The light sparked and scattered, vibrant and lively as it skipped across the water. Beneath the waves, its motion was a more sedate danced with shadows on the sand and over the sea grass, rippling away from the shapes that swam with easy, undulating motion just beneath the ocean’s surface. Ten distinct shadows moved with eager synchronization towards the nearest rocky shore, the sole representatives chosen by the Hafsa and her daughter for the first moment of meeting with the princess. The Pyriei clan was large enough to merit taking into account the king’s mention of her dislike for crowds, but they had not wanted to make the moment too private. To do without witnesses would have been a poor method to thank the human that had thought to include them in his politics.
Too, they were a little unsure if their notion of a crowd was different from the princess’. Mers were gregarious by nature, a little crowding was perfectly normal in their society. Lack of it was rather more lonely than less.
So, ten it was. Glancing around her, trilling a low note of encouragement to her younger brother, who was tired out from all the excitement, Iri folded herself backwards and slipped beneath her uncle to come around under the pup. She was not the least bit fatigued, despite the effort she had put into her own preparations and the sleep that anxiety had stolen from her. Nerves were very readily buoying her reserve just as she buoyed up her brother, reminding him to take a breath of air if his gills weren’t up to the chore of breathing for him.
He squeaked at her, embarrassed, and up ahead, Hafsa Shanira let out a fluting laugh as she heard the exchange. But she didn’t bother turning around. As second eldest, it was Iri’s privilege to look after her younger siblings. As the mother, it was Hafsa’s privilege to let her. The oldest was already bound to another, and had her own pup to look after.
Ignoring his protests, she lifted him on her back and chirped until he gave in and grabbed onto her shoulders, when she picked up the pace once more, he clung like a limpet and squealed in her ear, the extra weight didn’t bother her, and she caught up with the others quickly. The rest of the journey was made in silence until they came to the large, flat rocks they usually left to the humans. They were too easily walked across by land predators, dangerous territory for a heavy mer wanting to soak up a little sun.
Heads poking out of the blue water, hair trailing like kelp about each set of shoulders, large, black eyes stared at the land, considering this place they’d chosen for such an important moment. It looked the same as it always had, white surf and glistening rocks, wide pools left by the high tide and purple mussels clinging to the lower reaches. The humans wouldn’t come out so far though, low tide was safe, but high tide came in fast. Iri turned to look at her mother, and then to the green haired elder who had been Hafsa before her. They would have to climb over those big rocks, there and back. And only the word of a walker that this would be safe. She blew bubbles expressively, but when no one else made the first move, took it upon herself to approach the shore, brother still clinging tight, and voiced none of her misgivings.
She’d already had her say, and Hafsa, not her mother, had listened and explained the better reasons to make the attempt. They had heard of humans in other places chasing mers away from their homes, building places to put their ships and spreading out across the water with their nets to take all the food. So far, the walkers here had been considerate, but there was never any certainty until this offering had been made. It was a good thing. Once done, they could be confident in their neighbour’s good intentions, and would be neighbours no more, but one clan. And clans did not ruin themselves.
Rushing the slick boulders riding a swell, she scrambled as far onto the rock as the wave’s momentum would take her, tail lashing behind her, narrowly avoiding tumbling over her hands as they caught under her belly. Tsuin, on her back, pressed his face to her neck and wrapped his tail around her middle as she looked around, the jumble of rocks suddenly looking very alike and monstrously large. His weight was no longer as easy to ignore, but she didn’t tell him to get off, it was comforting, having him so close. At least there’d been no one else to see her graceful landing…
Huffily, once she knew the coast was clear, Iri continued on, dragging her long tail and waddling slightly from side to side. Behind her, the others followed one by one, each stumbling in much the same fashion onto the stone and then starting after her. It was a curious sight, their little troupe. With the exception of Tsuin, who had yet to come into his growth, each was twice the length of any human, most even longer. There was a great deal of power in each lashing tail, and the arms that could pull that weight forward were no slender twigs. Still, it took them an hour to cross what would have taken even a child little more than ten minutes. And they collapsed atop each other in a heaving coil of limbs and cramping tails when they reached the rendezvous point.
Now, Iri understood the wisdom in her uncle’s suggestion that they give themselves plenty of time to settle there before the human delegation would arrive, as she was much too breathless and tired to even lift her head off the ground just then. <<You are heavy for so small a pup, Tsuin. Off my back, I need to breathe.>> She managed to gasp the words, and wheezed as her snorted at her, little scamp, and crawled his way to their mother. She could follow his progress by the trail of huffs that accompanied his weight on the others’ backs and, after a few more breaths unencumbered, lifted herself onto her elbows, using the elder’s tail to support her weight off the ground and lift herself up a little higher.
Glancing about, she could see that the weather was good, there was no water in the air and the sun wasn’t too bright. They were still on the rocks here, though they were dry and seemed to have rarely been touched by the waves. To one side, the land rose up into a bluff, and on the other, the rocks levelled into sand, and then into high grass. She didn’t know how the humans were going to reach them, but there seemed just as much land in front of her as there was ocean behind her. It was a little unnerving, and she sank back, tail jinking up behind her until she was pressed against the others and could wrap it around her like a shield.
This was the world her bounded was to come from. This was the world her bounded’s people came from. And she knew it not at all… Fingering the light arm ring she had spent the last month shaping from the imendrel beds into the little spikes of a fish’s spine. It looked delicate, but had suffered not at all from the climb across the rocks, and was far stronger than it looked. She planned to offer it to the princess by way of greeting. She had no way of knowing if it would fit, but she hoped the thought alone might count for something. Had they been able to meet before this, she could have been sure, as it was, now that they were here, little fish were swimming in her stomach and, as she recovered her breath, they only grew stronger.
Quickly, she reached back to undo the knot that held her hair out of the way, letting the long, wet strands fall forward to cover the pouches at her neck where her gills retracted. Then, full of nervous energy, she set about badgering her companions into some semblance of dignity. A pile was all well and good for sleeping, but it would never do as a first impression.
Too, they were a little unsure if their notion of a crowd was different from the princess’. Mers were gregarious by nature, a little crowding was perfectly normal in their society. Lack of it was rather more lonely than less.
So, ten it was. Glancing around her, trilling a low note of encouragement to her younger brother, who was tired out from all the excitement, Iri folded herself backwards and slipped beneath her uncle to come around under the pup. She was not the least bit fatigued, despite the effort she had put into her own preparations and the sleep that anxiety had stolen from her. Nerves were very readily buoying her reserve just as she buoyed up her brother, reminding him to take a breath of air if his gills weren’t up to the chore of breathing for him.
He squeaked at her, embarrassed, and up ahead, Hafsa Shanira let out a fluting laugh as she heard the exchange. But she didn’t bother turning around. As second eldest, it was Iri’s privilege to look after her younger siblings. As the mother, it was Hafsa’s privilege to let her. The oldest was already bound to another, and had her own pup to look after.
Ignoring his protests, she lifted him on her back and chirped until he gave in and grabbed onto her shoulders, when she picked up the pace once more, he clung like a limpet and squealed in her ear, the extra weight didn’t bother her, and she caught up with the others quickly. The rest of the journey was made in silence until they came to the large, flat rocks they usually left to the humans. They were too easily walked across by land predators, dangerous territory for a heavy mer wanting to soak up a little sun.
Heads poking out of the blue water, hair trailing like kelp about each set of shoulders, large, black eyes stared at the land, considering this place they’d chosen for such an important moment. It looked the same as it always had, white surf and glistening rocks, wide pools left by the high tide and purple mussels clinging to the lower reaches. The humans wouldn’t come out so far though, low tide was safe, but high tide came in fast. Iri turned to look at her mother, and then to the green haired elder who had been Hafsa before her. They would have to climb over those big rocks, there and back. And only the word of a walker that this would be safe. She blew bubbles expressively, but when no one else made the first move, took it upon herself to approach the shore, brother still clinging tight, and voiced none of her misgivings.
She’d already had her say, and Hafsa, not her mother, had listened and explained the better reasons to make the attempt. They had heard of humans in other places chasing mers away from their homes, building places to put their ships and spreading out across the water with their nets to take all the food. So far, the walkers here had been considerate, but there was never any certainty until this offering had been made. It was a good thing. Once done, they could be confident in their neighbour’s good intentions, and would be neighbours no more, but one clan. And clans did not ruin themselves.
Rushing the slick boulders riding a swell, she scrambled as far onto the rock as the wave’s momentum would take her, tail lashing behind her, narrowly avoiding tumbling over her hands as they caught under her belly. Tsuin, on her back, pressed his face to her neck and wrapped his tail around her middle as she looked around, the jumble of rocks suddenly looking very alike and monstrously large. His weight was no longer as easy to ignore, but she didn’t tell him to get off, it was comforting, having him so close. At least there’d been no one else to see her graceful landing…
Huffily, once she knew the coast was clear, Iri continued on, dragging her long tail and waddling slightly from side to side. Behind her, the others followed one by one, each stumbling in much the same fashion onto the stone and then starting after her. It was a curious sight, their little troupe. With the exception of Tsuin, who had yet to come into his growth, each was twice the length of any human, most even longer. There was a great deal of power in each lashing tail, and the arms that could pull that weight forward were no slender twigs. Still, it took them an hour to cross what would have taken even a child little more than ten minutes. And they collapsed atop each other in a heaving coil of limbs and cramping tails when they reached the rendezvous point.
Now, Iri understood the wisdom in her uncle’s suggestion that they give themselves plenty of time to settle there before the human delegation would arrive, as she was much too breathless and tired to even lift her head off the ground just then. <<You are heavy for so small a pup, Tsuin. Off my back, I need to breathe.>> She managed to gasp the words, and wheezed as her snorted at her, little scamp, and crawled his way to their mother. She could follow his progress by the trail of huffs that accompanied his weight on the others’ backs and, after a few more breaths unencumbered, lifted herself onto her elbows, using the elder’s tail to support her weight off the ground and lift herself up a little higher.
Glancing about, she could see that the weather was good, there was no water in the air and the sun wasn’t too bright. They were still on the rocks here, though they were dry and seemed to have rarely been touched by the waves. To one side, the land rose up into a bluff, and on the other, the rocks levelled into sand, and then into high grass. She didn’t know how the humans were going to reach them, but there seemed just as much land in front of her as there was ocean behind her. It was a little unnerving, and she sank back, tail jinking up behind her until she was pressed against the others and could wrap it around her like a shield.
This was the world her bounded was to come from. This was the world her bounded’s people came from. And she knew it not at all… Fingering the light arm ring she had spent the last month shaping from the imendrel beds into the little spikes of a fish’s spine. It looked delicate, but had suffered not at all from the climb across the rocks, and was far stronger than it looked. She planned to offer it to the princess by way of greeting. She had no way of knowing if it would fit, but she hoped the thought alone might count for something. Had they been able to meet before this, she could have been sure, as it was, now that they were here, little fish were swimming in her stomach and, as she recovered her breath, they only grew stronger.
Quickly, she reached back to undo the knot that held her hair out of the way, letting the long, wet strands fall forward to cover the pouches at her neck where her gills retracted. Then, full of nervous energy, she set about badgering her companions into some semblance of dignity. A pile was all well and good for sleeping, but it would never do as a first impression.