danger I once placed us all in.”
“Danger—for them?”
“I was never meant to be king,” he said simply. “If I had succeeded in my foolishness, all of our people could have been in jeopardy. No, Mekkam’s line has been ruling us for a reason. I was too stupid in my youth to understand such things.”
“Well. Uh.” Fred cleared her throat. “Why did you think you should take over?”
“I once thought that just because your father, and grandfather, and great-grandfather had been king, that didn’t mean that
you
should be king. I thought it was more about ambition, and ability, than heredity.”
“You must have been studying the
He laughed. “I was defeated, was I not? That in itself proved me wrong. But what it took me thirty years to understand was that—and this is what you might call my ‘duh’ moment—Artur’s line rules
because
their formidable telepathy is hereditary. It is through that ability that he safeguards our people. I had no right to attempt to usurp him.”
“The way I heard the story is, you’re pretty formidable yourself. In the telepathy area, that is.”
“That was both my gift and my curse, yes.”
She understood: if not for his power, he never would have tried the coup; he never would have been banished.
“That must be amazing. I can only hear the UF and fish and such when I’m in water, with my tail.”
He frowned and cocked his head. “Beg your pardon?”
“I can’t talk to Undersea Folk on land like purebreds can. I can’t hear fish on land, sense them—nothing like that.”
“You—you’re mind blind when you have legs?” He was trying hard not to sound horrified, and failing.
“Hey, it’s okay, Farrem. I’ve always felt
(like a freak)
different because I could hear fish. I didn’t even know about UF telepathy until I met Artur. So I never knew what I was missing. It doesn’t bother me.”
He was—why was he looking at her so strangely?
“Fredrika,” he said quietly, and knelt by the pool, and dipped his finger in the water, and drew some odd, complicated symbols on the dry cement, “can you tell me what this word is?”
She stared at the squiggles and lines. “It’s a word? It looks like abstract art to me.”
He sat back on his haunches, and why in the world did he look so
sad
?
“What’s wrong?” she asked, nearly gasped. Suddenly it was hard to get a breath. “You look—what’s wrong with me?”
“This is your name in our language,” he said quietly, gently. “You can only speak our language in your mind, in water.”
“I can’t speak your language at all! When I talk to fish and—and Artur and Tennian and those guys, we’re speaking English.”
“You are not. You are speaking the ancient language of all the seas, the tongue that was common long before a fish who wanted to be a man crawled out of the ocean and grew lungs. We—the Undersea Folk—we know it through ancestral memories. We are all born knowing it. When you communicate with us telepathically, you are speaking our ancient tongue. It cannot be taught; you must have the memories for it, the ancient memories. But your mother’s blood is strong in you, and—it’s not just your teeth, daughter.”
“What—I—what?”
“You can never read our legends. You can never communicate with us on land in our language. We can learn English . . . or French . . . or Italian. Those chatterings are ludicrously simple compared to the much older language of the sea. That is why we can speak with you on land. But you never can speak our tongue, hear those thoughts, read those stories, learn those legends. And you might pass on that—that surface-dweller trait—” My, how diplomatic he was! “You might pass that on to any children you give the prince.”
Fred sat, frozen, and digested everything he had told her. “Why—why didn’t Tennian tell me? Why didn’t Artur?”
“I suspect,” he said softly, “they could not bear to.”
“Well.” She mulled the shock of the day over for a minute or two. “That explains why Artur acts so weird whenever I do an un-mermaid-like thing.”
“With all respect to the prince, your—ah—genetic inability to understand our language presents a considerable handicap.” Farrem paused, then added, “He must love you a great deal to wish you for his queen.”
“Yes,” she said sharply, “he managed to overcome his repugnance at the thought of my gross defect.” Which wasn’t far from the truth. Certainly when Artur had first realized her limits, he and Tennian had acted as if she’d been born blind or something. Sad, and sympathetic, and slightly weirded out. It had been—
“Forgive me. I—I was thoughtless and—and cruel.”
She waved a hand. “No, no. It’s just—the shock, is all. And the thing is, I think my, um, handicap or what-have-you bothers him more than he lets on.”
“It matters not, if he loves you, and he must—a great deal! I truly meant no offense. I was surprised. I naturally assumed one of my blood—Oh, Fredrika,” he said sadly. “I am so very sorry.”
“For God’s sake, what are we, at a wake? I told you, it’s fine.”
But was it?
She was amazed that Artur would chance her polluting the royal family with—to be brutally honest—surface-dweller retardation. What good was a future king
who couldn’t speak or read the fucking language
?
Did Artur perhaps feel that, after pursuing her for two years, he could not back down? Could not take back his proposal when she told him she’d marry him?
“It’s fine,” she repeated stubbornly.
“Then you are truly of my blood, Fredrika, because we have both acquitted ourselves in difficult situations.”
“If you say so. Listen, I get your remorse and everything, and I probably wouldn’t be the only one. Maybe if some of the, uh, old guard heard you talking like that, they might—”
She quit when he laughed.
“All right, maybe that’s naïve. But here’s something you might not know—people from my generation don’t blame me for what you did. They weren’t around for what you did. My friend Tennian doesn’t blame me, and her friend Wennd doesn’t, either—it’s a story to them and that’s all.”
“Wennd?”
“Oh, just the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t get me started. Anyway, that’s the generation I’ll be ruling. Maybe I could un-banish you when I become queen.”
He looked at her for a long time. Finally he said, “You are your mother’s daughter. Which is more than I deserve. I will not hold you to what you just said, and I will not repeat it, ever, because I would not jeopardize your throne for anything. But I will never forget it.”
He leaned in. Touched her hair. Turned.
Left.