by A. L. Knorr
“Of course. It would have, especially in those days.” Emun stood up and began to pace, raking his fingers through his long black hair and mussing it up. “He would have gone by ship…”
“Knowing Nike,” I said, watching my son pace, “the hiding places would have been on remote places in the middle of the world’s oceans.”
“Hidden somewhere a siren would be able to find them when she needs them,” Targa added. “She’d only need them if she was too far from Okeanos to get back in time before she lost all her human reason.”
I nodded. “I’m sure Rainer had to travel to what seemed like the ends of the earth to retrieve one of those stones. He may have even had to go underwater.”
“You don’t remember the detail of the maps? Where they led?” Antoni asked me.
I shook my head. “It was so long ago.”
“Did you know father took the ring?” Emun asked.
“Not at first, which shows you just how much the curse changes us. I went from not feeling right if it wasn’t around my neck, to not even noticing it was gone because all I wanted to do was bathe in the ocean and let the salt ease my pain. Eventually, Mattis did tell me he’d taken it, and that help was on the way in the form of Rainer. None of his family knew any of this, of course.” I looked at Emun. “Your grandparents should have been told. It would have helped them to cope with what was going on. It was surely making no sense to them.”
Targa was nodding at this. She’d read Aleksandra’s diary and knew very well what Mattis’s parents had gone through.
“But you swore Father to secrecy?” Emun asked.
“Actually, I didn’t have to. Once we’d returned to Poland from St. Croix, Mattis changed all of the crew who had been on the St. Croix trip with him. Anyone who knew what I was left Gdansk—sent to far outposts, maybe even fired for all I knew. Mattis believed as much as I did that my true nature had to be kept a secret. He was terrified that if anyone found out, the worst of ‘anyone’ being those in the church, that we’d be separated. I’d be driven out, possibly captured, or even killed.”
Emun nodded. He knew what the people of that time were like. Superstitious, religious, fearful, and sometimes irrational in their beliefs. He understood better than Targa or Antoni because he’d lived through it.
“But you didn’t know how long it would take Rainer to find one of the gems…”
“Or if he would even be successful,” Antoni added. “You must have felt completely helpless.”
“Father would have,” Emun said, and then he turned his intense blue gaze on me. “But Mama, you were so lost in your affliction that you probably barely remembered the name Rainer most of the time.” His eyes darkened at the pain of whatever he was recalling. “I remember how much you changed, how much you were hurting, because I could feel it, too.”
My throat closed up as I looked at my long-lost son. “You were always the one who seemed to understand me the best, and now I know why.” My voice cracked, and regret filled my belly with vinegar. “Triton.”
I could say no more than this without the possibility of opening the faucet on a flood of siren tears, and there was so much more still to tell. I took a deep breath.
“There is a reason it is called a curse,” I went on. “Curses are cruel things. I didn’t know that Mattis and the sailors on The Sybellen lost their lives that night, and I certainly didn’t know that he’d taken you with him. I might not have believed it if I had been told. It was extremely reckless of Mattis to take you out when a storm was coming.”
The corners of Emun’s mouth turned down. “He knew we were connected, and even though he didn’t know the extent of it, he thought that if you heard my voice calling you over the waves that night, you would come to us.”
But I hadn’t heard Emun calling, I had gone too far and too deep by then to hear anything. Even if I had heard him, I don’t know if I’d have had the will to return against the power of the curse.
“I went to sea that night thinking I’d never see my husband and children again, thinking that I’d failed again, thinking how I hadn’t been strong enough to fight the curse the way I promised Mattis I would. The Salt seemed to punish me for fighting it for so long. I intended to go home to Okeanos, but instead I lost years of my life lying dormant on the bottom of the ocean.”
“Dormant?” Targa straightened. “What do you mean dormant? Like how a bear goes into hibernation for the winter?”
“Diapause,” Emun said.
Antoni’s gaze went from me to Emun. “Dia-what?”
“It’s deeper than hibernation. Animals hibernate over the winter season and come out of it in the spring to mate and feed. Dormancy is more serious than that. All metabolic activity grinds to a crawl.” His gaze met mine. “It’s a sleeping death.”
I nodded, my eyes locked with his as a moment of understanding passed between us. “You know because you’ve done it.”
Targa and Antoni’s eyes cut to Emun, both filled with curiosity.
“Is that true?” Targa asked.
Emun sat down in his chair again. “Yes. It’s true. After periods of great trauma, all you want to do is descend into peace and darkness. The weight of the miles of water over your head, the diminished oxygen, it’s comforting. It erases memory. Humans don’t realize this, but sleep erases their memory, too, just on a much smaller scale.”
Antoni said, “You are right about sleep erasing memory. I read a study about it in university for my marketing class. Scientists used to think that memories were transferred to the neocortex during sleep, but newer studies revealed that the hippocampus acts as a temporary storage system that is cleared overnight to make room for new memories. It takes repetition in order for something to be recalled.”
Targa’s voice was tinged with laughter. “Why exactly did you need to know that for marketing?”
“Because,” Antoni answered, “when you’re buying advertising you have to understand that people need repetitive exposure in order for your message to stick. That’s why radio jingles are so effective. A short, repetitive song about whatever it is you want people to remember, no matter how inane and annoying.”
Antoni slowed down, becoming aware that Emun, Targa, and I were all watching him. He squirmed in his seat.
“It makes the ad stick in the neocortex.” He cleared his throat and laced his fingers in his lap. “Sorry. Please go on.”
Targa kissed him on the cheek and he gave her a bashful smile. They returned their attention to Emun.
“So, you descend to find relief, tranquility,” Emun went on, raising his hands in a ‘there you go’ gesture. “And you fall asleep.”
“For how long?” Antoni asked, his look of suppressed alarm returning.
“Years,” Emun and I answered together. I smiled at my son. “What was this great trauma you suffered?”
He gave a secretive, close-mouthed smile. “This is not time for my stories.”
“How do you not go completely salt-flush while you’re lying dormant on the ocean floor for years?” asked Targa.
“Because your metabolism almost stops,” explained Emun, leaning back against his chair and reaching for the mug of tea on the table beside him. “It’s like time stops. You’re no closer to salt-flush when you wake than you were when you went to sleep.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” Targa leaned forward and picked up her own mug of tea. She turned her bright teal eyes on me. “Okay, so you went dormant. What happened next?”
Nine
As the miles increased between me and my family, I felt as though I could not swim far enough nor fast enough to get away from the sorrow. The salt is always a comfort, but I was so starved for it that I headed for the saltiest and deepest of water. I stayed near the ocean floor, choosing the downward path whenever there was an option. It seemed the more weight there was on top of me, the less I felt the pain and sorrow of my tragic Dyás.
As I descended, I moved more and more slowly, I ate less, and I was less c
urious and more tired. I don’t actually recall coming to a halt or falling asleep, but when I woke, I had to find my way out of a crack in the earth where only the strangest bioluminescent creatures lived. Some of this deep-sea life was like something from a human’s worst nightmare, but to me they were beautiful.
When my body told me it was time to surface, I found myself quite changed. I remembered nothing of my life in Gdansk—it had been erased completely. I made my way toward the rays of the sun, moving very slowly. When I looked down at myself, I could see every rib, the details of my musculature, and even veins, which are almost never visible on mermaids. So, the first thing I did was hunt. I felt a calling to return home, and my memories of home were as clear as any memory can be. Okeanos called me as strongly as the desire to find a mate had called me previously. I turned southwest, the direction of Okeanos from where I had lain, and hunted as I swam.
I had not expected anything in particular when I returned, other than to get my gem back from Nike’s keeping and to return to life in Okeanos. The fiery concern I had once had about improving our fraught relationship with the Atlanteans was distant in my mind. I did not think of the reason I left Okeanos in the first place, for the Salt and the curse had done its work. I was like a new creature, a recently born siren with no past.
As I passed through the apotreptikó and made my way to Califas, a strange thing began to happen. Every mermaid I saw––even the distant ones––I felt connected to by an invisible tether. It was almost as though I could hear their heartbeats, pick up on the subtle play of their emotions, taste their feelings like they were drops of blood in the water. They followed me, just the way all of the sirens had followed Apollyona when she returned as Sovereign. At some point, I realized why they were following me, and though I did not say anything or reveal my own thoughts to my sirens––which was how I suddenly thought of them––I had a moment of thunderous revelation.
I was their new Sovereign. The Salt was what deemed a siren worthy of Sovereignty, and my connection to my people could be felt from both sides.
Apollyona would know I was coming, because she’d be able to feel it. I mused about this as I walked the steps to the throne room to accept my fate. I was numb, not fully accepting of it, though my body knew exactly what was taking place and could not deny it—as a girl cannot deny her first period.
Ascending the last step, naked and still dripping––though if I’d wished for a robe, I knew that someone would procure one without me needing to ask, as Apollyona had when she’d ascended––I stepped in front of the throne and my mother.
Though she’d had time to process my approach, she could not fully hide her shock. Whether this was at having lost the Sovereignty so quickly, or that she’d never believed me capable or worthy of taking our most superior position, I’ll never know. But she was not as gracious as Odenyalis had been when she passed the crown to her successor.
She was breathing slowly but heavily, the cords on her neck standing out and her chest and shoulders rising and falling as she fought for control. I was her superior now in every way; the Salt decreed it and there would be no contesting it from any of the sirens in Okeanos, least of all the former Sovereign.
She and I stared at one another, our eyes locked in a way that felt near impossible to break. Her glare was ice-cold. Her jaw muscles worked as she ground her teeth and prepared herself for what had to be done.
The room was full of sirens and the Foniádes, who stood either side of the aquamarine throne.
Apollyona stared at me for a long time. Only when the time had grown a little too long did she rise and walk down the steps. She came to stand in front of me but she did not kiss my cheeks. The battle over her emotions was visceral to me, and a wave of pity passed through me. I am sure my flinty expression softened, for her own expression returned a glimmer of respect.
I had done what she had never expected me to do, and the Salt said I’d done it fairly and rightly.
“My name is Sybellen.” My name echoed off the cave walls.
Apollyona gave a curt nod, as though she’d finally reached acceptance. She removed the aquamarine crown and placed it on my own head. The necklace followed, and only after it was resting on my collarbones and several more moments had passed, did she reach out and place her fingers at my throat, dropping her eyes as she did so.
But I was having my own moment of wrestling with emotion, for when the gemstones touched my head, a rush of memories invaded my mind and I nearly staggered under the suddenness of it.
Mattis, Emun, and Michal, and all the people from my life in Poland were there––like a dream I had a long time ago. I felt no pain, only acceptance. I was a siren, and this was the way of things. There was no use bemoaning what is or what is no longer. I was Sovereign, and it was the sacrifice of my human family that had allowed it to be.
The passing of the Sovereignty is not a moment for chatter. It was done. I turned to the assembled sirens and pledged, “I, Sybellen of Okeanos, humbly take up the coronation of the Salt, and serve you as Sovereign.”
Unwittingly, I had succeeded at my original goal, in spite of how convinced I had been of failure.
I had become the reigning Sovereign of Okeanos.
After the sirens of Okeanos had paid their respects and left the throne room, only the Foniádes, Polly, and Nike remained. I called the Foniádes close. My new decree had to start with these sirens and spread from there.
“You are not to harm Atlanteans who come within our borders,” I said.
Polly visibly stiffened and she moved closer. “Sybellen. I beg of you not to be hasty. Please,” she put up a hand and gestured to the archway behind the throne, “visit the Hall of Anamna before you change anything concerning the Atlanteans.”
“Hall of Anamna?” This was the first I had heard the term.
“Anamna means memories,” Nike said quietly. “It is one of the gifts of the Sovereign alone.” Her eyes canted accusingly to Polly. “One of the many things your mother did not inform you of when you were little.”
Polly had the grace to cast her eyes down in shame, but it lasted only a moment before she lifted them again. “I did not want to bother you with such things…”
“Such things as you believed I would never need to know,” I interrupted, feeling disappointment curdle in my gut. “Your plans for Okeanos were only ever your own, Mother. If you had prepared me the way a mother should…”
“I only wanted to protect you, Sybellen.”
“That is only part of the job, Polly.” I spoke harshly and regretted it a moment later. This woman had made mistakes, but she had still loved me in her imperfect way, perhaps the only way she herself had ever been shown.
My tone softened. “I have learned that the job of a mother is to prepare, protect, and provide for her child…”
I stopped as the hypocrisy of my words cut too sharply for me to continue. I swallowed hard.
Sirens were caring of their siren offspring, but what of the sweet human males left behind? How could I preach to Polly about what motherhood means, when I had failed repeatedly at it myself?
“It is right that you call me Polly now,” my mother said, surprising me with both the humility of her statement and the acceptance in her tone. “I was wrong to misjudge you, to keep you ignorant. Maybe one day you will forgive me.”
This was so out of character for our former ruler that Nike and I shared a suspicious look. Sovereign or not, Polly was regal, queenly, and never admitted to being wrong.
“But, having been under that crown before you, I beseech you to take advantage of all of its gifts. Know our legacy before you dismantle the protections I sacrificed so much to put in place.” She gestured again toward the archway behind the throne.
I turned toward it and took the steps up. With a glance, I invited Nike to join me. We passed through to the Hall of Anamna together.
“What is this place?” My voice echoed in the darkness, hinting at the emptiness and vastness of
the cavern beyond.
The sound of a stone grinding against stone made me turn. Nike had her hands against a boulder set on a shelf on the wall inside the doorway, shoving it aside. Sunlight poured through a crack in the wall behind the boulder. I gasped at the result.
The light zigzagged through the Hall, finding the reflective surfaces engineered for that purpose and illuminating the Hall of Anamna fully. I began to walk the Hall, my bare feet silent on the cold, uneven floor.
“The Sovereign inherits the memories of all the Sovereigns before her,” Nike said as she walked just behind me.
Along the uneven cave walls were mosaics. Constructed with a variety of reflective and non-reflective tiles, stones and gems, were portraits of sirens––possibly hundreds of them. The Hall ahead turned corners and wound its way through the rock, with uneven stairs here and there, and no straight lines in sight. The artwork too had been done without any straight lines; everything was organic, asymmetrical, colorful, and very beautiful.
The portraits were as varied as no doubt the sirens whom they depicted had been. Some of them wore clothing, others were naked. Some were in mermaid form, others sat or stood on human legs. Some portraits were busts only, showing only the neck and head, others were full-body and included backgrounds of seascapes or landscapes behind them.
“Who made these?” I asked breathlessly, as I walked the Hall slowly, stopping to take in the portraits on either side of me.
“Who else? Sirens,” Nike replied. “When the reign of a Sovereign comes to an end, the art appears soon afterward created by whoever is moved to do it by the Salt. Someone who has the talent to do it well. The Salt knows.”
“The Salt knows,” I echoed. I reached out a hand to touch the mosaic before me, but hesitated, feeling that to touch it meant something bigger than simply feeling the cold stone beneath my skin.
The Sovereign depicted wore a bright azure robe of flowing fabric. She stood against a background of a green and brown mountainside. Pillars and rooftops were visible behind her. Sparkling brown and orange tiles were used to depict her eyes, while the rest of her face was done in flat colored ceramic. The effect made her eyes appear alive, multi-dimensional. They seemed as though they followed me wherever I moved.