This morning’s adventure, being Gunther’s oarsman, was a bitter twist to it all. Funny now, to think of becoming second-mate on his fishing boat. It’s not all bitter, I suppose. At least I got to see Agnet for a short time. She is usually trapped inside Gunther’s little cottage. The feel of her fingertips on my brow has broken something inside me. Looking at our initials carved in the floor is brine to a sucking flesh wound. I slide the rope back to hide it.
Under the floor, I hear the water lap and crash on the rocks. But there is another sound, odd and out of place. An outlandish, plaintive noise.
The water is cold on my shins as I climb down to see what’s under the fishing hut. All I see is a scaly hide, enormous and coiled in the tight space between rock and shed. And then I see her face, and the netting tangled tight over the mermaid’s flukes.
6
6
I GAPE STUPIDLY at it, my brain trying to catch up with what my eyes are seeing. The thing we had chased in the harbor is coiled up under the hut, tangled in netting and bleeding from the harpoon strike. It flinches at my appearance, recoiling further into the cramped space between the wooden structure and the rocks. The tail is enormous in length, the scales iridescent in this light. Pale skin and hair the color of kelp. The fingers are webbed, the eyes dark and locked right on me.
I should run. I should scream for help and bring the entire village down to see what I’ve found, but I don’t. My brain flops this way and that, trying to simply comprehend this creature, this luremaid.
Both of my hands go up, palms exposed. “I do not mean you any harm.”
It does not reply, of course. It flinches at the sound of my voice and retreats further into the tight space. Did I really expect it to speak the same language? Or even understand me?
It is clearly hurt. There’s blood everywhere and the wound in her ribs is raw and gaping. The tail is tangled in the fisherman’s net so tight that it cuts into the scaly flesh. It grimaces each time it moves, the net cutting deeper. Tangled thus, it cannot swim. I’m surprised the creature made it this far.
I’m unsure what to do, snared between an urge to run to Father and another, contradictory urge to help this beast. The outcome of the former makes me shudder, so I choose the latter. I slip the knife from my belt. When I move closer, the creature hisses at me. It is an awful sound.