Siren Daughter

by Cassie Day

  Plopping onto my knees, I ignore the ache of stone digging into my skin to catch his eye. “Where do I need to go?”

  A loud chew. “There’s an island by the name of Kasos. There you’ll find a library open to all. Search their maps and books to find what you seek. If it’s recorded, anyway.”

  At my furrowed brows, he continues. “The library towers above all else on Kasos much like our temple. There are great stone pillars holding the building upright. The books within record stories, the maps record places. Understand?”

  Slowly, I nod. Then pause and shake my head. “But where is Kasos?”

  “You wouldn’t know,” he mumbles. He stands with a groan of pain, grabbing a gnarled stick to the side. Louder, he continues. “You’ll swim far off our coast, closer to the town of Nisos.”

  While he speaks, he begins shaping pictures in the dirt with the point of the stick. Dirt becomes a bounty of land, the Prasinos landmass, and the islands surrounding it.

  He makes a dot on a cluster of three small islands directly off Kyma’s coast. I’ve seen them on the horizon many times. “These are the Kavalio Isles. You’ll know them by the sharp rocks surrounding them. This will be your starting point.”

  He pauses to draw more islands. The ebbing lines of the mainland mass flow beneath the stick. “Reach a river stretching inland or two crescent-shaped islands curving around each other and you’ve gone too far.”

  He taps an island. “This is Kasos.”

  A wide swath of sea separates the island from the mainland. South of Kasos, he sketches four islands, two of which resemble crescent moons curved around one another. He stops, tapping his stick on one of the moons. “Let’s hope you don’t venture farther than Kasos. Medusa and her brethren, the Gorgons, are said to reside on Khios.”

  I trace the detailed pictures with a fingertip. Again and again until I’m sure the shapes will be in my dreams for years to come.

  I stand only to drop into a bow. “Thank you, Cosmas.”

  “You’re welcome.” He clears his throat. “I wish you the best of luck. Should you need a story to lift your serious mood, you know where to find me.”

  Looking into his kind face, I wonder what else waits at the tip of his tongue. His mouth purses to one side. His gaze skitters away. At his sides, his hands shake until he clutches the stick between them.

  “I know you said to wait,” Bion says from behind me.

  I startle, wheeling around.

  He grins, peeking at me from beneath the fringe of his hair. Only on him could such a look be both worrying and charming. “But I’m glad I came! If you go somewhere else, you won’t have me to give you clothes.”

  Sighing, I can’t help but agree. There’s no one else quite like this boy. “I suppose I can’t be angry with you, then.”

  He laughs. Even the chattering women smile, some joining with their own giggles.

  A bag with an odd sheen sits in the crook of his elbow. When he catches me looking, he grins, all bashfulness.

  He thrusts the bag forward. I catch it before it can thump against my stomach, grasping at the oily fabric.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “If you’re going elsewhere...” His stare flicks to Cosmas. How much did Bion hear of our conversation? “You can’t go naked.”

  He clears his throat, cheeks stained pink.

  My mouth twitches into a smirk. Mortals and their fears of a bare body will forever be amusing.

  He puffs his chest out, embarrassment forgotten. “So I brought you a gift. Go on, open it!”

  I struggle with the ties holding it closed, fingers clumsy in my haste. Bion waits, bouncing in place.

  Finally, the top loosens. I wedge my hand inside. It hits a bundle of fabric, smoother and lighter than any dress I’ve worn.

  “It’s a dress,” Bion says. “A nice one! And some sandals too.”

  Smiling, I reach deeper to feel the stiff leather of the sandals. They’re a rich mahogany brown while the dress shines a golden yellow much like the cup-shaped flowers scattered in grass between Kyma’s houses.

  “Your mother won’t miss this?”

  “She hates the color. Says it makes her look like a slab of butter.” He rolls his eyes. “And the sandals pinch her feet. But yours are smaller so you’ll be okay, I think.”

  Tears gather at the corner of my eyes. I sniff, trying to will them away.

  “Don’t cry! They’ll survive the water, I promise.” He tugs on a corner of the bag. I relinquish it. “The fabric resists water if the bag is sealed just right.”

  I smile through my tears. Does he think I’m crying over the possibility of ruined clothing? The thought is enough to keep tears at bay. Enough for me to laugh, low and wet.

  With his tongue poked out one side of his mouth, he folds and cinches the bag until the top becomes invisible among the rest. Only looped cords give away any sign of a top. Grabbing my hands, he loops the cords around one of my wrists over and over until the bag sits bulky but flush against my skin. “There!”

  “Thank you.”

  I grab him in a tight hug, breathing in his scent of sweet grass and sun-warmed sand. I lift him. Hair tickles the underside of my chin. He laughs, arms coming around my hips in a squeezing hold.

  When I let go, he bounces onto the stone, scrubbing a hand over one red cheek. His other hand keeps a tight grip on my free wrist. “I’ll walk you to the shore.”

  I wave to Cosmas, barely managing a goodbye before Bion’s towing me between the buildings.

  When we stop with the sand beneath our feet and the sea lapping at our toes, Bion speaks. “Don’t say goodbye.”

  I shake my head. “Does it mean something different above?”

  He digs one foot into the sand, frowning. “No. But goodbye feels too final. We’ll see each other again, won’t we? You owe me a game, after all.”

  My heart trips over the next few beats. Once I go to Nekros, will I return? Will I live long enough to return? I don’t know. I watch him blink away tears and try to hide his shaking hands. I can’t tell him I don’t know—I can’t.

  “What shall I say instead?”

  His grin lights up more than his face; it lights the entire shore. Warmth settles beneath my rib cage.

  “Say see you soon.”

  With a smile, I nod. “See you soon, Bion.”

  He mirrors my nod. “See you soon, Agathe.”

  While the change turns me within the safety of the waves, I keep my eyes above the surface. I ignore the exhaustion weighing me down. Ignore the tears burning at the back of my throat. All to watch him disappear between two dunes.

  Chapter 7

  JAGGED ROCKS LOOM, the crags home to a host of noisy gulls fighting for the best spot. Their cries fill the air, dulling the bustling noise of nearby fishing boats.

  So these are the Kavalio Isles?

  I close my eyes, drifting in the waves while trying to catch my breath. My muscles loosen but it doesn’t stop the pulsing ache from swimming so far. Sleep claws at my eyelids. Each blink brings Cosmas’ map to the forefront of my mind. I’m at his starting point.

  The day spent above is taking its toll. If I hadn’t eaten a heaping portion of tuna before leaving, the black dots on the outside edge of my vision would win. I’d be unconscious by now, easy pickings for a shark.

  Wicked teeth curving around my body—my eyes snap open. I must keep moving.

  Diving beneath, I skirt the rocks. Soon, the trio of islands are on the horizon. With every few undulations of my tail, I wiggle my fingers, twine my hair in one webbed hand, or stroke the bag hanging from my wrist. Anything to keep myself awake while noon burns bright on the surface above.

  The water near the surface is over-warm. Winter is ending and with it, Persephone’s home in Nekros with Hades. Soon she’ll return to Demeter, her doting mother in the Olympian Palace in the largest city, Athansi. How foul will Hades’ mood be when I stand before him?

  Days pass. I spend each night curl
ed in a random cove, sleeping when paranoia of a creature snapping me to shards of bone ebbs enough to rest. The sleep is never enough. Each day the dots in my vision curve closer.

  One sunset, when the sky is painted shades of fire orange and deepest indigo, a swath of land appears on the horizon. I squint, trying to determine if this is one of the crescent moon islands.

  But no, there's no curve to the land. This must be Kasos. One more night spent in an endless cycle of wake-sleep-wake and I’ll be upon it.

  There’s magic in hope. Sleep settles deep on this night. I don’t wake until morning light seeps into the small cove, shining through the sea until it glimmers turquoise. Black dots no longer crowd my vision.

  My stomach grumbles. I pause to crack open nearby crabs for their rich meat. Their pitted orange shells float to the seafloor. I mourn their loss even as their flesh fills my stomach.

  Stomach full, I begin swimming again. There’s no need to keep myself awake with movements of my fingers. A startling awareness has cleared the fog from my mind.

  Even the sky above is bluer. The pod of whales I pass flop and spin against the surface, their noise snapping song strings between us. I’m tempted to join their celebrations but force myself past.

  A school of fish swims by in a flash of silver scales. I stroke a smooth side before the fish is swallowed by the protection of the school. Then they’re gone, diving deeper into the Akri.

  Open sea becomes the sloping edges of Kasos’ shoreline. I swim until I see buildings with smoke curling from their rooftops and boats crowding a long dock. Gulls cry above, swooping away from nests on nearby rocks to swarm fishing boats.

  There’s not a single person on the beach I find nestled among a plethora of rocks and dunes. The change sears through. Each time is less painful than the last. Bion’s bag of clothing gives me trouble until finally I untie the cord just right and the entire top unravels.

  The dress is soft against my skin. Pins I hadn't noticed before secure the shoulders. The sandals I tie with fingers still slippery from the surf. I do my best with my hair, braiding it back and hoping it stays in place instead of curling into a frizzy mess.

  I climb the smallest dune. The sand shifts with each step, sending me pitching forward or outright falling to my knees. Yet when I reach the top, it’s worth the trouble.

  A town half the size of Kyma waits ahead. Smoke curls from stone chimneys set in thatched rooftops. The smell of cooked food wafts on a warm breeze. The dirt roads are wider than Kyma’s yet full of as many honking geese and women with baskets propped on their hips.

  Gaze darting around, I search for the library. On the farthest edge of town, a building towers above from the rest. Set on a gently sloping hill, it’s tall and carved from pale stone. Great pillars of carved stone hold a length of the jutting front roof in place. The pillars Cosmas spoke of!

  I tumble down the dune and enter the maze of roads. Within minutes, I find one leading straight to the library.

  The sun arches across the sky. Finally, I stand beneath the enormous library shadow. The pillars stretch wider than four of me put together. The stairs are wide and imposing. I hesitate at the base of the steps.

  I can still turn around.

  Wiping sweaty hands on my dress, I shake the thought away. My knees wobble with each step into the library. What is so intimidating about this place?

  The knowledge I stand on a fine line: one side is a return to the Akri and the other a journey into Nekros, realm of the dead.

  I close my eyes on a deep inhale. When I open them, the doors are at my front. One is propped open, gently rocking with each breeze from the nearby sea. The wood is a simple slab. Nothing to trace or mull over.

  Another deep breath and I step into the library.

  The space is open with no walls or levels impeding my view. Endless shelves of books bound with stiff leather, holding yellowed papers. Lamps set on tables between the aisles of low shelves. They do little to light the cavernous place.

  Maybe this is a mistake.

  I back away. My hip knocks into the door. Creeeak.

  “Is someone there?” A croaking voice calls from the depths of the shelves.

  I clear my throat. There’s no turning back now. “Hello?”

  A man scurries from between two shelves, his body hunched until his face stares at the ground more than his surroundings. Yet he maneuvers easily, body pivoting with a grace I don’t expect.

  “One moment,” he says.

  There are stacks of books tucked under each of his arms. He sighs, setting them in seemingly random spots while he weaves through the shelves.

  He croaks a laugh. Sparse hair sticks to his wrinkled head, not unlike dandelion tufts stuck to a withering bud.

  “No need to be surprised. This old man can still do his job quite well!”

  “Job?” I echo.

  I try to catch his unblinking stare. His eyes slide right past me, settling somewhere over my shoulder. I glance over my shoulder. There’s nothing behind me. With a furrowed brow, I stare at him again.

  A beam of sunlight from the open door catches on his eyes, revealing them to be brown. Or what was once brown. A film of cream clouds the color until it’s discolored to match the bound papers surrounding him.

  “Why, yes,” he says, mouth pursed into a frown. “I’m the head librarian of this illustrious library.”

  “Your eyes.” The words slip past before I can stop them.

  He drops his last book with a grunt. “Yes, yes, I’m blind. Such a lovely girl you are to point it out.”

  Blind. Our elderly lose sight as they age yet never enough to impede them before death comes calling. Never enough to leave more than hints of white in their pupil.

  And his eyes are ruined! How does he scuttle around this maze of a library so easily?

  With a slap of his hands, a cloud of dust rises from his palms. “Now, how can I help?”

  I force my spine straight. Step further into the library depths, leaving the sliver of outside light behind for dim lamplight. “I seek maps of the realm.”

  “Maps,” he says, pivoting around. “Maps, maps, maps,” he continues to chant as he winds through the shelves.

  Between one minute and the next, I lose sight of him among shelves. Light struggles to pierce the darkness gathered. Squinting, I shuffle forward and lean against a table. The table shifts beneath my weight. The lamp atop flickers, sending a ripple of light further outward.

  Nothing. No sign of him.

  Yet I hear the rustle of paper scraping together. Hear his chant of maps, maps, maps.

  Unease ripples across my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I look back toward the sliver of the open door. This was a mistake. I can still leave and—what? Return to the sea empty-handed. Without a way to retrieve my mother.

  I snort a humorless laugh. No. I’ll stay.

  The librarian’s head pokes from between two shelves. My heart lurches. The rest of him steps into the light, two rolled papers trailing from the crook of each arm.

  He hefts them atop the table with a grunt. “These should do.”

  He begins unrolling one. Two heavy rocks I didn’t notice before are placed atop each curling end by his steady hands.

  The realm unfolds before me. I trace a finger over the detailed rendition of waves to the east. A towering structure juts from the open Synoro Sea to the south. Islands surround the land. I count thirteen. So many places to explore!

  The scrawled names, letters crowded close together, are difficult to decipher. But the names of the islands don’t matter, only what sits atop them. Still, I squint and read them one by one, grateful for Aunt’s insistence we learn to read by scraping letters in thick algae.

  “What’s this?” I ask, pointing to an island to the north-east corner decorated with a large building.

  He coughs. A layer of dust lifts from the map. “The island of Crete, said to hold a temple to the god-king, Zeus. See these cliffs? They make the island near unr
eachable if not for this one canal.”

  This time two islands in the west, not far from Kasos, with the crescent moon shapes Cosmas spoke of. “And these?”

  “The twin islands of Khios and Kos, said to host the Gorgons.”

  And so we continue. Each point is a test of his remaining vision for the names of some truly are minuscule. Tiny enough I squint along with him. Yet no matter where I point, nothing stands out. No great proclamation of an entrance to Nekros.

  By the time the lamp on our table burns low, there's nothing left to ask. Sickness pulls at my insides, leaving my stomach a knotted mess. My vision blurs with more than perpetual squinting.

  With a sigh, I stretch my neck, groaning as the muscles pinch. The door is still propped open but the sky beyond is dark. Night has fallen and with it, my chances of finding an answer today.

  He releases the map from the rocks. It snaps closed. “What is it you seek?”

  Cosmas said to ask for maps. He didn’t say what to look for or how long this could take. A quick glance around shows endless years of searching through the library. Years.

  I can’t wait years.

  Wiping sweaty palms on my dress, I clear my throat. “I seek an entrance to Nekros.”

  He stumbles backward. “No mortal should go looking for such a place.”

  My face burns hot. I hide how my hands shake by balling them into fists. His height is three inches less than mine; his body thin and stooped with age. He is no strong fisherman.

  “I’m no mortal,” I rasp. “I’m a siren.”

  “Ha! The sirens were drowned two centuries ago.” He chuckles, rubbing a hand over his scraggly head. “Foolish girl.”

  “Then what of the fishermen? Do they lie about the songs they hear from their boats?”

  Stop, part of me whispers. I ignore that voice. I’m no cowering mortal, no cowering girl. My mother won’t rot in Nekros. Not while I still live. If he refuses to give me what I seek, I’ll sing the information from him.

  Twin spots of pink tint his cheeks. “The fishermen are uncultured fools. These books.” He gestures behind him. “All of them agree: the sirens are dead.”