Tears of the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  Then, he’d smiled, wished her well, and told her to behave before turning and strolling out of her life as if she meant nothing to him at all.

  Thank goodness the Ackers couldn’t see very well, or they’d have wondered where all the pearls had come from.

  With her sorrow long spent, fury now broiled within her. Savion thought he was so good, so righteous, so perfect! Humph. This was no way to treat another human being! Or part human being. Though it was only midafternoon, she excused herself by reason of exhaustion, went to her chamber, slipped out the window, and headed for the center of town, where most sailors assembled when they weren’t on their ships. If Savion was anywhere, he would be among them making arrangements to rescue the stranded people.

  Finding him turned out to be difficult. Yet, after an hour of slinking around peeking in windows, she was rewarded. He sat at a table in the Dry Desert Tavern flanked by his crew, talking to a group of Malum. Malum? How odd.

  Backing away from the window, she scanned the street. Evening descended, reeling in the remaining light. Lanterns began to flicker from shops and street posts. Across from the tavern stood a small draper’s shop. The owner had just lit a lantern in the window. Perfect.

  ’Twas a preposterous plan that probably wouldn’t work, but it was all she could think of at the moment. Spurred on by her anger at Savion, her broken heart, and her desperation to try everything—anything—to lift the curse in her last two days on land, she tossed all concern aside for anything, save her mission. She would not slip back into the sea without a fight!

  Pulling pins from her hair, she shook out the strands and allowed them to tumble down her back. Then stepping in front of the Dry Desert Tavern window, she lingered there long enough to ensure Savion spotted her. Once he did, she crossed the street and entered the draper’s, smiling.

  ♥♥♥

  “We wish a word with you, young Savion.”

  The Malum’s voice turned Savion’s stomach before he even looked at the man—a lieutenant in Natas’s army by the insignia on his arm and collar. He was flanked by two others of lesser rank: one short, one tall—both with empty eyes and sinister scowls.

  Petrok rose to his feet beside Savion, hand on the hilt of his sword. Hona and Verrad did the same. Giving his men a cautious look, Savion also stood and crossed arms over his chest, studying the warrior.

  Savion had just concluded making arrangements for five ships to return to the island and rescue the stranded people. Everything was going well. Perdita was settled in a good home—he ignored the pang in his heart at the thought—and his business here in Mirkesh was concluded. Good thing, because the city was overrun with Malum, which was another reason for him to leave posthaste. Besides, he had no sense of need here, and the sooner he put distance between he and Perdita, the better.

  But now, this Malum lieutenant stood before him looking more smug and assured than normal, pricking Savion’s nerves. Never had they requested an audience with him. Never had they directly attacked him.

  Not until he’d met Perdita.

  “I’m listening,” Savion said.

  “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

  Savion merely stared at him in return. A large man, as some of them were, the lieutenant stood at least a foot above Savion, the breadth of his shoulders reminding him of a sturdy yard on a mast. His dark ratty hair fell down his back. A tiny gold sword hung from his left ear. Candlelight glittered over the various metals hanging on his uniform, while a skull gaped at Savion from a pendant on the man’s chest. His friends were shorter: one bald, whereas the other’s red hair was pleated and tied behind him. The stink of the three of them made Savion’s nose burn.

  “Very well, we’ll stand.” The Malum sneered. He snapped his fingers at a passing maid. “Bring us some bread and wine,” he ordered, then turned back to Savion. “You must be hungry after your long journey.”

  He was. Very hungry. It had been such a busy day, he’d forgotten to eat. “I will not eat bread with you, Malum.”

  “Hmm.”

  The woman brought a chunk of bread and a flagon of wine and left it on the table.

  “We are done here.” Savion started to leave, but the lieutenant stepped in front of him.

  “Natas would like to make you an offer.”

  “What sort of offer?” Petrok burst out angrily.

  Savion huffed. “Unless he is surrendering, I’m not interested.”

  All three Malum chuckled. The short one grabbed the flagon, took a swig, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stared at Savion and his friends as if they were cockroaches.

  The lieutenant smiled. “Why would Natas surrender when he already rules Erden?”

  “He doesn’t rule all of Erden. And someday he will rule none of it.” Savion said with authority. “Speak your offer. I grow weary waiting.”

  “He wishes to make you his second in command.” The Malum’s lip twitched. “Even above me.”

  “Not interested.” Savion started to leave when a flash of black hair outside the window caught his gaze. Perdita. She crossed the street and entered the draper’s. Against his will, his heart leapt in his chest. He hoped she was behaving herself and not getting into mischief.

  But she was no longer his problem.

  “Think of it,” the Malum continued. “You will rule Erden. You will have more power than anyone. More wealth.” He followed Savion’s glance out the window to Perdita. “More women.”

  Savion’s men were silent beside him as he studied the hideous man. Verrad cleared his throat, his eyes alight with interest. Petrok rubbed his chin as if he were pondering the implications. Did they wish him to take the offer? Were they that hungry for power that they would sell their souls to evil?

  “I would rather be the lowliest servant in Nevaeh than rule with Natas,” Savion returned.

  Verrad moaned.

  Shock crossed the Malum’s eyes before they hardened again into steel. He spat on the ground. “I told him you were a fool.”

  Savion pushed the Malum aside and headed toward the door.

  The crackle and spit of fire drew his attention across the street. The store Perdita had gone into was in flames!

  The Malum lieutenant grabbed Savion’s arm. “No need to risk yourself for the lady. She belongs to Natas. If you wish to put the fire out, do it from here—with but a word.” He leaned toward him, dousing Savion with his putrid breath. “Prove who you really are,” he whispered as his gaze landed on the medallion around Savion’s neck.

  Savion ripped from his grasp.

  “Use the authority given you.” The Malum reached for the medallion. Power crackled in the air between them. The amulet heated and sparks flew from it, striking the Malum’s hand. Screeching, he snatched it back, his eyes seething hatred.

  “I need prove nothing to you,” Savion said. “Nor to your master. Now leave.”

  Then turning, Savion rushed toward the burning building, his men on his heels.

  ♥♥♥

  One glance over her shoulder told Perdita that Savion had spotted her. He stood just inside the tavern talking to three Malum, but his eyes were on her. Smiling, she slipped inside the draper’s. Five minutes later, she had charmed the owner into believing there were some unsavory sorts behind his store who had attacked her, and grabbing his musket, he ran out to confront them. Biting her lip, she hesitated at the cruelty of her plan, but made a solemn vow to pay the man above and beyond any damage she inflicted. There was no other way. And she was running out of time. After ensuring there was no one else inside, she tipped over the lantern in the window and set the place ablaze.

  Flames spread quickly over the bolts of fabric, hungrily consuming everything in their path and reaching for the wooden roof. The owner returned, glanced over his shop with horror, and tried to drag her out the back with him. After she defiantly resisted, he left shouting for help.

  The crackle and roar of flames blared like thunder. Heat rose to sear her skin. She inched toward the ba
ck of the shop. Where was Savion? Surely he’d seen the fire! The thought that he would allow her to burn made her long to do just that—burn to ash and blow away in the wind. Surely the pain would be less than the one piercing her heart. Smoke filled her lungs. Hacking, she dropped to her knees seeking air. Another minute. She’d give him another minute.

  He never came.

  Fire reached for her legs, licking, devouring. She couldn’t breathe. Ducking beneath the smoke, she crawled toward the back door, guided by a light from outside. She tumbled down the back steps, gasping for air, and landed in the arms of a man.

  Savion!

  He carried her away from the smoke and flames as the owner returned with a dozen men hoisting buckets of water. She coughed and hacked and gulped for air and clutched his arms. Ah, the feel of him … the strength of him … she could never get enough!

  But he placed her on the ground. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “What?” She gaped at him, shocked by the fury storming across his face. “What do you mean? Why didn’t you come save me?”

  Petrok, Hona, and Verrad ran toward them, breathless.

  “I’ll take her home,” he said to his men. “Meet me back at the ship.”

  They nodded and left, scratching their heads and muttering amongst themselves.

  Savion led her away from the line of people passing buckets of water to put out the fire. But it was already out. Smoke curled and sizzled from what was left of the shop as the owner fell to his knees and stared at the devastation in shock.

  Grabbing Perdita’s arm harshly, Savion pulled her around the buildings and down Main Street. “What were you doing at the draper’s?”

  Why was he so angry? “Purchasing calico for a new gown, what else?”

  “And how were you going to purchase said fabric?”

  “I was just looking.” She tried to pull away, but Savion held her fast. For the first time, she actually feared what he would do to her.

  He halted and spun her to face him. “You started the fire.”

  “Why would I do that?” She tried to sound innocent.

  He glared at her. “Because you wanted me to risk my life for you yet again—to prove you are worthy of love.”

  “No, I didn’t . . .” she started, but sighed as defeat stilled her tongue. “What does it matter? You didn’t try to save me anyway.” She tried to walk away, but he pulled her back.

  “I knew it was one of your tricks and you’d eventually come out.”

  “What if I hadn’t?” She fought back tears.

  “Stop it, Perdita. Just this one time, please don’t lie to me.” Grabbing her arms, he shook her as if he could rattle it out of her. “Tell me the truth.”

  She lowered her chin, her insides wilting. “Yes, I did start the fire.”

  He released her with a huff. “Go back to the Ackers, Perdita. Get out of my life. And out of my head!” He stormed away.

  “I’m sorry, Savion,” she shouted after him. “You were so cruel when you left, dropping me off with your friends as if I was naught but a burden to you. You barely said good-bye.”

  He swung about, more angry than she’d ever seen him. “So you set a man’s shop on fire, endanger lives for your own selfish vanity?” He growled. “What of this man’s livelihood?”

  “I’ll repay him.”

  “How, Perdita?”

  She had a feeling she’d cry a bucket of pearls tonight. But she couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t believe she was a mermaid. Nor could she tell him she didn’t start the fire just to feel loved and valued. But to be free from her curse. Another thing she couldn’t tell him—that she’d been trying to get him to die for her. Not exactly a story that engendered good will. Even if he believed any of it, would the truth make a difference to this honorable man? Or was there no excuse that would appease her selfish acts?

  He slowly approached her, blowing out his anger like steam from a kettle. Moonlight cast him in a milky glow as he halted before her and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “There is good in you, Perdita. Find it. And when you do, latch onto it and pray to King Abbas for it to grow.”

  For the first time in her long life, as she stared at this man, she felt ashamed—so very ashamed—of all the things she had done. Of all the lies and the tricks and pursuing her own selfish wants, especially at the cost of others’ lives. She wanted to be better. Truly, she wanted to change.

  “I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, Savion.”

  “Go back to the Ackers, learn a trade, be honorable, give to charity, look for ways to help others. Be good, Perdita.” His tone was desperate. “Then you will find the love you seek.”

  But she wanted his love. Yet now, as she looked in his piercing gold eyes, she knew she would never deserve it. Some other woman would win his love. A lady with a pure heart.

  “Can you do that for me, Perdita?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She swallowed down a burst of emotion. “Yes. I can. I will.” For the first time, more than even wanting to break the curse, she wanted to be a better person. This man, Savion, had changed her.

  “I promise,” she added.

  He brushed hair from her forehead and planted a kiss upon it. “Now, go with the favor of King Abbas.” Releasing her, he took a step back.

  A breeze stirred the hair at his collar and brought his scent to her nose. She breathed it in as if it were an elixir. “I won’t see you again, will I?”

  “No.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Be good, Perdita.” Then turning, he walked away.

  She watched him until the shadows stole him from view, until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Then she dropped to the ground and cried.

  Chapter 23

  The next two days went by in a numbing haze. Still, Perdita kept her word to Savion. Though her heart was hopelessly broken, she spent her time helping the Ackers in their shop, running errands, and greeting customers. They were good people, who still loved each other after forty years of marriage. Watching them brought a smile to her face, but also pained her deeply, knowing she would never be loved like that—knowing she would never be worthy. Her only joy was in the great meals Mrs. Ackers provided: roasted goose with sage and onion dressing, boar’s head, fresh oysters, yams, mince pie, and mango pudding. After two days, Perdita’s gown grew tight, but soon enough she’d be subjected to meals of crab and seaweed.

  Despite how difficult it was to spend her last days on land working, she found she rather enjoyed being good. The Ackers were a charitable couple who often sent Perdita out on errands of mercy to needy neighbors. ’Twas on such an errand to bring food and medicine to a starving family that Perdita experienced more joy then she could have imagined. She’d also been most pleased with herself when she’d given the owner of the draper’s shop a pouch of pearls to pay for repairs. The expression on his face and his grateful exclamations would certainly bring her comfort through her upcoming decade of loneliness.

  Now, as she walked down Main Street on her way to deliver a pair of mended shoes to a patron, she took a moment to close her eyes and soak in the warmth of the sun, feel the breeze dancing through her hair, and inhale the scents of salt and smoke and horses. And life—life above the waves. Horses clip-clopped past, people chattered, children laughed, wagons creaked, and bells rang from the harbor. She would miss it all.

  She would miss Savion most of all. How she wished he could see that she’d kept her promise. That she was being charitable and good and doing honorable work. But he had probably already set sail. She hadn’t ventured down to the wharves to look for his ship, fearing she wouldn’t be able to control her tears when she found it gone.

  Now, pushing through the doors of the tavern where the patron was staying, she surveyed the tables spread across the dining area to her left. Serving maids doled out steaming plates of corn fritters and smoked pork for the noon meal. Her stomach grumbled. Mayhap she’d stay after her business was concluded and enjoy a meal.
All around her people chatted and laughed, enjoying their afternoon as a cool breeze blew in through the windows.

  Whistles flew at her from a dark corner to her right where men were served drinks, but she ignored them and inquired of a man standing behind a desk where she might find a Mr. Garnet.

  The tall man with a thin mustache pointed to a lone older gentleman eating his meal at a table near the window.

  Hoisting her sack, she started toward him, when a hand clamped around her arm. She spun around, intending to give the man his comeuppance for daring to touch her, but a familiar face swayed before her.

  Verrad.

  “Well, if it isn’t the mers…maid?” He slurred, then stumbled, catching himself on a nearby table. The reek of spirits assailed her.

  Heart in her throat, she turned to leave, but he tugged her back.

  “Let me go this instant!” she shouted for all to hear, hoping someone would come to her rescue. All it did was draw all eyes her way.

  Verrad lifted his chin and blinked as if trying to focus. “I have an announcessment to make. This woman is a mersmaid.” He hiccupped.

  Laughter tumbled through the room.

  Horrified, Perdita struggled against his grip. Pain etched up her arm. She swung the bag of shoes at his head, but he grabbed them from her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, mersmaid.”

  “Please, help me!” She appealed to those around her. One man, who was as wide as he was tall, rose from his chair and sauntered toward her, licking his lips.

  “I’s can prove it.” Verrad continued. He yanked her closer, grabbed the lacing of her bodice and ripped them open.

  Perdita shrieked. “How dare you!”

  Tightening his grip, he tore the fabric down her left side, exposing skin at her waist. Women gasped. Husbands hurried wives and children from the tavern. Men stared. Anger and embarrassment stormed through Perdita until she was sure her face was as red as a lobster. Furious, she attempted to hold the sides of her gown together, but Verrad held them open and leaned over to peer at her waist. “Hmm.” He grunted and almost fell over, then ripped the fabric even more. “Where are they?”