I run down to the pier to see if she’s there, helping her husband with his nets, but Gunther is alone. He hails me, asks after my health. He’s much friendlier since yesterday’s adventure. I ask if the mermaid has been spotted, but Gunther says no.

“She’s probably dead on the bottom of the sea,” he says. “With my best harpoon stuck in her.”

Wishing him well, I stride through town, taking a meandering route past the smithy’s forge and around the net weaver’s stall. I slow my pace when I come to Gunther’s cottage. It is a sad-looking hovel with a sagging roof and a door that tilts badly in its frame. Knocking on Agnet’s door would not be wise. Her neighbors would see. Visiting a wife while the husband is fishing is simply not done in our village. Well, it is, but it is done on the sly, and by cleverer men than myself.

The street is empty, so I knock. There is no answer. Stepping back, I see no smoke from the chimney. She must be out, so I hurry home.

Passing the tanner’s hut, I spot Titus flensing a dolphin carcass. I wave hello, but, as usual, he pretends not to see me. We used to be best friends, Titus and I. As boys, we speculated endlessly on the mysteries of the wedding night, often taking turns playing bride and groom to unlock the riddle of the conjugal bed. Until Father caught us. He caned us both that day. Since then, Titus refuses to speak to me, or even acknowledge me in public.

Father has a list of chores for me, all of which I ignore as I scurry down the passageway to the fishing shed. I have with me a salve that Bryndis made to treat injuries. It is a foul-smelling ointment of eel grease and lavender, but it helps to close open wounds. Will it work on scaly flesh?

The mermaid’s eyes are open when I splash into the water under the shed. She neither startles nor recoils at my appearance. Was she expecting me? I am surprised to find the crab untouched in its trap. Does she not realize it’s for her, or does she dislike the taste of crab? Not everyone cares for it.

I don’t want to frighten her. I want to reassure the creature that I mean no harm.

“Are you feeling any better?”

Her eyes are green upon green. The mouth is a flat line, betraying nothing. If there are fangs, I do not see them.

I hold up the pot of ointment. “I brought something for the wound. Will you let me salve it?”