I am an idiot, mourning over a block of wood. But it remains a dangerous thing for Agnet, so I pitch it as far as I can out to sea. It bobs, flashing on the waves, until the current carries it away and I cannot see it anymore. It is done. She is safe. Does anything else matter?

When I return to the church, my father’s voice is echoing through the rafters, calling my sister’s name. There is no reply, which only sharpens his tone.

“Where is your sister?”

“I don’t know. The kitchen?”

His face is red from hollering. “I have looked everywhere. She is not here. Did she run off to see that pauper’s son?”

My face remains stone. I play the fool. “Who?”

“Calder, that beggar boy.” He wags a finger meant for my sister at me. “I’ve told her to stay away from that lad. She is betrothed to Sligo now.”

I didn’t know he was aware of Bryndis’ sweetheart. How could he not, of course. Our sister has taken to weeping in the pantry over her upcoming nuptials.

“She said nothing to me about it,” I tell him. “I’m sure she’ll return soon.”

He stops pacing, looks at me. “What is wrong with your hand?”

The swelling on my wrist has not abated. The mermaid bite is painful. I have taken to cradling my hand inside my shirt to protect it.

“It’s nothing.”

“Let me see.”

He does not like the swelling nor the yellowy discolor of it. The ring of teeth marks are still visible and when he asks what made it, I tell him the truth.

“The thing has venom,” he says, turning the wrist to the light of the window. “Does it sting?”

“Only if I bump it against something. Otherwise, it’s numb.”

“Did it speak to you? Down there, under the hut?”

“No, sir. I spoke to it, but I do not think we speak the same language.”

He lets go of my arm. “Would you say it has some intelligence, this thing? Or is it just a wild animal? All instinct and appetite?”

I tell him it is highly intelligent. You can see it in her eyes. She is like us. My father’s mouth twists, finding the idea distasteful.

“Father,” I say respectfully, “do you think the mermaid has a soul? Like we do?”

“Do fish have souls? Do sharks pray?” He finds the idea amusing. “Only man has a soul, Kaspar. I should think you would know this. Have I failed my own son in his moral teachings?”

“No, sir.”

A sneeze sounds from the doorway. Pip stands there watching us. He sports a blue cap on his bulbous head, and nothing else.

“Pitr,” grumbles my father. “For goodness sakes, put some clothes on.”

Pip removes the hat and wipes his nose with it.

I turn to my brother. “Pip, where is Bryndis?”

“She’s with the others.”