The Secret of the Emerald Sea (5 page)

Chapter Nine

Minerva sighed and moved closer to Neptune. The other deities chatted while she led him off to a secluded corner of the cloud to talk. As Neptune began his story, confiding in her so completely and with such emotional honesty, he seemed so sad and despondent that the Goddess of Wisdom was thrown off balance.

As he spoke of his doomed love for a human woman, she was somehow touched by his words. She had not known the Sea God was capable of such feeling for another being. Minerva, herself, had never been in love. It seemed like folly, for she could see the end so clearly in most situations, right from the beginning. It seemed like something best left to the human race, and yet...many goddesses had known love, but she had not yet had her turn.

Despite her better judgment, she soon found herself in the thrall of Neptune as he told his tragic tale of love and sadness. His secret daughter was clearly a source of great worry for him.

A private corner of Minerva’s heart yearned for the passion Neptune displayed for this girl’s mother, who was now dead. But logic always cooled the Goddess of Wisdom’s head and cleared her mind.
How can he love one still, one that left him, took his child, and then died without saying so much as a good-bye to him?
Minerva wondered, bewildered. Logic told her it was simply his
memories
he cherished, but to look into his eyes was to see real pain, and real love.

And now the daughter.
Minerva, who had a marked talent for seeing the big picture, knew how dangerous it would be for the girl out there, unfamiliar with her own magic and power, lost among those who might find out what she was, and use her for it.

How terrified she must have been
, Minerva thought,
to find out she was not truly human at all, and then to deal with the rage of a god
. She was angry with Neptune for treating the girl so cruelly, but she could also understand his frustration. Human beings and half-deities never seemed to follow predictable patterns like animals did. They tended to veer off course and make decisions that seemed...ludicrous.

She had studied the human race relentlessly, and her main observation was that they all had a sort of recklessness, something some of the gods shared, although she wasn’t one of those types. Perhaps this wildness was the link that bred love between god and human being.

And now this young girl has disappeared, traumatized and distraught
, she thought sadly.
And yet she hasn’t returned to her village
. She mulled this over for a moment. A girl of fourteen would doubtless be heartsick for her family and friends.
If she hasn’t made it back to the village, perhaps she is lost.
.

She wondered for a moment if the girl was dead, but dismissed the thought. Jane’s power, although untapped, would afford her more protection than she realized, and there were many creatures out there that might sense what and who she was and try to assist her. It was probable that there were good
and
bad forces, all amassing around this young, frightened girl.

“Neptune,” she spoke softly. “We must be careful.” She stared at the King of the Sea. “This girl barely knows what she is, and she is still so young.”

“I know,” sighed the king. “She seemed like little more than a child when I saw her, so tiny and innocent.” He put his head in his hands,

“This girl may not be alone any longer,” Minerva said. “In my experience, children of gods tend to attract a certain
element
, and they give off a distinct aura to those who are sensitive enough to notice.”

“Whatever shall I do?” Neptune pleaded. “I don’t know how to find her.” He wrung his hands in frustration. “Please help me, Minerva.”

Minerva took his hands and unclasped them. She held them until they ceased to tremble. She felt terrible, as she had somehow misjudged Neptune who was not really so silly as she had thought, and she was bothered by her mistake—for she did not make many.

Her curiosity was piqued. She was terribly curious about this girl, half- mermaid-goddess, half-human, wandering the Earth, and possibly other more ethereal places, looking for her home. It was spellbinding to think of it and to imagine the young girl’s thoughts as she learned to accept who she was and what had happened to her. Also, Minerva was quite wary, for if the girl stumbled upon the wrong sort of character, she could be formed into something different, something darker, than a mere mermaid and princess of Neptune. She could be quite dangerous...at least in theory.

“I have a plan,” she told Neptune. “Don’t worry about a thing. I will find a way to locate your daughter, and I will bring her to her senses.” Minerva’s mind burned with the challenge, and she smiled to herself.

Today has been an interesting day
, she thought as she rose with Neptune and walked by his side back to the main council area.
One can’t ask for more than that, really
.

Chapter Ten

Cupid held Jane tight now, up in the sky. She felt as tiny wrapped in his muscular arms as he had been in her own embrace before the fateful storm. The first light of day would soon streak the clouds with a pale, rosy glow and the sky would turn a bright, clear blue. They had flown over the bad weather, through the long, cold night, and so terribly high that Jane was afraid, but the Cupid held her close, so close, and she drew comfort from the sight of his ecstatic face as his huge wings moved up and down, carrying them forward at an amazing speed.

He loves to fly
, Jane thought in wonder.
He looks as I did, no doubt, when the first feeling of being a mermaid came upon me and I moved through the water so joyfully and easily
. She smiled at the memory, for it was a beautiful one, and one she would always treasure, although what had come afterward was harsh and unpleasant. She remembered the fish whose eyes had glowed like jewels in the dark water, and the way their lips had moved as they murmured to her in greeting. It had been incredible, and she would never forget it.

“We are almost there!” the Cupid shouted in her ear. “Not much longer now!” Slowly and carefully, he banked his great wings like a giant bird of prey. They swooped gently downward, and Jane felt like a leaf that floated in quiet circles to the ground, carried upon the cool autumn air. Looking down, she saw a little town, and grass, and trees! It was a village, although not her own, she knew. The many church spires of Royalton were missing. Still, it was
civilization
, and the vast seas were behind them at last.

In the distance, she saw farms and the twinkling lights of houses and shops where a few candles burned in the cool pre-dawn, glowing faint yellow-white in the windows of buildings. The town seemed deserted, but she knew dawn would soon bring a flurry of activity, and she could not believe her own excitement as she imagined markets and horses and food and drink after all her months of deprivation.

“Hold tight!” the Cupid exclaimed, grinning into the wind as he flew. Jane was terrified as the ground rushed up to meet them.

Seconds later, the sky—just at the precise moment they landed!—seemed to turn to its daytime color. The sun began to beam down on their bodies, and when she had managed to stand up, the man who had carried her was gone. The tiny Cupid stood in his place now. She could not help but smile at the little boy, who was really a magical being—a shape-shifter straight out of a fairy tale. Now that she knew his other self, it was difficult not to giggle at the little boy’s appearance.

“Don’t laugh at me, Jane,” the child told her, and her giggles ceased as quickly as they had begun. “It’s bad enough being a toddler without your mockery!”

And so she apologized, took his little hand in hers, and they walked toward the village, stopping only to steal some nondescript garments from a farm’s clothesline—what choice had they?—and to garb themselves as poor peasant villagers.

“How do you know this place?” Jane asked the Cupid as they neared the town.

“I saw it in a dream, Jane,” he answered. “I believe there is a reason why we are here, although I am not yet sure what that reason is.”

“What shall we do for money, and food and shelter?” she asked worriedly. She could already smell roasting meat, and bread. She was starving.

“I thought we could tell fortunes. I could whisper in your ear, and you could tell the villagers the sorts of things they want to hear,” the Cupid answered. She could hear the sly smile in his voice. “Everyone wants to believe they will find love, and be loved with all of someone’s heart.” He squeezed her hand tightly.

She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering his kiss, his
man’s kiss
, and then she shook her head slowly. “It’s all so confusing,” she whispered to herself. “But we would be lying to them, would we not?” Jane asked a moment later after a few deep, calming breaths. “Is that not wrong?”

“They only want hope, Jane. Just to hope for something.” He stroked the inside of her wrist with his tiny fingers. “It’s not a sin to foster hope in another person.”

He bent his head a little then, as he spoke, and Jane watched his clever little face, which always seemed to hide a multitude of thoughts and opinions, and she wondered, as she had many times before, if his views of sin and humanity might not differ greatly from her own. But she did not really wish to delve further into such issues. It was easier to believe they were alike.

“But what if we are shown to be frauds since nothing comes true?” she asked.

“Perhaps enough of it will come true to
enhance
our reputation,” the Cupid answered, laughing. “Perhaps we will be better at reading the villager’s minds than you think, Jane.”

Jane laughed. She knew she had changed since she, too, had been a simple villager. Perhaps it was because she had grown older, but when she was with the Cupid, some mischievous element in her own character seemed to emerge, and she suddenly found herself looking forward to telling the fortunes, to making the money, and to getting along on her own—with the Cupid, of course, always with him—without anyone to say what she should do or whom she should be.

Of course, she would find her way back to her grandmother. She must remember that this was the most important thing in the end.

“We will try to pass ourselves off as gypsies, then!” Jane laughed. “Me, the blonde gypsy, and my gypsy baby brother who does not speak, but only clings to my neck.” She shook her head at the ludicrous ruse the Cupid had dreamed up for them. It was so silly and far-fetched. She giggled and trudged forward, slowing her steps to match his. Whenever he wished, she would carry him upon her hip.

“They’ll have to be fools to believe a single word of it!” she muttered.

“Indeed, they will!” the boy remarked quietly, and she could hear the slyness in his voice.

Perhaps that is what he is counting on
, she thought quizzically.

Chapter Eleven

As Jane and he Cupid made their way toward the town along an old dirt road, they encountered a trickle of townspeople who were quite bold in their curiosity about the young girl and the tiny boy. The women along the roadway asked more questions than the men did, and Jane told them a tale of woe that was so sad and tragic—and previously concocted by the Cupid—that the women of the town were determined to help the young girl and her brother right away.

The Cupid had told her that her youth and beauty, not to mention his little dimples, would surely cancel out the usual mistrust of strangers. She watched him as he smiled at the villagers they met with practiced skill. His large, jewel-like eyes seemed to beseech the local townspeople to please, please help them in
any
way that they could.

Jane was more reserved, but once she’d told her rehearsed story a few times, she began to feel more comfortable with the people they met on the road. One of these villagers led them to a public house located directly in the center of the little town. It was known as The Crown Of Thorns.

Despite its somber name, the Crown of Thorns was a merry place. All the villagers met there at the end of their long workdays in order to commiserate about the day’s events. The crude, thatched little building attracted everyone and everything. News traveled fast through the local pub as the cheap liquor loosened everyone’s tongues.

Children were not permitted in the Crown of Thorns, but somehow, youngsters ended up there every day, hugging their mothers and singing along with boisterous drinking songs and mournful dirges. This made it easy for Jane and her little companion to blend in. In fact, sometimes, the older children would sneakily drink the dregs outs of wineglasses and ale mugs, then crawl into their mother’s laps and fall asleep. They would be carried home to bed when the pub finally, finally closed. But the Cupid never took a single sip.

The pub was their first introduction to the village, and it was also Jane’s first try at fortune telling. From the Cupid, she had learned about the various clever ways she could answer questions to deflect any difficult lines of inquiry, and so successful was this teaching that they were soon made welcome by the locals who gave them a place to stay—for free— that evening in exchange for their fortunes.

Jane saw the fortunes as a silly trick, but the Cupid’s uncanny grasp of human nature allowed their reputation to build quickly, and this created increased demand for their services. The Cupid would stare into the eyes of the person who sat across from them, seeming to read their mind. He would then whisper things to Jane that allowed her to make generalizations and give advice that could be interpreted any number of ways. He would feed Jane murmured sentences and show her how to use astrology and palm reading as tools to further bilk the townspeople out of their money.

As always, he told her wisely, magic had a hold on the common folk, who really didn’t know any better. Though they were all religious, they could not resist the easy lure of those who promised to reveal the future, and though there were other clairvoyants, or those who claimed to be clairvoyant, Jane and the Cupid were a mystery and an unknown quantity, and their value shot higher as the advice they gave seemed accurate more often than not.

Once they’d made a little name for themselves, Jane was given a pack of Tarot cards in the pub, the first pack she had ever seen. It was kept behind the bar, wrapped in cheap velvet, and its cards were filled with all manner of grinning Devils and spinning Wheels of Fortune and icy Empresses. She learned to spread the cards out as a tool to extract information, and sometimes, when her mind was quiet and focused, the readings seemed eerily accurate.

Jane knew some other forces were at play, giving her readings more truth and gravity, but she was frightened by this magic. She resisted the urge to tell her own fortune and that of the Cupid’s. Sometimes her fingers burned or tingled fiercely as she touched the deck, as though the cards themselves held some sort of dark power. She knew that, eventually, she would give in and tell her own fortune, and she feared for what she might find.

Her own cynicism withered and died as she saw the faces of those whose futures she foretold and whose pasts she touched upon. Their eyes showed the truth. After all that had happened, it was not difficult to believe that such magic might exist. She did not know that this magic lived within her own body and soul, and that her abilities were the result of her strange parentage.