Scarlet From Gold (Book 3) (10 page)

The story astonished him – the tale of the mermaids, Mirra’s brother and the other girl held hostage, the confession of lustful thoughts.

“Was this Pesino the mermaid the same Pesino I was married to in Canalport?” Marco asked weakly.

“I have no way of knowing, Marco.  And you claim that you don’t remember,” Mirra answered.

“I might as well tell you, I’ve just returned from Barcelon, where I’ve been looking for a suitable home that Sybele and I can move in to.  I assume you’ll want to bring your new bride here to live, when you figure out who she is and where you left her,” there was a touch of asperity in Mirra’s voice, along with a deep sadness.

“My lady Mirra, don’t do that.   You don’t have to leave this place.  You’ve lived her for all these months, and where ever I’ve been,” he thought about what he had been told about bits and pieces of his journey.  It would be an astonishing tale when he learned it, he was sure.  “Where ever I’ve been,” he repeated, “if you’ve been here, then this is more your home than mine.  Stay.  Stay and be comfortable and relax.  I’m leaving tomorrow, and there may be another long journey ahead of me, so you shouldn’t rush out of here.”

“Your daughter, Sybele, is she well?” he asked.  “May I see her?”

“Certainly, Marco.  I’ll go get her for you,” Mirra said in a happier voice.  She slipped out of the room, and was gone.

Moments later Perago the steward slipped into the room.  “I just want to tell you my lord, that the Lady Mirra is greatly beloved by the whole staff here on the estate, and the peasants in the villages as well.  If anyone were to think that you have treated her poorly in any way, or were to make her leave this place, I fear the outcome,” he told Marco.  He didn’t speak threateningly, but in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Since you’re going to leave tomorrow, we’ll all stay calm and just continue to go on taking care of the estate and the lady.  If I were you, I wouldn’t show up with this new wife you’ve found for yourself,” he reached out and lightly stroked the golden torq around Marco’s neck, then left without excusing himself.

Marco stared at the door, shocked by the conversation, the implied threat from someone who was supposed to be his own servant.  He turned and looked out the window, and wondered what his life had been like, what it had been like to know and love Mirra and be happy with her. 

There was a sound behind him, and Mirra came in holding a two-year old girl, who was shy and unwilling to allow Marco to hold her.  “I’m sorry, it’s just been too long for her to remember you,” Mirra tried to apologize and explain.

“Were you in love with me?” Marco asked suddenly.  He thought of the babbling letter he had written, and he wondered if he could have ever deserved to be loved by someone who was not only so beautiful, but seemed to be so kind that she was loved by everyone who met her.

“I still am, Marco,” she said softly.  “I’m in love with the boy who was so thoughtful and kind and friendly, who was willing to work so hard to help others, and was brave.  Not to mention funny, and full of surprises.  I hope that boy will come back soon,” she told him.

“I hope so too,” he said as he stared at her, standing holding the baby.

There was a knock at the door.  “Sweetness says that dinner is ready,” Perago reported as he opened the door and looked in.

The two of them ate a quiet dinner together, as a nurse took Sybele away.  Marco wondered what he could say, what would be of interest to Mirra.

“So what will you do in Barcelon?” Mirra finally broke the silence.

“I’m going to go to the harbor and call for someone named Kieweeooee,” Marco answered.  “And then somehow go to the Isle of Ophiuchus.”

“Your dolphin friend,” Mirra said.  “You can talk to the dolphins, you know.  You swim with them.  One time you and I went swimming in the harbor, and when I got a cramp in my leg, you and Kieweeooee saved me from drowning.

“That was the first night you kissed me,” she told him.

He looked across the table at her.  “I must have been very happy that night,” he said softly.

“I think it’s time I put Sybele to bed,” she replied.  Marco walked with her to put Sybele to rest for the night, and as he did, she told him the story of the sorcerer’s deadly energy, and the time she had tried to drive it out of him using the Gorgon’s blood.

“You were a mess after that,” she finished the story after they put Sybele to bed.  “I was afraid you wouldn’t forgive me for doing that to you.”

“I am afraid you won’t forgive me for whatever is happening to me now,” Marco responded.

“I hope you’ll come back soon, with your memories, and be the old Marco, and we’ll have a chance to try to find out,” she told him as they stood at the threshold of her bedroom.  “Your room is just down the hall,” she pointed.  “Good night, and don’t leave in the morning without letting me see you,” she told him, before she shut the door.

It almost felt like there was a relationship there still, even with the loss of his memories, Marco thought to himself as he went to his own room and crawled in bed.

Chapter 6 – Return to Ophiuchus

Marco awoke in the middle of the night, wide awake the moment his eyes opened.  He had to retrieve something.  Ophiuchus had told him that he had to retrieve something rare, and he suddenly knew that it was something in this place, something that was kept down in the storage room below the kitchen.

He padded down the stairs and through the castle to the kitchen.  There was a door that he knew he had to open.  There was a yawning darkness within, and he stepped cautiously as he descended the stairs that took him down to a place where he could see nothing, and didn’t know which way to turn.

His hand – his right hand – immediately flared up with an illuminating glow that startled him so much that he gave a brief yelp. He looked at the hand, the golden hand that had shown mysterious powers in the past on his journey.  It felt no pain, yet emitted the light that let him see a hallway and a doorway.  As he moved his hand towards the doorway it seemed to glow brighter, a sign that Marco took to signify he needed to look at whatever was behind the door.

There was a room, a room that was filled with work tables and mysterious supplies, jars and boxes and canisters that held a vast array of unlabeled items.  It was overwhelming to think that he could find the right item to select among all the materiel that sat about.

As he stood and studied the room, a small box on a high shelf began to glow.  He knew intuitively that the glow was a reflection of the light from his hand, a recapturing and redisplay of the very same energy he was emitting, serving as a marker to draw his attention.  Without hesitation he stepped up onto a table and grabbed the small box, then carried it up to his room.  As soon as he reached the kitchen, the light in his hand extinguished itself.  He felt no curiosity about the box, only a sense of relief that he had accomplished some important task.

It seemed the next morning that everyone was cautious, willing to wait to see if Marco would return and if his relationship with Mirra would return with him.  He had decided not to take a horse into Barcelon, believing that he was simply going to pass through the city and leave via the harbor.  Perago watched him closely as he stood on the steps of the castle’s main door, facing Mirra.

“I’ll come back someday when all this is over,” he promised her.

“I hope you come without another wife,” she said pleasantly, then they kissed one another on their cheeks, awkwardly, and Marco started off.

He was wearing new, and clean clothes.  That had been one pleasant benefit of his stay at the castle.  Nothing had been unpleasant, but much of it had been unsettling.  He had learned that he would have a challenge in the future, the challenge of living up to the staff’s high expectations for anyone who sought to be loved by Mira.

The walk to Barcelona took all morning, and into the early afternoon.  He walked through the city gates, then wandered among the streets in the direction that he expected would lead to the harbor.  By the time he actually found the harbor, the sun was low in the western sky.

The day of traveling had given Marco time to think, time to reflect on all that he had learned.  He resented the geas, he had decided.  He had started the journey from Station Island simply following the direction to move forward, but as he had progressed, and as he had learned so much about his life before, he found that he wished there was no geas, no compunction to keep moving, and most importantly, no unmooring from the life he had led before, the life with Mirra and a castle, alchemy and a friendship with a dolphin.

Marco went to the end of a pier and looked down at the dark water.  It looked murky, and he had no desire to have to enter the water, nor did he envy the poor dolphin who would apparently arrive to carry him.

He climbed down the ladder that was attached to the pilings of the pier, and stepped onto a cross beam near the water level.  “Hello?” he called tentatively.  “Hello, dolphin?” he repeated.

There was no movement in the water, no reaction to his call.  There was no telling where he was supposed to be; the harbor was a large space, and he and the dolphin were not large creatures.

Marco placed his feet back on the ladder and climbed up to the top again.  He walked to the last pier in that section of the harbor, and climbed down again to the water’s surface, and called out.  When there was no better result, he climbed again and reversed his direction, going back to where he had started, and then further north, before he dropped down to the water.  The sky over head was growing dark after his long search for the dolphin, and he felt frustrated that he had found no inkling of success.

He placed his face down in the water, and called out directly into the liquid.  “It’s me, Marco.  I need a dolphin friend to carry me,” he announced, then stopped abruptly and jerked his head out of the water in astonishment.  He had not meant to, but he had spoken in the water in the language of the dolphins.  The words in his mind had emerged as squeaks and clicks and whistles and other sounds, and he had realized the meaning of his pronouncement as he spoke.  It was surprising and funny, uplifting and intriguing.

“Calling all dolphins!  I am here waiting for you!  When will you ever have such a chance, a human under a geas, seeking your help?  I am Marco, and I await you!” he called again as he stuck his face back into the water.  He held his face down, letting the small waves break atop the crest of his head, enjoying the notion that he had the ability to talk to dolphins.

And then he faintly heard the sound of dolphin language speaking back to him.  He raised his head in astonishment.  He had heard the sounds, and picked one or two words out of the faint call.  “Where” and “repeat” had definitely been among the words spoken.

With a quick breath of air, he splashed his face back down into the water and spoke again.  “I am Marco, the friend of dolphins, and I am looking for my friend.  I am Marco, and I am here, at the end of a pier in the harbor,” he said, then raised his head and looked expectantly out into the harbor.

He could see a disturbance in the water, the smooth movement of a dolphin’s fin cutting through the harbor headed towards him.  He felt a sense of joy, and realized he was grinning.  Even without remembering the dolphin who he hoped was his friend from the past, he found joy in the sight of the swiftly moving creature’s approach.

“Marco!  Marco friend, witness of my wedding!  Marco, you are returned!” the dolphin squealed in a voice that was filled with energy and emotion.

“You are my friend?” Marco asked cautiously in the water.  “You know who I am?”

The dolphin reached him and pushed her snout against his face.  “I hope I know who you are!  You are the one who learned our language, and who was going to make the little babies with me!” she laughed.  “You were the one who dove under the shell of evil to fight for all of us.  And you came to my wedding to the wonderful prince who is now my husband.”

“I am so glad to see one who knows me so well,” Marco said with a grin.  He clearly had some type of special relationship going on with this extraordinary creature.  “I have a problem, and I am told that you are the one who can help me.”

“I know that I must be expected to help you.  For three nights in a row I have dreamed that I had to come find you and carry you to the enchanted isle.  The dream told me that you were incomplete, and that the isle would make you whole again.  She raised her head from the water to look at Marco as he sat on the beam.  “I do not see what is missing.  Is it something you keep covered with those things wrapped about your body?  Can you not make babies?” she lowered her voice to a whisper.

“What is your name?” Marco asked.  “Is it Kieweeooee?” his memory dredged up the odd sounding name that the spirit had told him in the cathedral.

The dolphin stared at him without answering for several seconds.

“My memory, that’s what I have lost,” Marco answered.

“I do not know you.  I just met the woman who I am supposed to marry, and I did not know her either,” he expanded.  “Until I get to the enchanted isle and meet the priestess there, I will not have my memories.”

“My name is Kieweeooee,” the dolphin told him.  “I was one of the dolphins who brought you from the enchanted isle to this watering place of humans.”  Marco imagined that he might see sympathy within the deep black eyes that stared at him from the dolphin’s face.

“You and I were friends, and we swam together in these waters every night many, many, many times,” the dolphin told him.  “I am sad for you, Marco dear.

“Come, get in the water, and let us take you on this journey to regain your memory, my friend,” Kieweeooee told him.

Marco felt a sense of complete and total trust.  The dolphin was the one person he had met on his journey from Station Island who made him feel he could rely on and confide in her without reservation.  He slipped into the water, readjusting his belongings before his grabbed onto the dolphin.