Silence follows the fist on the table. Even Pip has enough sense to lower his eyes and wipe his nose. Father’s face hardens, the scowl biting deeper. The news of the mermaid distresses him. Why? Perhaps because there is no mention of such creatures in our sacred texts. There are giants and trolls in the Book of Sorrows & Indiscretions, and there are dragons and witches aplenty in the Proverbs of Carcosa, but no mermaids. There is Serpentus, the giant sea monster that ruled chaos until the One True God slew it, using its carcass to create the earth. Is the creature under the fishing hut related to it somehow?

Bryndis is the first to break the silence. “Where did it come from? Why is it here?”

These same questions keep circling the conversation, turning speculation wilder with each orbit. I imagine the same discussions are being debated at every supper table in the village. Riddles without solutions. The Reverend Uriah remains silent, not offering any speculation as to where the creature came from or what it wants.

Bryndis is still talking. “Did God create such a creature?” she asks. “Or did the Devil?”

Father broods. He sets the spoon down. Pip makes a face at our sister.

Bryn’s conjectures set my own mind turning. Without meaning to, I utter aloud my thoughts. “What if there are things older than God?”

The bowls jump when the fist comes down again. I’ve gone too far. My father’s eyes are blacker than coal.

“Do you think you’re being funny, Kaspar? Blasphemy amuses you, does it? Makes you sound clever?”

He dabs his beard and hurls the napkin to the table. Walks away. A door slams. The three of us sit there like turnips, scolded.

Pip rattles the spoon against his teeth. “Do you think she has a name?”

Bryndis is irritable. “Don’t be silly. Do fish have names?”

“Everything has a name.” Pip scratches his armpit, chasing a flea. He holds it up to the light. “Even this flea has a name.”

“Is that so?” sneers Bryndis. “And what is that pest’s name?”

“Flea.”

Bryndis throws her hands up and we clear the table. As pumpkin-headed as he is, Pip can run circles around anyone in an argument.

***

I lied when I vowed to tell no one of the mermaid’s existence. There is one person I am desperate to tell, but there is little of hope of doing so. I wake early the next day and stoke the fire in the kitchen. Hook the cauldron over it to make father’s tea. He prefers coffee, but we haven’t had any in over two years. The trading ships rarely stop in our remote port.