Sound of Sirens: (Tales of Skylge #1)

by Jen Minkman

  “Why so anxious, Royce?” I want to ask him. “Afraid you won’t get any toys to play with this week?”

  Everybody on the island knows who Royce is. Apart from being a rich, spoilt brat, he also happens to be a gifted musician. He always plays the piano during the Oorol festival, usually accompanied by one of his gushing girlfriends singing along. It’s not fair that such an insufferable person is so talented, in my humble opinion. I wish I could hate the guy, but after hearing him play, I honestly can’t. His music is heartrendingly beautiful. If his songs were ever pressed in shellac, I’d buy them in a heartbeat. I’d probably cover my tracks out of embarrassment, but still.

  Before they can spot me or ask me why I’m here this early, I scurry away like a frightened crab and sit down on the sand, my back leaned against a mooring post, my chin braced upon my raised knees, and my arms circling my legs. If anyone were to draw my portrait now – or snapped a picture of me with my dad’s clunky, old-fashioned camera – the result would be called ‘Girl In Contemplation’, I bet. I wonder if the uncrowned prince of Brandaris and his minions ever stare at the sea with such a mixture of fear and reverence.

  My grandmother says that we were born of the sea. Our ancient, pre-Brandan legends teach us that the Frisian gods cast us upon the land when we started to grow legs instead of fins and tails. Our ancestors are the Nixen, who still call for us, imploring us to come home. But this is our home now – and we can never go back. Yet, we silently worship the sea out of respect for what it has given us, and is still giving us now. Life. Sustenance. Water to desalinate and fish to catch in our nets. And we have our own rituals to appease the merfolk. Once a year, during Oorol, we sing to them. The Baeles-Weards priests would ban our songs of old if they knew. When the Skylge Choir gets up on stage and performs the old hymns, the choir members’ voices carry these spellbinding melodies to acknowledge their existence, and to warn them off at the same time.

  “We stand as still as stone

  while the mermaid sings

  and her melody rings

  like a memory calling us home,” I sing, almost inaudibly.

  Of course, we don’t sing this in the Currents’ language. As per the Skelta’s instructions, the choir chants it in the old Skylger tongue, which is slowly disappearing. Anglian has replaced our own language. Grandma Antje, my mom’s mom, still know how to speak Skylgian fluently, though, and she taught me the language too. This means I understand the songs our choir sings every year. She also told me what my name, Enna, stands for. I was named after Grandpa Enno, whose name means fear or terror because it derives from an ancient word meaning ‘the edge of a sword’.

  The name may have fit my grandfather, but I am not nearly brave enough to carry it with pride. I don’t think I’ll live to see the day I strike terror into anyone’s heart.

  My eyes widen when I see dots on the horizon. The Skylger fleet – it’s back! Relief floods my body. As much as I love my big brother being part of our marines, I’m always afraid something will happen to him. No amount of exotic presents will make up for missing Sytse.

  I get up and make my way to the waterfront. Very soon, a multitude of Skylgers outnumbering the Currents has gathered around me on the quay, and I feel safe once more. I blend into the crowd, becoming invisible.

  Not to my brother, though. As soon as the largest ship docks, he makes his way off the gangway while fixing me with a large grin on his face. His hazel eyes sparkle and his blond hair shines in the sunlight. He’s clutching a big, burlap sack in his hand. Filled with gifts for Dad and me, no doubt.

  I push my way through the throng and end up hugging my brother for a longer time than I planned.

  “How have you been?” he says, breaking our embrace at last and holding me at arm’s length to take a good look at me. “You’ve lost some weight. Have you suffered from the Sadness again?”

  “I’m all right,” I brush off his concern. “They can call me all they want, but the Nixen won’t get me. I belong on the land.”

  If I say it out loud often enough, it’ll be true.

  “Well, I brought something to cheer you up anyway,” Sytse continues, opening his bag so I can sneak a peek inside. My heart trips when I spot at least five new records. “Here, why don’t you hold on to these things for now? I have to help the crew. There’s lots of unloading to do, and I bet those Currents hovering around the harbor want to inspect the goods as soon as they can.” He winks.

  I grin. “I won’t unpack this until we get home,” I promise.

  “Good girl,” Sytse says with a sunny smile. “But I want to show you one thing now. I brought it especially for you. Here, wait.” He snatches the sack from my hands again and digs up a flat, square cardboard sleeve with a picture on it. A Long Play record?

  “These women sing like the Nixen,” Sytse tells me. “The lead singer’s name is Jyoti. You’ll love her music. She plays the piano like she’s putting a spell on the keys, and her partner Maya plays the cello. Unbelievably beautiful. I heard these songs outside a brown café near the Krummhorn harbor and I knew I had to get this for you.”

  The two red-haired women depicted on the front chasing a fiery bird stare at the animal with wide, slightly slanted eyes. They look mesmerizing; almost witch-like. I’m intrigued, but Sytse’s gift makes me painfully aware of the things we can never have.

  “How will I ever listen to this?” I say, sounding disheartened.

  “We’ll figure out a way,” he replies, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Who knows, you might win a day’s supply of electricity this year during Oorol. Don’t give up hope.”

  I shoot him a small smile before he rushes off. Sytse is a dreamer. No one in our family has ever won the day’s supply of Current power, and if I did, I wouldn’t waste it on listening to this Jyoti woman. I know what I’d do if I ever won – I’d get someone to drive us around the island in a Current car for the entire day. Ever since the illness took his strength away, Dad hasn’t left Kinnum because he can’t walk very far. And I know he longs to see the salt marshes in the east once more. The wild dunes and the unblemished sands of Osterend where he grew up. He wants to listen to the quiet birdsong in the woods of Hornsebos. He deserves to go there at least one more time, but he can’t sit on the baggage rack of my bike for very long because of the pain in his joints, so I can’t take him. I go to these places on the weekend and take photos with his camera sometimes so I can show him what it looks like, but the resulting black-and-white pictures don’t truly convey the beauty of Eastern Skylge.

  “Hey, you!” Dani suddenly pops up next to me. “Left without me? I will never forgive you. Never.” She pulls a mock-insulted face and I start to giggle.

  “Of course you will,” I object. “Because you love me.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Dani cranes her neck to look at the crates the sailors are now carrying onto the jetty. “Ooh, I wonder what’s in there. Did Sytse mention any shellac records, besides the ones he’s kept aside for you?”

  I shake my head. “You should go take a look. You can listen to mine, of course. But I know you like Victor Silvester the best.”

  “True, true.” My friend flashes a smile at me. “Will you be okay on your own?”

  “Sure. I’ll just wait for you and Sytse to finish so we can all go home together.”

  As Dani skips off to check out what our sailors have brought in from Fryslan, Grins, and Nethersaxony, the wind picks up, making me shiver all of a sudden. The sound of the waves rushes in, carrying wistful voices filled with longing and hunger. The Nixen – or the Sirens, as the Currents call them – are never really quiet. I can always hear them, just like my mother.

  I close my eyes and wait until the feeling goes away. The only thing that goes away, though, is the sun hitting my cheeks. When I open my eyes again to see who’s casting a shadow across my face, I am staring into two piercing eyes that are blue like the cloudless skies.

  4.

  It’s Royce.

  Wh
at the heck is he doing here? I blink up at him in confusion. Am I in his way? Has he mistaken me for someone else?

  “Hi,” he says, his deep voice melodic like his music.

  Why is he talking to me?

  “Hello,” I reply stiffly. “Ehm... can I help you with something?”

  “Actually, yes.” He smiles, and I hate myself for staring at him. He’s gorgeous, in an old, Frisian-god-kind-of-way. “I always come here to pick up the latest music from the mainland, and I think one of the LPs I’ve been waiting for has accidentally ended up with that sailor’s record haul.”

  I follow his gaze when he stares pointedly at my hand still clutching the useless LP.

  “You – but this is mine,” I say. “Sytse got it for me. As a special gift.”

  “Ah.” The worried frown I spotted before creases his forehead again. “Well – okay. That’s unfortunate.”

  “What’s so unfortunate about getting a present?” I snip.

  Royce stares at me for a second and then laughs, his eyes lighting up. “Nothing. I’m happy your boyfriend is bringing you gifts, of course.”

  “My brother,” I mumble, blushing when I realize I feel the need to point that out, somehow.

  “Fine. Your brother. I mean it’s unfortunate for me. Since that is the only copy the ships seem to have brought in.”

  Royce looks at me expectantly, as though I should fall down to my knees and prostate while offering him the much-coveted LP. I narrow my eyes at him and stubbornly cross my arms.

  “So...” he continues when I don’t say anything back. “How much do you want for it?” His hand drifts down to his back pocket, probably to whip out his fat, loaded wallet.

  I gasp. The arrogance – the sheer impudence of presuming everything is for sale, even gifts meant for others. I take a step back and glare at him. “I don’t want anything for it. I intend to keep it myself.”

  I know it’s ridiculous, and I know he knows that. I will never listen to this LP in my lifetime. The best thing to do is to make him pay through the nose for it and do something awesome with all his cash. But I don’t feel like being reasonable. I want him to feel like me for once. Like a have-not.

  Royce blinks in surprise. “Why?”

  “Because Sytse picked it out for me especially,” I say. “He said it was the most beautiful music he’d ever heard and I would love it too. He knows my taste in music. Besides, why would I sell a gift? That’s really ungrateful.”

  The dark-haired Current boy bites his lip, seemingly to stop himself from smiling. “Well, you have a point there,” he admits. “But you can’t listen to it. Unless you have a secret LP player stashed away somewhere.” His eyes bore into mine as though he’s expecting me to actually confess to something like that.

  “I don’t.” I roll my eyes. “And if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”

  Royce chuckles. “Well. This looks like a stalemate to me. I want to listen to the LP, but I can’t because you have it. You want to listen to the record, but you can’t because you have no equipment. That’s pretty messed up. Now nobody gets to enjoy it.”

  “I’m not selling it,” I repeat, staring him down with as much courage as I can muster. I don’t know what he’ll do. Maybe he will call his lackeys to have me mugged on my way home. Maybe he’ll do it himself, even. He looks really strong. I never really noticed how muscular he actually is.

  Royce doesn’t look away. He seems to be contemplating something. When he finally speaks, he says something I don’t understand at all.

  “You know the abandoned village of Stortum?”

  Everyone does. It’s a settlement north-west of Kinnum, destroyed by a storm surge in the time of my grandparents. It was never built back up again.

  I nod. “I do. Why?”

  “Because my grandparents used to own a cottage there. On the High Land.”

  “And?”

  “And now it’s mine. I repaired it and use it as a sort of retreat. There’s an electric piano there so I can practice without being disturbed by people. I – need to clear my head sometimes, and Brandaris is just too crowded for that.”

  “Sounds great,” I say a bit sullenly, but my words are sincere. Royce sounds like he doesn’t enjoy the Current lifestyle all that much. I understand why he would want to seek solitude.

  “Meet me there,” he continues, lowering his voice. “But don’t let anybody see you.”

  “Uhm – why?” I ask, sarcasm lacing my voice. “Why would I want to sneak away to your little love nest slash music studio?”

  “Sshh,” Royce urges me, looking around him furtively. Then, he shoots me an incredulous look. “You got the wrong idea. Trust me, my intentions are honorable.” An amused glint in his eyes makes me blush again. Of course his intentions are honorable. No Current would touch a Skylger girl like me with a ten-foot pole. I don’t even know why that comment about his ‘love nest’ slipped out. Somehow, his musical retreat center morphed into something quite different in my perverted mind. Maybe because of the way he asked me to meet him there. I could kick myself.

  “So what are your intentions?”

  He inches closer and whispers: “I have an electronic turntable there. So we can both listen to the LP. We’ll share it. Okay?”

  I blink up at him owlishly. I hate to admit it, but that’s actually a pretty brilliant idea. And very considerate of him – I bet he could force me to give up Sytse’s gift if he really wanted to.

  “Uhm, okay,” I stammer. “When?”

  “Tonight. Six?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’ll be having dinner with my dad and brother. Eight o’clock.”

  He nods. “Eight it is. I’ll leave the light on outside so you can find me.”

  “Good.” I take a step back and bite my lip. “See you.”

  “Soon,” Royce says, smiling faintly.

  I turn around and dash off into the crowd, trying to catch up with Dani and Sytse. I find that the Jyoti LP fits perfectly in my backpack.

  5.

  That afternoon, we gather in the living room. Dad has splashed out and made enough pancakes to last us through lunch and dinner, because Eida donated some eggs to us too, the sweetheart. Dani joins us for tea and cookies. Sytse has brought our favorite, waffles filled with the sweetest syrup in all of Fryslan. I get the portable gramophone from my room so we can put it on the coffee table and listen to the new music my brother brought home. Dani bought a few Victor Silvester records from an old sailor she knows through her grandpa, and she’s brought those too.

  The first song we play is called My Secret Love Affair. It’s Dani’s pick. A slight smile graces her face as we listen to the dance band playing a somewhat mournful tune with a beautiful violin solo. The majority of this orchestra’s recordings don’t feature vocals, and I feel the urge to start singing and add some lyrics about a couple sneaking off to meet up in secret.

  Dani used to date a guy from Meslons who kept their relationship a secret. Hank didn’t want to tell his parents because they expected him to ‘do better’. They’re rich, stuck-up snobs who are tragically deluded because they think Hank will marry a Current girl one day. No mixed-heritage couple on this island will ever tie the knot. It just doesn’t work that way.

  Dani broke up with him a few months ago because she got tired of being Hank’s clandestine lover, but I know it still stings her. She really liked him. This kind of music reminds her of what she’s lost.

  Next up is my latest Kathleen Ferrier acquisition – a record featuring the songs What is Life and Art Thou Troubled? I pick the first song and we listen in silence. Kathleen’s dark, contralto voice fills the room. Dad closes his eyes and savors the music. It reminds him of Mom and the happier times when she was still alive. He once told me how much he loved me playing Kathleen Ferrier’s music in the quiet afternoon hours while doing homework, invoking bitter-sweet memories.

  After the song is finished, Sytse volunteers to wind up the gramophone for the next round of records. Th
e crank is getting a bit squeaky, but the machine is still working properly. I stand next to him to replace the steel needle and shoot Dani a wicked grin when she walks over holding up a Bob Scobey record. “Want me to put in a loud needle?” I ask.

  “Of course,” Dani replies. “The Frisco Band needs to be played at maximum volume.”

  Last time we did that, Eida came over to check out what all the noise was about and ended up jazz-dancing in the living room with us. She’s a feisty old woman, just like my grandmother Antje.

  “Okay, here we go,” Sytse says. He carefully places the needle in the outer groove and the soundbox comes to life with a crackling noise – a bit too buzzy to my taste. I asked him to look around for a new mica diaphragm, but they are hard to come by these days.

  We dance and sing along to the new records until dinner time. “Are you dropping by tonight to study for the German test together?” Dani inquires as I see her out.

  “I can’t,” I say. “I promised Sytse to help him with something.”

  “Okay. If you’re too busy to study I’ll fill you in during our ride to school tomorrow!” she grins.

  I feel guilty for lying to her, but I don’t want to tell her about Royce’s strange proposal. Yet. Of course I will tell her, eventually – once Royce has grown tired of me and my LP and goes back to the harbor to pick out his next new and shiny thing, I’ll tell her all about how I forced a Current guy to hang out with me. The Jyoti LP makes me feel powerful. The title of the record is Phoenix, and that’s exactly what I feel like. Indestructible. Rising like a newborn from the flames.

  By the time I sneak out of the house – I told my family I’d be studying in my room until bedtime – it is almost dark outside. Royce promised to leave a light on outside the cottage, which is a good thing. I thought I could take the bike to Stortum, but I can’t risk veering off the narrow track in the darkness. I don’t have headlights like the Current vehicles, after all. It’s a new moon tonight, so the sky will be pitch-dark later. I will have to walk.