by Cari Z
They sold most of their catch to Carroll, who was happy to receive it, and split ways right after. Colm headed back to the Cove and gave Megg the dozen fish he’d held back for her, accepted her kiss of thanks and set to work cleaning them for her. His sharp little knife cut smoothly through firm bellies, and it didn’t take him long to turn the fish into fillets that Megg chopped up and put in her nightly chowder.
“Those’ll be a right treat for our guests tonight,” she told him, taking the delicate fins Colm had carefully cut away and examining them in the light. “And these are so lovely and thin! I think I’ll pickle them. They’ll be a nice little indulgence in the winter.” They worked together to clean them and get them packed in brine, and finally Megg sent the last of the jars down to the cellar and wiped her brow.
“You’re quiet today,” she commented after a moment. “Did you have a bad time with Lew?”
“No, not really. He told me some things, though, that I…I don’t know. I can hardly find it in my mind to believe him.”
“What tall tales has that man been spinning?” Megg asked.
“He told me that long ago, he served in the coast guard, and that his boat was destroyed by a sea serpent.”
“Ah, that.” Megg nodded after a moment. “I remember when that happened. Word of it came down to the city not long after the boat was destroyed. Some people claimed it must have been a waterspout, that our water was too shallow to support a serpent of that size, but enough people have seen them over the years that Lew likely remembers it right.”
Colm felt inexplicably relieved. “Then there really are sea serpents?”
“Oh yes, love. But most of them stick to open water, far out into the sea, and they don’t surface very often. They eat whales, I’m told, and fight with kraken in the deeps. Bad-tempered beasts, it seems.”
“And mer? Do they exist as well?”
Megg pursed her lips. “That’s a more difficult thing to know. Everyone has a tale about serpents, but Lew is the only man I’ve ever met to speak of mer, and he’s also a drunk and a liar. But I seem to recall something, some story… Oh goodness, I’m losing my mind and my memory, love! Nichol would know.”
“I’ll ask him later,” Colm told her.
Colm didn’t get the chance to do the asking, though. Otherwise, he certainly wouldn’t have asked Nichol when he was accompanied by the rest of the Sea Guard. He only even figured out they were there at all by the sudden burst of laughter that reached back into the kitchen. “What, really? Send him out, Mistress, we’ll set him straight.”
Megg came back looking a bit annoyed. “Do keep in mind that they’re all well into their cups, love,” she advised him as she bent over the cauldron to stir the chowder. “Anything they attempt to say with authority is suspect.”
Colm went out into the taproom, where he was immediately waved over by Nichol. “It’s a good job you’re so tall, otherwise I’d never pick you out in a crowd,” Jaime said jovially, then winced when Nichol punched his shoulder.
“Don’t be an ass,” Nichol chided him. “Colm, sit. Ollie, get your dirty feet off the extra chair, you savage.” Ollie scowled but took his boots down from the seat, and Colm sat gingerly at the edge of it. “So Gullfoot finally told you about his epic battle with a sea serpent, did he?” Nichol asked.
“It seemed less like a battle and more like a massacre,” Colm said, and the four men laughed, even though there was nothing funny about it. “Was his recollection mistaken, then?”
“Not in that,” Jaime said. “Enough folk saw evidence of the serpent that we’re pretty sure it was there, and the ruin of the boat was certainly no illusion. If it wasn’t a serpent, it would have had to have been a waterspout out of a clear blue sky, but there’ve been no accounts of a creature that large along the coast since then. But the mermaids? He really got you convinced about mermaids?” Jaime scoffed, then took a long drink. “Half-fishy women pretty enough to tempt a man to drown himself? It’s ridiculous. Nothing but a fairy tale.”
“No it’s not,” Blake spoke up suddenly, to everyone’s surprise. “The Roving Spectacular’s got part of one in a jar. I saw it last year when they came through. A whole head. It looked pretty close to human, I’d say.”
“That spectacular is nothing but a traveling tramp show that preys on the gullible and spendthrift,” Jaime said firmly. “It’s probably nothing but a human head that’s been doctored to look like a fabled mermaid.”
“If they were gonna doctor it, wouldn’t they have tried to make it look better?” Blake argued. “Because this is a manky head, mate. The face is regular enough, but the teeth are like little knives, and there’s no hair on it, just a fin-thing.”
“If they made it look too nice, people wouldn’t believe it,” Jaime told him. “People like to be scared by such things.”
“There is a story about one, though,” Nichol said, obviously trying to ease the growing tension between his friends. “It’s an old story, but I remember my grandad telling it to me a few times. It was about a mermaid who fell in love with a man, and she prayed to the gods to let her join him on land. They said they would grant her prayer, only on the condition that if she ever changed her mind, she would have to cut out his heart and bathe in his blood in order to return to the sea. She agreed to the terms, became human and they married, but as much as she loved him, her heart still longed for the sea.”
“This is selkies, Nicky—” Jaime began, but Nichol stopped him.
“Look, I know stories about selkies, and this wasn’t one of them,” he snapped. “There’s no lore about selkies and blood, only pelts. At the end of the story the woman had to choose between her love for her husband and her yearning for home.”
“What did she choose?” Ollie asked, looking vaguely interested for once.
“According to the tale, she chose to return to the sea.” Nichol’s demeanor was grave and unsmiling, as if such an ending was a personal affront to him. “She lay with her husband until he fell asleep, and then she took a knife and plunged it through his chest. She carved out his heart, carried it to the shore and emptied its contents over her legs, and she became a mermaid again.”
“As I said, a fairy tale,” Jaime said firmly. “Or at best an act of black magic, which is nothing that any of us should be discussing. Lew Gullfoot is just another washed-up old fisherman trying to relive his glory days by playing on a wide-eyed foreigner. No offense meant,” he added in passing to Colm.
“He’s not a foreigner,” Nichol frowned. “Colm is family.”
“Aye, but it’s not as though he’s grown up in Caithmor, is it?” Jaime pointed out. “And you said yourself that he’s the bastard of a man who wasn’t even your blood relative, so—”
“That’s not what I said!” Nichol shouted, and by then Colm had had enough. He stood up, consciously using his height to his advantage for once.
“Thank you for the education,” Colm said dryly, then turned and left the taproom. He heard furtive whispering behind him but didn’t bother to look back, just kept moving until he was through the kitchen, through the courtyard and all the way upstairs in his room. Their room. The room he shared with Nichol, who was one of his only friends. Not so good a friend as Colm had hoped, but he could deal with that. He had dealt with things like that for his whole life. He just needed a moment alone.
Colm was denied the time he wanted to collect himself, because not a minute had passed before he heard the quick tread of Nichol coming up the stairs. “Colm?” he called from the landing.
Colm didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth if he tried. The silence didn’t stop Nichol, but he at least had the decency to knock before coming into the room. He looked worried. “Colm, don’t listen to Jaime, especially not when he’s been drinking. It turns him into even more of a prick than usual.” When Colm still didn’t say anything, Nichol shifted on his feet
. “I didn’t say that about you. I told him about your father, of course, but I never called you a bastard. I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t have to go to any special lengths to defend me,” Colm said, hoping his voice was as calm as he was desperately trying for. “I understand that I’m not a part of your group. I wouldn’t want to be, honestly,” he added.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Nichol demanded. “I mean, yes, I can see why you wouldn’t want to spend much time with the lads when they’re really just complete idiots, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t my friend, Colm. You and I, we’re friends.”
“Why?” Colm asked. “What is it that makes us friends? Is it your sense of duty? Because if it is, I happily relieve you of any responsibility for me. I can make my own way here now, although I appreciate the help you gave me in the beginning.”
“Of course it’s not a, a bloody duty,” Nichol spluttered. “You’re my friend because you’re kind, and you’re interesting, and you can do things that none of those idiots can do. You’re like a pool of calm in my life, and you listen to me prattle on and on, and you laugh at my jokes and, Colm, of course you’re my friend. Aren’t I yours?”
“Of course you are,” Colm said immediately. “You’re my only friend here, and one of only a few I’ve ever had.” He supposed Fergus and Marley counted as friends, even now. “Megg is wonderful, but it’s different with her. I suppose that makes me very inexperienced at being a friend, compared to you. I’m sorry if I’m doing something wrong,” he sighed, spreading his hands helplessly. He saw what might be compassion but was more likely pity in Nichol’s face and looked away.
“Colm. Colm.” Nichol reached out and took his hands. “You’re a great friend. Those lads, I can laugh and jest with them, but it’s different. Even with Jaime, it’s different. With you, I can actually speak about things that have some meaning beyond the navy, or girls, or a life at sea. With them, we’re at our best when we’re all looking to the future, and to the lives we hope to have. With you, I feel like I can be happy right now, in the present. That’s a rare thing.” Nichol let go and stepped back a bit, rolling his shoulders and regaining the bit of his composure he’d let go of for that speech.
Colm, for once, knew exactly what to do. “Are you going back out with them tonight?”
“Nah, think I’ll leave them to it.” Nichol grinned widely. “Care to see the city by moonlight?”
“I’ve seen it already, usually at some ungodly hour of the morning,” Colm reminded him.
“Yeah, but you haven’t had a view. Wait a moment.” Nichol grasped his trunk and moved it up onto the cot, which creaked ominously. “Don’t worry, it won’t collapse! Hasn’t yet, at any rate.” He stood up on the cot, then onto the trunk and raised his arms until his hands touched the skylight. He unlatched it and swung it down into the room, then grasped the edges of the frame.
“I expect you to catch me if I fall,” Nichol warned playfully, then hauled himself up and through the ceiling in a single swift movement. He pulled his legs out, then looked down at Colm. “Come on, your turn. It should be even easier for you, you’re so damn tall.”
“You want me to join you on the roof?” Colm asked skeptically. “Why the roof?”
“Where better to get a view of the city from than somewhere high? Come on, you can’t be afraid of heights. You grew up in the White Spires.”
“That doesn’t mean I like heights,” Colm said, but he already knew he was going to do it. Nichol had left his friends behind for Colm tonight, and Colm wasn’t going to repay that by balking. He made his way onto the trunk, which swayed dangerously for a moment beneath him before he got his hands on the ceiling.
“Perfect, now up and out,” Nichol encouraged. After a few false starts, Colm finally got his body to move the way it needed to. He got stuck for a moment as his legs tried to fumble their way through the rather small hole, but Nichol grabbed beneath his arms and helped haul him the rest of the way up. “Well done,” he said, his teeth gleaming like silver in the moonlight. “Stand up, take a proper look!”
Colm got to his feet and turned in a slow circle. The Cove was taller than many of the buildings surrounding it, and he had a good view of the rooftops that stretched as far as his eye could follow to the east, into the heart of Caithmor. There was the tall square tower of the royal family, long pennants fluttering at each corner. Not far from there were the spires of the Ardeaglais, glowing with more than the light of the moon as the prayers of the faithful powered the ceremonies of the priests. There were a few other large buildings in sight, none of them as beautiful. Colm thought he could pick out the warehouse where Nichol had bullied his way into getting them a boat.
In the other direction, there were the ships, and at this height, Colm could just see beyond the masts and out to the sea beyond them, glittering like it was trying to shame the stars with its brilliance. Colm stood silent and staring, and after a moment, Nichol stepped close to him, their shoulders bumping as they looked out at the water.
“That’s where I’ll be someday,” Nichol said softly.
“So you shall.” Colm knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nichol’s life would be inextricably tied to the sea. Whether it would happen thanks to the largesse of Jaime Windlove, that Colm wasn’t so sure about, but he’d never say as much to Nichol. He just let the moment of confirmation stretch out, comfort given and received, until finally Nichol sighed with satisfaction.
“So. Shall we go house-jumping, then?”
“House-jumping?”
“Yeah, jumping from the roof of one place to the next.” Nichol must have seen enough of Colm’s shocked expression to understand, because he laughed. “It’s not that hard, really. I got all the way to the northern gate once when I was twelve. Almost slipped and broke my neck on a slick bit of roofing, but only the once.”
“I’d really, really rather not,” Colm said, and Nichol gave in gracefully.
“Then we won’t. But it’s too nice a night to go in yet. Mind if we stay here for a while, make ourselves a bit more comfortable?”
Colm looked down at the slanted roof beneath their feet and raised an eyebrow. “How do you propose we go about it?”
They ended up with Colm straddling the spine of the roof, one leg on either side, with Nichol lying with his head on Colm’s thigh and his feet propped against the gutter at the edge. It wasn’t perfectly comfortable, but at that moment, Colm wouldn’t have traded the weight of Nichol’s head on his thigh, or the drowsy, happy look on his face, for anything in the world.
“We still have to teach you to swim,” Nichol murmured, his eyes turned out toward the sea, always toward the sea. “There’s this terrific freedom to it… I imagine that fish and birds have an awful lot in common, in their own elements. And I’m sure you’ll pick it right up.”
“We’ll get to it,” Colm agreed, but honestly, he was in no hurry to learn to swim. As appealing as the water was to him, he still didn’t like the idea of immersing himself in it completely.
They spent another quiet, perfect hour out on the roof before Colm had to grab Nichol to keep him from sliding down the roof as he dozed off. After getting back inside, rearranging the room and settling down into his blankets, Colm reflected that he’d never imagined the evening could have turned into something so pleasant after the conversation in the taproom. That Nichol thought those things about him, and that he’d actually had the nerve to say it all… It gave Colm one of the warmest feelings he’d ever experienced. He hoped he was worthy of it, when all was said and done.
Chapter Ten
Colm hadn’t thought his good mood could be much compounded, but the next day, the first letter from his family found its way to the Cove. Though he’d been in Caithmor for almost a month, it still wasn’t quite long enough for his letters from the city to have made it home, so Baylee must have sent this one while he was still on the road.
Even better, Nichol had declined to go out with the rest of the Sea Guard that morning, instead spending the time helping Megg with the baking and waiting impatiently for Colm to get in from fishing. Once Colm came back, after a profitable but mostly silent day on the water with a Lew Gullfoot who seemed to feel he’d said too much the day before, Nichol was on him in an instant.
“You’ve news from home!” he said enthusiastically, handing the letter over with a flourish. “And you musn’t disappear to read it. You have to share anything interesting with us. It took everything I had to keep Gran from opening it before you got back, so—”
“You terrible lad!” Megg came out of the kitchen and swatted at Nichol’s head with a spoon, to the amusement of the regulars who were finishing their lunches. “I did no such thing! You’re the one with the sticky fingers who couldn’t leave the letter be.”
“You wound me,” Nichol exclaimed as he pressed one hand to his chest and feigned a brief swoon. “You cut me to my heart! I may never recover, Gran.”
“I will wound you if you don’t stop saying such things about me,” she warned him, but she was smiling when she turned to Colm. “I would like to know anything Desandre has to say, though, as long as you’re comfortable sharing it.”
“More than comfortable,” Colm said, handing the letter back to Nichol. “I have as much trouble reading as writing, so if you leave it to me, we could be here all day. You can read it aloud to all of us.”
“Then we’d better get some privacy. Idra, dear,” Megg called out. “I’ll be back soon. Mind the loaves for me, will you?”
“Of course, Mistress,” the girl said briskly as she grabbed a tray from the bar full of tankards.