“It might be less,” Nausicaa conceded. She looked amused. “But it was a time of few men on the earth, and there were many fewer ships then, all with oars. There were places where the whales swam so thick that it could be hard to find enough room between them to reach the surface, and everything was clean. I cannot believe, sometimes, that the world has not yet crumbled to dust from so much time passing by.”

“But how have you survived? I mean, all that time . . .” As Luce said this she noticed that Nausicaa’s smile had turned strained.

“Death does not like the taste of me, I suppose.” Nausicaa looked away, and Luce saw something almost grim in her eyes. “I have taken enough risks. I have traveled the world around and again around, more times than I can remember. I know so many languages that I could tell you a story speaking only one word from each. And on many occasions I have come very close to dying, but something always interferes. Today it was you. A new mermaid, but with the courage of one so long in the sea that death has become an empty threat, and with the rare power of singing so that the water will understand her. Yet she will not be called queen. Very little can still make me wonder, Luce. But with you I admit I am curious.”

Luce looked down at the bright crescents of seafoam, the subtle glow of her own hands refracting through the night black water. “You can ask me whatever you want, if you’re curious about me. But I don’t think it’ll be very interesting for you, Nausicaa. I mean, I’ve only been a mermaid since April, and anyway you said you probably already know my story. Remember? You said all the stories turn out to be the same.”

Nausicaa laughed. Her deep olive-bronze skin gave off a richer light than Luce’s, a strong greenish gold. “Perhaps someday someone will change that story. Perhaps you will, Luce. Then the story will be new, even for me. I would be very pleased if that were so.”

Luce looked up at her, intrigued. “Change it how?”

“If I could guess that,” Nausicaa observed sardonically, “I might be the one to do the changing.” She suddenly looked bored, and Luce winced at the idea that Nausicaa was already getting tired of her. Still, the conversation made Luce think of another moment several months before, another mermaid murmuring to her in the darkness.

“What you’re saying—it reminds me of my friend Miriam. She thought it was pointless to kill humans, when there were always more of them anyway. She couldn’t understand why we had to keep doing the same things over and over.” Luce felt her stomach seize up. She was painfully anxious to hear what Nausicaa thought about sinking human ships.