Part of Your World (Twisted Tales)(15)

Ariel regarded these last vessels with a twinge of jealousy. They carried their human riders farther away than she had ever been, to places she had only heard of in legend. They probably sailed right over the heads of the Hyperboreans, without even realizing it. It seemed unfair somehow.

Then she noticed one tiny boat—no more than a rowboat, really—that floated apart from the rest. It was by itself and farthest out, right at the edge of the bay, closest to her.

A person sat hunched over in the prow of the boat, gazing gloomily out to sea. Ariel frowned, squinting to see better. She was tempted to paint over the blurry details with her imagination: a patch-eyed pirate or stump-legged old sea captain, chewing on a pipe stem, dreaming of his glory days and looking out for a storm that would never come.

But there was something about him…his hair was a little too glossy and black. And though he sat bent over, the curved angles of his back seemed still sleek with the muscle, sinew, and fat of youth. His hand reached up to pull his coat tighter in a strangely familiar gesture—

Ariel gulped. If she had a voice she might have yelped.

It was Eric.

Without a splash she sank beneath the waves: soundlessly, immediately, eerily—like any sea creature that didn’t want to be seen. No drama, no excited tail thwap.

She hovered just below the surface, blinking slowly, heart pounding.

“Ariel…?” Flounder asked, nervous at her behavior.

She looked at him, chagrined. She made the sign, spelling out the runes:

Eric.

“WHAT?”

She held up a finger, translatable into any language: one moment.

Keeping her motions small and efficient, she swam closer to the boat, around the back, and silently poked her head above the water. There were, of course, sharp-eyed sea widows and captains, girls on the shore hoping to see something great and boys who wanted a prize for spotting a whale or its ambergris. But on the whole, humans were oblivious to the quiet world around them. She counted on that, and the sailor’s eyes on the horizon, to keep her invisible.

It was indeed Eric.

His eyes were still the same dreamy sky blue—or sea blue, right before the sea becomes the sky. But they no longer looked prone to crinkling up in smiles of confused delight. Now they stayed wide, focused on things she couldn’t see, miles and hours and worlds away from the bay.

His face was thinner, his appearance paler than that of a man who liked spending his days on a boat should have been. Still too healthy to be haggard, but not carefree.

His hair was much longer, caught back in a loose ponytail.

Although he had a worn, salt-faded cape over his shoulders, Ariel could see the trappings of rank beneath it: a crisp white shirt, several golden medallions, an unbuttoned but very fine and tight waistcoat. Below a fancy, wide belt of almost military lines he sported an incredibly well-tailored pair of trousers that obviously did not give as much freedom of movement as the old Eric would have liked. His boots were worn and seemed like an afterthought, like the cape, thrown on at the last moment. For disguise, or to protect the better clothes.

He kept staring across the ocean as if waiting for something. The tiny boat was anchored, Ariel realized. As if he had been there, or expected to be there, for a while.

“It’s so nice out here, isn’t it, Max?” he murmured. “It’s so quiet. You can almost hear…Almost hear…”

Ariel’s eyes widened. She saw the tuft of an old furry ear lift up above the side of the boat.

Hesitantly Eric pulled something out of his pocket. At first Ariel thought it would be a pipe—it seemed appropriate for someone of Eric’s current age and station. But as he placed it to his lips she realized that it was a tiny instrument. Smaller than the recorder he used to carry around with him, and fatter. More like an ocarina, the instrument humans used to play in the days they still talked to animals and merfolk.

He took a breath and waited for a moment.

Then he played a few notes. Quietly and slowly.

Ariel’s heart nearly stopped.

It was the song she had sung after she rescued him, the song that had burst unbidden out of her heart as he lay there, unconscious. It described the beauty of the sea and the land and the mortality of humans and the wonder of life. It had poured out of her like life itself.

Hearing it again was the sweetest pain she had ever experienced. Far deeper even than having her tail split in twain for legs. It coursed through her whole body, hurt and recognition and pleasure all at once.

He played only the first dozen notes, then trailed off. Listening.

Waiting.

Ariel opened her mouth, willed the notes to come out. She closed her eyes and tried to squeeze them from her heart, from her lungs. Didn’t love break all spells? What was the good of it otherwise? Please, please, Old Gods. Let me sing…just this once….

But all was silent.

“Mmrl?”

Max’s little questioning noise caused Eric to blink, and Ariel to curse.

“No, I know I didn’t use it in the opera,” Eric said as if he were answering a much more coherent question from the dog. “I know, it would have been perfect. But it didn’t seem right somehow….I needed to save it for…for…”

He blinked suddenly and smiled at himself.

“That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it, Max?” He grinned and scruffled the dog’s ears. Ariel dipped lower into the water, melting at his smile. Still! When he smiled it was like the whole world was smiling, his lips pulled the sky like a rainbow, the sun danced in laughter. She felt utterly helpless and stupid. Queen of the Sea! Brought to her fins by one silly smile.