The Seafarer's Kiss
Julia Ember
Part 1: God of Lies The trickster god takes many shapes, but they are without voice. Voices they must steal, or remain creatures of silence, powerless without their silver-coated words.
ICE TABLET A21
“On all the ships the sails were reefed and there was fear and trembling. But quietly she sat there, upon her drifting iceberg, and watched the blue forked lightning strike the sea.”
—Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid
One
The amethyst dagger called to me from inside the drowned man’s chest. The purple hilt gleamed in the light filtering through the rotted floorboards of the ship’s deck. Careful not to disturb the bones, I slipped my hand through the skeleton’s exposed ribs and pulled the dagger out. It was a prize indeed, different from anything I had in my collection. The blade’s edge was still sharp, despite years at the bottom of the ocean.
I could already imagine how the dagger would look glittering beside the helmet and breastplate that I kept behind my table. All my life, I’d collected contraband from these sunken ships: delicate jewels of pearl and gold, bronze statues of animals that roamed the lands far away, a shield engraved with flying creatures that looked like manta rays coasting through the skies. I hid the illegal trinkets in my room and treasured them.
Dodging rusted nails and jagged planks of ancient wood, I swam up through the ship’s broken hull. The sunlight above was already fading; midwinter days were over in a matter of hours. I’d wanted to explore the rest of the wreck, to see what other treasures decay had unveiled since my last visit. But if I didn’t hurry back, I’d miss the noon meal, and, this close to The Grading, the king was sure to notice my absence. If we didn’t eat, weren’t seen to prepare, then he’d want to know why.
Tucking the dagger into my satchel, I swam for home.
When I reached our ice mountain fortress, the hallways were already empty as the rest of the merfolk inside congregated for the meal. I slipped into the great hall unnoticed and took a clamshell tray from the matron who supervised the food line.
I helped myself to a portion of shark fin and a few sand crab legs, covered in a light dusting of brine, and found a quiet space at the end of one of the long ice tables. If I ate quickly, I might have an hour to explore before the sea went black.
I caught the flash of Havamal’s silver scales from the corner of my eye. Scowling, I tossed my half-eaten shark fin onto my plate and then reached under the table to retrieve my satchel. A pair of chattering seals had woken me before dawn, and I was in no mood to talk to my former best friend today, not when I had things to do and a ship I wanted to get back to. But before I could I swim away, Havamal put his tray down and scooted along the ice bench to sit beside me.
I growled under my breath. Havamal studied my plate, and then reached over. “Oh, shark fin. They were out by the time I got here. You going to eat that?”
“Help yourself. I was just about to go.”
“Oh, come on. I just got here.” He sank his teeth into the gnawed fin. Across the table, Vigdis and a handful of other mermaids giggled. Havamal gave them his most charming smile, and I fought the urge to be sick. He was always putting on a show. Then, his blue-gray eyes more solemn, he turned to me and tried to lay a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Erie, you can’t stay mad at me forever.”
I stiffened. Before he’d betrayed all our plans by joining the King’s Guard, we had been inseparable. I couldn’t forgive what he’d done. After all the years we’d been friends, Havamal should know me well enough to understand that.
But as I moved to pull away from him, I was thrown backward into the table by a sudden impact. Havamal reached for me as the floors of our ice fortress shook. A beam of yellow sunlight, brighter than any jellyfish, burst through a network of cracks across the ice of the vaulted ceiling. He tugged me out of the way as Odin’s bust shattered above us and sharp blades of ice plunged into the water. Fingers shaking, I reached for his hand. My heart beat so hard all the blood rushed to my ears.
We all pivoted in our seats, looking to the king for answers. Pulling his whalebone trident from behind his throne, King Calder swam down from his frozen crystal dais. He glanced around the room, then motioned a trio of red-tailed guards toward him. With a sigh, Havamal squeezed my fingers, then released my hand. He adjusted the mother-of-pearl harpoon on his shoulder, then leaned over to whisper, “Stay here until we confirm that it’s safe.”
He swam to the king and took his place among the other guards. I wanted to bristle—I had just as much right to know what was going on as he did—but my heart still pounded against my ribs. I wrapped my arms around my shaking chest.
Havamal’s cousin Sila tucked her lilac hair behind her ears and shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing. A lightning bolt, maybe. It could be the start of the spring storms.”
“It’s broad daylight.” I gestured up toward the sunlight pouring in through our fractured roof. I didn’t have a lot of patience for Sila or her stupidity, though she wasn’t the worst of Vigdis’s crowd. “Do you see any lightning or any rain?”
“Maybe an ice bear?” Sila bit her lip.
“That would have to be one enormous bear.” Vigdis snorted and rolled her coral eyes. “To crack the glacier? It’s an iceberg. Maybe a blue whale.”
Neither of those explanations made sense either. We hadn’t had a storm in weeks, so the water was calm and the bergs bobbed in place. Spring could be months away. Though the tide was low enough to drop the water level in the hall to the top of the king’s throne, the sea kept its frozen edge. Whatever had caused this quake had to be heavy and traveling fast.
“Maybe humans,” I whispered, and the other mermaids went silent. A little jolt of electricity passed through me, like the shock from a jellyfish. A traveling ship could hit the ice mountain with enough force to crack it.
Few humans dared to sail between the treacherous icebergs of our northern waters. The past few years had been some of the coldest we’d ever known, and the floating death traps littered the sea. I’d never seen a human alive before. I only knew what the creatures looked like in death, when water had bloated their pale flesh and sea crabs had picked meat from their skulls, or after the harsh sea currents had stripped them to salt and bone. But some of our legends—those written on the ice tablets King Calder kept locked away now—said that the humans were as beautiful as the gods. I wasn’t sure I believed that. Their corpses always looked scrawny with ugly, bare skins. But if humans sailed above us now, I intended to find out.