Young Writers Society

You live on mountains. Wherever you stand, in a cave or meadow or castle, you are miles higher than the rest of the world. There are lands on earth that none of you have known, plains and forests more uncharted than the moon. For the moon is at least visible to you. Of the moon we see only a bright blur, like silver dropped into water to cool, and the sun looks like a red flower, miles above us. Only the brightest stars are visible to us. We fly through the deeps, and it seems to us that we float in the night sky.

Chapter One

Silira lay on the hard stone, looking at the full moon high above her. The sea murmured close by, just at the bottom of the steps. At the top of the steps was a palace built of gold-colored stone, but she was too far down the steps to see it. Her long hair, pale blonde, was dripping on the stone, but her huge blue eyes, deep and dark as the sea, were dry. Since she could not cry, she suffered infinitely more than humans do. She pulled her black cloak around her, breathing hard from the long swim. Only one thing had to be done before she left her home forever.

She knew it was worth it. Not only for the prince's love, but to give everyone a chance at eternal love. It was all she'd ever wanted.

She took her thumb off the vial, took a deep breath, and drank the potion. For exactly three seconds, nothing happened. Then the pain came. Before she could wake the humans with a shriek, she fainted.

When she woke, with burning pain in all her limbs, the prince was standing over her, looking curious.

Barf.

She gasped, but the potion made her do it silently, and tried to stand up. She fell back, still exhausted. He knelt down next to her.

"Who are you?"

She wished to be able to speak more than anything, but only smiled mysteriously.

"Where did you come from?" She really wished she had had a plan.

He looked into her eyes. Though she had gotten legs, she hadn't become human. Her eyes were still huge, her teeth and ears pointed, her features angular and streamlined. But her eyes were the most surprising to him, huge and blue and glittering with sunlight and tears.

"Can you speak?" She shook her head again.

He took her arms. "Can you get up?" She considered, then nodded. After all, the witch had said the potion would let her be able to walk, not just give her legs--WHOA!

She was standing up with as much grace and fluidity as if she was swimming. But this was with legs. It was like the change from moving in water to moving in air, except that the change was far bigger. This was like a human waking up with a tail and being able to use it perfectly. As promised, she was graceful, more so than any human. Her feet didn't hurt yet, since she had taken no steps, and the pain in her limbs was fading. She felt wonderful, and turned to face the dawn, still not taking a step.

"Come inside," said the prince, confused, but he wasn't really thinking of why she was there. He was wondering who she was, and how it was possible that she looked so like a girl he tried not to remember. "Whatever the matter is, I'm sure we can sort it out."

She thought so, too, and kept smiling, standing without his help and looking up at the pinnacles and domes of the palace, hearing the fountain splash inside, and took her first step--

AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

Pain. Large. Knives under her feet. Too much to stand. She collapsed too fast for him to see the pain on her face. Her eyes dimmed as if she were sinking back through deep water. The last thing she saw was the sea sparkling in the sun.

After a while, she began to dream.

Far out in the wide sea, where the water is as blue as a cornflower and clear as the purest crystal, with sea-trees and plants swishing under the currents, fish sliding like birds around and through them, stands the palace of the Sea King. The walls are coral, grown over thousands of years, and the high, pointed windows are gold-colored amber, shining in what sunset light can reach it; the roof is made of mussel shells, opening and closing as the billows pass over them, each holding a pearl.

Usually she was swimming and laughing in the spaciousness of the palace, where lovely flowers grew out of the walls on all sides, and feeding the fish that swam in through the windows. But now she sat in the garden outside the palace, full of fiery red and dark blue trees, whose fruit gleamed like gold, and whose flowers were like a bright burning sun. The sand of the garden was bright blue like burning sulphur, and that strangely beautiful blue was everywhere. A human would have said that the sky felt at once above and below. The water was still, making the sun visible as a burning purple flower, lighting up the world with a dim blue radiance. Each of the princesses had her own plot in the garden to use as she liked, and one was shaped like a whale, and one like a mermaid. But Silira had hers as round as the sun, which she was always gazing at through the vast expanse of water above her, and filled with red sea-flowers. She sat now among the red flowers, her green tail curving around her.

She opened her eyes. Light brighter than what she was used to shone back at her. It was about seventeen bright sunbeams, coming in the large window of a smallish room. A strong breeze blew the white linen curtains into the room. The walls shone bright yellow in the light. She was in the Golden Palace. Which was not literally golden.

Other than the soft white bed she was in, there was only a wardrobe, a small table, a chair, and a black woman in a simple blue dress who was sitting in the chair. The woman smiled, and said softly, "It's a good morning."

Silira stared around the chamber, still not used to everything being so dry and cool and the light being so bright.

The other woman said, "Can you tell me who you are?"

She shook her head.

"Can you speak?"

She shook her head again, looking at the woman. She was probably thirty-something. Her eyes were warm brown and somewhat concerned.

The woman sighed. "I feared as much. I'm Rosanna, the court doctor. Do you know sign language?"

Silira shook her head.

"Then can you write?"

Another shake. She knew the humans' language, but not their writing.

Rosanna folded her arms. "Then there is no way to know who you are. But you're still my patient. There are a few people asking questions, but fortunately not too many. The crown prince brought you to me quickly and quietly. Only his brother and the queen know about you. Everyone is busy because of the ball tonight. Dozens of monarchs and minor nobles will be there, so nobody cares to ask why one more guest arrived early." She winked. "The only questions will come from the royal family."

In that moment, Silira decided she would go to the ball. Yes, she felt terrible pain whenever she took a step, but she knew how to stand it. The first time had been a shock. This time, she was ready. Also, she had never cried in her life, not even as a baby. None of her kind could. And this meant that all of them had suffered more than usual. They knew how to look normal while concealing far more than could be seen, not unlike the sea. So she would not flinch. She might even dance.

Rosanna smiled. "I think I know you want to go. Actually, it might be better if you did. If you want to, that is. Frankly, I can find nothing wrong with you. You're of sound body, and I'm guessing your mind is fine, though that isn't my area. You fainted last night because you were tired, yes?"

Silira nodded.

"Do you want to go to the ball?"

Another nod.

"Are you an assassin? Because, if you are, you'll be speedily decapitated."

She shook her head.

Rosanna grinned. "Good. Then you can borrow my dress. I hate balls."

Silira smiled, trying to thank Rosanna. The doctor understood. She rose. "Get some sleep. I'll have the maids send up a bath. You're covered in sea salt."

Silira fell asleep, feeling, for the first time in a long while, as if she really had a chance at her goal. Which was love. If you're going to suffer through reading this, you ought to know that her only goal is love.

She dreamed again.

Up to the surface she shot, leaping out of the water, taking her first great breath of cool evening air. She landed back in the water, and stayed there, looking up and around. It was far more wonderful than she had imagined.

Dark clouds gathered at the horizon, seeming almost green in contrast to the bright rose and gold of the high-reaching sunset. The barely moving air felt refreshing, and she could move faster. She smiled. There was a ship, perhaps a mile in front of her, a lovely three-master with only one sail unfurled. She swam to it, hearing music and singing resounding from the deck, a rousing sailors' song in deep voices. Unseen by her, the clouds, the dark ones at the foot of the sky, rose higher, coming closer and blotting out more of the sunset, darkening the sky to a deep green. Hundreds of golden lamps were lit then, all at the same instant, all over the ship. Spunkies. Tiny Scottish fairies that glowed like distant fires. They served as fairy lights all over the world. Flags fluttered in the rising breeze, many of them, giving the ship a festive, glad, glowing look. She swam closer, trying to see the crew, her first humans. They were bustling around the deck, rough-clad, shouting cheerfully to each other. One went into the captain's cabin at the rear of the ship. She had an idea and moved astern, noting the name of the ship painted on its side, but in human letters which she didn't know. And there was a window in the back, a big one, and low enough for her to look through when the ship dipped down with the motion of the sea.

Inside, there were several well-dressed men, in good cloth and furs which she suspected were taken from land animals, though she couldn't tell which ones. And there was another, with his back to her, about her age, laughing and talking with the other men. She heard one of them call him "Your Highness." Then he turned, and she recognized him. That high forehead, and those big black eyes and thick black hair...it was the boy whose statue stood in her garden. She had been wondering what he was really like for years. And he was years older, and rather more attractive than the statue. She wished she could learn his name.

"Your Highness?" A burly, grizzled sailor leaned into the cabin. "We're all ready for you."

"Shall we proceed?" the kid asked a taller man next to him, and, without waiting for an answer (it appeared to have been a rhetorical question), walked out onto the deck. He balanced well on the deck, she noticed. She thought she might be able to walk well, with practice, if she had legs and feet. Their legs looked so strange. She turned and swam to get a better view of the deck, and that was when the hundred rocketing fireworks went up, every color of the rainbow, bursting with the sound of a thousand cannons. She was scared and dived back into the sea. After a few minutes of blastingly beautiful color above the surface, she rolled her eyes at herself and went back up. The sound startled her again when she came up, but soon she was watching the fireworks in the sky being reflected in the sea, the sounds bursting, as happy as she had ever been.

Chapter Two

The sun was setting in a blaze of red-golden fire when the guests began to arrive in carriages. Wintress was in the hall with the fountain, wearing a long black dress and greeting the guests. Henry was in a blue tunic and pants, with his narrow gold crown, discussing taxes with a few dukes his own age. Corwin sat in a smoking room, not smoking himself, talking with several older men who were smoking gilded pipes and laughing over some odd story about a dwarf and an ogre in a bar, when he stopped listening and got up, walking to the doorway and staying there. Silira had arrived.

She was coming down the wide curving stairs, illuminated by a shaft of sunset light from the open cupola above the fountain, wearing the silk dress, her hair up, a long string of pearls looped around her neck. She'd taken them off her cloak and pulled a thread from it to string them together. Best not to be a walking treasure, she thought, but that was still how Corwin saw her, silver slippers flashing from under the hem as she slowly came down. He didn't say anything for a second, then came forward.

"Ah. This, gentlemen, is...is..." He looked at her. "Lady Silent, a mute visitor from...foreign climes."

Henry saw her and waved. "Hey, Corwin! Lady Silent! We're going to the hall or Mother will tear your brains out. She's getting that look." Wintress was standing behind him, staring at him through her veil. He turned and quailed. "Ah...let's go!" He and his friends fled, and the nobles followed them, muttering about Silira's odd appearance. "Must not be human, old man..."

Colin offered her his arm. "Shall we?" She smiled and took it.

So far, so good. Nobody was being formally announced, but there was an imposing butler with a chest like Cinderella's pumpkin standing in the wide doorway and making check marks on his list. He nodded when he saw Colin, and then frowned when he saw Silira.

"Lady Silent," Corwin whispered to him. And so she would be known.

Corwin took her inside. She liked the place. It reminded her of home. Everything was huge and simple and mostly stone. Pillars lined one side of the room. Windows filled the wall behind them, casting long shadows over the golden-yellow walls and smooth marble floor of the semicircular chamber. The tables were all round, made of ebony to complement the black floor. One was raised above the rest on a high black dais. The next two to either side of it were slightly lower, the next pair lower still, and so on until the lowest pair was level with the floor. The platforms made a set of stairs around the curved edge of the half circle.

The people fascinated her. Everything about them--the glorious clothes, the faces, the voices--was strange and wonderful to Silira. She wished she knew some of them, but others creeped her out. Not all were human. She knew that this was not the Seelie Court, or (heavens forbid) the Unseelie, but they had their ambassadors as well. Nonhumans had their own courts, which didn't mix much with the humans even though they lived side by side. They kept to themselves. If there was an island with humans and nonhumans living together, the human court would rule the humans and the Seelie Court would rule the others. The Unseelie court, being composed of evil nonhumans, would just kill the humans. There was a bull with the head of a man, politely standing instead of sitting at a table that was otherwise full of what looked like Arabian humans. A small dragon curled around a chandelier on the ceiling, lit it in a puff of smoke, and flew to another.

Henry was at a lower table with numerous other young boys, and he winked at her as she passed. She rolled her eyes and went on with Corwin. With some trepidation, she realized they were going to the highest table.

Queen Wintress was in the center of the line. On her right were three Arabian dignitaries, speaking in slightly fractured Eleschic and glancing briefly at Silira with black eagle eyes. On her left were a few other kings, but there was an empty seat just to her left, probably where the king of Eleschi used to sit. Corwin, with Silira next to him. "My aunt canceled," he whispered to her. "So there's room for you. She came down with diamonditis and didn't want to be seen in public. Ironic, considering she doesn't want to speak and you do." He paused. "Do you?"

She nodded, discreetly lifting her feet from the floor.

He sighed. "Good. Listen, don't worry about people asking why you're here. They'll just assume you're a random princess or something. This isn't the highest table--well, it is literally, but it's not meant to hold only monarchs. Just the ones who really need to talk to Mother. Also our relatives. Henry's not here because it goes over his head. I'm not trying to say you're inferior. Just that people won't automatically think we're engaged. They'll know you're a visitor."

Just then, the king to Corwin's right stopped talking to his neighbor and noticed Corwin. "Ah! Your Highness! And...lady I don't know! Royal greetings and happiness to see you again from Blank, king of Asterisk."

The king behind him and his queen greeted them as well. It seemed that most of the people from here were European, near neighbors of Eleschi, except for the Arabs. Corwin was greeting the visitors and introducing Silira as Lady Silent, but she tapped him on the shoulder and gestured discreetly at the Middle Eastern men on Her Majesty's right. He glanced at them, then back at her. She tried to look curious, as if she were asking, "Why?" It was hard to learn to speak with your eyes.

Corwin looked at them and frowned slightly. "What about them?"

"Does she know sign language?" the foreign queen said from a few seats down.

Silira shrugged apologetically.

"You want to know why they're here?" Corwin said. "Everyone else is European."

She nodded, smiling.

He laughed. "I'm good at this." A few chuckles from the right. Corwin's mother stayed engrossed in conversation with the Eastern delegates. "Well, they're just...here...Why are they here? Either they want something from Mother, or Mother wants something from them, or..." He leaned over to look at them, then gasped. "That's..." Corwin flopped back into his seat, staring ahead, stunned. "It's the Kadif. It's really him. He never comes. Even though he should. It's his duty as a human monarch, but he never comes. Calls himself an Emperor who rises above us, even though there are kingdoms larger than his. Like yours, yes?" he asked the king beyond Blank. "Anyhow, he thinks he's superior. Nothing wrong with Arabs in general, but there's something wrong with him."

One of the three dignitaries from Astrakhan, whom Wintress had been keeping busy with polite conversation, rose and bowed to those assembled. He cleared his throat, then began a long speech in Astrakhani. "He's not even speaking Eleschic," Corwin muttered resentfully. "Protocol says you speak the language of the country you're in, and he's being all superior, thinking he doesn't even have to speak our language. I think a war might be in order soon."

The Astrakhaner finished, smiled, and sat down. Wintress addressed him in Astrakhani.

"A interesting speech. And all concerning the virtues of diplomatic relations and the diablerie of war."

"Yes." Ambassador Ben-Rasta nodded, a hint of superiority in his smile. "War is, after all, a terrible thing. Especially if the country you fight has a large army."

She rolled her eyes. "Like yours?"

He nodded, no longer smiling. "Exactly."

Corwin spoke to Silira, not turning his head. "Brace yourself. Here it comes."

The ambassador nodded and spoke briefly in Astrakhani to an underling who had sidled up behind them, who rose and opened a door in the side of the hall. Twenty youngish women in veils and gold-colored tops and wide gold trousers filed out, going to the center of the hall. They all had their hair tied into a tight, sleek bun. Most were Arabian, but a few were European, one or two were African, and one was Asian. They formed a circle in the center of the council chamber.

The Kadif rose, smiling. His black eagle eyes regarded the other leaders with cold contempt. He said something in Astrakhani, projecting his deep voice so everyone could hear him. He was lean and tall and handsome in an unattractive way. His longish hair had hints of grey at the temples, but he was strong and obviously not a man you wanted to cross. "Do you speak--" Corwin whispered, but Silira was already shaking her head. "All right." He translated. "...good people of all countries, I present to you the fattest...no, greatest...group...of eminent dancers in all of my vast and glorious empire, brought from my palace of gold and silver, blah, blah, blah, and may I impose upon you tonight by giving you the pleasure of the dance of the windy sands, et cetera..."

Silira laughed (silently) and held up a hand, indicating she had heard enough. Corwin rolled his eyes discreetly and stopped translating. Silira wondered if someday she should learn Astrakhani.

A group of underlings slipped into the chamber and set up their instruments along the edge of the semicircle of tables. The Kadif sat down. Polite applause filled the room. Corwin clapped, and grinned when Silira did the slow clap. She couldn't believe this. It seemed like a dream. She was on her way to getting the three things she wanted--souls for everyone else, her soul, and Corwin. In that order. My point here is that she's not virtually stabbing herself for Corwin's sake, but for millions of people's sakes.

The music struck up. She had never heard anything like it, nothing so mysterious or weird, nothing that got into your blood like this. Anyone could dance to this and not be so bad, but nothing in the world is so bad as something that is not so bad. Also, the dancers were trained. And they were not smutty. Their aim was not infatuation; it was skill and speed, maybe even perfection. They danced as if their lives depended on it, now slow, now fast, whirling in circles, feet moving as fast as a sandstorm. Corwin's attention slipped from Silira to the dancers. "Interesting," he mumbled. "They're not so bad."

Silira was slightly jealous, but not very. After all, he showed every sign of becoming her friend. Also, she loved the music. She couldn't stop her feet tapping under the table. Her fingers began to tap out the melody on the tablecloth. She began to concentrate on the moves of the dancers, trying to understand the steps of the dance. Left, right, two forward, clap, clap above your head, clap at chest level...

She heard the Kadif speak softly to Queen Wintress in Eleschic. Ironic that he finally respected her by speaking her language, since what he was saying was entirely disrespectful to his fellow monarch.

"They dance like...like they dance for their lives, yes? They do."

"What?!" Wintress said, almost above a whisper. Corwin was still watching the dancers, but Silira subtly kicked him under the table and subtly pointed to his mother. Corwin listened as well.

"...cannot insult us so," the queen mother was saying. "How dare you?!"

Silira tried to look as if she wasn't listening to the Kadif, and noticed that everyone else was doing the same thing.

"Why not?" the Kadif said, still in Eleschic. "They belong to me. I bring my shoes. I bring my spiked tubaharp. I bring my dancers."

"Slaves!" Corwin whispered fiercely. "Not the kind that are called slaves but really aren't, not the kind who are really just paid servants who can leave whenever they want and are only called slaves to make the master feel superior. Captives. Probably daughters of losing soldiers. I heard there were dancers, but the fellow said they were free!"

King Whatsit of Blank stamped his foot under the table. "Nothing we can do, that's the worst of it."

Corwin was hastily assuring his neighbors that Eleschi had nothing to do with this. The queen was hissing whispers at the Kadif with a diplomatic smile on her face. The Kadif was smiling back in an infuriating way. The people too far away to hear were wondering if something was going wrong.

"They are good, yes?" said the Kadif, keeping his voice low. "Better than any of your country. And you can send no one down to stop them, or I am...insulted? Yes. Insulted. Perchance...angry. Furious. Sit. Watch slaves. I keep laws of Astrakhan. You keep laws of...of diplomacy. Lawbreakers are pumiced."

"Punished," the queen spat. "And I keep the laws of Eleschi. No slaves within my kingdom. You agreed to this."

"Why? Are you stronger?"

"Are you crueler?"

Corwin had been listening to this and realized that Silira was gone. "Lady Silent!" he whispered, as loudly as he dared. "Where are you? Oh, this is just wonderful..."

He saw her.

It was her hair he noticed first. She had her back to him, running silently and speedily down the stairs that the platforms made, stealing a tablecloth from a table full of old gentlemen absorbed in the dancers. She slid it over her hair and into the shadow of a pillar. She was now very near the dance, not visible unless you knew where to look, looking almost like one of the dancers. From there, she could barely tell that the top table was in secret uproar.

He didn't understand at first, not until a line of dancers passed the line of pillars and her silent ladyship slid out of the shadow and into the dance.

Silira had a few reasons. One was that she liked the music and the dance and this was a challenge that just begged her to try it. Yes, it hurt, but she was full of pent-up energy. She was beginning to get used to the feeling in her feet. Soon, she would barely notice it. It would become part of her, resented but not paid any attention unless she had walked a long time and was tired. There was no point in trying to walk as little as possible. She would be walking a good deal if she had to get the option of eternal life for everyone she'd ever loved. Another reason was that the Kadif annoyed her intensely. A lesser reason was that she wanted to get Corwin's attention back. The slaves were modest, yes, but they were still dancing girls. And something simply had to be done. This wasn't violent. It wasn't an insult. She was merely telling the Kadif that she sympathized with the slaves and he could do nothing about that. And, though she didn't know it, that drove him mad the most of all.

Corwin suddenly put things in perspective. A mysterious and beautiful stranger turns up on the doorstep, wearing a cloak sewn with thousands of rare pearls, slightly damp, huge striking eyes...no, striking wasn't the word, they shocked you with their size and intensity and beauty, bluer than blue. She can't speak, but seems to understand him, even to know him well. And she enters eagerly into their game of thrones. And now she's in the middle of the ring, escaping from certain death and dancing while she's at it...dancing perfectly. Those of the guests who weren't absorbed in puffed-up conversation with the queen (i.e. Ben-Rasta), were looking at her, realizing how good she was. No, good would be an understatement.

Corwin began to clap.

Where she came from, there was a move that was easier than most, and, for her at least, more fun. It was called, of all things, the Ascension, like the going-up ceremony. The thing was, you used your tail to do it, twisted and spun and gathered momentum and then shot upward. She could do it in five seconds back home, but here there was no way to swim up. The air, she knew from experience, simply did not hold you up. She had never done it on land...but she had done it once in air. Into air. When she first went up.

She decided to do it.

Slowly, then faster, the applause spread.

She started to spin. Momentum was paramount. Silira had to spin faster than any of the others, and they were good. She had to spin like a top until she became a blur.

The Kadif and the Queen were still talking. Wintress had quieted down somewhat, lowering her voice and strengthening her argument. Her voice was softer than the Kadif's now. He was still smiling now, like a hungry wolf. "Crueler, say you so?"

She arched one black eyebrow. "Are you? We cannot allow cruelty to exist. Neither can we allow war to exist without a good reason. We must talk. We must remain cool and collected. Neither of us wants war."

Silira began pushing up with each step, rising up and down, bouncing quickly. The whole council chamber was a blur of gold and black around her. She heard more people clapping, and caught the swiftest of glances of Corwin's face, laughing in triumph and amazement.

"I want war," the Kadif said.

Queen Wintress sighed. "Then why this?"

"I ask you to surrender. We will say...you want to marry me. I will be king. Eleschi will be in my empire."

"I don't suppose this is because you're madly in love with me," she countered in Astrakhani.

He laughed. For all his cleverness, it was a very stupid laugh. "No."

Silira pushed off for the final time, then shot up, jumping with all of her strength. At the same time, the dance ended. The slaves stopped, standing in a circle with a unified stamp. The sunset flamed over the sea through the windows, shining through her golden hair as the veil slipped off and she spun around, hair flying out, skirt flaring, applause for what they thought was the chief dancer ringing through the room.

The Kadif stared.

The Queen coughed. "Excuse me? I thought we were having a heated discussion."

He nodded distantly. "Yes. I...I have no blonde dancer."

She looked at Silira and frowned. "Who is that?"

He turned to her, furious, reverting to his own language. "Don't pretend you don't know this girl!" he spat. "You planned this! This is your answer! You side not with me, but with the slaves!"

"You are crueler," the queen said. "Actually, I don't like cruelty. I like to think no one here does. If I must fight you or put up with your attacks, your cruelty, your raids and slavery and lack of grace toward women or anyone else, I will fight."

Silira had landed, hair hanging around her face, blue eyes burning with intensity, one hand on the floor, one hand in the air behind her, one knee down.

The world came into focus again. She shifted into a sitting position and got her breath back, wondering what she'd started. She looked up at the top table and saw Corwin running down from it, Henry laughing near it, and the Kadif with clenched teeth, infuriated by the Queen's cool smile.

Corwin came into her line of vision, much closer now. The slaves had filed out, secretly smiling under their veils, knowing that the oppressed people had friends in high places. She looked up at him again and took his hand. He helped her up, not saying anything. He was too astounded at the sheer impossibility and wonder of this girl.

Henry, however, was better at that sort of thing--meaning, giving credit where credit was due. "THAT WAS AWESOME! THAT WAS WONDERFUL! YOU ARE THE STRANGEST GIRL I HAVE EVER MET, AND, ASIDE FROM MY MOTHER, THE ONLY ONE WORTH KNOWING!"

Corwin laughed, slightly hysterically. "What have you started? No, sorry, you haven't started anything. But that was..." He paused, trying to think. "That was good. Extraordinarily good. But some people won't think the same thing. Quick--leave the same way they did. Once they know who you really are, they'll ask questions. And I don't think either of us could answer them. Let me guess--the Kadif was getting on your nerves?"

She started laughing and couldn't stop. The look on the Kadif's face had been priceless.

"Go," he whispered. "I'll tell you what happens in the morning. And I'll get Henry to bring your supper. I think the Kadif might kill you if you stay here much longer. Really, he has rage issues."

She nodded and got ready to leave. Her work there was done. But he reached for her shoulder and pulled her back for a second.

"Frankly," he said, the last words he would say to her that night, "you were brilliant."

Chapter Three

Her sister Rika had turned fifteen not long before Silira turned fifteen, went topside, and saw the ship. Rika came back down after only two hours, and told her sisters about having seen a glorious sunset and a flight of swans flying over her. It was nothing Silira hadn't already heard, and she gave up in disgust and went to her room, a lovely one, the highest in the castle. She stood at her window, opened it, and watched the moon rising. A shadow drifted across it, casting its shadow on the city below. Silira reached out to it, knowing it was a ship. Here, the fish were swarming around the window, gliding across her view of the moon as the shadow passed, and merfolk were swimming and riding on magnificent seahorses the size of our horses through the streets of the glowing city. Somewhere up there, the wind was blowing, and the waves were flying over the sea and breaking on the beaches of a land she could never belong to.

She woke with a start. Another dream.

When she came down to breakfast, now wearing slim black flats and a long blue dress with cap sleeves, her hair tied up and ready for anything the land might choose to throw at her, they greeted her as one of the family and went back to their conversation, though Henry still wondered who she was.

"...and he was furious," Wintress said. "He wants war. I say it has been long enough. I'm sick of putting up with his tyranny and I don't even live there."

"I would prefer war, actually," Corwin said, pulling out a chair for Silira. "Good morning, Silent. Mother, are you sure war is the only option?"

"He wants me to marry him," she said. "In which case he becomes king and takes Eleschi. Everyone knows we're strong. He wants the strongest force in the sea to himself."

Silira knew what the strongest force in the sea was, and they could keep the Kadif's forces from using so much as a rowboat.

Corwin sighed. "I know something has to be done, but must it be war?"

"He certainly is angry," Wintress said. "He left this morning with his whole party, except for Ben-Rasta and his attendants. Nobody can stop him. It's a favor to us he came at all. He gave us a few years to decide. He wants us to give him something under the table."

"I want to give him a kick under the table," young Henry said, sipping milk.

"How nice of him," Corwin said. "Oh, yes. Your silent ladyship, I was going to tell you that last night went surprisingly well. Nice beef. No squabbles. The Kadif was polite and then went to bed early. He and his ships were gone by dawn. Someone started the rumor that you were someone I knew from a voyage to Astrakhan five years ago. I almost died, but apparently it was worth it to keep you safe."

"You're hilarious," Henry said, helping himself to bacon and eggs. "We'll all die. Mother, are we really going to war?"

"It would be unwise, at least now. You see, he wants me to marry him, in which case he's king. But, if Corwin gets married, he is more fit to become king, not just the crown prince, in which case the Kadif cannot take the throne by marrying me. Therefore, if Corwin gets married, he is closer to making war on Eleschi. This problem must be resolved. Someday, there will be war, hopefully not only us against the Kadif but anyone with any sense of decency. But, until it looks as though I may give up the throne, he is content to remain in a threatening state. Diplomatic relations are certainly gone, and we won't be trading with them. But we can stand not to, can't we? We are the strongest force at sea."

"What if the merfolk exist?" Corwin wondered.

"No way to know. They may not even care. Corwin, Henry...Lady Silent--the Kadif may not know it, but we have been given a period of grace in which to plan. Corwin, I'm taking you off most of your responsibilities, because they put you in contact with possible matches and we don't need that right now. Worry not--thou shalt still have thy friends. Lady Silent, a few people recognized you, but they barely know who you are. Some think you're a noblewoman who moonlights as a dancer. Some think you wanted to spite the Kadif."

Silira nodded, smiling. She wasn't ashamed of what she had done. Yes, they were in a bad position now, but feasting and dancing with a tyrant was worse.

Wintress laughed. She did sound tired, but she was happy that this thing was finally being resolved somehow. "Lovely. So, to review, war was always coming. Now it's coming a little faster. Which I'm almost happy about. Corwin is on the shelf for a little, a year at most--do you mind very much, Corwin?"

"You know the situation," he said absently. Silira was confused, but at least he didn't seem attached to anyone and/or mad at anyone.

"Good. Lady Silent, you're thankfully not in any trouble. But there is still one thing I would really like to know...Who are you?"

Silira wasn't really sure how to answer.

"Don't answer that. Would that thou couldest, but thou canst only speak with thy eyes and hands and also nod or shake your head. Canst thou point to your home on a map?"

Her home wasn't on any of their maps. She shook her head.

"Are you from...another world?"

Silira frowned, not understanding. She shook her head again. Was the queen talking about Heaven? Hell? Purgatory, if it existed (probably not)?

Wintress sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Are you in danger if you go back home?"

The only danger Silira didn't want to brave. Yes. She nodded. She was fairly sure that she could at least crash in the palace and impose that much upon them to get a soul. If they wouldn't do that for her, then they were as nasty as the Kadif.

The queen was not stupid. She was actually quite clever. Silira might not be human. She might not even be rich. But she could see fear in her eyes, fear of something big. Something bad. For some reason, Silent needed to stay in the palace. And Corwin was looking at her as if he couldn't believe she existed. Whether he was attracted to her was unclear, but he liked her. He needed a friend. They all did. She was so tired, but resolving great problems like this was what she loved best to do. She would keep on and keep them all safe...

"I think..." Wintress said, "that you ought to stay here. If you go anywhere else, questions will be asked. And the Kadif has unpleasant friends in most large cities, certainly ours. You could be waylaid, and I truly don't want to see that happen to such a brave lady as you are. Will you stay and be called Lady Silent of Eleschi? A minor noblewoman from the country, no questions, a peaceful life free from danger."

Silira nodded, grinning, trying to thank Queen Wintress with her eyes.

The queen smiled back. "Neither of you boys mind, do you?"

"She's brilliant!" Henry shouted. "Nobody stands up to the Kadif like that! I love her! She has to stay!"

"Inside voice," Wintress said, laughing. "Corwin?"

"As heir apparent to the throne, you have my blessing. But, as soon as I am done with breakfast, I and Silent, with her blessing, will go out into the city." He turned to Silira. "Unless you've already seen the city?" She shook her head. He laughed. "Aha, I can tell you're excited. Have you ever even been in Eleschi before?" She shook her head and pointed toward the sea out the window. He looked at it, then back at her. "You arrived by sea? But no ships came that night. The storm and that underwater mountain range offshore kept anything from getting any closer to the palace than the harbor. No boats, even, as far as anyone knew."

She put an expression on her face that was half smile, half smirk, and half "Bwahahaha, you will never have an inkling of who I am." She would be using it a great deal.

He rolled his eyes and buttered his toast. "Oh, you drive me nuts. Will you come with me? I'm bored with the palace. Pleeeease?"

She nodded, hoping they wouldn't be walking the whole time.

As it turned out, they weren't. Corwin sent a servant to have a carriage readied. It was ready by the time he and Silira came out, Henry waving to them from the top of the steps, then turning and walking back into the palace, a thoughtful expression on his face. Silira was enjoying her new shoes, even though she couldn't feel them very well through the pain every time she took a step. She looked out from the bottom step, smiling at the view.

In all her excursions, she had always seen the palace from the back, never from the front. The back view was impressive, with its many windows and the canal running around the plaza, meant to be seen by ships that passed in the night and the day and those weird times in between, but she had never been this far up the canal, for fear of being discovered while watching Corwin and the other things of the land.

Behind her, the Golden Palace was beautiful, all the best architecture and the brightest banners flying from the heights, and the flag of Eleschi, a white sun setting with a gold sunset behind it over a silver sea. But in front of her was the capital city of Eleschi, Sentrynyl, the biggest port anywhere, the busiest and most cheerful place she had ever seen. It and her own capital, which was called Twilight, were polar opposites. She came from a dark place, quieter, full of music and dim lights swaying in the current and fish swimming overhead, but this was far different. It was noisy and smelled like fish and flowers and sun on stone, full of the sound of fishmongers fishmongering and kids shouting and an accordion going at full tilt somewhere, the sun shining everywhere, nothing hidden from its heat, gulls screeching overhead and ships floating in the harbor. She remembered when Eylee had come back from Ascension, saying the harbor would be a good place for Marco Polo. Maybe someday they would be able to hold the tournament there. She got into the carriage, facing forward and looking at Corwin, who had just gotten in, sitting on the seat opposite her. She had a sudden vision of herself seated on a dais high above the harbor, watching the ocean's best athletes play Marco Polo, humans watching from ship and shore, merfolk watching from bleachers installed below the surface of the harbor, everyone cheering, Corwin sitting beside her.

Hey...could that happen?

Right then, as they clattered out of the courtyard and down a hill to Sentrynyl, she made a decision.

Someday, she might go back to the sea, but not for good. She would always return here, even if Corwin never looked at her twice, even in spite of the stabbing pain in her feet and not being able to taste any food. She loved it here. She had forgotten that the land itself was one reason she was here.

She woke up to Corwin snapping his fingers as she gazed abstractedly out the window. "Silent? Silent?"

She turned her head with an apologetic smile. Corwin grinned. "You like our city, I see."

She nodded and grinned, meaning, "I love it."

He waved out the window. "I wanted to show you this."

She slid over to her left and looked out, through a space between a theater and a bakery. There were the mountains, the high range stretching up into the sky like a cat waking up, topped with snow and ringed with forested foothills, with a thin stone path wrapping around the highest and nearest one, the sky behind them the bluest she had ever seen.

She stared out the window, her eyes getting that intense look again, concentrating on the high mountain and the path leading up it. There was something about that mountain that she had felt in other places, when she floated just beneath the surface and looked down into the depths of the sea, when she first burst out of the water, when she sang at the ball two days ago. It was the call to adventure, to a higher place, the feeling that had driven her to learn everything she could of the land, and eventually to go there for good.

Corwin, leaning back so she could look out of the window, looked thoughtfully at her. "Henry looks at them that way sometimes. I think you and he are the same, in that you both want to rise up, to climb as high as you can." He paused. "Do you want to go to the top sometime?"

Silira looked back at him, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the slightly dimmer and much less inspiring interior of the carriage. She nodded slowly. The path, she could see even from the heart of Sentrynyl, was too narrow even for a horse. They would have to walk, for at least two hours, when they reached the path. But she didn't care. She wanted to climb up there, to stand on the top and see for miles, maybe even glimpse one of her own people.

"You know, they say everything can be seen from the top of one mountain or another," Corwin said. "But whenever anyone says that, I say, 'Well, what about the sea?' Most of it can never be seen, even if you stood on the highest mountain in the world, which you probably don't even know is in Rhiannon."

Silira turned and gave him a strange look, half smile, half frown. She was thinking of all she could tell him of her own world, and all he could tell her of his.

He rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat as the carriage rumbled through the noisy streets. "And another thing...you seem to know everything about me. I don't know why you do, I'm just getting that feeling, and it's not a bad thing, but...it's creepy. That, and those eyes of yours. They're almost too beautiful."

Her eyes widened. She was shocked. He was also shocked. "There you go! Every time you do that, I nearly freak out. You're so unearthly. The way you seem so real, more real than most things I've seen in my life...It's almost unreal."

Colin leaned out the window, which was unfortunate, since the carriage driver stuck his cane through the window at that exact shining moment, banging the side of the carriage and saying, after stopping the horses, "We've arrived, Your Highnesses."

The prince jumped out of the carriage, helping Silira down, though she didn't need it. Corwin tilted his head back, looking up at the driver. "What was that, Fred?"

Fred the carriage driver narrowed his eyes and looked at them both. "Well, it's no great observation of the intellect, but the young lady seems like a princess. I should know. I drove with your mother, bless her heart, and Wintress before she was queen, and Silent, if I may call her that, has the same feel to her. Sort of...regal." He tilted his cap and clicked to the horses, and the carriage clattered away down the street, toward the sea. Corwin took Silira's arm and led her down a close, which is a narrow alley that goes through a building, sometimes even part of a building, often with its own name as well. This one, however, had a narrow walkway over it, with a sailor or two running down it, calling to their mates in the harbor, "Oi! We sail in an hour!" For they were going to the harbor. Long docks stretched out on either side of it, and one of the vessels anchored to the dock to Silira's left was one she knew well, with bright paint and brighter flags, one she had watched Corwin sail on for a year by now. He led her through the hurrying passengers and sailors on the boarded harbor edge, which I'm not sure counts as a dock, and along the dock. She listened gladly to the gulls crying, the humans yelling and chattering, the waves crashing around the pilings of the long dock...

Chapter Four

Wintress banged her fist down on the large table, lined with dignitaries from her own land and others. "I refuse to tolerate this any longer. Astrakhan is growing stronger. If we grow any more lax, it will take all it wants. You know of their behavior last night. You know the Astrakhaners should not have this bad government, and you know they do. Interfering in the affairs of other countries has never been our policy, but this time we have no choice. What it needs is a new government, and we can't give it that. However, we can starve the old, until, hopefully, the agreeable new emerges from the ashes like the phoenix."

"What are you proposing?" an older nobleman with sideburns like mutton chops said, bushy brows furrowed.

Wintress took a deep breath. "I am proposing we do everything we can to keep Astrakhan within its borders. Buy not, sell not, keep them from setting foot across the boundary line. We do not enter Astrakhan, and we send them a strongly worded message, which will say that we will not be moved until they agree to our terms."

"Which are?" a tallow-faced, dark-haired fellow who looked like a stick of string cheese, whose name was Gerald Weigh, said.

"One, that they stop the slave trade, or at least stop giving them to us. Two, that they repeal those ridiculous misogynist laws. Three, that they appoint new officials in every post in government, including..." Wintress steadied herself and hoped no one saw how nervous she was... "the Kadif."

The sixty-year-old man with the sideburns rolled his eyes. "And what will the Kadif have to say about this?"

Weigh ran his hand through his hair and nodded, agreeing. "We can't risk open war. If they fight us--"

"If they fight all of us together, we shall prevail." Wintress' voice was firm. "But it must not come to open war. It would leave Astrakhan in even worse shape than it is. There are people in Astrakhan who already have plans for a new regime. One great order, ready to rise in place of the old. They call themselves the Phoenix."

"What about the neighboring countries? Some are loyal to the Kadif."

"And most have been estranged by his audacious behavior. His few allies will desert him if we stand together. The estranged ones will help separate them as well." She paused, standing tall, trying to give the impression of the trustworthy young queen, regal and stately. "Ladies and gentlemen, I vote we put the Kadif in the corner like the naughty child he is."

Silence in the ranks, except for Weigh (a sickly fellow) coughing into his sleeve.

"Seconded," said King Day of Swardset.

"Seconded," said King Moran of Rhiannon.

"Seconded," said the representative from Seelie.

The motion was carried unanimously, and they began to plan.

Clocks struck one, all over the palace and all over Sentrynyl, as Corwin and Silira left the small inn where they'd gone to get lunch an hour ago.

"I still can't believe you can't taste a thing," Corwin said. "Your tongue is really not working?"

Silira nodded, smiling at his amusing concern for this small thing. Well, not really very small. She'd been able to eat, but not to taste, her bread, her fish baked in butter, or her wafflet, an Eleschic dessert that consisted of a small waffle filled with fruit jelly. Her attention was distracted by a man in black across the street, gazing at her and Corwin over a meat sandwich. She tapped Corwin lightly on the shoulder, then nodded at the man in black, eyebrows lowered slightly, as if to say, Who is he?

Colin looked, then seemed to recognize the man, nodding slightly. "One of my guards." She raised her eyebrows and nodded toward him, as if to say, "Yours, but not mine?"

He laughed and looked back at her. "People might want to kill me, for the very reasonable reason that I am a prince. However, no one knows who you are, and therefore won't kill you. And I'm in no danger. No one's tried to kill me since I was five."

She gasped, but silently. He reassured her that he hadn't even known about the attack because his mother had distracted him, and so their conversation went on, such as it was. She learned a good deal about him, but he learned very little about her, for obvious reasons. At one point, a few hours later, he said, "Am I monopolizing the conversation?"

She doubled over, laughing silently. He sighed and flopped back in his chair. "And you even laugh silently. I wish I could hear your voice. But am I?"

She shook her head, and then the chorus of bells began again. They were all timed relatively well, ringing at nearly the same seconds, four times from the clock tower and each church. Silira started and looked up at the clocks, noticing as she did that the sky was turning pink and gold, red at the horizon. "Four o'clock!" Corwin shouted, jumping up from the table just outside the inn. "We have to meet Fred in the square! When, you ask? Half an hour ago, that's when! RUN!!!"

They bolted out of the square, empty plates left on the table, shoes banging on the stone street like the beating of a drum. Silira tried to ignore, but couldn't, the pain in her feet, and focused on the sunset, which she could glimpse between buildings and trees, blazing red across the sea, and Corwin next to her panting with the effort of running up the hill they were now ascending. "Gah..." he muttered, as the street leveled out again and they shot into the square, "...Could you slow down? Possibly? You're like the fastest person I've ever known...Silent..."

Fred jumped down from the carriage. "Your...uh, Stupidity!" he cried. "What kept you, sire--uh, sir?"

"Why don't you just keep calling me that," Corwin said, breathing hard and stopping outside the carriage. Silira pulled up beside him, not having even broken a sweat. "I forgot what time we had to show up at. Silent is an engaging conversationalist, despite being unable to speak...and I succumbed to her charms..." He glanced over at her, and she looked at him indignantly, slapping him on the chest. "Ow!" he said, stumbling backward and nearly falling over. "What..." She slapped the side of the carriage, then pointed to another one across the square that a tall lady in red silk was getting into, then to another one going by with a bunch of yelling kids in it. Then she pointed back to him, raising her eyebrows again. He looked perplexed for a second, then sighed, came forward, and banged his head on the side of the carriage. "Fred, you may call me Your Stupidity for as long as you like."

"What?" the driver said, climbing back up to his seat.

"I could have called a cab!" Corwin said, opening the door for Silira, who entered the carriage with an air of injured dignity and sat down with a silent huff, straightening her skirt and thinking how annoying it was to need clothes to be modest. Fred laughed and said, "Well, Your Stupidity--"

"No more of that. I'm tired of it already." Corwin leaned out the window and looked at Fred. "Well?"

Fred sat back and told the horses to start. Surprisingly, they obeyed the one word, "Start," and set off. He spoke, smirking, without looking back at His Stupidity, Prince Corwin of Eleschi.

"It would seem that Lady Silent has a good deal of influence over you."

And this, it would seem, Lady Silent reflected as she looked out the carriage window at the sea reflecting the sunset, was absolutely right.

Back at the palace, Henry ran down the steps to meet them. "Ho, brother! Hast returned from thy errand?"

"I hast," Colin said, jumping out of the carriage and running around the side to help Silira down (who needed it more than he thought). "It went quite well, and I apologize for my lateness. Is Mother going to kill me?"

"Nay, chuck, but 'tis veriest truth that she doth wish thee to attend the meeting tomorrow to organize the thing about Astrakhan."

"Has it gone through?"

"Aye, forsooth, by a unanimous vote. A hit, a very palpable hit, upon the Astrakhani slave trade. And what of the fair Silent?"

"Oh, she has gained a new title from Fred," Corwin said as they went up the steps and Fred and the carriage headed for the stables. "Lady Silent. And she might as well keep it, just to throw off suspicion if anyone doubts her nobility."

"Her nobility?" Henry said, looking sidelong at Silira.

"Do you doubt it?" Corwin said, now seeming defensive.

"No, I do not," Henry said, banging on the large double doors. "Marge! Marjoram! Open up, it's us!"

Silira looked sidelong at Corwin, surprised that he had called her noble, this girl who had shown up on his doorstep and expected to be helped, but he didn't see her. He went briskly into the palace, calling, "Mother? Mother, I'm back!"

Chapter Five

Silira walked under a sky full of stars down the steps to the canal. She sat down and pulled her skirt up to her knees, which she studied for a few moments before sliding her tired feet into the water. She looked out over the glittering sea, lit by the stars and a rising crescent moon, a single pirate ship silhouetted against it. Are they all right? Do they know I survived meeting with the witch?

She sighed and leaned back. While not walking, her feet didn't hurt much, but there was a throbbing ache in them that quite irritated her. Being back in their element seemed to help. She wondered what had possessed that witch, and what on earth she was doing, here, out of her element and taking each painful step perfectly. Then she remembered her soul and everyone else's souls and Corwin.

There was a foaming in the deep.

Silira heard a faint, sad song, just slightly greater than that of the sea itself, and started up off the steps, sitting upright, looking out to sea.

Something's out there.

She caught a flash of white out of the corner of her eye that was just slightly brighter than the moonlight, and quickly turned her head. There was nothing there. The faint song quickened, got stronger. Then she realized the wind was speeding up.

Just the wind...

Then she saw a flash of blue, deeper than the sea, out of the other corner of her other eye. She turned to her right.

Nothing's ever just the wind.

There was a splash, and she was certain she saw a fin cut the water for a moment, seeming to stay motionless, before sliding beneath the water again. But she knew what that fin belonged to. A smile spread across her face, and she started waving.

Five glittering forms swirled to a halt in the mouth of the canal, just below the surface of the water. Silira slid a step lower, trying not to get her dress wet, grinning by now and leaning over the water to try to get a better view through the reflection of the moonlight on the water.

She should have known better than not to expect them.

Nyrie and Eylee and Eltress and Rika and Levana raised their dripping heads above the water. They had been singing, and their song had ended just before they broke the surface.

"Hello," Nyrie said.

"I know it's dangerous, but we had to come," Eylee said. "Father wanted to know if you were well...everyone did. Everyone knows of your having gone, and no one is angry, but they're all sad. They all miss you--us, Father, Grandmother, everyone. The sea itself seems sadder, not hearing your voice."

"So are you?" Rika asked. "Are you well? Did the witch hurt you?"

Silira considered, then opened her mouth. The thing with her feet was too hard to explain without words. They looked into it, and then Rika gasped. "Is..."

Silira nodded, sighing silently.

They were outraged. "But that's terrible! She CUT OUT your T--"

Silira waved her hands, trying to shut them up, and pointed back to the palace. Eylee pulled herself up, avoiding Silira so as not to get seawater on her dress, and looked at the lit and curtained windows of the hall with the fountain. Faint shadows of humans moved around behind them, servants bringing food to the dining table. "He's in there?" Eylee said quietly.

Silira nodded. Eylee slipped back into the water. "I just can't believe..."

"She did that to you, just because you wanted something from her..."

"What's the legal penalty for this?"

"Imprisonment, and she's already in the best prison we could find..."

Silira heard a well-known voice behind her. "...And the chicken was exquisite, but Silent can't taste a thing...some condition of some kind..." She gasped and stood up, spinning her skirt to check for any splashes of water. Her sisters ducked down to the bottom of the canal, leaning against the edge closest to Silira. Corwin was coming out. "Silent! Lady Silent!"

Silira glanced back once at her sisters and nodded, trying to let them know that everything was fine, that the land was more than she had hoped, that Corwin was...well, Corwin, and that he had a nice little brother and she was recognized, both in sea and on land, as a noble lady.

Corwin came up to her and took her hand, bringing her back to the palace. "Milady, no one bears a grudge against you for leaving so early, but we have sighted...how to put this...the Kadif's vessel. He is sailing now, and would not be pleased to see you again. We thought he might dispatch you with grape shot, if he sighted you out there."

Silira gestured elegantly to the risen crescent moon through a window, meaning that it was night and she would not be easily recognizable.

Colin looked at it, then back at her, noticing the effect of the moonlight on her unusually long pale blonde hair. "Well, I know it's night, but you are...distinctive." They were inside by now, standing at the foot of the steps. He realized he was still holding her hand, both of them in fact...now, how had that happened?...and let go. He nodded. "Good night, my lady."

She nodded back, and ascended the stairs, not noticing the single seawater spot on the hem of her dress, the spot that only Henry had noticed, looking out from the door of the hall, just after having finished eating. The kid turned and left, eyes narrowed, adding this to his secret list of clues.

Chapter Six

She was dreaming again.

The six sisters burst out of the ocean and started gliding towards the palace, quick as dolphins, leaping in and out of the water. Silira loved the huge palace and everything about it--bright yellow stone, white marble steps leading down into the water, a gilded cupola at its top on white marble pillars, which were interspersed with white statues of the same stone, high windows into grand rooms hung with silk curtains, blowing in the breeze, and paintings, one of the largest halls with a natural fountain in it spraying up to the cupola and watering the pretty plants that grew around it, big and beautiful and shining in the sunlight. They swam up the canal, also lined with white marble, and she hugged them all and thanked them. "You're so good to me, even when I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy," Nyrie said. "You're just madly in love."

Silira opened her eyes and was immediately startled by a loud chorus of gulls outside her window. She sat up in bed, untying the neck of her white nightgown and shoving off the thin summer blankets. She could hear Henry yelling outside, startling up the gulls, shouting, "Freeeeeeeedooooooooooom!" She rolled her eyes and did what was becoming routine.

Swing your feet over the edge of the bed, brace for impact, and--

PAIN

LARGE PAIN

Ah...can stand it now. Just enough to concentrate on your surroundings. The effects of the potion, as usual, keeping you from crying out or even blinking. Use the bathroom (humans are weird) brush your hair, wash your face, revel in the water's touch, brush your teeth, throw the shredded toothbrush off the balcony in disgust, discover that your balcony and Corwin's are next to each other, go through your sparse but beautiful wardrobe, find the trousers made for you only yesterday for riding, find a white blouse to go with them, soft tights to shield your feet, boots that don't lessen the pain in your feet, braid your hair into three braids, then braid those together, put on a hat to shield your eyes from the brightness of the sun, stop in front of the mirror.

Silira knew she would be staying there forever. If Colin didn't turn out to love her, then the rest of her life (and she didn't know whether she would still live to be three hundred or not) would be very strange indeed. He did like her as a friend. That much was clear. But today, wearing what was known in fashionable circles as male attire though it really wasn't, with her lustrous hair braided back, looking like some bizarre creature that was half mermaid and half human, she doubted he would even notice her.

She turned painfully on her heel and went out. No breakfast in the palace today. They would eat on the road.

It was her first time riding a horse, but she had experience on the large seahorses back home. This was not much different. She forgot her worries about whether Corwin would notice her, looking up at the great mountain above the city. It was rush hour, with carriages, riders, and people on foot swarming around her and Corwin and their retinue of ten armed riders. Corwin turned his grey stallion to the right, tossing a vendor a coin and taking two of his breakfast sandwiches. He rode back to Silira and handed her one. She nodded her thanks and bit into the eggs and cheese and fried bread, looking back up at Mount Triumph. She wanted to go there, straight to the top. She had no idea how the world might look from a high place. She had looked down at Twilight many times, from just below the surface, coming back from one of her endless forays along the coast, but this would be different. Her eyes got that intense look again, staring at the mountaintop, actually becoming a deeper blue and widening to their full extent, eyebrows lowered. She shouldn't have worried about Corwin not noticing her.

"Hey!"

A man Silira had seen before in the palace rode up, two guards accompanying him. "Milady, and Your Highness--"

"How does she rate?!" Corwin demanded of the nobleman. "What is it, Sir Dermott? A message from the palace?"

"Aye, Prince Corwin." The messenger appeared to pause for breath.

"Spit it out, man!" Corwin waved his right hand impatiently, using the other to hold his sandwich as he took a bite out of it.

"Aye, sir...Well, it seems that news of the boycott has gone to all countries. Our couriers made it all right; however, one was sent by mistake to Astrakhan, even to the very palace of the Kadif..." Silira tuned them out, listening to the gulls and the yelling of the ever-present children. Whatever it was, she would find out about it later. This was not the time for politics.

She, Corwin, and their entourage rode through the city to the beginning of the path, the sounds of a busy seaport fading behind them. The chief guard, one Captain Clay, turned his tall steed to face them. "Milady and Your Highness, you must ascend first. If anyone attacks, it will be from behind."

"In that case," Corwin said, swallowing his last bite of sandwich, "let Silent go first."

Silira smiled and nodded, thanking him again, and thought about her years of training in self-defense back home. She and her sisters could fight, yes, but she had never fought on land. Let the prince be a gentleman.

They made their way up the mountain. Branches covered in leaves and flowering vines brushed their shoulders, and birds sang in the distance. Silira reveled in not having to walk, not being distracted by the stabbing pain. She refused to look through the few gaps between the trees at the landscape below, seeing only brief splashes of bright blue sky and mountainous clouds before she looked away. She wanted to be completely surprised by the view from the top. Corwin, behind her, called, "Lady Silent, why aren't you looking down? If you're afraid of heights--" She shook her head. Even if she had been, this wouldn't be a very good time to admit it. Already they were close to the top. Perhaps another five minutes...

The narrow stone path turned from the forest to a rocky cleft. It was narrow, but wide enough for their convoy. Silira's eyes still had their intense look, and had had it all the way up the mountain. The sky overhead was the brightest blue she had ever seen. A bird swooped overhead, a falcon, screeching with the glory of the day. Corwin was smiling behind her. "Silent, you might want to look at the ground until we reach the end of the path, which is when you'll get the most awesome view. And when I say awesome, I mean that it fills you with such awe that you can't speak. Or, maybe, in your case, it will be the other way around and you'll be able to speak. It's my favorite place, but I don't get many chances to come up here." And I'll get even less, he nearly added, now that Astrakhan...But he decided to keep quiet and not spoil her afternoon with politics. Her muscles were tense, he could see, and he was surprised by the fact that they were strong and lean, stronger than most. Who was this girl?

This girl, at the moment, was looking down at the path ahead of her with a surprising degree of intensity. As she led them out of the cleft, the path ended, stopped by a large boulder. Her horse stopped, because it wasn't so dumb as to walk over the edge of a cliff, and she took her hat off to widen her perspective and looked up, the wind flying through her hair.

She was actually startled by the view, nearly falling off her horse. Corwin rode up next to her. "I know, right?"

All of Sentrynyl spread out under her, ringed by roads running through a wide plain to the left and through rocky hills to the right, the mountain range stretching out behind her, birds flying below them on the spiraling thermals. Across the rocky hills, between two peaks, she saw a cathedral tower that she recognized instantly. It was the place she had left Corwin, thinking then that she'd left him for good. In it, and in every other church, all across the Continent, bells began to ring. It was noon.

(Note: I'm not saying it was noon everywhere, in every country. They had the time change just as we do. However, in every country, the hour was changing, so it was one some distance to the east, two farther away, three after that, yadda yadda yadda.)

But, beyond it all, there was the sea, ships riding up and down in the currents, their sails billowing in the strong wind. Silira could see her whole life laid out before her, land and sea, majestic and beautiful. Corwin was right. It was literally stunning.

Corwin tapped her on the shoulder, maybe half an hour later. It really had been that long. Neither they nor the guards had noticed the time passing. The clocks began to strike the half hour. She turned, shaking her head as if waking from a dream, and looked at him.

"You want to have some lunch?" he said, dismounting and spreading his cloak, which he hadn't needed, out on the ground. He projected his voice to the guards as well as Silira. "I think we're all starving."

The guards, leaving two of their number at the end of the path to defend against possible assassins, dismounted. Silira settled down on the blanket, sitting cross-legged next to Corwin and looking at her still-newish feet. There was laughter and joking while Corwin passed out sandwiches and the horses drank from a clear spring. For a fifteen-minute-long moment, it seemed as if they and their guards were of the same rank, all noble, none nobility. The business of empire was forgotten in the bright light and cheerful conversation.

Then Corwin spoiled it all. Don't hold it against him, because he really was a sweet guy and had no idea what that day meant to Silira.

"Silent...may we speak alone?"

"No snogging," Captain Clay said, swigging from a flask of something. "The Queen would not be pleased."

"Meaning you would be? And stop drinking on the job."

"This is very weak mead!" the captain yelled, trying to look scandalized. "I need it for medicinal purposes!"

Corwin ignored him and held out his hand to Silira. She let him help her up, bracing herself for the pain when she took her first ste--

PAIN

LARGE PAIN

She could stand it now, and walked away with him. He seemed resigned, but nervous. "Silent?"

She looked at him, meaning, "What?"

He looked at the ground, and then over the edge of the cliff. "Sir Dermott brought a message from my sister. Apparently, the couriers with news of the boycott reached every country. But that's the thing. Every country, including Astrakhan. The Kadif now knows of the boycott. However, I have to go to Astrakhan and talk to the Kadif. Apparently, that will help somehow and delay the war until I get married to...whoever...a year or three from now."

Silira looked at him incredulously, meaning that the Kadif was obviously bonkers and wouldn't listen.

He sighed. "Yes, I know, and the whole thing is a mess. He wants war now, unless we trade with him and pretend he's not an evil tyrant. We used to be friends, or as close as you get with the Kadif. They think I can talk to him, delay things, maybe make things better without a war. Silent, I don't know how we can pull this off, and I wish I didn't have to tell you this. You've been dragged into our politics--" She shook her head vehemently, meaning, "Of course not, and you've been nice to me in spite of the fact that you have to help your mother lead Eleschi."

Corwin sighed again. "Well, I have to leave. Tomorrow. At noon. And I'm really sorry for throwing our afternoon off a cliff, as it were." He laughed in spite of himself, and she smiled, trying to look reassuring. He looked back up at her. "You're not mad?"

She shook her head, getting that weird look again, half smile, half smirk, half, "Bwahaha, you have no idea who I am." He rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're so delightfully infuriating. Well, we can stay up here as long as we like, except that we have to be back by sunset. Which gives us about until four."

They stayed up there, watching the sky and the birds and the sea, having a conversation even though only one of them could speak. The guards placed bets on whether or not they would kiss (they didn't) and soon the clocks struck four, faintly echoing off the mountain. Corwin clenched his teeth in anger and accidentally bit his tongue. "Ow! Sorry, Silent. Our time is now over. He stood up, helped her up, and ran his hand through his black hair. "For what it's worth, you've been a good friend. The best. I know it sounds a bit strange because we've only known each other a few weeks, but somehow it feels as if I've known you for years." He turned to the guards. "Captain Clay, lead us home."

The sunset that night was darker than most, gray clouds covering all the sky but a streak of bright gold in the west, the exact color of Silira's hair. Streetlights were being lit all over Sentrynyl, and the beacon in the lighthouse burned bright. Fog stole in from the sea with a chilly west wind, or an east wind, whatever you call a wind that comes from the west and blows into the east, over the darkening continent and to the sea on the other side. It was the last cold night of spring. The Golden Palace's windows reflected the gold at the horizon, gradually dimming. Silira's braid swung in the wind with the tavern signs and rigging of the ships in the harbor. She shivered, looking back down the hill at the city, which they had now left, coming to the palace. You could see so much clearer here, even at night, than in Twilight. Corwin dismounted, would have helped her down except for the fact that she had already jumped down without wincing, and ran up the steps, blowing on his hands. She followed at a slower pace. He banged on the doors, shouting. "Mary! Maud! Agnes! Marge! Tina!" He rubbed his ears to keep them warm as Silira came up, wishing she had a coat and rejoicing in the fact that she was wearing trousers instead of a skirt, which wouldn't have kept her as warm.

There were faint footsteps through the thick doors, of two people instead of one, and they swung open. Two maids were straining to keep the doors open against the strengthening wind. Corwin raised his right hand in greeting, pointing at them both, first the blond, then the brunette. "Tina! Marge!"

"Marge," the blonde said as Silira came in.

"Tina," the brunette said as Colin came in. The doors slammed shut behind them. Henry ran up, bouncing up and down with excitement. "Silent! Silent! You went up the mountain! Agnes said so! Wasn't it good? I've only been up there twice, but it was so awesome! Just like Corwin says! Didn't you tell her, Corwin?"

Corwin smiled at Henry's exuberance. "Yes. And I also told her about a message that I received from Sir Dermott when she wasn't listening. I have to go to Astrakhan at noon tomorrow to talk to the Kadif about the...general situation."

Henry's face fell. "What?!"

"I'm afraid it's true," Corwin said, taking off his coat and handing it to Marge. "I should be back in about three months. Feed my fish."

Henry looked at Silira to try to see what she thought of it, but she was inscrutable, a word which here means "impossible to read." He rolled his eyes. "Well, that's just wonderful. One heated discussion, and this is what we get."

"And millions of slaves waiting around in Astrakhan," Colin said, barring the doors. "And that's just in the capital city. Impressive, no? I vote we go eat."

"Seconded," Henry said, pushing back his dark hair in annoyance. Silira raised her hand, thirding the vote, as they went in to supper. She glanced out a high window, wishing the weather was better so she could check in with her sisters. She kept seeing faint glints of mermaid scales in the sea not far off, and suspected that it wasn't just their Coast Guard, but her sisters, waiting and watching in case she was in trouble. She supposed they would know she couldn't make it out that night, not in this gale. She knew the weather well enough to know it wouldn't storm, at least not like the night she had saved Corwin and like the night she had given up her tongue and tail and ability to move around without pain...She rolled her eyes. She might as well stop griping. She had a life on land, nice clothes, adventures waiting to happen, the chance of a soul, and Corwin. No, wait, she didn't even have him, not for the whole summer.

Puke.

Chapter Seven

It was midsummer day, high noon, and bright sunlight shone down on the warm wooden docks, the stone city, and the golden hair of a young lady running down the wide brick steps of the library of Sentrynyl, her long red skirt bunched up in one hand, a map bunched up in the other. She jumped off the last step straight into a carriage waiting at the bottom, sliding onto the seat as the footman slammed the door shut and Fred the driver clucked to the horses to start. Silira, Her Silent Ladyship, as she had come to be known, gazed out the window as the carriage began its longish drive to a place up the river, the same place where one of her sisters had been barked at by a dog. She was going to meet her sisters, as she had often met them in the past two months of Corwin's absence, not only on the canal steps after dark, but on the beach, at the docks, wherever was best and they wouldn't be seen. She had signaled to them from her room with a lantern, using a system they had made up, when she couldn't make it out.

Living above the water had been strange, but wonderful. More wonderful than she had thought, even with Corwin and her tongue gone, with her feet paining her every time she stood up. She had become as much a part of palace life as Henry, watching politics weave their tangled webs, but living her own life, just like at home. She had learned to ride very well on the leg-horses, as she thought of them, and rode through Sentrynyl without fear of being known. She was a mystery now. Everyone in Sentrynyl knew about her, talked about her on the docks and in the houses and on the streets. The witch's promise had come true. Everyone who saw her called her the loveliest child of earth they had ever seen.

She had not told them a thing about her past. How could she? It seemed like a dream now, and there was also the tongue thing. She was taken for granted in the palace now, at least by Wintress, who was busy leading Eleschi. Henry, she thought, might wonder, but it didn't matter. Even if he asked her point blank where she came from, she would not be able to answer. She smiled that mysterious smile that had become natural to her, and pushed the window curtains aside to look out at the lovely day. She wished she were on top of Mount Triumph, seeing what the world looked like in this bright golden light, but she had to meet her sisters. At the canal steps last night, they had all been chattering about some important development that could not be discussed there. Eltress had raised her hand. "Oh! Oh! I know a place! Remember when Nyrie ascended and she swam up the Colden River to that house and got barked at by a little black dog? It's abandoned now. The family that the children belonged to moved to Swardset! We can talk there. I'll get some guards to keep watch and tell us if anyone's coming." Silira had nodded, and then left with a wave when the clock struck eight, as she usually did.

The coach jolted her thoughts to a stop as it stopped at the abandoned mansion. She nearly fell off the seat, then caught herself on the empty opposite seat before her feet could touch the floor and pain her again. She braced herself, then stepped out as the footman opened the door--

PAIN--

Oh, enough. She could take it. But it wasn't getting any better--if anything, worse. Every time she took a step, it now felt as if the knives under her feet were actively stabbing her, as if they hated her for stepping on them all this time. She was having difficulties not hating the witch. It was against her principles, but she could hate what she had done, and she could detest the witch, and did both things with a vengeance. Speaking of vengeance, she almost wanted it, but God would do it far better. She was doing all this for Him. No one else was worth it. Not Corwin. Not even the whole of the sea.

Nyrie remembered her Ascension, several years ago. The sun was at noon, and she, being the boldest of the sisters, swam up a river. She saw green forested hills, wild woods and vineyards surrounding stone houses and castles, and high towers in the distance. Birds had been singing, and the sun was so bright that she had to dive beneath the water to cool her face. In a little bay, with a cliff behind it and a path leading up a nearby hill to a big manor on the hilltop, there had been several smallish children playing in the water with a little black animal, which was a dog, but Nyrie hadn't known it. She had tried to join in their game of Marco Polo, but they had run away screaming. The dog barked at her, and she turned away, swimming back down the river with the current to the sea, which had also been fun.

SIlira turned and waved Fred off. By now, he had driven her to many places, and he knew her well enough to know when she was telling him to back off. He drove the carriage some distance away, and she walked up the riverbank, along a thin path, to a small cleft in the cliff. Vines and flowers grew in the cracks between the rocks, and the moss was so thick that you could have walked over the water on it. It was a special kind of moss, found only in Eleschi and Swardset, that grew on the surface of water. It was very green and very thick, and under its heavy velvet piles, not yet seen by Silira that day, were two of her sisters. Nyrie and Levana swam out from under the moss, glancing down the river, their eyes just above the water's surface, hair slick and dripping.

"Silira!" Levana blurted out. "Your prince is coming back!"

Silira was shocked. He was supposed to be back in a month. But now? Why now? Her amazement showed on her face, and Nyrie sighed and dragged Levana under for a brief conference, in which Nyrie nearly slapped Levana and Levana, if possible, turned even whiter out of regret. They resurfaced.

"His ship was sighted by the patrols a week ago and reported to the palace. Father thought it might be Corwin, and he told us. Eltress had a fit. She really wants you two to get married." Silira blushed, then assumed a tell-me-more expression. Nyrie obliged, folding her arms and leaning on the edge of the velvety moss. Levana hung back, still ashamed of having ruined the surprise. Silira smiled at her, trying to make her understand she wasn't angry. Levana understood, and swam up a little closer.

"Well, he should be back in a few days, if the weather is fair. We think it will be, except maybe for a little fog, and Father said we can make an exception to the rules and turn their rudder a little to keep them on course if they stray. And listen--they heard someone on board, a young man, around your age, they said, talking to an older man, probably the captain. And the younger one said something about wanting to get back to her soon. Her. He specifically mentioned a girl. Don't you see? He misses you!"

Levana reluctantly interjected. "Well, it wasn't necessarily the prince, but how do you know it wasn't? And the ship was definitely his. You remember we watched it leave...but you weren't concentrating on us then, were you?"

Nyrie slapped Levana with her tail underwater. "She was watching Corwin, and rightly so. If the humans find out we exist..."

Silira wondered what would happen if they did. It wouldn't be so bad...would it? The two races would be able to help each other with many things. Besides, if she ever got her tongue back, she would have to tell Corwin who she really was. She knew him too well to think that he would be angry, but she was still wondering how to tell him.

Levana rolled her eyes. "They will eventually. However, the point is to keep Silira from being found out. Remember what Grandmother said, sisters. The humans think our tails are ugly and of disgusting appearance. If Corwin finds out who Silira really is, he might become prejudiced and not realize her true worth. And if that happens, Silira...what was it Grandmother said?"

Silira reached down into the cold stream and lifted a handful of white foam, then let it drop on the surface and disappear. Her sisters both understood. "If she is not human, then she does not marry him. And if she does not marry him and dies unmarried to a man, she will cease to exist. Like every other of our kind, she will float to the surface and turn into foam after three hundred years."

Silira would have mentioned the fact that the witch had also said, "Also, if the prince marries another, you will die the following morning..."

Nyrie broke the silence. "All we have to do is keep him from finding out--an easy task, when you consider that Silira cannot speak. And we will keep his ship safe, even if we have to ground it on Kelp Mountain."

Levana nodded. "Silira, prepare for his return in three days. He will arrive at sunset."

As Silira went back to the Golden Palace, she was thinking about what to do over the weekend. As she ran into the palace, tossing her hat to a maid, she was deciding what to wear. Not that it would matter to him. He didn't notice clothes any more than his brother did.

In her small apartment, which the maids now cleaned as boredly as they cleaned Henry's, she rifled through her large closet. She would have muttered to herself if she could speak, "Dark green riding dress, no, definitely not the white silk, maybe the red velvet I'm wearing now, no, not festive enough, something purple, no, not the weird orange one, YES!"

She took out a dress, hung it in her bedroom, and ran to the window. Silira looked down on the steps leading down to the canal. Yes, she would be waiting there on the steps when he came, and her sisters would be too, just like the day he left, only this time...maybe he might do more than take her hand. Or maybe not...or maybe he would. She was, after all, supposed to be the loveliest child of earth ever seen. However, she was no child of earth. A pang of annoyance went through her. If he loved the sea so much, a daughter of the sea, even if she did have a tail, should not be disgusting to him.

After she had had a late lunch, with Henry chattering about some weird fish he'd seen in the harbor and her knowing what kind it was immediately, a courier came riding up the steps, his customarily red cloak billowing behind him in the wind. He was immediately shooed away by Marge and Tina for fear his horse might poo on the steps. After the horse was in the stables and he had had a drink and something to eat, he came striding into the great throne room, with only one of the three thrones occupied by the solitary Queen Wintress, and bowed.

"Your Majesty, the prince is returning early from Astrakhan. If he comes back within ten days, which is almost certain, he will be twenty when he returns, and able, by Continental law, to marry any damsel who is a fit match."

"Thank you." Wintress remained impassive. "The usual measures to find a fit companion will be taken. You may go. Stay the night in the couriers' quarters, if you wish."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." The courier bowed again and turned to go.

Wintress took a breath. "Wait!"

The man turned. "Yes, Your Majesty?" He had an odd accent, she noted. Must be from Pretannica in the north. These couriers came from all over the Continent, bringing news of the different kingdoms to the monarchy in their different palaces and castles. They also worked for the aristocracy, if paid well enough. This one had come from some port town, probably, where Corwin's ship, the Firedrake, had been sighted, or perhaps put in for supplies.

"You sound Rhiannic. Do you know if Princess Selena of Rhiannon is attached to any man?"

The northern courier laughed. "Not at the hip, Your Majesty. More than that, I don't know. She's not engaged or married, and I've not heard of any man she favors. Considering her for your brother, Your Majesty?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Possibly. Ten days, you say?"

"No, but it's his birthday in ten days, isn't it, Your Majesty? And if it is, then you can invite some eligible princesses to his birthday dinner or whatever you're doing for him. However, he should be here in a few days, much less than a week, Your Majesty. And the dinner or whatever doesn't have to be on his birthday."

"Thank you. You are dismissed." The queen slid off the throne as soon as he was gone and ran to the master of ceremonies. "Sir!"

The master of ceremonies, a skinny older man with gray hair, hurriedly set down his flagon of ale and faced Wintress. "Your Majesty! I, ah, was not--"

She quickly waved him silent. "Never mind, Montayne. My son will be ready for some sort of celebration of his twentieth birthday when he arrives in a few days. Make sure we are as well. A dinner party, not too fancy. I don't want Colin to be embarrassed, but he does need a good welcome home. You've known him since he was born. Can you do it?"

The old guy smiled. "Is that a trick question? Who else will be there, Your Majesty?"

She considered for a few seconds. "Some nobility from here, and perhaps a few princesses from other lands as well."

An crafty look came into the man's eyes. "And Lady Silent?"

Wintress paused, confused. "Well, of course. It would be strange if she wasn't. Now, what--"

The gray-haired man adjusted his black jacket. "Beg pardon, Your Majesty, but don't you think Lady Silent would be a good match for the prince?"

She stopped, astonished. "Am I not the queen? Did you just interrupt me?" She stormed out of the office, calling over her shoulder, "And make sure we're ready by his birthday."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The man sounded subdued. After she had gone, he turned back to a letter on his desk, a letter that he had hastily set down when the queen came in.

Chapter Eight

Silira's feet were flying along the canal steps, watching the sea. It was about five in the afternoon. A few of her sisters were near, she could see. Their tails flashed in the evening sun. Where was the ship? There was a black one, a trader in weapons from the south, no, there was a pale one with red sails, a rich merchant's craft from the east, no, there it was.

A white ship, with sails emblazoned with the red and gold of the Astrakhani flag. They had agreed on it--white sails if they had compromised, the Eleschic flag if the Kadif refused and Eleschi had to rely on itself, Astrakhani if the Kadif agreed to the terms.

We now return to Corwin, on board the Firedrake,eagerly watching the shore. No one would be out watching, he reasoned. Of course not. Wintress was queen, and Henry had riding lessons, and Silent...oh, Silent wouldn't be there. She wouldn't be. Of course not. Why would she be? There was no reason for her to show up just for some prince who had shown her around Sentrynyl just because he was coming back and had missed her for two months, fool that he was to be always thinking about some girl he'd only known for a few wonderful weeks...those weeks had been the best of his life. And then he had to ruin it all with his princely politics. She must hate him. Did she? Maybe? Possibly? Hopefully definitely not? Would she be there?

There she was, silver-golden hair gleaming in the sun, spinning around on the beach. Probably, Corwin reasoned, she was just out walking and hadn't known or...or cared...or cared that he was coming back after two months' absence. But he didn't care. She was looking out at the ship. Fortunately, he was looking at her, and not at the sea, or he would have seen the two riskily close mermaid tails disappearing into the crystal-clear depths. Her eyes were more intense than ever, deepening to the deepest blue of the sea as she looked out at him.

Returning to her.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out his face among the crewmen's slightly more tanned faces--not that he wasn't tan himself. He spent more of his free time outside, sailing. If anyone knew that, she did, from watching him for so long. Then bells began to ring all over the city. Everyone was welcoming him home, and no wonder, after his parents had been drowned. Silira could hear Henry yelling from the castle. "CORWIN! CORWIN'S BACK!"

She rose onto her toes and spun again, not being able to help herself, even though it hurt so much. She couldn't simply move as little as possible. She simply couldn't hold herself back, couldn't help dancing, whatever the reason. Then she swerved and ran out onto a long stretch of rock, spinning and spinning until she forgot the pain and all there was was the wind and the sky.

On board the Firedrake, Colin laughed and spun around to face the captain. "Can you speed it up, sir? I'd like to get home as fast as possible." He turned again to face the land, looking at the Golden Palace and the banners flying in the wind, then down to Silira's bright hair flying like a banner.

The Whatever docked in the harbor fifteen minutes later, the docks lined with people cheering. They really did love Corwin. Wintress, Henry, and Silira had all gotten into a carriage, and Fred had rushed them down through Sentrynyl with only half the usual escort of guards. The three were out of the carriage even before it had entirely stopped. Fred laughed and watched the gangplank thudding triumphantly down on the central dock. Corwin ran down it, ignoring the crowd, searching the docks for Henry and his sister. He didn't expect Silira to be there as well, of course not; she was just a friend and he'd see her back at the castle...

Wintress and Henry! There they were, running down the dock. He embraced them both, smiling and trying to answer the first twelve of Henry's questions about his journey...

And there she was.

She had been really unable to run any more once leaving the beach, and nearly collapsed from the pain in her feet, but she made it to the carriage without much trouble. Henry noticed her slightly strained expression--and when she actually looked as if she was suffering, the pain was serious--and asked her if anything was wrong. She had shaken her head and smiled no. But here she was, walking as fast as she could stand to, which wasn't very fast. Corwin turned and saw her, his bright black eyes lighting up. "Silent!"

He disengaged from Wintress and Henry and went up to Silira, taking both of her hands. "I'm..."

She happened to be looking very beautiful at that exact moment. He could barely speak. "I'm so glad to see you." Her radiant smile, almost actually glowing, told him she felt the same. He faltered, "I missed you. Though that may seem strange."

She shook her head slightly. He went back to his normal, endearing, never lost for words, slightly unobservant self. "Well," he said, turning to Wintress, "shall we go back to the castle? I've missed it. Astrakhan in all its desert glory doesn't compare to the Golden Palace."

Wintress took his hand and led him back to the coach, as their guards flanked them in. Silira took Henry's hand and led him back as well, some distance behind them, as Corwin and Wintress chattered about the plans for his birthday. "You'll be twenty," Wintress was saying. "Look at you. You're a stone fox. You don't have to get married, but--"

Colin chuckled. "No, I do. Not sure to whom..." Then he said something that would either ruin Silira's life or fix everything.

"Well, there is this one girl."

Wintress glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Who is she? I could invite her to the dinner party in a week."

He stopped smiling and looked out the window introspectively, watching the city go by. "I...I'll tell you later."

They were welcomed back to the Golden Palace with bells ringing and trumpets blowing. Corwin nodded to Marge and Tina upon entering, and tossed his cloak in their general direction. Wintress had to run back to official business. "I'm so sorry," she said, taking off his hat and throwing it to Marge as Tina caught the cloak. "I'll have some food sent to you in your room. You're probably very tired." She bustled off with courtiers in her wake. Henry, after chatting with Corwin as he made his way up the stairs, ran off to his riding lesson, which he was very late for. Corwin walked up the stairs without a second glance at Silira, already deep in thought. He needed to think.

Silira went to the kitchens and absently filched some chicken and a glass of milk. The cooks whispered about her behind the steam from the pots, pans, and cauldrons. "Poor thing. 'Is 'Ighness din't even giver a second glance." Everyone in the palace liked Silira.

The story looks dark. Corwin is not dumb, but he has no way to understand, and Silira's heart is beginning to crack in half, not broken yet, but getting close.

However, joy comes in the morning.

Chapter Nine

The ball was of greater splendor than any yet before, undreamed of by humanity. The walls of the huge ballroom were crystal, thick and clear. Green and pink mussels were set along the walls, glowing and sending light all around the ballroom, and the light shone out and reflected off the fish outside.

The dancers made their own music, singing as they spun and soared and wove around each other. The dancing went up and down as well as horizontally, and ended in an upward spiral, with Silira at the top. They all clapped and dispersed around the ballroom. Silira swam over to the musicians' gallery and pointed to a song on the maestro's list.

He was alarmed. "But we'll laugh! We've tried in the past--"

She ignored him and swam down into the center of the hall, halfway between the ceiling, floor, and walls, and cleared her throat. She would have listened to the maestro, except that she was inly furious and didn't want to listen to anyone.

She was brilliant that night. Every note was perfect, high and strong as the music. It was her greatest performance yet, the first time she had held an audience spellbound, but not the last. When she reached the funny line, the audience couldn't stop laughing. She sung it perfectly, but with a subtle twist and emphasis that couldn't be missed. She was focusing too hard to laugh, and, to their credit, the musicians didn't laugh either. They were busy keeping up with her. She was singing it too fast, too perfectly, and they would not have hit a flat note for their lives. Then she finished, floating in the center of the ballroom and hearing the thunderous applause, watching the nobles of the ocean and her family all cheering, fish swimming outside, the sunset light shining through the water and reflecting off the walls, the mussels glowing, and everything cheering, calling her a princess of the sea.

She didn't care about any of it.

Silira woke up for the umpteenth time in her beautiful suite of rooms, pushing her long hair behind her pointed ears and getting up to look at herself in the mirror. She took the pain in her feet for granted now, really ignoring it as she walked to the mirror and automatically started brushing her hair.

What time was it? The first light of dawn was shining at the horizon. She walked out onto her balcony, gazing at the sky. The deep blue seemed almost as if she was looking up at the sky through water, back in the palace at Twilight, and the moon, which was still high overhead, could have been the sun, gleaming almost white, its edges shifting through clouds or waves. But then she heard the seagulls calling, and she looked back down at the sea. It was as if she had ascended in a moment.

She went back into her rooms and changed from her nightgown into a pale cream dress that didn't look much different. It was long, made of something thicker than silk but softer and just as smooth, with long loose sleeves and a skirt that trailed on the floor. It was cold, and there was a light wind from the sea. She went over to shut the door onto the balcony, and then came back and sat down on the bed. Who was that girl? If it wasn't her, he might yet be wrong about her. Silira shook her head. She needed to think, and to think she needed to pace, much as it hurt. She got up and walked outside, shutting the door silently behind her. There was carpet in this part of the palace, and her footsteps were silent as she went down the long passage, the roof vaulted, paintings on the walls that she would ordinarily be interested in. Today, however, she was not interested.

The story looked dark.

She reached a door that led out onto a long porch overlooking the sea, which she wanted to be close to. Silira turned, closing the door behind her, but not without a slight noise. She held still for a moment, hoping no one had heard.

Silira walked down the porch, looking out at the sea. Then she heard a voice.

"Silent?"

She turned. There he was. He hadn't said a word when he got off the ship. Why should he now?

She smiled, but only slightly, and not sincerely. He noticed, unusually, and came closer. "Silent...I've missed you."

Oh, wonderful. The very words she'd been wanting to hear for three months. She couldn't help but take him seriously.

"I...I was looking for you." While dimwitted in some respects, he wasn't stupid, and he knew she was in pain. He just had no idea how much, or for what reason. "I wanted to talk to you. Henry said...I don't think you were listening at the time...Henry said you were usually up early, down by the sea." Her ears twitched. Henry knew? The kid was deep, and smarter than most humans she'd met. "I thought I might be able to see you from here." He came up to her, into a conversational distance. "Can we talk?"

She rolled her eyes and pointed at him. He didn't get it for a few seconds, then laughed. "Ah. Yes. Well, I value your opinions, even if I'll never hear them." Hearing him say it that way snapped something in Silira, and she almost started crying. But she still couldn't cry. "May I talk to you, then? Even if you can't reply?"

She nodded, trying to look as if it didn't matter. The sunlight was growing a little stronger, and she felt a little stronger, too.

He took her hands, and her heartbeat unfortunately tripled. She hoped he couldn't feel it through her fingers. "Silent...I missed you more than I could say." He seemed to be unsure of what to say, but not nervous. She suddenly felt cool and collected. A keen wind blew against her face as she looked up at him.

"I...I have a story to tell. I'll try to keep it short. Once upon a time...not so long ago, I was on a ship. I'd been to visit our grandparents in Swardset. Henry was too small to go and Mother and Father were having trouble in the palace. We took a ship instead of going by land because, well, the sea is our thing and they wanted to try out this new one. As it happened, the ship wasn't that great. We wrecked. Just like Father's ship, on the rocks in the kelp forest. It was my sixteenth birthday, and we were celebrating on board ship when the storm hit and blew us off course. I panicked, Silent, it was just like the stories I heard of the Unicorn going down, only now it wasn't Father, it was me. I got hit on the head by some boom, you know those beam...things...that hold the sails out, and I got knocked out." His voice became softer. "I don't know if it's possible to fall in love at that age..." She almost laughed. How old had she been when his statue was found and put in her garden? Ten?

"But I woke up, and...I was floating, or lying on a beach, or...or being held up, I don't know. I was still only half awake. But there was a girl. About my age, and leaning over me. Blonde hair, blue eyes, wearing a green dress...but I must be wrong about that. They all wear black at that cathedral where I washed up, because it was a cathedral, a sort of school where girls go to learn to manage a kingdom or maybe an estate. And she was one of them. She must have found me on the beach, or..." his eyes were very distant..."or did she rescue me when the ship went down? I barely remember. It's more like a dream than a memory. But she was there. I remember one thing...she was there, and she saved my life. If I hadn't been found, the tide would have washed me out to sea and I would have been drowned. Whoever she was, Silent--" he had been looking out to sea, but now he looked back at her-- "I love her. I have no idea why, other than she was the most beautiful girl I ever saw."

Meaning Silira wasn't? Or had he seen Silira? Or both girls? The question was, which did he want?

Silira looked hard at Corwin, wondering what the point was of him telling her the story. Finally, he turned to her. "But I'll never know her. I have no idea who she is. By the time I was fully awake, I was in a carriage hurtling toward Sentrynyl and she was gone, still back in the cathedral. Gone forever. I wish to see her again, though. Every single waking moment."

His black eyes were so wistful as they looked into hers. She knew he was telling the truth, but...oh, the witch would laugh so hard at this. Silira made a private decision. If she ever met the witch again, she would have her executed, quickly, painlessly, and legally.

"But you're so like her. Not to say that she's better than you are...it's just that look so like her." Her eyes got that laughing, mysterious look in spite of themselves. Of course he didn't notice. "You almost might be her. And you're...well, you're so good." Her eyes widened. She had never wondered if she was good. (HINT: she was.) "I know nothing about her, not even her name. Maybe she might disappoint me if I knew her. Maybe she's mean and has a grating voice and hates children. But you...I don't know of any fault you have."

Not knowing when to quit, she thought, slightly hysterically.

"I'm not saying I'm in love with you."

Vomit.

"But I say that I do love you. And I really hope you won't think I'm insane because we only knew each other a few weeks." She shook her head, eyes shining. He could tell she meant it. "Really?"

She smiled, relaxing for just a second. She had missed out on the hug when he got off the ship, but not now. They stood together for a long time, Silira standing on tiptoe to look over his shoulder and see the sunrise, Corwin forgetting for a moment about missing the other girl.

"We'll never be separated," he said.

Silira realized that, even if her heart broke, God still had a plan. If he married the other girl, she could still do something worth doing. And she would still have a friend here. No, more than one. Maybe even find another man...not likely.

Colin straightened up, trying to push his hair into some form of decency. "Sorry, but I have a meeting. With Mother. About getting married. Not that I have to, but she wants Eleschi to have an heir, which means, obviously, me getting married and having a child, hopefully more than one so we'll have spares." He grinned. "If I don't, that means her condescending to marry some poor prince from distant lands, or Henry entering holy matrimony years from now with some lady of the court. All the little girls chase after him anyway. Anyhow, I have to tell Mother about the mystery blonde and hope she understands. I'll see you later...or possibly not. With preparations for the dinner in a week, I won't be able to spend much time with you. I'll definitely see you then, though...will I? Please?"

She nodded.

"Wonderful. May I introduce you to some of my cousins? They'll be there just to celebrate me being twenty, not me being eligible. There's one of my guy cousins who's supposed to be handsome. Maybe you'd like him...nah." For some reason (HINT) the idea didn't please him. "Well, no, and he's engaged anyway. It's a wonderful morning." She nodded, suddenly unreasonably happy. He turned, also unreasonably happy, and left her on the balcony.

Oh, he was so wonderfully mad. She smiled fondly and leaned on the balcony railing, looking out at the sunrise. Things were looking up. Worst case, she would live in the Golden Palace for who knew how long? She had no idea how long she would live, whether the witch had shortened her three-hundred-year lifespan into a normal human one or not. But she would do something worth doing. No matter the cost, she could never stop dancing. It was her gift, and she did not intend to squander it in self-pity.

Henry had been watching from his balcony two stories up. It was too far to hear what was being said, but he saw them hug, and he saw Silira smiling as she leaned over the railing. As she looked down into the sea, glimpsing Nyrie's tail disappearing under the foaming waves, Henry sat up (he'd been lying down with his head between the posts of his balcony railing). He leaned on the railing and listened to the seagulls shrieking. So, his brother was in love, and it seemed Silent was in love with him. As a boy, he was disgusted, but as a brother, he was happy. At least this meant he wouldn't have to get married himself.

"Interesting..." he said, smiling an insanely adorable smile.

Chapter Ten

One week passed. Stuff happened in it, obviously, that's why it's called time. However, it was standard for the Golden Palace. Not all of it has to be told. Henry suffered through being fitted for a new outfit, Silira was given a new dress for the party by the kindly housekeeper, and Corwin helped Wintress make the invitation list. Princesses from far lands were either engaged, married, or too far away to come on such short notice, so only relatives and friends in the nobility were invited. Another reason was that Wintress was trying with might and main to find out who the blonde on the beach was. Oh, and there was one notable incident.

Silira was walking down the canal steps as usual, no longer secretly watched by Henry from his balcony, and the bells were ringing all over the city for evening church, which was for people who slept in in the morning. As I said, she was walking down the canal steps, when suddenly she saw her father's golden crown glinting offshore. There was no doubt about it. He was there, and her sisters were with him, one, two, three, four, five...six?! Her grandmother was there. No, no, no...now she came up? Silira had been badgering her for years to go up and learn more about the land, and now she ascended once again? She ran down the steps, lifting her skirt above the waterline. Yes, her sisters were coming. But her father and grandmother were staying behind.

Eltress swam up, screeching to a halt, nearly bashing her brain out on the sea-washed marble. The other four were close behind. "Silira!"

Silira didn't need to speak for her sisters to know she was surprised. Nyrie, breathing hard in the transition from breathing water to breathing air, panted, "You...You were...Corwin...on the long balcony overlooking the sea..."

Silira started, then smiled and shook her head. She wasn't even going to try to tell them the story. Levana's eyes went wide. "He's not in love with you?" The other four smacked her with their tails, and they had powerful tails. Levana subsided, rolling her eyes. Silira shrugged. She had no idea which girl Corwin remembered.

Rika raised her eyebrows. "You don't know? But you were hugging--" Silira shrugged again. She really had no idea. "Well, you do know that there's some sort of commotion in the palace? Some dinner for the prince's birthday?" Silira nodded, trying to look eager and expectant, meaning she was looking forward to it.

Eltress turned and looked at their father and grandmother. Both were waving, and no doubt wanted to speak to Silira, but they couldn't come close to land because the waves were rough that night and if one of them was seen things might get problematic. "They didn't want to come too close, but they missed you so much," Eltress said. "Both of them said to apologize to you about not coming closer, but they distrust the land and its inhabitants. Not you, of course. And not really Corwin. Although I admit Father seems rather cagy about him. If he ever realizes he's madly in love with you--" Silira rolled her eyes-- "then you have to bring him down here sometime, so he can meet us. We'll tell him the whole story. And Father can approve him." Eltress paused. "Would Father approve of him?"

Silira considered seriously for a moment, then nodded. He would. Corwin was a good man and true. Also actually fairly clever. How was he supposed to know who she was?

She heard a distant call. It was the housekeeper. "Lady Silent? I've found the perfect dress, dear!" Silira stood up quickly, resisting the pain in her feet. She nodded to her sisters, waved to her father and grandmother, and left, hoping no one had seen her. She always chose the most secluded part of the steps. However, for once, Henry had seen. But he wasn't telling. He really was a great kid.

I know I've described a few sunsets, and you may not like that sort of thing, but the one of Corwin's birthday night was indescribable, and therefore you may not suffer through my description. The red and the gold and the evening light on the palace were enough to stun a horse, pardon the expression. I'm hungry. Presumably for horse.

The carriages were arriving. Silira was wearing a black gown and her luminescent hair was done up behind her head, so she blended in with the shadows behind a high window, looking down on the arriving guests. A candle flickered in its sconce behind her, but she was standing next to a long, heavy brocade curtain that was patterned black and white, so her dark dress and pale hair made her invisible to Corwin, who ran past without noticing her. She turned around and closed the curtain so Colin would hear the rings rattling on the curtain rail. He did, and spun around, eyes wide. "Who's there!? Oh." He smiled, relieved to see Silira after a long week of planning. "It's a good evening, milady. Would you come with me? I would stop, but I have to be in the hall with the fountain in five minutes." She came and walked alongside him, trying to ignore the ever-present agony in her feet. "So," he said, straightening his tunic, "all my old friends are here. All are expecting me to be looking for a girl tonight, but I'm not, as you know. And you know who I'm looking for." She nodded. She knew her better than he thought. He pushed his hair back, looking at his reflection in a window that had not yet been curtained. "Wintress didn't...really...understand. She says I have to find a wife, and soon. But that girl...Silent, there's no one else for me. Someday I might find her, but until then I don't flirt, and I definitely don't attach myself, to any woman." Silira nodded. If she only knew which of them he had seen, her or the girl from the cathedral.

He stopped before a door and laid his left hand on the silver handle. He put his right hand on her shoulder. "Silent, they'll think you and I are a couple. Now don't get me wrong, you're important to me, but I...well...I'm not really sure what I feel about you...Mother wants me to either ignore you or fall in love with you. Ergo, one of us has to act aloof, and if it's you, then everyone will still think I could fall for you. However, if I ignore you, then people won't try to ship us. But I cannot in good faith ignore you. I love you too much." Her eyes went intense again, but he didn't see it because of the dim candlelight. "I'm sorry. I...there's nothing I can do." He looked miserable. "I can't just leave you alone. Even just for this one evening. Not after I've been away for three months. I missed you so much, and I looked forward to tonight. There's no way out."

She could have been mad. But the whole reason he was in love with her was that she was the kind of girl who was not. She smiled at him (if you think she smiles too much, how in the stink else is she supposed to communicate!?) and straightened his hair, standing on tiptoe to do it. She could stand to ignore him for one night.

He looked so relieved, he might almost have melted. "Yes! Thank you, Silent. This means more to me than I can say." He started to open the door, then hesitated. "I'll cut around to the stairs. We don't want to be seen coming in together. Oh, and I'll pass you off as a visitor from parts unknown again. Is that all right?" She nodded, and he dashed off. She would have insisted on taking the stairs herself, not only to save him trouble, but also to make a dramatic entrance, except for the fact that her feet were really paining her tonight. She pushed the door open and slipped into the hall. She had meant to go unobtrusively to some chair and sit down until the dinner began, but her otherworldly looks made that highly improbable.

Silira slipped into the dining hall just before the master of ceremonies said the blessing. As you may imagine, when he did say it, he wasn't very sincere. As he mumbled the words of grace, glances were slipped sideways at Silira, the mysterious lady from parts unknown. Corwin's cousins, an agreeable lot, kicked each other under the table and whispered about eligibility. Corwin heard them and hoped it wouldn't last. Silira, in spite of herself, hoped it would.

"And we are ever thankful," Montayne finished, and sat in his seat with an audible thud. Conversation started up around the long table. Silira saw Ivan several seats down, and shivered. He didn't intimidate her at all--he was ridiculously vain and had no idea how to treat anyone with respect--but his knife did. Ivan glared at her for a second, then started up an innocent conversation with the blond guy next to him.

"So," a girl cousin of Corwin's on his right said, "who is that girl? Her eyes are huge. Is she some kind of fairy?"

Corwin panicked, but tried to seem disinterested. "Oh, she's not a fairy. She can't speak, and she can only write in another tongue."

Unknown to anyone but Henry, Silira had been trying to learn to write, but no one was available to teach her and she was making slow progress.

"She is Lady Silent, an ambassador from a far-off land."

"You have no idea who she is, do you?" an uncle of his, the father of the girl on his right, said from his left.

He sighed. "I'm not interested in her in the way you think."

"Fair enough," the girl said into her cup, sipping water and waiting for the servants to bring the food in. Flutes played behind curtains in a corner of the room. "But tell me, is there anyone?"

"No," Corwin said quietly, hoping his mother wouldn't hear.

Silira was doing well. Somehow she had managed to convince two handsome Russian twins, on each side of her, that she couldn't speak, and they were flirting outrageously. She handled it well enough. Back in the sea there had been plenty of handsome young mermen who liked her better than any of the other five--and with good reason. Eylee was regal and unapproachable, and nobody dared to flirt with Eltress, and Levana being absolutely white tended to creep guys out, and Nyrie's genius was sadly unappreciated. So Silira managed to interact socially with them, even though she couldn't speak, and tried not to laugh at their amusing compliments. Corwin saw her down the table, and shivered, even though the hall was warm. Wintress caught his eye and gave him a look. He turned away and purposely looked at Silira for a few seconds. His cousin tried not to laugh.

The dinner went on easily, with good food, the smell of which nearly drove Silira mad because she couldn't taste it, and good conversation, some of it one-sided--or two-sided, counting the twins as two. Silira was quietly commented on, but taken for granted, as it was seen that she was sitting apart from Corwin and he paid no attention to her. She survived well enough without him, as she had hoped.

Eventually, it got late, and the dinner ended. If you were expecting more accounts of the socializing, read Austen. Those of the guests who lived too far off to return home that night were shown to guest rooms in the higher stories, and Marge and Tina shut and locked the door on those who left.

Silira flopped down on her bed, arms spread out. The whole agony-every-time-she-took-a-step thing was starting to get on her nerves. She had changed into her nightgown and brushed her hair, all the time trying to walk as little as possible. She rolled over and pulled the covers over her. The summer blanket was no longer thick enough to keep out the cold, she noted. The leaves were beginning to fall...oh, they were so beautiful...she had always loved autumn, even if it meant the sea would be freezing soon. Even now they would be gathering around the vents, the holes in the seabed that had molten rock or something under them. There was a whole field full of them outside Twilight. It was beautiful, and everyone gathered around it in winter. The leaves on the trees looked just like the faint fiery lights from the vents, only brighter. Everything here was so much brighter.

Oh, puke, she had left the balcony door open. She got out of bed, walking to the door and closing it as quickly as possible. Then she had an idea. She went down on her knees and tried to get to her bed on them, technically not taking one step. But it still hurt just as much. Apparently, the witch was cleverer than she had thought. And she couldn't exactly walk around on her knees all day.

She got back into bed and smiled. Then it turned into a grin. Corwin loved her. Maybe not romantically, but he loved her. She almost didn't care who it was, just as long as someone on the land cared about her.

Important to him. And he had missed her, and he had looked forward to tonight...

She drifted off to sleep. As it happened, it would be the last good sleep she would have in a long time.

Of course she dreamed again.

Silira turned and swam out of the hall, speeding out the door and through the dark water, in a tempest of longing for the land and the prince and maybe even a soul. She skirted the palace, hearing the servants inside chattering about the party and how many people had shown up, and the princess must have just sung and didn't she sound lovely, and swam into her garden. The round plot of red flowers, growing up to tangle into the boughs of her red sea willow, surrounded and contrasted with the bright white statue. Algae was growing on it, coating that finely formed face in a thin layer of green. She wiped it off, remembering the time when she had pushed his hair off his face. Hunting horns echoed above the water.

He's going out to hunt...

How am I supposed to live three hundred years here, knowing all I have in the end is nothing?

That sunset is probably the most beautiful one yet, and I'm missing it...the palace up there will be glowing so bright in the light...

I can't do this any longer...

She was as close to crying as merfolk ever get, when her sisters swam up. She turned, furious, and was about to hit them when Eltress put a hand over her mouth. "Shhh! We want to help you."

They all embraced her, then turned and sped away, leaving her in the dark. Silira turned, looking ahead. A small plain of grey sand lay before her. Around it, cliffs of black rock blocked all ways save one. She swam slowly into the black cleft. It was silent and almost entirely dark. If not for her natural night vision, Silira would have been feeling her way. She was the only live thing there...so far, though. So far, so good. Silira tried not to think of the madness of this thing. She couldn't let her emotions control everything she did, but what else could she do? Stay home and wish she could cry? The only trouble was that the sea would miss one princess, but, really, there were five others and she knew this was the only way she could gain a soul.

She stopped. There was something pulling her in. She had never been here. Silira knew what was in front of her, though, forcing her to swim back a little and grab onto the cliffs to keep from being drawn in.

A whirlwind of water, an underwater whirlpool, led down to who knew where. But she knew what went down there. It was where they buried their dead, those who didn't live their three hundred years, but were killed before their time. Her mother's bones were down there, and those of a thousand others. Dying prematurely was very rare. Who knew what might live down there? Serpents? Colossal squid? A kraken? The whirling current was there in front of her, pulling at her hair. One stroke of her tail and she would be pulled into the darkness. If the witch made it, so can I. And if she didn't, I don't care if I make it or not. She flipped her tail and drove forward, and she was dragged into the tempest.

Chapter Eleven

Corwin marched into the throne room. "My dear and esteemed mother."

Wintress dismissed everyone else with a wave. Once they were gone, she dismounted from the throne and came down to him. "I'm sorry, my son. I should have let you speak to her. Was she angry?"

Corwin shrugged, not really angry, but resentful. "She coped well, as always. I'm sick of apologizing to her for leaving her alone, depriving her of my oh-so-wonderful presence. She probably doesn't even care."

"She does," Wintress said. "I know how well you two know each other. How you care for each other--though you don't love her."

"I do love her!" Colin snapped, then recovered. "I, um...Sorry. I love her, but I'm not in love with her. You know who it is I love."

Wintress looked thoughtful. "I wish I did. If we could only find that girl...I wondered at first if Silent was the girl, but I asked the matron, Lady Audrey, at the banquet, and she said not."

Corwin nodded. "She and Silira are mixed in my mind. That's why I care for her so much. Silira, not the other girl." He smacked his forehead. "You know, it seem unfair of me to say I love Silira just because she's so much like the girl I'm in love with."

Wintress nodded. "She has her own worth."

"Exactly." Corwin coughed, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Now can we stop talking about feelings? I can feel my masculinity wasting away. What, dear mother, have you summoned me to speak of?"

Wintress smiled, trying to put the same mystery into it that Silent did. "Ah...that. I asked Lady Audrey a few more questions, and...I sent a message to Eire, requesting that they send Princess Serena..."

"What?!"

"I know! I know! Not here, not to Eleschi, but to take her out of school and send her back to Eire. And I said I would send you as soon as I received their reply. Which I have."

She held up the letter she had received that very morning, two weeks after Corwin's birthday, from a courier. "And they are sending her. The king writes that the girl will be in Caer Ebon two months from now. She is being fetched back from a cathedral--actually, the one you were found at after the wreck. He asks that we send you there with all speed. Please don't be angry, for I do not command you to marry her. I'm not saying to forget your dreams. I'm saying God may take them and remake them into something better, but still you. I have to send you there because, well, Eire could help against Astrakhan and they've been throwing Serena at your head for years now. I can't help it. I am sorry."

Colin frowned. "Politics are annoying. I suppose I wouldn't mind going to Eire...I really don't have to marry this girl?"

"You'll really be shutting them up on the subject of you marrying her. You can visit your friends, see another part of the world. This really is worth doing, Corwin. This really is a help."

Colin was quiet for a moment. "If I take Silent, will that send an unmistakable message that she is not, in fact, romantically involved with me? For she will be here for years, Mother, maybe even part of our court. We really need to find out where she hails from. I mean, if she comes along to help me find someone else, won't people finally realize she's not..."

"I believe so." Wintress paused. "Unless they think she's your mistress."

"Anyone says that to either of us and I'll strike him in the mouth."

The queen smiled. "Brilliant. I'll send a few other courtiers as well to take the focus off you two. May your sails fly with all speed, and all that."

Silira could barely breathe. The water was moving so fast. She felt things moving past her in the dark, but it was impossible to tell whether they were alive. A rock scraped her hand, and she cried out, suddenly able to hear her own voice. She was out, out into shadows and a hot, maddening stink of dead fish and bones and rottenness and a strong current still pulling her forward.

"One down," she muttered. What lay beyond the whirlpool was not common knowledge. There was speculation, pretty stories, but nothing like this.

A dark, boiling bog of green glop lay ahead of her. Bubbles rose from it and burst, spraying acidic green stench everywhere. Nothing lived near it, for obvious reasons. A strong current pulled her toward it, and she thought it had pulled the bones across it, but to what she couldn't see. Nothing was visible across from it. All the light down here came from the boiling green glop. Puke, she thought, and kicked with all her might. When she was half over it, she found it was too hot, and she panicked. She had to get out, and she had to get out NOW NOW NOWNOWNOW--She was over it, standing on a rock, turning and looking at the disgusting stuff she'd just made her way over. She turned. Two down.

Oh, vomit. The bog wasn't all.

The bones had not sunk in the bog. The current had taken them all across, and their bodies rotted away. Stark white bones were grasped by thousands of tiny arms growing out from a diabolical forest of huge coral polyps, preserved by something in the water, maybe the bog fumes. There were bones of humans there, taken from whatever shipwrecks the sharks didn't get to and given an honorable burial, skeletons of merpeople, bones of stray fish, even a few land animals.

The forest was alive. And it was hungry. And there was a path through it, straight and narrow, with just enough room for someone to swim forward at top speed...

Forever with You, Lord. And I do not refer to Corwin.

She rolled her eyes, tied her hair up, left her veil and the flowers behind, crossed her arms over her chest, and pressed on. She was moving at top speed, driven on by fear and love, and if you think I sound sappy, then you shouldn't be reading this particular story. For five minutes she went on, tail up, tail down, avoid that arm, duck under that skull, ignore the fish, see the...see the skeleton. There were a thousand there, but that one was thinner, lighter, and with a glimmer of blue scales nearby. A long tail, and the skeleton of a mermaid. She remembered a long blue tail in a family portrait done when she was tiny, and her mother's face above it. She had been up in a storm, against the law of the sea, and a bolt of lightning had struck the sea near her...an arm made of millions of greedy polyps snatched at her, and she stroked with all her might. Three more strokes, and she was out of the forest of skeletons.

She floated in a cave, huge snails crawling on the floor and walls and ceiling. A house made of bones stood in the middle, small and rickety and interspersed with whatever flotsam and jetsam the forest hadn't grabbed. An oldish mermaid, grey all over, sat in front of it, petting a big ocean toad. "Hello," she said, in a croaking, gravelly voice, not unlike a toad herself.

Silira came closer, hoping she wouldn't get killed straight off.

"You came at the right time," the old mermaid said, wiggling her fingers mysteriously. "If you had come after sunset, it would not have been in my power to help you before another year."

Silira frowned, wondering why.

"I'm lying. So!" The Sea Witch clapped her hands and rubbed them together. "What is your dolorous travail? What was bad enough to bring you down here?"

The house was small and dark, lit by pots of the glowing green goop. Odd things and dead animals hung from the rafters, and there was no furniture, only a big iron cauldron. "Interesting what falls off wrecked ships. You never really know what will come through the forest of bone." The witch stopped and turned back to Silira. "Oh, and I'll need a price. Your voice is supposed to be wonderful. The best in the sea. You'll have to give it up."

How could she give the witch her voice? Silira wished this crazy old cuttlefish would get to the point.

"Not that I can actually start sounding like you. Seriously, those big blue eyes and that hair and that voice? All put together? God hates me."

Silira shook her head, still too tired to speak. God didn't hate the witch.

"Whatever. I hate you. Which is why I'll cut your tongue out and put it in the potion. I have to give you something you can take later, because I can't change you from a distance. I'll need something from you anyhow. Part of the drinker and part of the maker, that's how it knows to change you and that's how it lets me make it." She scratched her chest and let a little blood flow into the cauldron, then threw in some other things from the rafters.

Silira was disgusted. She started to back away. She would do a lot, but give up her tongue? Never sing again? But the Sea Witch came at Silira, and Silira fought back, slapping her with her tail. She had taken a few classes on self-defense, but nothing had prepared her for this. She did well for a civilian, and actually gave the witch a black eye, but she only lasted a few minutes. The witch punched Silira in the face, and she blacked out. When she came to, five minutes later, the witch was standing over her, she was lying on the floor, and there was a stabbing pain in her mouth. She grabbed at her mouth, grimacing. "I healed it a little so the skin is smooth where it used to be," the witch said. "You'll still be able to eat, and I dulled the pain, but no sound will issue from your lips. Not even humming."

Silira turned to leave, then stopped. She couldn't go through this. But was it worth it? Three hundred years and then...nothing?

She turned back and made a ring with one hand and put it on a finger of the other, meaning, "What about the prince?"

The witch cackled. "You can charm the prince with your eyes and your smile and...then, then, is the real prize. You...you can have your precious soul." She could hardly speak for laughing. "And...do you know what else you are fighting for? Not only the prince, not only the land, but the souls of all your people."

Silira blinked. She had never even considered the possibility that she could save everyone else.

The Sea Witch was cackling so hard she could barely speak. "Ahaha...Do you know what really gives you a soul? Being created in the image of God. For this, you must be a person. You must be sentient; you must realize your potential for good and evil, and the fact that you are not an animal, that you can aspire to perfection. If you--heeheehee--if one mermaid or merman marries a human and gains a soul, it will not only give you a soul, but prove that all merfolk could have one. And, therefore, all merfolk will!" The witch dissolved into diabolical giggles. "If a mermaid marries a merman and gains a soul, so will all the merfolk! You are fighting for this! Death or glory!"

"Once human, you can never be a mermaid again. Also, if the prince marries another, you will die the following morning, of grief and also of the potion, which for your convenience I set to kill you if he marries anyone else. All I need to do is put the tongue in, and it will work on you and only you."

Silira nodded.

Silira woke up, sitting on top of the lighthouse. It was tall and thin, with a huge bonfire soaked in oil on its top, always burning, even in the day, in case of fog. Someone had painted it with strange swirling designs, so it would draw more attention, which is of course what a lighthouse is supposed to do. She had seen it often enough from the sea, on those long swims of hers before the fateful night when she drank the potion. The fishermen would use its light to fish at night, when you got a better catch. No one was there at the time. The family that lived in the lighthouse were out to lunch, and anyone could climb the stairs on the outside of the tower up to the platform on top. Silira was watching the swans fly away to the south. It was getting colder. She wore a long black coat with wide sleeves and skirt, and her hair billowed around her like the sails of the ever-present ships in the harbor.

She heard quick steps on the stairs behind her and got up, wondering who it would be and leaning on the railing around the platform to alleviate the pain in her feet.

Corwin ran up onto the platform, skirting the pile of oil-soaked driftwood, and came up to Silira. "Silent! I...oh...One second." He bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. The run up the stairs had sapped his large store of energy.

Silira half-smiled, wondering what had brought him all the way up here. He had probably found out where she was from someone who had seen her leave, riding a horse this time, not in the carriage. Only one road led toward the lighthouse, so it would have been obvious where she was going.

He gasped a particularly large gasp and stood up. "Silent...I'm supposed to meet this princess. In Eire. For political purposes. I'm supposed to go there as soon as possible."

She had held back. She had kept it all quiet. What else could she have done? But this was too much. She was going to smack him so hard--

"And I came to ask you to come with me."

Oh, really? Forget smacking. She would snap his neck like a chicken's. She would--

"But I'm not going to marry her."

Oh. All right.

"It's only a matter of form. She's not the girl from the cathedral. I've never met her in my life, and I'm not going to be so stupid as to fall for her, even though she's supposed to be the second most beautiful woman in existence."

Silira nodded. He would be gone for some time, but she supposed she could stand it.

"Will you come with me? Tradition says I have to meet her in her own kingdom. We'll sail in our fastest ship, Silent! I've never been on it, but I've always wanted to sail on it. It's beautiful. And we won't meet in the capital; we'll meet in Caer Ebon, their biggest port. We should be there over Yule. And Eirelanders know how to party. It'll be like my birthday, except for weeks, and you'll be there, and I won't have to be busy with matters of State. By the way, Wintress apologizes for separating us on my birthday." He looked very eager. "Please say you'll come."

She considered. The whole thing should take a few months, and as long as he really didn't fall for Serena...

She nodded. He would have whooped, except for the fact that he was still short of breath. Instead, he collapsed backwards and kept breathing hard. "You have no idea what this means to me."

She could say the same thing.

They sat there for a while, neither able to speak. Finally Corwin sat up, breathing slowly again, and looked at her.

"Silent...if I had to choose, I would choose you."

She smiled, trying not to show what she felt. But you don't have to choose, she thought. How am I supposed to live my whole life with you wishing for that girl? I'm good at staying in the shadows. But if I have to live until I die in them...and all I have to look forward to in the end is turning into a pile of unconscious foam on the floor of the Golden Palace three hundred years from now, or maybe sixty...I don't know if I can stand it. He loves me. And God loves me. That's all I can think. Corwin only cares because of her. If I could speak...no. No. Not going to go there.

"I have to get back to the Golden Palace," he said. "Plenty of planning to be done before the voyage. I'm really sorry to leave you here--"

She shook her head. It didn't matter any more. He nodded and walked down the steps, calling behind him, "I don't care what they say. Once we're on the ship, we're going to be real friends and actually be together for more than five minutes at a time."

All right. Maybe it did matter. She smiled. At least they would be together.

Chapter Twelve

Silira slammed the latch shut on the last chest. Her dresses were the kind that were very hard to pack, and she was exhausted. She walked--ugh, she didn't care if merpeople couldn't cry, one of these days she was going to burst out crying--to her bed and collapsed on top of the covers. It had been two weeks since the lighthouse. The Golden Palace had been filled with bustling seamstresses and tailors, fixing the clothes and making new stuff for the lords and ladies who would accompany Corwin and herself to Eire. And the tradesmen were only the half of it. Wintress had been so busy she couldn't even stop for lunch from ordering people around (her forte, in case you haven't figured that out yet).

They would leave the next morning. Corwin was elated, and she was excited as well. She would see more of the land, experience her first winter as a human, and find out what Yule was like. Corwin wouldn't fall for Serena, since she wasn't The Girl--Silira had taken to mentally capitalizing her--and they would come home in the spring, to a whole life in the Golden Palace.

So this is what it is like to be human.

She was definitely one now. No one, looking at her, would have any idea of who she really was. She drifted off to sleep and dreamed again.

Silira sped out of the house and into the forest, holding the vial out in front of her. She couldn't get out fast enough. The potion glowed brightly, cooling the water around her and scaring the living forest with its light. The polyps drew back, shrieking hollowly. The bog was easy when the vial was cooling the water, and it stilled the whirlpool for long enough for her to swim up the abyss towards the light at the top, and she was back in the normal night darkness of under the sea.

She swam slowly back over the grey plain, back to the palace. She stopped near a window of the dining hall, hearing the party going on without her. Father must have made some excuses. Nobody knew she was leaving, and she went on silently, to her sisters' gardens, picking a flower from each of their plots and weaving them into her hair. She wanted something to remember them by. Silira stopped at her own plot, staring at the statue. It felt almost as if she had never left, as if it had all been a dream. Corwin smiled back at her. She had mostly thought of getting a soul, but Corwin was always in the back of her mind now. She had asked around, watched him from the sea when she was bored, heard stories until she knew him so well. He was no longer a story or a statue to her, but a friend who didn't know he was so loved. Someday he would. She was fighting for that, too.

She rose high above the roof of the palace, kissed her hand again and again, and rose above the surface into a wide moonlit night. It was hard to imagine that only an hour ago she had been in the witch's house.

Bells rang in the palace chapel. In Sentrynyl, people would think the royals were being summoned to a meeting. And it was true, sort of.

Silira stumbled, still exhausted, into her clothes. She hated stumbling with a passion. She grabbed her coat off the dressing table, where she had left it, and pulled it on as she ran out of the apartment and down to the fountain hall. Through the windows, she saw fog. Just fog. There was a faint sound of wind outside. She nearly ran into Henry at an intersection, and jumped back, trying to look apologetic and succeeding only in looking almost dead. The kid yawned behind his hand. "Oh...Silent. It's not that bad a morning, I suppose." He kept going through the golden stone halls, with her walking next to him. "Um...you and Corwin..."

She looked down at him, startled. He turned away. "Never mind. It's just that...on the balcony the morning after he came back..."

She shook her head and walked faster. Speeding up was better than thinking about...no. She was not going to think about the fact that she wanted a soul and also Corwin, and she couldn't speak and her feet--

No. She was not going to think about it. Not now. Not ever. She would forget her past. She wouldn't even visit her sisters again. She would become Lady Silent. Silira no longer. Thinking about her past hurt too much.

In the huge hall, Wintress stood at the front of a gathering of nobles. Corwin stood with Silira at the front of a gathering of their own, ten other dignitaries who would accompany them to Rhiannon. Henry stood next to Wintress, looking sad. He'd only just gotten his brother back from the east.

"Go with all speed and the wind at your backs," Wintress said. "Lady Silent, I apologize for separating you and my brother at the party. Corwin, everyone else, may you enjoy the festivities in Eire." She swallowed, then broke down and hugged Corwin. She had missed him over the summer, after all. Henry looked at them for a second, then came over to Silira. She bent over and hugged him, smiling. The kid did have intuition. He had known she needed it more than anyone else.

"Good luck," Henry said, and then winked so only she could see. "I'll pray for you," he said, as they left the hall, left the Golden Palace, left Sentrynyl, left Eleschi and the very land itself. The nobles all rode on different roads to leave the city, but Corwin and Silira rode together. Guards were posted throughout the city, making sure no one saw the faces of the cloaked figures and tried to kill them. Neither of them said anything.

The ship was waiting in the harbor. Her name was the Falcon, and she was beautiful, her silver figurehead made like a falcon, a white flag blowing in the wind overhead. Any ship flying a white flag meant no harm to anyone, and hopefully no harm would be extended. They flew no other. If any ship hailed them and asked who they were, their story was that they were bringing supplies for the New Year festivities in Caer Ebon, which was true in a way. The captain was already aboard, a general who had sailed with the king years ago, one Sir Hans Swordfish, a deeply tanned, businesslike man in the customary long blue coat. He came to the taffrail at the edge of the ship now, looking down at the last two passengers arriving. Silira's hood blew back as Corwin helped her off her horse. A boy ran up and took their horses. Corwin and Silira walked quickly up the gangplank, bracing themselves against the wind. Swordfish came up to them as the gangplank was raised.

"Welcome aboard," he said, turning his collar up. "Captain Swordfish at your service, milady, Your Highness. Your companions know where your cabins are. Please stay in one place while we're setting off. You know, sir, how busy it gets."

Corwin nodded. "Aye, Captain. Would here be all right?" He turned to Silira. "My friend here, as far as I know, has never been on any vessel. Have you?"

Silira shook her head. She had been watching the sea.

Corwin turned back to Captain Swordfish. "Then, sir, she has not lived."

She rolled her eyes. She had lived slightly too much--no, forget her past.

The captain was giving his orders to set off. Corwin was asking her if she wanted to stay on deck. "If it's too cold, I don't mind if we go below."

She shook her head again. She liked it up here.

"All right, then," he said, crossing to the port side with her (port is left, starboard is right) and leaning on the rail. He knew how to stand on a ship, she noticed, though she had known it for a long time from watching--No. Forget the past. He stayed at a right angle to the sea. That was the trick to it.

A strand of her long hair blew into his face, and he pushed it away with no more attention than if it had been his own. She gathered her hair into her hood and put it back on, pulling it down and gazing out of it at the grey sea. The fog was clearing, and they were pulling out of the harbor. Corwin put his arm around her shoulders. It really was cold.

"You aren't afraid of the sea, are you, Silent?"

She kept looking at the distant horizon. The slight sunrise behind them lit the waves with a faint white light, like seeing the moon from down in the deeps--No, for the thousandth time, she would not think of...of what she had decided not to think of. Nothing but the wind and the sea.

Corwin started talking again, telling her all he knew of the sea, fish, whales, ships, icebergs, rocks that ships had run aground on, storms of legendary might. He went on like this for a while, with her listening. It was interesting, finding out how much the humans knew of the sea--No. No! She was one now. She always had been.

Then her dear Corwin wrecked it all again.

"And there is one other thing," he said quietly. "A legend. Something unknown, not like sea serpents or the Kraken, which we have proof of, but the story keeps being told. I've always wondered about it, wondered whether they really exist. What if they did? What if, by some strange train of events, we never knew of them, but they still were, living in the deep without our knowledge for thousands of years?"

She looked up at him and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He looked down at her, and she gave him a questioning look, trying to look as if she didn't already know the answer.

"What? Oh, right." He laughed at himself, which was something he did often, and went back to looking at the sea. "Mermaids." He stared into the sea, and she gasped silently. Just before he looked, there had been a flash of a white tail. She hoped he thought it had been light on a wave, but she knew it was not. Levana. It had to be. Oh, well, she might as well remember her sisters. It seemed they were tailing her, thank heavens. Levana wouldn't come alone. Who else was with her?

Corwin hadn't noticed it. "Or mermen," he went on. "I mean, there can't just be girls. Merpeople, I suppose. I've always listened to stories about them. Do they know about us? Are we only a story to them, the way they're a story to us?"

She wished she could speak for about the infinitieth time and turned away from the rail, gently moving his arm away and realizing she hadn't had breakfast. A cup of tea from the kindly housekeeper in the big hall, that was all. She didn't mind the cold at all, but she was starving. She took Corwin's hand and brought him down below. Getting down the ladders was something of a challenge, with her voluminous coat, but it was worth it to stay warm. It was, after all, the best (and only, but she wasn't going to think about that) coat she'd ever had.

The voyage went on and on. Everyone, crew and passengers, grew to like Lady Silent, mostly because she was willing to listen. Anything to distract her from her pain. It was wonderful, being aboard ship. The Falcon was truly lovely. Her perfect balance let her walk along the taffrail as easily as if it was the floor of the Golden Palace, but she didn't do that often, as Hans Swordfish nearly broke a blood vessel when he saw her doing it, bored, as the crew were swabbing the deck one day. This balance let her sit easily on the railing astern, which means at the back of the ship, and that was what she did most days, when she wasn't learning chess from Corwin or playing the songs of the sea on First Mate Tobacco's harpsichord. Her hair was tied back, the skirt of her black coat blowing back in the wind. The sun was out, but it had kept getting colder as they went further north and closer to winter. Silira looked down into the wake of the ship. It was a beautiful day, not by the standards of people who only care about sunshine and warmth, but Silira's standards of weather were as different as mine are.

She turned her head briefly to see whether anyone on deck--it was a large ship--would notice her. She was often sitting there, and maybe they would ignore her this time. She was looking for her sisters. Levana and whoever else had come with her would be following as fast as they could, probably on their large seahorses. They couldn't swim as fast as a ship for six weeks, which was how long they had been at sea now. Silira and Corwin had chatted, played chess, and learned more about each other. Not much, though, on Silira's side, owing to her condition. The coast had been visible the whole time, and still was. Silira had seen some landmarks she recognized at first, a hill, an odd tree, the cathedral where the whole fiasco had started. Once, on the evening of the first day, she had looked down into the sea. The light had been just right, shining down and gleaming off the glowing roof of the palace. The water was so clear, she had seen her grandmother's silver crown at one of the amber windows. But now the land was strange to her again.

The cabin boy had a few minutes off, and he was smoking his pipe and pacing the deck. He hadn't seen her much on the voyage, but the others of the crew who were on deck ignored her, as she had hoped. She pulled her hood up and looked back at the sea. Oh, they probably wouldn't show up. She had checked nearly every day, dodging the attention of anyone who might notice--

There they were. By all the waves on the sea, they had showed up, every one of her sisters. Yes, they were on horseback, packs on their backs, riding as fast as they could, Eltress, Rika, Levana, Nyrie, even Eylee, following the Falcon. They must have been riding too far down to be seen, but they were risking surfacing to talk to her. But why did they look so sad?

Oh.

Right.

They could only hear so much of what was really going on in the palace, and Silira hadn't checked in with them for a while. They must think...oh, no. Oh, no. This was not good. They thought Corwin was going to marry Serena. And if he did, she would die the following morning...no, they wouldn't know that, there was no way anyone would have told them that...but Corwin marrying another girl would still be disastrous.

They were surfacing now, hands breaking out of the waves, singing sadly. Silira smiled and nodded, wishing there was some way to let them know Corwin wouldn't marry Serena, that everything was fine. But the cabin boy came up behind her. She heard his steps and slid off the rail, walking past him with an annoyed and barely civil nod. He had intended to chat with her, but then he remembered that she couldn't talk and that he was the cabin boy. He puffed on his pipe and looked down at the foaming wake. Nothing was there but the flick of a tail.

Under the hull of the ship, a heated conversation took place. The five sisters drew knives from their packs, specially designed to hold in the hull of a ship, standard issue to the Sea King's army, and slammed them into the hull. The horses kept up as they held onto the knives, staying in the same place under the hull.

Levana's knuckles were white. Of course, all her skin was whiter than normal, but this was white even for her. "Look at her, trying to play it down as if she doesn't care."

"She does," Nyrie said, holding the knife with both hands. "I can tell that much. Eltress, remind me again why we went on this fool's errand."

Eltress, holding on easily with one hand, tried to push her knife farther into the hull. "For moral support. Father wants her to have people near who know and love her."

Nyrie rolled her eyes. "Corwin might like her, but he certainly doesn't love her. He would see what pain she's in if he did."

"But isn't he already in love with her?" Levana said. "I mean, isn't he supposed to be obsessed with Silira from when she saved him in the wreck?"

"There was another girl there." Rika pulled her cloak around her, but the current blew it back. "A human. She found him on the beach. We don't know which one he loves, her or Silira."

Nyrie growled, but a fish hit her in the face and it came out sounding like she was throwing up. "And what if that girl is there? What if she's the princess he's going to marry? Why else would he go to Eire?"

"What are we supposed to do?" Eylee said. "I can't watch over her with you four my whole life. I have to be queen someday, and who knows how long Silira will live? Something must be done."

"I have an idea," Levana said unexpectedly. "It's dangerous, but it will probably fix everything. Silira has been through so much. If Corwin marries someone else, she'll probably turn to foam on the spot."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Speak your plan," Eylee said.

Levana shivered. "Get help from the Sea Witch."

Chapter Thirteen

The Falcon docked the next morning. Silira's sisters were long gone, riding wildly back to Twilight. Silira woke up in her small, cozy cabin. Last night, there had only been the sounds of the sea and the ship, for they had been far from the coast. But now they were in port, moving quickly in to the city docks. Captain Swordfish ran up onto the deck, eating a swordfish sandwich for breakfast. He swallowed, and called, "Port of Caer Ebon!" loudly. Silira, getting her dress and coat on and washing up, heard the noble guests stirring in the cabins nearby. "Why he can't keep it down I don't know..." one chap with a posh accent was muttering from behind one of her cabin walls. Silira did up her hair as well as she could. She hadn't been provided a lady's maid on the voyage, but who needed one?

Silira ran out onto the deck, to her customary seat on the prow. She had left most of her clothes in the big chest during the voyage, keeping only two dresses out, one grey wool with a high collar and tight sleeves, one a sort of soft brown fur she was unfamiliar with. The one she wore now was the grey. Colin came up on deck, wearing a black cloak with a red and white tunic and trousers underneath.

Caer Ebon was beautiful. Grey stone buildings covered a high hill, interspersed with dark trees whose golden leaves were almost all gone. Some were drifting away even now, the strong wind blowing them down to the ship. Two caught in Silira's hair. She didn't notice, but Corwin did, and smiled approvingly. She looked good with gold in her hair. (HINT HINT.)

There was a high tower on top of the hill, with a road running up to it from the docks and branching out into the wood at the bottom of the hill. From the top of the tower, a flag was flying, the flag of Eire, a white unicorn's head against a dark green background.

The Falcon slid to a stop in the harbor. Silira felt the shock in her feet, but, as always, didn't show it. Her face in the black hood was impassive and slightly morose, though this was supposed to be the official beginning of her life as a human, Past Unremembered. Instead, it felt like her funeral, and the welcoming tolling of the church bells sounded like a death knell.

The gangplank slammed down on the long stone dock. Captain Swordfish went down first, looking the picture of military precision. "Captain ashore!" his first mate, Tobacco, said, squinting not at the captain but at a man coming down the road on horseback. It was the lord of the tower on the hilltop, the governor of this part of Eire. He approached and dismounted easily, coming up to Captain Swordfish. "Sir!"

Lord Tiernan had dark brown hair tied back, a tall, wiry physique, and keen hazel eyes. His skin was weathered and tan, owing to the fact that he spent most of his time outside riding. He never entered a carriage if he could help it, preferring to ride from place to place on official business. His Lordship, like all Eirelanders, loved the land itself, and being out in it. His long brown coat blew in the sea wind as he spoke to the captain, and Colin, who came down the gangplank as Tiernan was tying up his horse.

"Sir! Captain! I am Lord Tiernan, master of yon tower, known since the last war as the Keep. I welcome you to Caer Ebon."

"Your welcome is acknowledged," Captain Swordfish said. "Another happy landing. Lord Tiernan, meet Prince Corwin."

Some of you with overactive imaginations may think, "Hey, how will Lord Tiernan see Silira? 'The prince shows up to meet a possible wife, and has with him an unknown girl that he seems to be close to. Might Lady Silent be the sort of person who is paid to make out with the prince?' However, that sort of thing did not happen in the nobility. In that time and place, the nobility were really noble, or they were formally deposed. Lord Tiernan understood that Silira was a friend, and only a friend. Continue.

People were introduced. When the ten noble companions had gotten into the carriages, Corwin and the captain were still talking to Tiernan. Tiernan was describing the upcoming holiday festivities, when he stopped mid-sentence. He looked at the Falcon, keen eyes narrowed. "Who is that?"

Corwin turned. Silira was still sitting on the prow, spacing out. She had begun to think, and hadn't been able to stop herself, now in a brown study, looking at the Eire flag flying from the Keep. Corwin called, "Lady Silent!" She turned around slowly, then glanced at Tiernan and Swordfish. Oh, hurlage, she had stayed on the ship too long. She slid off the railing and walked coolly down to the two men, graceful as a cat. She smiled at Tiernan and Corwin explained the whole mute-dignitary thing. I must remember to forget the sea. Fear it. Reject it. Hate everything that could remind you of your past.

She shared a carriage with Corwin, Swordfish, and Tiernan. The crew of the ship would stay in the city or live in the ship until the visit was over on the New Year a month from now. She looked out the window, watching the sky. The view from here was nothing like from Mount Triumph, but it was still beautiful. Forested hills and mountains ranged into the distance.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tiernan said, smiling. "I hope you all enjoy your stay in the Keep."

"I have been here once before, sir," the captain said. "I intend to."

"We all do," Corwin said cordially. He was already enjoying himself. As the lord and the captain discussed changes in Caer Ebon since Swordfish's last visit, Corwin leaned over and asked Silira quietly, "What's the matter?"

She was surprised he'd noticed, and was thankful she couldn't be expected to answer. "Tired?" he asked.

She nodded, smiling to give the impression it was no big deal, and looked out the window again.

The carriages reached the Keep, and Silira dismounted, looking, as ever, as if she felt no pain in the least. Lord Tiernan helped her down, being quite gentle about it, taking his time, but not so much time that it would seem weird. She tried not to be mad at him. After all, the man did not know what she suffered. They made their way into the Keep, talking or listening about the upcoming festivities. "Three days," Tiernan said, "until Yule begins. Then, one festivous month later, the New Year arrives. Our world will gain the right to say, 'I have survived another glorious year.'" He was leading Corwin and Silira up a long spiral stairway. "No, Mellerie, I'm deep in conversation." He waved away a maid in a plain white dress. "I will show these last two to their rooms. Now, sir, let me tell you our plan, unless you prefer to hear it later."

Colin yawned, trying to hide it. "No, it's all right. I'm wide awake and excited." They came up onto a landing, but Corwin thought they were still on the stairs, stumbled, and bumped into a bench. "Pardon me, sir," he apologized to it. Silira smiled. Thanks to the pain in her feet, she at least was wide awake.

Tiernan took a deep breath. "Your Highness, we always begin with a military parade. Bells ringing, trumpets, waving banners and shining swords. It's the fairest prospect you shall set eyes on...though perhaps our princess shall prove me wrong." He smiled. "Surely the fairest lady in the land will not fail to impress you."

Corwin blinked, becoming completely conscious. "No, sir."

Tiernan stopped walking. "Eh, Your Highness?"

Corwin shook his head. "No. My heart is promised to another, a lady I only saw once and may never see again. You might as well know that. I don't care who else does. Tell anyone you like."

Tiernan smiled enigmatically. "Ah, love. I'll keep it quiet. No need to drive our nobles shrieking mad."

Her room was lovely. It compassed half of a cross-section of the tower. Corwin's had the other half. There were thick red velvet curtains on the windows, a bearskin rug on the floor, and curtains on the bed. Silira sat on a window seat and looked out. A light snow was falling. It would probably melt soon...

She leaned back in the windowseat and fell asleep.

At about four o'clock, she woke up. She looked out the window at the city far below, smoothed her hair down, and left the room.

Outside, the wind had turned to a light breeze. Winter hadn't arrived yet, though the last leaves were falling and Silira could smell snow. She walked around the Keep, hood down, looking at the sweeping view of the mountains and the tall trees. It was quiet there. The only sound was her footsteps, the sea, and the faint noise of traffic in Caer Ebon. The quiet before the storm, she thought. Soon the whole city would be filled with the sound of celebration, but now there were only her footsteps...

Chapter Fourteen

Lord Tiernan sat calmly in an intricately carved wooden chair at the round table on the ground floor of the Keep, talking to the guests from Eleschi and a few sundry Rhiannic nobles. "And after the parade there will be a feast," he said. "Eire's best food, which personally I think is the best food anywhere. And then parties every night, dancing, feasting...and the very last night of all, New Year's E'en, will have the best feast of all. And, possibly, fireworks. Also, if you do marry Princess Serena, it will be that night."

Silira, listening to Lord Tiernan talk to Corwin, gazed idly out a window. It was dark, and not much could be seen outside but the trees shaking in the wind, which was strengthening again. She stopped trying to see out, looking at the reflections on the window instead. Corwin was saying something back to Tiernan..."You don't know how much I look forward to the feasting, sir..." The others at the table were chatting, but no one was paying much attention to her. A word from Colin caught her attention. "...Princess Serena arrive?"

Tiernan answered without a pause. "Four days from now. That's when they were supposed to arrive. Her and her chaperone, one Lady Reynalda, and their guards. Around high noon, her ladyship said. About then. Somewhere in that proximity..."

Silira listened to him blather on, trying to cover his slip, but his slip was still showing. She ignored it and went on eating. She really wished she could taste the soft black bread and white cheese. I once said that the tongues of Silira's kind have more taste buds to aid in smelling, which is true, and she knew if she only had her tongue she would taste the thousand new tastes of human food better than any real human could--No. No. She was human...oh, who was she kidding? She couldn't forget the sea. And she was so tired, so very tired, and she longed to drift away on the water and forget everything, just dissolve into foam. There was no point in hoping for heaven when Corwin wasn't in love with her.

Silira had given up hope.

I hope you realize what this means. A catalog of the things that she had come through, still hoping she could marry Corwin and gain an immortal soul:

A storm bigger than any other in human memory

A whirlpool stronger than any mermaid

A bog of boiling glop, with bubbles that could have burst and killed her with their burning acid

A forest of carnivorous coral that no one had gotten through for a thousand years

Losing her tongue

Torture when she drank the potion, and then every time she took a step

None of those things had made her give up hope, but now it was gone. This is big. I mean, really big. I mean, really, really big. Humongous. Gigantic. Colossal. Mammoth. Vast. Immense. Considerable. Substantial. Massive. Extensive. Titanic. Monstrous. Towering. Mighty. Enormous. Tremendous. Significant. Large. Huge.

Like I said...big.

Corwin, talking to Tiernan across the table, caught sight of Silira's eyes and stopped talking. He forgot everything else. Her eyes were always so blue, sparkling and shining with wit, but now they were dull and almost black, looking out the window into the dark night. Corwin knew something was wrong. He would have spoken to Silira, but she was across the table and too far for him to speak to. But those eyes...Silira had never looked so sad...never looked sad, actually...

Tiernan tapped him once on the shoulder. "Your Highness? Something the matter?"

Corwin blinked, turning back to Tiernan. "Ah...I'm well enough." He cleared his throat, as if he could hawk up and spit out the image of those eyes. But, even after everyone, including him, was asleep in bed, peacefully waiting for the parade in three days, he could not forget those eyes.

Chapter Fifteen

Strong golden sunlight flooded the city. The sun had risen, sparkling on newly fallen snow a foot thick. Silira looked out her window at the shining sea and the glorious morning, but didn't smile. That fear of hers was growing by the second. Something bad would happen.

With that happy thought, she dressed, put on her coat because it was cold, and went downstairs. It was around ten. She didn't usually sleep this long, but she had been very tired lately. Maybe running up the long stairs of the Keep three days ago had had something to do with it. She was just as graceful now as she had been in her first days of being human, but the time of dancing was long past. She walked slowly and stayed in her room most of the time, unless she was hanging out with Corwin. Where was he, anyhow? The parade was at eleven, she thought. They would be down in the city to watch, at the house of some rich merchant, and eat lunch after that. She hadn't eaten much in the last few days, either. Did Corwin know something was wrong? He had been nice to her these last few days--when he saw her, that is. He hadn't hung out with her as much. It was because of the way she had looked when they ate their first supper there, though she didn't know that. She thought he was just busy preparing for the Yule month. He was excited, after all. But his exuberant personality didn't even cheer her up any more.

In the common room, one floor above the dining room, where most people hung out when they didn't have anything better to do, Silira sat down on a sofa and spaced out. It was a nice room, with fur rugs on the floor, armchairs, two bookcases, and a fireplace that branched out from a chimney that ran the whole height of the Keep. A few people were there, one girl adjusting her hairstyle in a mirror hanging on the wall, and two young boys having a slap fight by a window. Everything around her spoke of joy and celebration. 'Twas the season to be merry, but Silira had no heart for it.

There were steps coming up the stairs, and Corwin came in the door. "Excuse me, ladies, you two gentlemen having a slap fight, have any of you seen--Oh." He smiled and came in. "Milady. It's a good morning." He tried to pretend he didn't notice the subtle despair in Silira's eyes. "Wilt thou come down with me and ride within the carriage of his lordship, one noble Tiernan, to observe an inspiring sight?"

Silira got up slowly and went out with him. The few people also in the common room stayed behind, probably waiting for someone. He kept up a steady stream of talk as they made their way out of the Keep. A carriage was waiting for them. Corwin handed Silira up, and she took a seat across from Tiernan. Corwin swung up and sat next to her, closing and latching the door. "Sir, yea verily and thou dost have...hast? Thou dost...hast...a most inspiring prospect in Caer Ebon. Truly it givest thou joy to preside over this great city..." He went on, Tiernan occasionally interjecting but usually listening and looking amused, Silira looking out the window at the festivities going on around the carriage as they went downhill.

"And th'art a most gracious host..." Corwin was going on desperately, trying to distract himself from that look in Silira's eyes, when they pulled up and he nearly fell off the seat. There was the sound of bells ringing all over the city, and one in the Keep. Lord Tiernan, though a bad guy, was not immune to inspiring scenes. He jumped out of the carriage, a smile on his face, long brown coat spinning out. "It's a good morning, Caer Ebon!" he shouted, spinning around in the middle of the street and nimbly avoiding a pile of horse crap. They were in front of the merchant's house.

Before Corwin could help her out of the carriage, Silira slipped out alone, not looking at him. They understood each other too well to think she was angry, but Corwin still worried about her. He had no idea why she would suddenly act like this. Was it something he said? He wondered what it could be as they made their way into the house.

An imposing man, who looked as if he was part Southron, greeted them cordially and showed them up to a large balcony overlooking the street. A few of the nobles were already there, but no guards. No one would try to assassinate anyone, not now, when an entire regiment was coming through town in fifteen minutes. Silira leaned on the railing and listened to the conversation. Corwin asked her a few questions, just so things wouldn't look weird, but he mostly spoke to the other Eleschic guests. He couldn't stand that look of hers.

The bells kept ringing. Actually, the one in the Keep had rung first, as soon as the two slap-fighting boys had seen the approaching soldiers from the top of the tower and shouted to the girl who'd been looking in the mirror, and all of Caer Ebon had heard it and begun to ring their own bells. Now there was the sound of trumpets and drums in the distance. "They're coming! They're coming!" everyone shouted. The streets were crowded, some of the spectators from far-off countries.

Then the regiment marched into Caer Ebon.

It was a beautiful sight. The streets were lined with cheering people wearing their best, all eager to begin the holidays, the flag of Eire flew on all sides, bells rung and the army's drums and trumpets were going full tilt, playing the anthem. Everyone began to sing. Corwin was caught up in the moment. Everyone was, except Silira. She leaned against the balcony railing, looking at it all. "Left out" would not go far enough to describe what she was feeling. More like the strongest outside-looking-in complex ever. She remembered another glorious time, back when she had turned eighteen, singing the lay of Rory the sailor in the middle of the palace. She missed Twilight, missed being a mermaid, missed being known as a princess, having a tongue, swimming through the depths of the sea, feeling as if she was flying.

The military parade passed out of the city after a while. When it had gone, Corwin was no longer acknowledging her presence. It hurt too much. Silira didn't even notice. She went through the motions of eating lunch and socializing, at least as much as someone who can't speak can socialize. She didn't even notice the pain in her feet any more. When it was time to leave, Lord Tiernan casually got her attention and told her it was time to go, without embarrassing her or even asking if something was the matter. Because everyone could see it now. When someone gives up hope, it doesn't always show, but it did if you looked at Silira. Which everyone did.

Silira blinked. They were in the Keep. Since when had they been in the Keep? It was getting dark outside. Corwin was walking into his room, saying, "It's a good night, everyone," without looking back at her or anyone.

He could tell something was wrong. She knew she couldn't afford to look this way any more. She would pretend to be happy, for Colin's sake. He still cared about her, after all...

Chapter Sixteen

Silira sat up in bed before she was fully awake. She pushed the bearskin rug onto the floor, got up, and got dressed. Today the princess would arrive at the Keep.

The feast last night had been long and glorious, but most of it was a blur. She remembered Colin raising his glass to those assembled, Tiernan making a speech she hadn't paid much attention to, and then dancing. She hadn't wanted to watch that, and had gone up to bed, unnoticed by anyone but Corwin, who pretended he hadn't noticed.

She got up and looked outside. The sun was high in the sky, perhaps even past noon. But no, the bells were beginning to ring. She counted the times they rang, then jumped off the window seat and ran around the room, dressing, brushing her hair as fast as she could, and hoping she wouldn't make waves by showing up late. Tiernan had been very threatening last night.

She ran down the stairs and into the common room, pretending to be cheerful, pretending the shadow had passed. It hadn't, of course, but people thought it had. The common room had a good many people in it, drinking tea and trying to get rid of their hangovers. Corwin was there. Once she came in, he looked panicked for a second, then tried to ignore her without seeming rude. She sat down on the sofa next to him, mustered her forces, and gave him her cutest smile. He was looking...he was smiling, seeming relieved...he was buying it. Perfect. "It's a good morning," he was saying. "More like midday," Lord Tiernan said, coming in. "We all slept in because of the late-night jubilation. The princess should arrive soon."

"Are you hungry?" Colin said. "Ho, Tiernan, no sign of Her Highness?"

Silira shook her head, and Tiernan shook his. "None, I'm afraid. She'd probably planning to surprise us all. You know, shock us with her lateness."

"And gorgeousness," a guy said in the back.

Tiernan laughed. "Yea, verily. I've never seen her, but who would deny the many tales of her beauty?"

Silira hadn't been listening, or caring much. She was busy making a resolution. She would no longer agonize over the fact that she would have no soul. She wondered for the first time if oblivion would be so bad.

The clocks struck five. It was dark. Serena had still not arrived. Silira leaned on the wall of the ballroom, the third floor up from the ground, looking out a high, narrow window. The moon was shining through a thin cloud, moonlight shining dimly on the sea. Silira was wondering where her sisters were. Corwin was sitting on a table, nibbling a stolen fruit from the buffet.

Then there was a knock on the door of the Keep.

Silira blinked, coming out of her brown study. To whom it may concern, a brown study is like spacing out, only more depressed.

Corwin slid off the table and ran with Silira down the stairs. They slipped into the common room and sat down as fast as possible, trying to look as if they hadn't been gone at all.

The door opened. There was a loud voice down below. "Where is Lord Tiernan? I expect a welcome fit for a princess!"

The housekeeper tried to quiet the loud woman. Well, that can't be the princess, Silira thought. It must be the chaperone, Lady Reynalda. "Your Ladyship, I am sorry. Lord Tiernan awaits you, and you, Your Highness, in the common room. It is on the next floor up."

The housekeeper was leading the lady and the princess up the stairs. Silira tried not to despair, not because she was losing Corwin, but because she was losing any chance of ever being with the only One she'd ever loved more.

The door opened. A large woman in an expensive dress came in, along with a shorter, cloaked figure. It was impossible to see the girl's face. Corwin bit his lip. Silira stopped panicking. She felt strangely calm, cool, emotionless. Was this what oblivion felt like?

"Greetings, Lord Tiernan," Lady Reynalda said. She had a weird face, classical features frozen in place, like a badly done Greek bust.

"Greetings, Lady Reynalda." Tiernan smiled. "You are most welcome. Indeed, you both are. Your Highness." He bowed to Serena. The girl in the cloak nodded, slowly, not looking at anyone in particular. Actually, she had pulled the hood too low to see anyone's face. So it was more like she was nodding at his feet.

Corwin got up. All the other men in the room had, as a matter of form. "Your Highness. I'm glad to meet you." He seemed his normal, charming self, but Silira could tell he could barely keep still, while she could barely move.

The girl turned her head towards him, staying where she was. Slowly, she raised a gloved hand.

The hood flew back, and it was the girl from the cathedral.

Silira did not move a muscle. Even her heart stopped for a second.

Corwin didn't move, but his heartbeat skyrocketed.

Tiernan was the first to speak. "Welcome to Caer Ebon, Princess."

"Thank you, Lord Tiernan. I have always loved it here."

Silira knew that voice. She had heard it once before in her life, shouting for her fellow students when she found Colin on the beach. She remained sitting on the sofa, smiling slightly, looking the picture of relaxation.

Corwin still wasn't moving, but he shook himself slightly and cleared his throat. "Your Highness," he said, smiling now, as if his face wasn't big enough for it, "the reports of your beauty were erroneous."

Serena raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to one side. "Excuse me for not understanding you...Your Highness."

"Please call me Corwin. And I meant not that, but this: you are the fairest of them all." He stepped forward. "I remember the day you saved my life, and I remember you. For three long years I have wished to see you again." Serena still stayed where she was, smiling coolly. Silira still didn't move.

Colin dropped to one knee. There was a faint snap that nobody heard, Silira's heart breaking.

"Will you be my queen?"

Serena nodded, and Silira rose, still unnoticed by anyone, and left the room.

Chapter Seventeen

It was dawn. Silira had not slept all night, but walked outside the Keep in the snow since Corwin proposed to The Girl, unable to think or do anything other than wander around the Caer without her coat.

Corwin came running outside. "Silent?" The snow was still falling, and she blended into it in her cream-colored dress for a moment. Then he saw her.

"Silent." He came up to her. "I've been looking all over for you. No one could find you last night. Are you sick?"

She shook her head.

"I was worried about you." He ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. "I, um, knew something was wrong. On the night we arrived, you looked...Well, I knew something was the matter. Are you all right?"

Silira nodded, not smiling.

Corwin grinned, unable to contain himself. "Silira, it's her. It's her. The girl who saved my life. Do you understand what this means to me?! I've been wanting to see her for years! She's here! I still almost can't believe she accepted me! This is...perfect." He laughed, spinning around, spraying snow onto her dress. He stopped. "Sorry. But this is perfect! Mother gets her political crap, and I...Silira, you don't even understand how happy I am." He put his hands on her shoulders. Her face didn't change. "This is what they mean when they talk about happily ever after."

He was so happy. She didn't want to, she didn't want to do anything ever again, but Silira decided to do the only thing she could. She smiled and hugged him. There was nothing she could do about this. Since she couldn't be happy, Corwin might as well be. And the princess...well, she had better realize she was getting something good.

Yule.

It was the month of celebration all over the Continent. They rejoiced in the ending of the year and the beginning of a new one, the end of the summer's farm work, and in winter itself. If you're wondering why they don't have Christmas, do some homework and find out why we have it in the first place. Everyone was filled with the thing we call Christmas spirit, but is really the spirit of any holiday. Carolers filled the streets, which didn't help Silira's mood. She knew she could be better than any of them, if she only had her tongue. If only, if only, if only, was all she could think, so she tried not to think. She threw herself headlong into the parties and the festive mood. And the witch's words came true in Eire as well. Everyone who saw her called her, though some only in their thoughts, the loveliest child of earth they had ever seen.

One of the parties, this one in the large common room of the Keep, was being held about a week before the wedding. I won't go into the details of the entire month of Yule, or we'd be here a month. Suffice it to say that it had been one of the best holiday seasons in the past century.

Corwin was sitting on a sofa, talking to Serena. They had talked a good deal in the last three weeks. Silira had stayed in the background, being the strange unnapproachable beauty, as usual. Not so long ago, in the Golden Palace, it had been a post she rather enjoyed, being aloof and unapproachable, yet not rude in the least. But now she couldn't enjoy anything, not even the delicious smells of the dinner they'd just eaten, or the violin being played in the background. She had one really swanky dress she'd brought from Eleschi, a dark red silk with pale blue ribbons and long sleeves, and she was wearing it now, watching Corwin and Serena from behind a glass of hot cider. Corwin was laughing, presumably at something Serena had said. She was witty, clever, and actually rather nice. She seemed to care for him. The story was that she had fallen in love with Corwin when she saved him, just as he had fallen in love with her.

Serena glanced over at Silira. "Silent, tell him he should listen to me."

Silira walked over to them, raising her eyebrows.

Serena sighed. "Corwin does not seem to realize the values of tradition." She put her hand on his shoulder. Her engagement ring gleamed in the light from the nearest candelabra. It was a bright blue stone on a golden wire.

"I realize them!" he said indignantly. "But the party before our wedding will be the best one yet this month! I want to be with you there!"

Serena groaned. She had a very normal, relaxed, civil quality about her. "Corwin, it's unlucky the night before." Silira hated the way she talked about the wedding, almost as if she wasn't excited to be marrying the kindest guy in Eleschi. "And you have your stag party."

Corwin blinked, then grinned. "Oh, yes! I retract my earlier statement. Silent, I suppose you'll be at that party?"

Silira shook her head. She supposed she could skip this one party and go to bed early. She was exhausted, from Yule and from other things. Staying in the Keep wouldn't seem weird, she reasoned. People would think she was tired of the constant, conversationless feasting and dancing. Actually, she might remain in seclusion until the wedding itself. Yes, she would. She would have to. She didn't think she could hold out for another five days without collapsing. The wedding she could handle, yes. Five more days of Yule, no. She would need to save all her strength. There would be the ceremony, then a feast, then dancing on the Falcon as they sailed back home. Then...no, she wouldn't think about the next morning.

She sat down on the sofa, and Serena and Corwin talked about the wedding, about Serena's uncanny resemblance to Silent, and how much fun Yule had been. Silira spaced out, an attentive look on her face, and wondered if her sisters would be there when she died.

Her sisters, in fact, were nowhere near Caer Ebon at the moment. Once Levana had suggested getting help from the witch, they had begun the race of a lifetime to save their sister's life. They had a month to go from Eire to Twilight, round-trip. No others could have attempted it, but they were good. Really good. They rode by the swiftest currents, hitching rides on the fastest sea creatures they found, changing seahorses whenever they could. Eltress took the lead, her hair undone, streaming through the water. It was dark, very dark, and the only light was some bioluminescent algae they'd put in a box and used as a lantern. They stayed some distance below the surface, avoiding waves, but staying as close to the moonlight as possible.

No, there was another light. Rika sang out. "Light! Light! Dead ahead!"

"Twilight!" Eylee shouted. "We're close! Speed up!"

The doormerman heard an odd sound. Neighing seahorses, and...whooping? He opened the door a crack, and was bowled over onto the white sand floor. The five princesses zoomed past him and into the great hall. He heard Levana yelling back, "Sorry!"

The Sea King was bored. He was sitting on his throne, listening to some mermaid singing in the background as he watched some merman draw up a map of the coastline. Silira could have drawn it better, he thought. He missed her. Everyone did, especially her sisters...who were now rocketing into the room and pulling up right in front of him. The current from their entry blew his hair back.

"Ooookay..."

"Father," Eylee said quickly, "I know we're supposed to be watching Silira, but there wasn't much we could do to help her when she's on land. And she is. Port of Caer Ebon, as we expected. And the princess of Eire is going to marry Prince Corwin and Silira will die the next morning unless we can get help from the Sea Witch."

The king didn't move for a second. Then he cleared his throat and said, "You may not make it. Do you know the perils of this adventure?"

Levana spoke up. "No, Father, but peradventure we may save her life."

He was quiet again, looking down at the floor. Then he raised his head, fire in his eyes. He had lost Selena. He would not lose Silira.

"At any cost!"

The five sisters rode out of the palace on new seahorses, speeding over Twilight and toward the grey plain. When they had reached it, Eylee raised her hand, stopping the company. She turned her mount to face the others.

"Whatever may be down there, it may kill us. Silira lost her tongue. The witch is nasty, and if anyone wants to stay back--"

Nyrie slid off her horse. "None of us does. Waste no more time, Eylee. We must be quick if we are to make it back by New Year's Eve."

"Can we?" Levana said, dismounting and tying her hair back.

Eltress nodded. "We paced ourselves on the way home and had to buy new horses at each stop. This time, I got a pass from Father that will let us get new horses at each courier station." Under the sea, couriers wore black belts, and Eltress held up a handful. "This time, we don't hold back. We are faster than any human vessel, and we'll get the fastest horses."

"It will still be close," Rika said.

"What else can we do?" Levana said, and dived.

Back in Caer Ebon, Silira was sitting in her window seat, looking out at the falling snow. The wedding was tomorrow morning. She had one more day to live.

Corwin was at his stag party, in some high-class pub down in the city. Serena was in her room several floors down, preparing for the last party that night. Silira was trying to distract herself with thoughts of home, thoughts about the seahorses, the red willow in her garden, her childhood searching through ships, asking her grandmother about the land and humans...Oh, vomit, her whole life had been in vain. She could have united the land and the sea. Merfolk and humans, working together. It could have been wonderful. She could have been a princess of both worlds. Instead, here she was, the silent girl who didn't even have a name...

Her eyes slowly closed, and she started dreaming. She saw darkness, lightning lighting up the raging sea, a ship overturning and breaking apart on Kelp Mountain, and then another one sinking not far off, and a little mermaid making her way through the wreckage to a boy with black hair and black eyes, holding him up for hours on end. Silira dreamed about the wreck all night, the little mermaid keeping the prince's head above water, keeping him alive through the storm, even though the lightning kept striking all around her. Lightning was her worst fear, she remembered. Almost her only fear. Hadn't it killed her mother? The storm grew slowly less, and the wind died down. There was one last peal of distant thunder, and then the sun began to rise--

Silira's eyes shot open. The sun couldn't rise, or she would turn into foam and--Oh. She was awake. No longer dreaming. Lying lopsidedly on the window seat, in the Keep, in Caer Ebon, in Eire. She had legs. Feet. No tongue. Yes, it had just been a dream...Oh, yes.

This was her last day.

She knelt on the window seat, looking out at the sea and the dawn. It was a rather tame one, with pale pink streaks of light at the horizon and grey clouds everywhere else.

Lord, I know life isn't fair...but...Seriously!? I'm going to die. I won't go to heaven. It's always been my greatest hope, leaving this world behind for a perfect one. Imagine a perfect world. A world where none of...this stuff, no tragedy, ever happens. I wanted to meet Mother in heaven, and Corwin when he came. But this? Becoming nothing, absolutely nothing? I don't care how bad life is, it's better than nothing. Nothing at all.

I don't want to go.

Prayer goes both ways. You can listen as well. Otherwise, the conversation is one-sided. But she didn't listen. She was so far gone that she didn't notice something pressing on the back of her mind, a still small voice whispering something over and over and over. She was trying to get used to the idea of giving Him up. But she never could. That was her curse and her blessing, the wings that held her down.

She braced herself, got her feet out from under her, and stood up. She went to the big sea chest in the corner. No, not her red dress. Yes, here was the right one to wear, even though she didn't much care what she wore today. It was the simple cream-colored dress she'd worn when Colin told her he loved her. She got into it, brushed her hair, considered doing something with it, then changed her mind and left it down. It looked best that way.

She decided to stay upstairs until the carriages arrived to take them to the church. That would be at around two o'clock. It was early morning now. She hadn't slept long. It was sunrise, about seven o'clock. The days were short these days. She lay back down in the window seat and closed her eyes. The maids would wake her when the carriages came.

Yes, they did. Mellerie, who happened to be sweet on Lord Tiernan, but that's irrelevant, knocked tentatively on the door. "Lady Silent? Lady Silent?"

Silira was awake. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to sleep all day. She got off the window seat and came to the door, snatching her coat on the way. She opened the door, nodded at Mellerie, and went past her, putting on her coat as she went down the stairs. Lord Tiernan greeted her as she came into the dining room.

"Ah, Lady Silent!" He seemed exceptionally cheerful, but nothing he could say would upset her. "What a lovely day for a wedding. I'm sure you're gladder than I can say, and certainly gladder than you can say, you little tongueless thing, to see their Highnesses married. What a lovely couple. Serena has already been at the church for hours. Rehearsing, you know. And the prince looked quite happy as he left five minutes ago--"

Silira was standing next to him in a moment, her hand over his mouth in a grip which he knew to be stronger than his own, eyes blazing with blue fire. She couldn't speak, but her message was clear: Shut your mouth, you inconsiderate jerk. You are not what you seem to be. I don't know your secret, but just shut your mouth.

Tiernan wet himself and retreated to his room to change, growling curses in Gaelic. "Dratted blasted girl...she's hard-core, all right...deuced stupid blonde banshee..."

Silira looked coldly after him, then went to the door. The last carriage was waiting at the bottom of the steps up to the door. She went to it, got in, and latched the door, pulling down the curtains while she was at it. No one else was inside. The carriage began to move, then halted as Lord Tiernan ran out. "Wait! Wait, driver!" He jumped easily up onto the running board, pulling the door open--oh, no, she'd locked it. He banged on it angrily as the carriage made its way down the hill, barely hanging onto the side. Silira leaned back in the dim carriage and smiled. Then her principles took over and she unlatched the door. Tiernan got in, slammed the door so hard the carriage nearly capsized, and sat down across from Silira. "I would very much like to forcibly remove your face," he said in a cordial and civil tone.

Silira smiled her most beautiful smile.

The drive to the church did not take long, maybe a quarter of an hour. Silira watched a few snowflakes fall lazily to the ground, huge ones, almost an inch big. One landed on her hand as she was getting down from the carriage, one foot on the running board, one in midair. She watched it melt as Tiernan, rolling his eyes, jumped out of the carriage and went into the church. The sky was pale and the wind was still as she looked up at the falling snow. She could hear the snowflakes falling.

Corwin was standing on the dais in the church, at the opposite end from the entrance. The pews were full, and Lord Tiernan was making some speech about diplomacy, the values of Eire, and the values of Gaul, and their combined powers improving the continent, yadda yadda yadda. He wasn't really listening, but watching the pews. Everyone was there except Silent. There was Lady Reynalda, not the nicest woman present, and the guests from Gaul, a good many Rhiannics, and the organist in the back. But no Silent--

Oh.

Oh, criminy.

There she was, coming down the aisle, looking from left to right to see if there were any seats open. There was only one, he knew. To his right, in the middle of the front pew. She didn't look at him, but appeared to be concentrating on finding a seat. She looked absolutely beautiful, her coat taken by the chap at the door, the long dress trailing on the floor, her silvery-golden hair shining in the light from the chandeliers. She sat down, that slight expression of relief on her face that she seemed to get whenever she sat down and got her weight off her feet.

Tiernan wrapped it up, to the brief applause of everyone in the room except Silent, for some reason. He retired to the back of the dais and raised his hand. "Priest Leonardo, of your courtesy."

An old priest in black velvet robes came forward. He had long grey hair and aquiline features, and he looked forward at the darkness at the end of the aisle.

"Let the bride approach," he said in a clear ringing voice. The organist struck up the wedding march, an old inspiring melody that resonated throughout the church.

Serena came forward. Her dress was simple and nondescript, obviously white, and she wore a thin silk veil that she could see through but was opaque to outsiders. Colin gazed at her, for some reason not very impressed. He wanted to see her face, the face he'd been crazy about for so long. He glanced at Silira's. They were so much alike, it was uncanny.

"Princess Serena of Eire," the priest said, "th'art the only match for this man, for better or for worse. You saved his life from the ever-changing sea." He turned to Colin. "Prince Corwin of Eleschi, thou art the only match for this woman, for better or for worse. You have remembered her for three years, after only one sight of her face." He turned to the small congregation. "If any here know of any reason that these two should not be wed, speak out now."

The organist finished the march. The only answer was silence.

Leonardo turned to Lord Tiernan. "Sir, you may be seated."

Tiernan giggled nervously. "Ah...uh...er...um..."

The priest looked around the church. There were no empty seats. "Stay where you are, then." A few people giggled. He stared them down. "Now, friends, the Lord has set in motion this blessed arrangement..." He went on about the virtues of marriage for some time, as was usual at weddings. Silira wondered if one of the chandeliers would suddenly fall on his head, or maybe Serena's. Corwin was seized by a sudden doubt that Serena was not really herself. He had a strange unsettling feeling that the girl in white standing next to him was not his true love. But then Leonardo wrapped it up, and Serena pulled off her veil. Corwin's fears were dispelled, and he and Serena joined hands.

Leonardo raised his hands above his head. "This man and this woman, Lord, have come to be joined into holy matrimony. Corwin, swear'st thou that thou shalt love and protect this woman who saved you from the storm, being not embittered against her?"

Corwin's proud voice rang throughout the church. "I swear."

Leonardo continued to gaze upwards. "Serena, swear you that you shall be subject and yet equal to this man whose life you saved, his true love so long as you both shall live?"

"I swear." Serena's voice was cool and dispassionate.

Leonardo smiled at them. "I proclaim you, Corwin, and you, Serena, to be husband and wife so long as you both shall live."

The congregation rose to their feet and shouted, "So be it!" This always happened, but Silira hadn't heard about it, and rose a second after the others. The organist began another song, the triumphant one that was played when wars were won and hearts were joined, and Serena and Corwin kissed.

Chapter Eighteen

The Falcon sailed out of the harbor with a fair wind and a following sea, a glorious sight, flags flying from every available place. Tiernan stood on the docks, right hand raised, and spoke into a small hand mirror, still looking at the sea. "The Falcon is flying back to its roost."

"You have absolutely no flair for this," a voice from the mirror replied.

Tiernan growled and threw the mirror into the sea. "I quit!" he bellowed. "And, for the record, I no longer find you intensely attractive!"

The feast was over. Everything was over. Silira sat on the taffrail, balancing perfectly. Corwin and Serena were talking to some people on the prow, and Hans Swordfish was giving the crew orders. Yes, this looked like a happy ending. Corwin was smiling at Serena, his arm around her waist. Silira pulled off her hood.

If this is my last night, Lord, let's make it a belter. All I ever did was live for You. So let's die in a manner befitting the daughter of the King.

She didn't brace herself or try to psych herself up. She just jumped off the rail, went over to Corwin, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to her and laughed. "Oh, Silent!" He turned back to Serena. "My love, Lady Silent is the best dancer I've ever seen. Of course, I've never seen you dance. Musicians!" he shouted, running out onto the center of the deck, or as close as he could get. There was a purple and gold pavilion in the middle of the deck for the bride and groom when the dancing stopped at midnight.

He spun around and held out his hands to Serena. "Let's dance."

Captain Swordfish signaled to a blond sailor who was looking out of a hatch. The sailor nodded and went below.

"Now, lads," he said in a Swardset accent.

The Falcon's fifty guns fired from both sides of the ship. Serena, coming up to Corwin, nearly fell, but he caught her in a perfect dip and they both laughed and couldn't stop. The sound of the cannons rang out into the evening, and the musicians struck up a dancing song.

Silira gasped. She knew that song, and not from the land, but from the sea. That was the lay of Rory the sailor. But it had never been sung above the surface, not without the singer cracking up. But...oh, she understood it now. It had been sung in the language of the sea, so humans hadn't understood it. But how could they have heard the whole thing? No one had ever sung the whole thing...except her, on her last day as a mermaid, her eighteenth birthday, trying to choose a song to sing at the ball, sitting on the top of Kelp Mountain and singing the whole day long. Some sailors had heard her.

Well, this was the only song she knew how to dance to, and no one else on this ship could. She looked up at the stars. Nice one, God. At least I can go down dancing.

Everyone else was already dancing, more waltzing than doing anything else. Silira looked around. Apparently no one wanted this dance. Well, fine. She would be better without a partner.

She tapped her foot on the deck, testing the sway of the ship, gauging how to dance without falling.

She tapped it again. Maybe she could even use the tilting to her own advantage, using it to throw her higher.

One more tap. The song was infectious, addictive even. Maybe it was just as well she was the only one who could sing it.

Silira spun out into the dance. It wasn't unusual for a girl to dance alone when no one asked her, but her dancing was unusual. More than unusual--perfect. She seemed to fly through the dance, not staying on deck because of gravity, but because she wanted to. Her first night with feet was nothing to this. She concentrated all her strength on the dance, all her considerable power and skill, using moves that usually only worked underwater. She forgot everything else, having one last fling, dancing as light as a flake of foam before she turned to one. Even the pain in her feet was forgotten. She had never been this good. The pipe and violin and drum were inspired by her skill, and played better than they ever had before.

Serena didn't love Corwin, but she had an unexpected crush on him. The way he looked at Silent as she skipped and leaped and spun annoyed her, but she went on dancing with Corwin as the sun set at the distant horizon. Everyone was cheering, "Silent! Silent!" Silent was smiling, her blue eyes intense as the summer sea.

Hans Swordfish watched the dance, smiling. "Light it up, girls."

Two tiny glowing fairies jumped off his shoulders and flew into the rigging. "NOW!" they shouted in tiny voices, and others of their kind slid out of the sails and the crow's nest and cracks in the wood, glowing as they flew, flying and dancing in midair, like fireflies multiplied by six.

As the sun set and the song rose to its climax, Silira leaped and spun, using the same move she had in the Golden Palace not so long ago. This time, though, she rose higher, using the tilt of the ship to throw her up above the deck, the pain in her feet gone for one wonderful moment. She saw Corwin cheering, Serena standing in the background where she herself usually was, the stars coming out all around her as if she were floating in the night sky.

Then she landed. The sunlight was gone. It was cold, though she was wearing her coat. The ship was silent, except for the sound of the sea. Her feet hurt more than ever, and Corwin was kissing Serena again.

She turned and went to the taffrail, really wishing she could cry. Even though people could see her, the people talking and laughing, dispersing around the ship, Corwin calling to everyone, "I told you! I told you she was good! Isn't she good?"

She leaned on the rail, not getting off her feet. She was sick of the shock every time she touched the ground. Over at the other end of the ship, there was joking and laughing. Corwin was caught up in the moment. Everyone was, except for her. She pulled her hood up and looked down at the deck. She didn't want anyone to see her face.

The dancing went on and on and on, towards the new year. A few men asked Silira to dance, and she obliged them all, dancing better than any of them, better than anyone, ever. Corwin did not dance except for the first dance with Serena. Silira was cold in spite of the dancing, and she kept trying to move fast enough, to be good enough, to save herself from the cold and the memories and the present pain and the lack of the future.

Chapter Nineteen

Silira leaned on the taffrail, not sure what time it was. It was dark, that was all she knew. No moon. The stars were out, the constellations moving slowly across the heavens. Heaven. Of course she would never go there. She was a mermaid, not made in the image of God. Her only hope was a quick ending.

Why was it quiet? She didn't like the sudden silence. It reminded her of her own. Silira looked over at the small crowd across the ship, none of them missing her. They were gathered around someone...oh. She walked over, not wanting to be found absent at midnight. The guests were clustered around Corwin and Serena, who were both holding the captain's big watch. Serena was counting the seconds until midnight, and Corwin was looking around, presumably for her. Silira slipped between people and came up to Corwin, tapping him on the shoulder. He jumped and turned around. "Oh, there you are, Silent--"

Serena began the count. "Ten!"

Everyone stopped talking and listened, riveted.

"Nine! Eight! Seven!"

Silira looked up at the stars. Corwin looked down at her. For the first time that day, he got a good look at her eyes.

"Six! Five!"

Corwin, out of anyone's sight, took Silira's hand. "Silent, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Four! Three!"

Silira looked at him, blinking and trying to narrow her eyes.

"Two!"

Corwin took her other hand. "Silent, something is still wrong. But I thought you were all right--"

"One!"

Silira looked into Corwin's eyes with a look that made her message obvious: Yeah. I lied.

Serena waved the watch in the air. "Happy New Year!"

Corwin had looked incredulous, but his attention shifted from Silira to Serena. "Happy New Year!" he shouted, along with the others. Silira backed up into the dark, to the darkest place on the deck, hoping Corwin wouldn't notice that she was gone. And...oh, thank heaven, he didn't. The guests dispersed into their cabins, and Serena and Corwin went into the pavilion.

Inside the pavilion, Serena turned to Corwin, kissed him, and socked him in the mouth. He collapsed on the bed and didn't move. Serena took the small mirror out of her pocket and sat on the bed. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

The mirror flickered, and a voice and face squawked eagerly from it. "Report!"

Serena smiled. "When do you want him dead?"

Silira leaned on the taffrail at the stern of the ship, staring down into the foamy wake. She could barely see a thing, though the stars were as bright as she had ever seen.

She heard a faint sound, a muted melody, as if it was coming from underwater. But she didn't even care what it was.

Her sisters burst out of the water, gleaming in the starlight. "Silira!" Nyrie shouted.

Silira gripped the rail with one hand and waved. Her sisters swam up as near as they could. They were pale, their wet hair pulled back...no...it was cut off, very short. This was unusual, especially with how strong mermaid hair actually was. Silira wondered what could have happened.

"We went to the witch!" Nyrie shouted. Silira wondered if any of the humans would hear her, then didn't care.

"She cut our hair off in exchange for this! Watch out!" Nyrie gathered herself and sprung out of the water, throwing something long and bright. Silira ducked, and the knife landed on the deck. She ran after it as the ship tilted and it slid toward the edge. When she caught it and held it up, it gleamed in the starlight with a cold light. It was simply made, very sharp and strong, with the hilt bound black. Silira ran back to the stern and held it up.

"Good!" Nyrie shouted. "Once you use it, dive in! We brought an extra horse! You'll turn into a mermaid again and live your three hundred years! It will be as if none of this ever happened!"

Silira looked at the knife, then tried to look questioning, waving the knife as if to say, "Use it on what?"

Nyrie was silent.

"On him." Sometimes, the only one who could say what needed to be said was Levana. "Once his blood touches your feet, they'll turn into a tail again."

Oh.

Silira looked at the knife again, seeing her own face reflected in the smooth blade. She saw despair in that face, heartbreak and hopelessness. No, there was hope. She could see it now in the knife, the flash of hope in the reflection of her eyes. She turned back to her sisters, her hair blowing in the rising wind, and nodded.

They nodded back and disappeared beneath the waves.

Snow began to fall again. Silira walked quickly toward the pavilion, pausing at the entrance. There was no sound inside. She looked down at the knife, knowing she'd have to be quick. She must get in, get it over with, and get out. Stab him in the heart. He hadn't seen when she was in pain, had actually talked to her about falling in love with Serena, given her false hope for all her teenage years. The sun was beginning to rise. She could see the light at the horizon. The ship had turned in the night, and was facing into the dawn. Silira cut through the ties that held the pavilion door shut. She could do it. All of this would have never happened.

Then she looked at her reflection in the knife. There was something else in her eyes, something that had won Corwin's heart, something everyone saw in her. The thing that gave the intensity to those huge blue eyes. The thing that had kept her going for so many years. The thing was love, and she couldn't do it.

She threw the knife out to sea and turned, walking back to the stern. She looked down at her sisters.

"She's done it," Levana said.

Silira turned and ran. All her sadness was forgotten. She no longer had hope. Corwin loved Serena, and they would be brilliant together. Yes, he loved her. Yes, he would be sad. But he would forget her easily. Yes, she loved him. But there was nothing she could do. Soon she would forget him, forget the sea, forget everything. Was it possible she could forget God, even if she dissolved into nothing?

Nyrie realized what she had asked Silira to do, and she knew that they had gotten an innocent man killed.

Silira ran, her feet barely touching the ground, like a bird taking off, racing towards the sun. The sky was glowing with fiery light.

Her sisters sped towards the front of the ship, towards the Falcon. They knew Silira was going to jump, and they were rejoicing. No longer would their sister be in pain. She would come home in triumph and rule the sea.

Silira was going faster that ever before, leaping over the wheel and up onto the prow. The sunrise blazed, seeming close enough to touch. If she was going to die, it might as well be at home. No one saw her as she leapt off the silver falcon figurehead, hanging for one moment suspended in space.

The sun shot up over the horizon. It was all over.

Silira landed and shot down into the sea. She saw her sisters for a second, saw the sun shining through the waves. A strand of her hair blew over her face. She tasted seawater, looked up at the ship, and saw Corwin's face for one moment.

Then everything went dark, and she knew no more.

Actually...

I never said this was the end.

Eltress swam up to Silira. "She should be fine. It's just nerves. She's been through too much." Eltress held her up and put her on the spare seahorse, laughing. "We did it! We did it!"

"Did we, though?" Rika said quietly. "She's not breathing. And can you see her tail?"

Nyrie swam up next to Silira, glanced down, and gasped. "Get her out of the water!"

"But they'll see--"

"Get her back up! Now!" No one dared to disobey. Eylee and Eltress each took hold of Silira's arms and swam back up to the surface, silently praying they wouldn't be too late. They splashed out of the water, keeping Silira's head above water. Silira was deadly pale and didn't move.

SLIGHTLY EARLIER...

Corwin woke up. He dimly remembered being knocked out by Serena, who was asleep as far from him as possible, wrapped in her coat and a good many blankets. He sat up, shivering. There were plenty of warm blankets inside the pavilion, but he was on top of them all. He got up, well rested, and went outside. Oh, the air smelled wonderful. The sunrise was beautiful. It was a wonderful morning. He walked to the side of the ship and leaned out over the sea.

Then came the splash. He looked down, wondering what could have made that noise...Oh.

"Man overboard! Man overboard!" Corwin shouted. He couldn't see anything but sea. He ran around the ship, looking around. "Ho! Sing out, whoever you are!" He wondered who could be up this late. Serena, thank heaven, was still in the pavilion. Captain Swordfish, he knew, was in the cabin. Everyone else he had seen go to bed...oh, no...

Fear filled his heart. "Silent!" he shouted, looking around. "Silent!" He ran desperately around the ship, looking for any sign of life. He stopped. She was nowhere in sight. "Not you, too..."

Then someone sang out. Not Silent, but a young woman's cold voice he didn't know.

"Your Highness!"

Corwin raced to the other side of the ship. Who could...

Mermaids.

Five of them. Huge eyes, pointed ears, tails that went up to the chest. Beautiful. Two of them were holding an unconscious Silira. They all had packs on their backs, and cloaks sewn all over with pearls, as if they were on a journey.

"I am Princess Eylee, heir to the throne of all the sea," a regal blond one who looked rather like Silent shouted over the sound of the waves. "Shut your mouth and lower a lifeboat."

Chapter Twenty

Silira opened her eyes.

Light brighter than what she was used to shone back at her. It was about seventeen bright sunbeams, coming in the large window of a smallish room. A strong breeze blew the white linen curtains into the room. The walls shone bright yellow in the light.

Silira had a feeling that there was something she should remember. She sat up and looked out the window. It was a beautiful morning. Gulls called outside, and the sea crashed on the rocks...she knew those rocks. There was a smooth sand beach, rocks at the water's edge, foam washing up around them...the open sea...mountain peaks...the sun shining high above...

She knew this place. Somehow it was important, but she couldn't remember why. She tried to remember her days of swimming along the coast, but she had never gone this far. Where was she?

Then everything came back. Corwin, the storm, the wreck, and everything that had happened since then. This was the cathedral she had left him at. This was the place that had been her doom ever since he saw that girl.

So why was she alive?

And why did she have a tongue again?

Oh, I understand. This is heaven.

No, it couldn't be. Was she really human now? No. Her teeth were still pointed. Her eyes were still huge. Did she have her tail again?

She whipped the bedclothes away and saw her feet at the end of a long linen nightgown.

Silira did not understand any of this at all. Not the tears, or the tongue, or being alive.

Lord, I do not understand any of this. Perhaps, this being an important, though confusing, situation, maybe You can help me understand.

She tried to listen, and realized she hadn't in a long time. Why hadn't she paid any attention? Had she thought that only she could fix everything? She had fixed nothing. She had done her best and lost everything. So why did she have another chance? Why did everything seem fine now? Even the question of...

Your soul.

It's a voice, yes, but quiet and understated and in your mind. And you have to listen. You have to lay aside everything else and hear it. Don't laugh at how unrealistic it sounds. You shouldn't be reading this if you are.

My image is not in the body, not in a tail or feet or round ears or pointed ears. My image is within you. You tried to save yourself and failed. I can save you. Without Me, you are foam on the sea. With Me, you are a princess. I died to save you, as you would have died to save Corwin. You cannot save their souls, but they can choose Me. All of you have always been able to. Millions have chosen and been surprised to come to Me at the end of their lives. Your mother is waiting for you.

She didn't need to speak, but she was thankful. Extremely so. She had been so afraid and in pain and thinking it was all on her. But it was not. It never had been. Silira flopped back on the bed, arms spread out, in a mad fit of giggles that she couldn't hold back. She realized that, though she hadn't been able to speak, she had always been able to laugh. But the pain and the fear had gotten in the way.

She noticed a note on the chair and reached to pick it up.

Lady Silent,

You probably have a few questions. Here are a few answers.

You are alive because, in the wedding ceremony, Leonardo married Corwin to the woman who saved his life, and that's you, not Serena. When you threw the knife over the side, one of them found it and brought it with them to the cathedral. All the world now knows that merfolk are real, by the way. They took the knife back to Twilight, which I think is your capital city, and went to the Sea Witch. They demanded that she make a potion that would give you back your tongue and let you walk without pain. I gave you the potion while you slept. When you wake, you should be entirely well and free of the curse. Corwin is not married, not to Serena because she didn't save him, and not to you because Leonardo said Serena's name. However, no matter who he marries in the future, your life will not be in danger. I think you'll have a human lifespan, but it's hard to be sure.

We shooed the students out on a walk. Serena, Lady Audrey (the matron of the school), Queen Wintress and myself are probably downstairs in the hall, arguing. You can sneak out by going through the gallery and out the French doors.

Rosanna

Silira dropped the note, threw off the covers, and ran out of the room. She rushed through narrow passages and down spiral stairs, through guest rooms and sitting rooms and classrooms, and eventually saw the hall at the bottom of a wide flight of stairs. She didn't stop, or even slow down, but slid silently down the right banister and leaped off at the bottom. She did hear arguing in the hall, but no one noticed her, and she kept running, through the wide sunlit gallery and outside onto the beach, into the wind and the sun and the sparkling sea and the gulls flying.

Corwin was sitting on the same rocks she had hidden behind a few years ago. Her sisters were floating where she had hidden, and the wind blew a few words from Nyrie to her. "And you know the rest...I'm sorry I would have let you die."

"Don't mention it," he said, or something like it.

"Corwin!" she shouted, running to him.

He stood up and spun around. "Silent!"

"My name is Silira!" she said, running up to him.

"Silira," he said, trying to think of something clever. "I, ah...I'm sorry. I should have seen! You were in such pain and I could have done something about it--"

"No, you couldn't," she said. "You never hurt me."

Her speech, though human, didn't exactly seem normal. She had a slight accent left over from her years in the ocean.

Corwin didn't move. "I almost killed you."

"No. None of it was your fault."

He grinned. "Thanks for not killing me."

She grinned. "Thanks for not being angry because I nearly killed you."

There was an awkward pause.

"Just kiss already," Levana groaned. "With tongues."

Eylee smacked her.

"Don't," Silira said. "It's actually a rather good idea."

"Can we save it for the wedding?" Corwin said. "Is there going to be one...Silira?"

"No," Silira said, folding her arms.

He looked like a disappointed puppy. "No?"

"I meant the kiss," she said. "Of course I'll marry you."

Corwin put his arms around her and paused. "Tongues?"

"Like this," Silira said, sliding her arms around his neck.

The kiss was the first ever between a man and a mermaid. Something in the physiology of it made it different from other kisses. Better.

Extremely better.

She was so light that Corwin spun around and around and her feet left the ground and it didn't feel like swimming, or running, but like flying.

They would never have separated, except for the fact that Silira tripped and fell off the rock.

"My love!" Corwin yelled, running to the edge.

"It's all right," she said, splashing to the bank. "I'm not hurt--"

She gasped. There was something under the water shining and gleaming like pearls and diamonds, something bright and green and sparkling like the sea--

Corwin didn't see it and climbed down the rock onto the beach. He ran into the surf and took her arms to pull her up. Then he dropped her in his surprise. "I'm so sorry--"

Silira laughed, swimming in wide circles around the rock. "Corwin, do you think it's ugly?" She dove down deep, deep into the cool shadows, soaring through the blue, floating as if in the night sky, and then she swerved and spiraled up, spinning faster and faster until she shot out of the water, like a dolphin, but higher, almost like flying.

Corwin had tears in his eyes. "She's leaving forever."

"Silira!" Levana shouted. "He thinks you're leaving!"

She swam back to the rock and pulled herself up it. Corwin looked at her, a real mermaid on a rock with the wind in her hair. "Do you think it's ugly?" she repeated.

"No, it's beautiful."

Serena didn't put up too big a stink, which rather bothered Corwin. "I suppose she never loved me," he said to Silira. "Which makes sense. I mean, she punched me out the second we went into the pavilion."

She left for Eire, and it was agreed by all that no insult was meant to the country. The story of Corwin and Silira spread to all Aragon, and everyone loved it. Astrakhan kept complaining, but the Kadif slowed down the war effort when he realized that his navy was worth nothing against the merfolk. Silira decided to visit Twilight once a month, and to learn to read and write the humans' way.

One month later, the cathedral hall was full of guests in fabulous, splendiferous clothes. The bay was full of merfolk, except for the Sea King and Silira's grandmother, who had been carried in on wheelchairs. Corwin swallowed. He was nervous, feeling like an actor about to start a lengthy soliloquy. Henry, extremely adorable as ever, was standing next to him holding two rings. "Don't be nervous," he whispered. "She'll be in in a minute."

"I'm going to faint," Corwin whispered back.

Leonardo the priest stood on Corwin's other side, smiling. "It's normal," he whispered. "Trust me. I know."

"Or throw up," Corwin whispered.

"Stay undecided," Henry whispered. "Until she shows up...Here she is."

Corwin swallowed again and looked straight ahead.

Human and mermaid designers had collaborated on her dress, and all who saw it agreed that it was the best they'd ever seen. Shining white silk, nearly invisible lace, exquisite dressmaking, but the best part was the pearls, thousands of tiny pearls, glowing like sea spray all over the long skirt, in intricate patterns on the bodice. She wore the pearl crown that she'd worn for her ascension on her head. One of her sisters had found it in the bay.

The ceremony was a great success. Corwin did not hurl or faint, and the kiss was spectacular. Henry caught the bouquet and almost died of embarrassment. But he soon forgot his woes as they went out onto the ship for the beginning of their honeymoon.

It was sunset. Tiny spunkies shone like sparks in every part of the ship. The feast was nearly over. Desserts were scattered around the ship, and merfolk swam all around it. Silira and Corwin were together at the head table when she rose to speak. "Excuse me? Gentles of both genders and races...You already know I have some talent in the musical area..."

"Best singer in history!" Rika shouted from the sea, and cries of "Hear, hear!" rose from all around, Corwin's the loudest.

She laughed. "Whatever you say. We've already had the dancing." She had been awesome, and Corwin had been good himself. "But no one on this ship has ever heard me sing."

Cheers from all around.

Before she starts to sing, if you are extremely clever like me, you may remember that she can't cry, and so she suffers more than humans do. But that was in the potion too, and she discovered that, glancing at Corwin and realizing that her every wish has come too. Her eyes shone, not unlike the sea, and she took a deep breath and began, with all that was in her, to sing.

And they lived happily ever after.