Between the Sea and Sky (4 page)

The winged boy perked up when he noticed her studying him. “Say, you look like an intelligent young lady. Surely you’d like to read Hauzdeen’s views of royalty?” He thrust a pamphlet her way.

“No, thank you, I—”

“I don’t blame you. I don’t understand a word in this pamphlet,” the boy said, fanning himself with the papers. “But maybe you’d like to buy one to use as a fan yourself?”

“No, I just wanted to ask if you happened to know a boy—man—” she stammered, reminding herself Alander would have aged just as she had. “Someone named Alander.”

“If you mean Alan, sure. He works at the bookshop.”

“Is he a Fandarsee too?” The winged folk called themselves Fandarsee—which, Alander once explained, meant “winged folk” in the Fandarsee trade tongue.

“That he is, miss. And if you’re interested in him, you’ll certainly want to purchase this pamphlet because he
loves
to discuss it. Say, isn’t that your husband driving off?”

Esmerine whirled just in time to see the cart and the boy and the winged statue trotting off into the throng. “He’s certainly not my husband!” she exclaimed. “Oh no.” She tried going after the cart, but her shoes pinched her toes and her heels wobbled. She should never have left the statue alone, even for a moment.

The winged boy hurried up to her. “Wait, stop! Who is he, then?”

“He just gave me a ride into town, and he has a statue I brought to trade. I don’t have many more things left!”

“Wait here.” The boy leaped into the sky, spreading his wings. Years had not dulled the thrill that ran through Esmerine when she saw one of the winged folk break free of the world’s pull. They could not take flight on the power of their wings alone, Alander had told her. They were built for gliding, but they cultivated magic for lifting themselves off the ground, harnessing the wind, defying the laws that held everything in place.

The horse cart had vanished around a building, but the winged boy would be able to see it from his vantage point in the sky, and he hovered a moment before he dove, disappearing beneath the rooftops.

Alander. Alan. Did this boy work for Alander? Her Alander—it must be so. Unless it was a common name. She shouldn’t get her hopes up.

The boy appeared above the building again, clutching something in his toes. He swept over her, scattering leaves across the stones with the rush of his wings, bowing as he landed, passing the statue from foot to wing. He brought it over to her, beaming. “There you go, miss.”

Tears hovered perilously close to her eyes, both from gratitude and from the sheer wonder of seeing a flying boy again. “Thank you.”

“If you’d like to see Alan, he’s probably at the bookshop. It’s down Cerona Street.” The boy pointed across the square. The distance looked eternal, and now she had no moony-eyed boy and horse cart. Damn her feet.

“How far?” she asked.

“You’re a mermaid, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Esmerine didn’t like to think everyone who saw her knew she was a mermaid.

“Somewhat, but especially to me, because a mermaid runs the bookshop.” He frowned. “Mermaid? Maybe mercrone would be better.”

An older mermaid? Running a human bookshop? Esmerine was surprised she’d never heard of it before, and she wasn’t sure Alander would be working for a mermaid.

“It’d be too far for you, I think.” The boy gave her the briefest sympathetic look.

“I want to try. This Alan you work with … is he young? Eighteen or nineteen?”

The boy made a face. “Oh, he’s young, but he acts like he might as well be some old uncle.”

That sounded like Alander all right. “Tell me how to get there.”

The boy gave her directions and wished her luck. If she could just make it … Alander would surely help her find Dosia. He’d understand. He’d played with Dosia too.

She must not think of her feet. She had to learn to ignore pain. She just had to put one foot in front of the other. Hundreds of times.

Chapter Seven

Cerona Street angled upward, and every step dragged at her feet until they burned with pain. Behind panes of rippled glass, shops displayed watches and little jeweled boxes and bonnets like the one she wore, only nicer, by the looks of it. She tugged at the ribbon under her neck again, loosening it. If only she could do the same for her stays. She wasn’t used to wearing anything, and now she couldn’t so much as wiggle. Sweat trickled under her arms. If only she could duck under the water and free herself of her trappings, but there was no water in sight, only dusty streets that made her thirsty just to look at.

She only had to make it to the bookshop. To Alander.

She found herself thinking back again to his departure.
Father doesn’t know I come to see you, and he’d be mad if he found out.
Did his father have anything to do with the bookshop? Would he still be mad?

Up ahead, a wooden sign displayed a picture of a book. It spurred her on, and she reached the building rather quickly, only to encounter a scrawled note posted on the door that said
Be back at half past.

Esmerine tried to remember exactly what that meant, when she hadn’t heard Alan speak of measuring time in years. Half past an hour? Yes. And an hour wasn’t all that long.

Even so, she knocked on the door and pressed her face to the windows. A wooden counter and shelves sat in the shadows along the far walls. Were those shelves all full of books?

No one came. Her feet hurt too badly to think of taking another step. She sunk onto the worn stones beneath her to wait.

So tired … She couldn’t think about how tired she was. She pulled off her slippers with a groan and rubbed her aching soles. She couldn’t wonder what she would do if Alander never came, if Alan wasn’t Alander. She couldn’t imagine walking all the way back to the square and starting her search for Dosia now. She put her hand to the siren’s belt at her waist, murmuring songs under her breath, hoping to draw a little strength.

People passed, most of them paying her no attention even as she watched them—girls in dirtied aprons and leather shoes, old men with bent backs, travelers with paper-pale skin burned by the sun. She had yet to see the same person twice. Maybe she never would. How did you get to know anyone, among so many people?

She’d know Alander, though. Years had passed, but not so many years. She remembered his fleeting, flashing smiles, the dark gleam of his eyes. They’d share old memories, talk of old times.

A man. Alander would be practically a man now. She’d known it, but suddenly she realized he’d look different, not just taller. He might have sideburns and a hat like the passing humans; he had a job, for all she knew he could be married—

Gods knew who he might be now.

When he finally came, it seemed like a dream. He wore the brim of his short beaver-felt hat tugged low over his eyes against the sun. He had an open book between his fingers, reading as he walked, just like old times, but he was not the fourteen-year-old boy she remembered at all. He had grown tall and graceful—at least as graceful as one could be dodging a pile of horse droppings while one’s nose was buried in a book—and he looked quite good with sideburns.

He peered at her above the book cover some moments after she noticed him. He quickly snapped the book shut and shoved it within his vest, leaving an awkward rectangular shape there. “Good afternoon, miss—” He doffed his hat. She’d almost forgotten his accent, clipped, like he was in a hurry to get the words out and go. “I’m sorry. I just had a brief errand to run. What are you looking for today?”

He didn’t even recognize her!

She rose to her feet, pushing her hair back behind her ears, waiting for it to dawn on him.

He stepped closer. His eyes filled with sudden shock. Oh, thank the waters!

“Esmerine?” he said, slowly replacing his hat on the back of his head.

“Yes. It’s me.” A flutter rushed from her stomach to her throat. Oh dear oh dear. Alander. He was real. She didn’t know what else to say. She hadn’t realized how different they’d be now. Of course she hadn’t really expected to find a boy, but she also hadn’t realized she’d find a man of Sormesen with a hat to doff and a necktie. His cropped bangs clung to his forehead in the heat. He was taller than her by a good half a fin, where they had once been nearly the same height. He came very close to her, close enough that she smelled the smoke and fire of the human world on his clothes.

“You—you …” His lips moved a moment without any words coming out, like he spoke only to himself. “You didn’t come to … to find me, did you?”

“No. I’m looking for my sister.”

He breathed, his surprise slipping away, replaced by the old Alander she knew, drawn up and proper. “Dosia? Here? Well, why don’t we go in and have a drink and you can tell me the whole story. There must be a story.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He took a ring of keys from inside his vest and let them in. The shelves, she saw now, were indeed full of books—hundreds, thousands. Esmerine had only ever seen one book at a time before. Of course all those books Alan brought had to come from somewhere, but she never realized …

Alan hung his hat on a peg, atop a black cloak already hanging there. He scratched his back on the door frame. He straightened out a few books on a display table. She watched all this without a word, wondering if he’d ever stop moving. It was almost like he was avoiding her.

Finally. He nudged a chair toward her and sank into the other himself, taking the book out from his vest.

He watched her limp to the chair, a funny expression in his eyes, like pity—or guilt …? She didn’t want Alan to pity her, like she pitied the beggars on the street. He had seen her walk before, on the islands, and even work her way up trees, and he hadn’t pitied her then. She suddenly felt stupid.

He looked out the windows, fixating on a girl trying to urge a pig down the street with little success. “What happened to your sister?”

She had long imagined this moment, when she would see Alander again. They would tell each other everything, say things like:

I’ve never forgotten you.

Nor I you.

Her memories of him had been so different. Maybe he just wasn’t suited to the city, she decided. It seemed like he had something else on his mind.

She didn’t really want to tell him anything now. She instantly sensed that she would only be a burden to him. Yet, something had to be said. “Yes, Dosia … well, we think she’s been taken by a human man. She was a siren.”

“And you came after her?” he said, turning back to her sharply. “If she’s bound to a human man, you can’t do anything for her.”

“At the very least I need to bring word of her back home.”

“Would you really be content just to bring word?” Alander asked, in the snappish tone she remembered all too well when something irritated him. She wondered suddenly why she ever wanted to see him again.

“Look, Alander, it’s Dosia. I have to try. If I never even
tried
… She’d do the same for me.”

Alander looked restless sitting down. “Well.” He tapped his thumbs together. “I understand …”

“Do you?” She tried not to sound especially hopeful.

“Where are you staying? For how long?”

“Nowhere … yet.” She tried to smile, like she had it all planned. “I have this statue to trade for lodgings.”

He squinted. “Let me see.”

She passed it to him, and he frowned. “It’s one of us.”

“Well, yes.”

“It looks … rather like it’s from the Second Imperial period. My father collects these. Strange thing for a mermaid to have.”

“I don’t know. Dosia gave it to me.”

He put it down, still regarding it. “You’ll have to take it to market and trade for coins, then make your way to an inn, and then go who knows where looking for your sister.”

“I can walk,” she said, sounding much more capable than she felt.

“In a manner of speaking.” He looked up as two girls stepped inside the shop. “How can I help you ladies?”

They turned their bonneted heads to one another, giggling. One shook her head.

“We have a new pamphlet by Hauzdeen,” Alander said.

“Hauzdeen?” one of the girls said, fluttering dark eyelashes. “I don’t think I’ve read anything he’s written.”

“It’s a bit controversial, but his arguments are very well posed, and I think any reasonable person will see he considers both sides,” he said, thankfully unmoved, Esmerine thought, by the plump and healthy girl whose big blue eyes matched her dress. “I’m sure you’ll find it enriching.”

“I have all the enriching I need,” the other girl said. “Do you have any new Verrougian novels? Along the lines of
A Courtesan and a Gentleman
?”

He sighed, not at all imperceptibly or good-naturedly, and moved to one of the shelves, taking down a book with a deep-red cover. “Lousan’s latest.
Isabella.
I’ve heard it is
very
much like
A Courtesan and a Gentleman
.”

“Then that is exactly what we want,” the girl in blue said, taking coins from her purse. Alander wrapped the book in paper, and with one last giggle, they left, swinging their little purses.

Alander sank back in his chair, tapping the cover of his book with a finger. He glanced at the counter, where a piece of paper lay,
Alan
written quite clearly at the top. Esmerine noticed it said, between ink spatters, “Sweep the floors” and “Fix mess in poetry.” He snatched it up, frowned, and put it down again.

“People are so tedious,” he said. He turned back to her. “You won’t get very far on your own. But I’m very busy working here at the shop.”

It didn’t seem the best idea to ask for his help just now, but she needed him. “Could I do anything in the shop? In exchange for your help?” Her eyes roamed back to the books lining the walls. They enticed her with their spines—some tall and promising pictures, some crumbling and requiring a delicate touch, some just the right size to hold in a hand, with pretty gilt titles.

He waved an almost scolding finger. “Oh, there’s nothing you can do. Certainly you have no experience in a bookshop.” He leaned his head into his fingers and pinched his forehead. “What am I saying? I can’t very well refuse to help an old friend, can I?”

Such reluctance. No, indeed, she was a burden, and she couldn’t bear that. She got to her feet as fast as she could. “Never mind, Alander, I can find Dosia myself. I never expected to come across you in the first place, after all.” She stalked to the door, her movements jerky, but the pain wasn’t just in her feet now. She’d been naive to think of him all these years, she saw that now, but—

He was on his feet in a flash, sweeping behind her. “Esmerine—wait.”

“I don’t need your pity. I didn’t come looking for you, like I said. I just figured it was worth asking. Maybe I don’t have experience, but I would never ask you to help me without offering something in return.” She clenched the skirts that clung to her legs and hindered her steps. She was letting pride get in the way of looking for Dosia, and that wouldn’t do, but none of this was going as she had planned.

“No, I’ll look for Dosia,” he said. “Tell me where I might find her.”

“I don’t know,” Esmerine said, still upset. Even now, he didn’t sound apologetic for taking such a snappish tone. “We thought she’d gone to the big house on the point. The one made from tan stones that looks like a castle. But the humans there denied they’d ever seen her. Now we’ve heard a rumor that her husband has taken her to mountain country.”

“I know the house,” he said, reaching for his hat. “I’ll go investigate.”

“You don’t have to go this very moment! Anyway, I wondered if I could hire a cart to take me there.” She didn’t want to send Alander alone. He didn’t seem especially passionate about Dosia’s fate, and she feared he wouldn’t ask the right questions.

“I ought to see what I can find out before you bother with a cart. Don’t worry. I imagine they’ll be more likely to answer me than a mermaid. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, and Swift will return before I do.”

“Thank you, Alander.” Even if he didn’t really want to help her, she meant it heartily.

“It’s nothing.” He paused. “You can call me Alan now. Humans have first and last names from birth, so I broke mine into two, Alan Dare. Fandarsee don’t take last names until they’ve chosen a profession. And only my father calls me Alander anyway.”

“Alan, then. Or should I say Mr. Dare?”

“Alan.”

“Thank you, Alan.” She smiled, but he didn’t smile back.

She watched him go, but didn’t have the pleasure of watching him take flight; he walked out of sight first. She turned back to explore the bookstore, but her feet still hurt badly from the walk, so she picked up the book Alan had been reading and dragged a chair to the window to wait. Maybe she could read a chapter or two and discuss it with him when he returned.
On Morality
had chapter titles like “The Nature of Man” and “Consciousness and Dreams.” She started to read a little, but none of it made much sense. If only it did. She had so much catching up to do with books.

It felt strange to sit in a chair. One didn’t really need chairs underwater. Her stays kept her sitting very rigidly, and her stockings itched. She was out of the sun, but out of the breeze too. Could the windows open? It looked like they might, but she wasn’t sure how. Couples strolled by, consulting maps; a group tromped along in funny little black hats with red feathers; children played tag and screamed with laughter she could hear through the glass.

An older man with white hair poufing from a bald spot poked his head in. “Are you open for business, miss?”

“Um—no. Alan will be back at half past.” She motioned to the sign.

“Funny, I was here earlier and it said the same. I’m sure that was a different hour. Who are you, then?”

“I’m just … a friend of his.”

“Miss Belawyn’s not here today either?”

Esmerine assumed Belawyn to be the mysterious mermaid owner. “I guess not.”

“Well, do you mind if I look around?” The man stepped in and headed for the shelf without waiting for permission. “I’ll be no trouble at all. In fact, I’ll be glad enough to look without Mr. Dare hovering over me every moment, suggesting I read Hauzdeen and Ambrona and Volcke, and sniffing when I’d rather have something enjoyable that doesn’t make my head throb.”