I lived by the sea by then. I liked it so much that more than often I wanted to dive in and never come back, to dive in and make my home in its blue depths. I knew that some around me murmured that my love for the sea was pathological. It was true that I could hardly bear being far from it. I had to come back home the soonest possible, to come back to my sea. For I didn't like any sea, just mine, with its rocks by the shore, its blue waves, its endless song that only my sea could sing.
I lived by the sea by then and I loved it more than anything. I don't anymore. Now I crave for air. I want every window open so that the soft breeze can follow me from room to room, bringing me the song of my sea that I don't go to see anymore and singing its own song in my ear. It seems to me sometimes that I'm suffocating in a room where no window is open. The wind is my breath, heart and soul, as the sea was before.
Why did I change so much? I don't really know. Things happen sometimes and one's only choice is to adapt. I guess it's due to that something that happened to me earlier, around my majority.
At high tide the sea was coming to cover two steps of the stone stair leading to the shore. I used to lie on the third step, playing with the waves; of course lying on a stone step wasn't my mother 's ideal for a prince's behaviour and it was very bad for the doublet and trousers. Honestly I didn't care.
Sometimes I took a book with me and read by the sea, on my stair step. The servants had learnt to hide their look of disapproval and since everybody knew that I was there, it was very rare that someone stumbled on me - literally. My sister, Sara Maria Helen Gwyneth Eleanor Rosalind Hermeline, sometimes came with me, sitting on the upper step with her embroidery - except that, remembering how princesses were supposed to behave, she brought with her a cushion and a blanket. Sara's official name was either Eleanor or Gwyneth, depending of the harbinger and once I had actually heard her hiss to the harbinger that since he wasn't able to say her whole name, he would better go on with short Sara. The face of the harbinger was a nice sight.
I couldn't say Sara really liked the sea but at least she made an effort to share what I liked. She came with me for the rides on the shore at low tide, we would sit by her window when it was raining, watching the rain on the sea or we would listen to musicians playing the Song of the Spirits on the Water. If she found a book about the sea, she would give it to me to read Strangely it seemed there were only books about ship wreckers, until she discovered a book about legends and I laughed when seeing pictures of merfolk. Sara shook indulgently the head; she was older than me and often played the one who knew best.
"Oh, Sara!" I teased her. "Nobody can live in the sea, no matter how much I would love it."
"There is more than you know, Lar," she answered calmly, caressing my hair.
I smiled at her.
"And you always know more than I do, Sara."
"No, I don't. I guess I just like legends too much. Maybe I really want them to be real."
"What, a merman? Would you sometimes have the urge to dive for never coming back?" I asked eagerly.
She looked at me quite strangely.
"No, Lar. But I understand you do."
I returned her gaze quite steadily.
"Yes, I" agreed softly.
"Your sixteenth birthday is in one week now. If you want, I will organise a reception on the sea for you."
"That would be a nice birthday gift."
"That wouldn't be my gift."
She left me on those words and I was left to wonder.
Sara herself welcomed me at board of a gleaming boat that I had never seen before. Everything was shining, light everywhere, seeming to drive nigh away.
"Welcome, Lar, on that day of your sixteenth birthday," she said formally.
It was a wonderful celebration. My preceptor, Lord Roguen, insisted for us to stay in the cabins, but Sara and I laughed, refusing to leave the deck. We were leaning on the ship's rail, under the fireworks. I saw something white on the waters just below us and showed it to Sara:
"Look how this foam looks like hair!"
She laughed, her own dark hair spread on my shoulder. I didn't laugh with her for when the fireworks lighted up the sky again, I thought I saw a face in the foam, a little face of a tragic beauty. Then a wave moved the foam the same way it would have moved real hair and I saw something else, something darker. I waited for the next fireworks spray and saw it was a red flower like I had never seen before.
"Lar! Lar!"
Sara was calling me; I turned the head toward her and she laughed.
"Impossible to shake your attention from this foam! If it was the hair of a mermaid she would just have to sing and you would jump above the ship's rail to join her!"
"Do you know this flower?" I asked.
"No," she replied, intrigued. "One of our guests must have let it fall. Do you want me to call for retrieving it?"
"No! Leave it here. It looks like it belongs here."
"It's beautiful," agreed Sara, leaning forward on the ship's rail to better examine the flower. "It reminds me of coral..."
"No, of the dying sun at sunset, when it meets with the sea on the horizon..." I interrupted.
"Are you sure you don't want the flower?" asked Sara quizzically.
"Yes, I am sure."
Since Sara was still looking at me quite strangely, I smiled and added:
"It belongs to the sea and what belongs to the sea always returns to the sea."
Sara stamped suddenly her little foot and exclaimed, covering her ears with her hands:
"Stop it! Stop it!"
I remained open-mouthed n surprise and she begged me:
"Don't speak of this again, please. You... you frighten me when you speak so of the sea."
She grabbed my arms and said fiercely:
"You belong to the earth and sky, not to the sea, do you hear me?"
I gently laughed.
"Do you like this boat, Lar?" she asked, looking at the fireworks - probably trying to pull herself together.
"Very much. It's a nice boat. Brand new, isn't it?"
"It's for you. For your birthday," she said brutally.
"Sara... you just said, about the sea..."
She looked at me and, despite darkness surrounding us, I saw her eyes were too bright.
"I know... but this boat is solid, not like the cockleshells you usually use!"
I smiled; she took my hand.
"Come see your boat, then!"
I understood why she had chosen that moment for giving me the boat, despite the bad timing: she wanted me to go away from the foam near the boat, that strange foam that never changed place nor disappeared with the next wave.
I thus followed Sara for I didn't want her to worry - and it was really a nice boat. As we were in one of the cabins, I looked by one of the portholes and saw the foam was still here. The waves were moving it but it remained where it was. From closer the face I thought I was seeing was even more beautiful.
"Wait for me," I murmured.
"I am waiting for you, Lar," said Sara, surprised.
I came by her side and took her arm.
"Thank you," I said smiling.
Trying to reassure Sara, whom I had never seen so worried, I kept away from the ship's rail as long as I could but I finally had to surrender. I want back there and down on the water was the foam with its red flower. I looked at it, somehow strangely content to know it to be here, and I whispered:
"Stay with me."
One should know better than ask when spirits can hear. The foam stayed with me. The fireworks were over and in the silence of the night, I listened to the never-ending song of my beloved sea. I was looking either at the moon or at the red flower on the foam and I wished I could capture this image and keep it forever. This night was special, I could feel it. Was it because it was my sixteenth birthday? I softly laughed at myself, ashamed to be so presumptuous. A bit further, Sara turned the head in my direction. She was wondering what could make me laugh.
The song of my sea was different, yet familiar. I listened more attentively; yes, I had heard this particular song when I was by the sea at night, sitting on a rock, just looking at its moves. I liked this song, as if an eerie voice was singing with the sea. Of course I knew it was no voice but the voice of the sea; I had never asked the reasons of the phenomenon. I liked the mysteries of the sea as well as its ever-changing beauty.
I listened; I would have stopped to breathe if it could have allowed me to hear better. As an answer to my prayer the eerie voice grew louder, almost covering the sea song though the gentle rumbling of the waves made a perfect accompaniment to the exquisite voice. Was there a spell cast on me? I still don't know; what I knew by then was that if the voice had shaped words and told me to jump over the ship's rail, I'd have jumped.
Fortunately for me the voice didn't utter such a command and I remained safe on my boat. I would have made an awful creature of the sea. I smiled in spite of myself; there were no creatures in the sea, despites Sara's words. The very thought of such existence was condemned.
Before I go on with this story I have to explain some things. In the ten last years, in fact around the time I was born, people began to talk of mythic creatures - like in the book Sara had found for me - and they believed in them. There were witches everywhere, casting any spell for some gold coins for the less scrupulous. There was an overreaction to these beliefs and the Inquisition took over. The books about legends and folklore were burnt and, if a copy was to be found somewhere, the owner himself would be burnt. I still wonder how the little book about legends fell into Sara's hands then in mine and I wonder also what would have happened if the Inquisition had found it. Yet the fear was never enough to make me burn it.
I knew that conversations like the one I had with Sara about the merfolk were forbidden. If it was to be known that Sara actually believed in their existence the worse could happen to her. I shivered, thinking a sailor could have heard her say the word 'mermaid' and betray her. The Inquisition had burnt people for less than that.
I shook myself out of my dark thoughts and noticed then that I had begun to him with the voice. I didn't hear anything but this eerie voice surrounding me, making me lose my mind. I breathed deeply and the fresh salty air of the night had never filled my lungs with such delight. I knew nothing of this wonder, cared not about its origins, I only knew that it answered a prayer buried deep in my soul.
"Come to me, I beg you!" I implored aloud, my fingers clutching the ship's rail.
Sara cried my name and the storm fell on us.
My first thought was for the voice, the foam and the red flower and I mourned their loss. But then a huge wave took me over the ship's rail and, as I felt the cold water close on me, this thought vanished and I only thought of Sara. As soon as I could catch my breath, I yelled:
"Sara!"
Somehow among the thunder and the lightening, I heard a voice answering me:
"We have her!"
I looked around me. Sara was struggling to reach the ship's rail and already, two sailors had lost their balance and fallen over board.
"Go inside, you fool!" I roared to Sara.
One of the sailors seemed unconscious and I swam toward him, trying as I could to win against the fury of the raging sea. But it was hopeless and I knew it. I already hardly could keep my head out of the water to breath, how could I have hoped to save a man in such conditions. It didn't take long for me to be gasping for air and I thought it quite amusing that the sea had waited sixteen years before claiming its due... I sank into dark unconsciousness.
Was I still unconscious or not? Was I dreaming? I somehow opened the eyes and knew I was moving through the waters; I knew also I wasn't swimming. Slim arms were around my chest and were pulling me in the waves. It was impossible arms so slim could be so powerful yet it seemed like it. With difficulty I looked around and the boat was nowhere to be seen. It was pitch black around me; maybe I was under the sea and not above like I was imagining. Yet I could breathe. The mystery was too great, my head pounding, so I closed the eyes and lost conscience again.
When I opened the eyes again I was lying on the shore, the shore of my sea; even in my pitiful state I could recognise it. The moon was back in the sky, along with the stars and there were no signs left of the tempest that had just been raging. Or had I invented it also? Someone was leaning over me, hair glowing white under the dim light of the moon. I saw the face and it looked like the one I had seen in the sea, until the red flower in her white hair. I smiled and it seemed to me she smiled back. I hesitantly held out my hand toward her, touched her cheek, cold and wet, and pulled her to my chest. Her hair spread on my shoulder as her head rested on my heart. She didn't protest and remained quietly in my arms; I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and closed the eyes, hoping the dream would still be true when I would open them again.
As to lure me to sleep the eerie voice rose again, coming from nowhere though I had the impression of feeling it vibrating against my chest, and the song was soft, wordless, yet it seemed to me that it was the most beautiful song I had ever heard. I was tempted to believe Sara: no human voice could produce such sounds, it could only come from a mermaid who was said to have enchanting voice!
"Stay with me..." I murmured and the song became even more hypnotic, even softer and it sounded to my ears like a promise.
Gently it wove its net around me and in spite of my quite precarious situation - wasn't I like a shipwrecked, after all? - I relaxed, still holding the stranger against me, my free hand brushing against her bare arm so she wouldn't get cold. Sleep claimed me before I could really wonder if someone having suffered of a shipwreck should feel as wonderful as I was.
I awoke brutally with a cry. I opened the eyes and sat in the same movement. I hadn't cried. Someone else had for me. A girl was standing in front of me, her hands on her mouth, her eyes wide-opened, and other women were coming to her. I looked around me. The stranger with the white hair was not here; where was she? Then I reminded the girl standing next to me and her air of shock. I looked down at myself. My cloak had disappeared, my doublet and shirt were gone and my trousers were in pitiful state. Strange, I hadn't felt cold last night, though I had been wet and the night was quite fresh.
An older woman came with measured steps toward the group we were making on the shore and started when recognising me.
"Your Highness," she greeted, curtseying deeply.
The girls imitated her and I acknowledged the politeness with a grunt. I stood up with some difficulties, my body being stiff and sand sticking to my back and legs.
"Her Highness the princess Eleanor will be so pleased to hear you are safe," continued the woman.
"Eleanor? Oh, Sara! Is she safe herself then?"
"Yes, Your Highness. The boat arrived safety on the shore with sunrise and Her Highness the princess... uh... Sara was worried about you. She wanted to send scouts to find you."
"I guess Lord Roguen told her it would be useless. He's always so practical!" I replied, yawning.
"Your Highness!" protested the woman, shocked.
I had to agree that my manners were not at their best, but after all, I had just suffered a shipwreck and I could have done without the polite and cold interest of this woman and, above all, I was preoccupied by the young stranger's absence.
"My lady," I said to the girl who had found me, "did you happen to see a maiden on the shore, with long white hair?"
"Your Highness, forgive me, could I introduce you Her Highness the princess Angelica Elisabeth Olivia Carolina Phoebe?" intervened the woman again.
The girl curtseyed again and I couldn't help but hear the woman whispering fiercely in her ear:
"It's the prince Lar Eriksen, silly!"
It seemed to me the woman had little opinion of the princess. I yawned again - more discreetly this time.
"I've always wondered why princesses needed to have so many names. Which name do you prefer to be called by, lady Angelica Elisabeth Olivia Carolina Phoebe?"
She had a timid smile and replied:
"Angelica, Your Highness, but you are free to choose another one if you like it best."
"So let it be Angelica! Are you like my sister? She usually goes by the name of Sara, but everybody calls her either Eleanor or Gwyneth!"
"Indeed, Your Highness, it seems people think that Elisabeth sounds better than Angelica; as for my mother, she used to call me Olivia."
I saw the woman pinch her just below the elbow; Angelica started a little but didn't protest.
"So, did you see a maiden with white hair?" I repeated.
"No, Your Highness. I saw naught but you," she replied, shaking her blonde hair.
"Ah!" I said sadly. "Ladies, forgive me my lack of protocol, but I am desperately in need for decent clothes and a consistent meal!"
Some of the girls giggled and the woman glared at them.
"My lady... uh, could you remind me your name? My memory seemed to have remained at the bottom of the sea."
"I am the countess Josephine, Your Highness."
"Oh, naturally! Well, dear countess, I expect you to come tonight for the dinner Lord Roguen won't miss to organise for my miraculous rescue. You and your... pupils, that is. Ladies, until later."
I left without looking back but it didn't prevent me to hear the countess's last words:
"What offhand manners! Ladies, I hope you won't follow the example of our prince, but rather listen to the lesson provided by our abbot."
I sighed; I had recognised the surroundings and knew the abbot of the place was - secretly, naturally - one of the most zealous inquisitors. I dared not imagine what he was putting in these girls' head.
Sara nearly choked me to death when seeing me climbing the stair of the palace. Tears were running freely down her cheeks as she hugged me fiercely, Lord Roguen behind her, slightly embarrassed at all that display of affection. I perfectly knew that Lord Roguen would have preferred me to be a partisan of the Inquisition rather than an opponent, but even so, he seemed vaguely glad that I was safe. I felt quite ashamed when seeing how Sara had been worried for when I had been on the shore with the stranger, never had I thought of her. I disentangled myself from her embrace and said:
"Oh, Lord Roguen, I was found on the shore by the princess Angelica, so I expect you to invite her and her... uh... guardian the countess Josephine to the diner you are planning for tonight."
"The princess Angelica, Your Highness?"
"Or was it Elisabeth? Anyway the one called Angelica Elisabeth Olivia Carolina Phoebe," I replied, annoyed.
"Oh. The princess Olivia."
"Olivia? Lord Roguen, would..."
"I... uh, happened to be a friend of her late mother," said Lord Roguen, coughing delicately.
"Why, Lord Roguen, I never guessed!" I exclaimed, teasing him, but the effect was spoiled by my yawn.
"Your Highness, you need to rest!" exclaimed Lord Roguen.
"I need a solid meal even more! And some clothes. I'm in a pitiful state as you can see and, frankly, I'm starving."
"Surely, Your Highness," began Lord Roguen with the voice he used only for delicate matters, "you do not ignore that Countess Josephine is a fervent partisan of Father Clement..."
The name of the abbot had always sounded like a joke to me but this time I didn't say anything.
"As you are, Lord Roguen, as you are," I replied quietly.
"Your Highness, compared to Countess Josephine, I am as innocent as a baby in a cradle!" he protested.
"Well, it will give some animation to our diner tonight. Were you friend with Angelica's mother or with Countess Josephine, Lord Roguen?"
"Countess Josephine belonged to the court of princess Angelica's mother, Your Highness, and came here with the child, as her governess, when her mother died. She became... very fond of Father Clement's lessons."
"As long as she didn't become fond of the abbot himself... Oh, well, I guess the Inquisition would care less for such a sin than for someone unfortunately mentioning a creature of legend. Don't mind me, I'm so hungry I'm seeing evil everywhere."
Sara was trying all she could not to laugh and she came to take my arm as I finally reached the last step of the stair. Somehow someone had warned the kitchens and already a hot meal was awaiting me. I was always impressed by the efficiency of the servants; most of the time it exasperated me - especially when it was about ceremonies - but this day I thanked them profusely. Sara sat in front of me as I was wolfing down my food, heartily burning my tongue and palate in the process.
"You seem hardly affected by your adventure," she said.
"Hmm mm," I replied, the mouth full.
"So tell me: how did you manage to survive the sea's wrath?"
"What about the two sailors that fell also?"
"They died. That's why I wonder."
"Poor fellows!"
Sara was looking at me quizzically so I bent forward and whispered, making sure nobody was near enough to hear me:
"Sara, I am a believer!"
She knew what it meant: I now believed in the existence of the legendary creatures.
"What happened?" she replied, intrigued.
"She was a pure wonder! Slender, yet strong, with long white hair. Have you ever seen someone so young with white hair? Not an albino, I meant. She... she rescued me from the storm and led me to the shore. She saved me, Sara!"
"She?"
"You remember the foam and the red flower? It was not foam, Sara; it was her hair!"
"So she is..."
"A mermaid, yes! And I'll find her again, even if I must dive in the sea until the sea king's palace to claim her!"
"Lar, be careful..."
"Don't you understand? Her voice! The voice I had heard so often, that I thought to be a new sound from the sea, it was hers! She's been waiting for me for ages!"
"It's no wonder you don't seem affected by your shipwreck," said Sara lightly, "seeing the pleasant dreams you had!"
"It was not a dream!" I insisted. "She was really there, she saved me. Sara, please! I held her in my arms!"
"Blasphemy!" thundered a voice behind me.
I thought she was lost to me even before I could find her: the voice was the high inquisitor's one, Father Hautmont, bishop at first, but he had soon forgotten his clerical status to belong entirely to the Inquisition.
"Blasphemy!" he repeated. "That the ignorant fishermen believe in such chimaeras, I could eventually understand, but you, our prince, instructed to reject any temptation from the demon!"
"And who are you calling demon? She who saved me?"
"Why not? Maybe you were destined to die last night!"
"That would have been good for you, wouldn't it? Lord Roguen is but a pawn in your hands and, yes, I know it! Don't abuse your power, people don't like to be deprived of their beliefs!"
Father Hautmont sniggered.
"So the prince believes in the little folk! Maybe, like the fishermen, you think that if you give them enough offerings they will bring more fish to your nets? Maybe, like the hunters, you think that if you honour the trees and apologise after each killing, you'll kill more deer than your neighbour?"
"The sea had two offerings last night, if I can remember you of it. Two of my sailors fell to the sea."
"And you got saved. Two lives for one, it doesn't seem fair to me. It never is when you deal with demons!"
I stood up, my appetite suddenly gone, and only filled with anger.
"I'm getting tired of your sermons, Father Hautmont. That the little folk exists or not is none of your concern. The sea doesn't belong to you nor the forests. Keep an eye on the souls of the townsmen, it will be far enough for you. By the way, pray, tell me, did you already find the proof I was bewitched, in relation with demons, ready to be burnt? No, not yet? Thank you for your clemency, I do appreciate it. How big was your harvest this week? Only five, if I remember well the report I read yesterday. It's getting smaller and smaller; I'm afraid you've already burnt everybody."
Father Hautmont was so angry he couldn't speak anymore.
"I'm expecting guests, tonight. Please refrain your complains for some of our guests are very sensitive and I wouldn't them to be shocked. You can leave us now."
"You're insulting me, Your Highness!"
"Fine! Tell the Inquisition I am insulting their high inquisitor, send them to me and I will remind them who is the real leader of this land! In case you have forgotten, Father Hautmont, I am the sole and unique ruler of this land!"
"We take care of the souls of your subjects!"
I came close to him and breathed in his face:
"Then take care of your soul, Father, for I may have the fancy to try your purity... and in case you would fail to meet my rather high exigencies, it would be better for you to have your soul ready for heaven... or hell. I hope you're satisfied, I was starving, now I couldn't swallow a mouthful!"
He was almost choking on his own indignation so, probably fearing of being insulted some more without being able to retort, he left. I held out the hand to Sara, to lead her to her rooms.
"He would rather have me be a drunkard or a seducer than a believer in the little folk."
"He would rather have you dead," replied dryly Sara.
"I wonder what the little folk did to him to have him be so vindictive."
"One says that he was in love with a young lass, quite a long time ago, but she turned him down after a merman told her he wasn't trustworthy."
"Good for her. She's better off without him."
"Not really. She was the first one to be burnt."
"Witchcraft?"
"Pact with the demons of the sea."
"Pitiful. How long do you think it will take him to complain to mother?"
"Not long obviously. Here she comes."
"Lar, dear..." began my mother.
"No, mother," I sighed.
"No?" quivered my mother. "But Father Hautmont said..."
My mother's protestations usually never got above the faint whisper, but Father Hautmont knew how to manipulate her.
"Father Hautmont can say whatever he wants, it doesn't change the fact that I am ruler of this land! And yes, mother dear, I know I'm not a dutiful son. I will be a dutiful son when the Inquisition will have been eradicated."
"Lar! The Inquisition..."
"Killed father. He hated them also and they killed him. Easy, efficient. Now, I guess their target is me, since I'm the son of my father. I wonder how long before they turn even my dedicated Sara against me. It really seems that everybody wanted me to drown on my sixteenth birthday."
"Oh, Lar dear, I'm so sorry," said immediately my mother.
She had forgotten everything about Father Hautmont and tried only to be sweet to me, so that I would forgive her. I sighed internally.
I scouted the sea for my mysterious white-haired saviour. I could never manage to spot again the foam with a red flower though I somehow knew she was looking for me, but maybe not where I was looking for her. My new boat, that I had called Wings of Hope, hardly remained at the harbour; the sailors were both happy and worried. Happy because they liked the sea better than anything else and, for most of them, nobody was waiting for them home - if they had a home - and worried because of my obsession.
Father Hautmont, infuriated with me, tried to prove that my obsession was the mark of my inability to govern. Nobody really listened to him. Naturally, everybody thought that it was a rather worrying thing, but I personally thought that they preferred to have me as their prince than Father Hautmont.
Angelica - and, naturally, Countess Josephine - came regularly to the castle, sometimes with her friends. Mother seemed to approve, Lord Roguen obviously appreciated the occasion to see Angelica and Sara was looking at him with a sceptical eye. She knew perfectly I had no interest whatsoever in Angelica, but my mother believed Angelica could be my future wife and maybe she could keep me home instead of scouting the sea all day long. The advantage was that, when she was here, Father Hautmont was as gentle as a lamb.
Then, one morning, as I was getting ready, I was told that the servants had found someone on the stair leading to the sea, someone brought here by the sea - or the fishermen. As soon as I was ready, I went there to welcome the poor shipwrecked - I had no doubt about his identity, the previous night had trembled with a storm. Being hospitable didn't cost me much and maybe I could do something for him. Sometimes, fishermen brought the strangest things - or beings - from the sea...
When I arrived near the stair, I saw a slim girl wrapped in a blanket, with long white hair on her shoulders. Surprise - and, I have to confess, a flaring hope - almost stopped me in my tracks. Fascinated - wasn't she just like the girl I had imagined to have seen in the sea? - I came closer. The servants - and some fishermen - around her began telling me we should throw her back to the sea or just send her away, but I didn't listen. I didn't even say a word: unable to help myself, I took her face in my hands and looked at her. Her eyes struck me immediately, full of fear, but then they opened to me and they were like the sea, taking me in their depths, always further, and I felt like drowning.
Gasping, I released her face and turned the head away, trying to catch my breath. I heard murmurs around me, saying she had bewitched me, that she should be burnt. I looked at her again. The fear was back in her eyes like the sea; for the moment they were blue with changing gleams, like the waves under the sun, but I had no doubt they could turn to grey by storms like the one of the previous evening. I held out my hand toward her and, slowly, shyly, she put hers in mine. Her fingers were cold and wet and I thought that I was ridiculous, being afraid of this girl when she was shipwrecked and frozen and probably tired.
My brain accepted to work again and I found my voice back.
"No. She will stay at the castle."
"But she's an idiot, Your Highness," protested Lord Roguen, who had been there before me.
"Indeed? How so, may I ask?"
"She doesn't talk," said gruffly one of the fishermen. "Your Highness," he added after thought.
"Perfect," I said happily, though my heart sank. "It will change me from the endless talks of Father Hautmont."
Some uncomfortable giggles followed my declaration. No fisherman liked Father Hautmont: they were too close to the sea to feel comfortable with the Inquisition's ravings about the little folk, but they couldn't express their disagreement, it was too dangerous for them. Lord Roguen glared at me but didn't voice his thoughts in front of the servants and the fishermen. I still had the stranger's hand in mine and I looked down at her with a smile.
"Enough talking, Lord Roguen. We will discuss of this later, when our guest will be warm and comfortable."
Turning to the servants, I gave them instructions:
"Prepare a room for her and everything fitted for a guest. As for you, Lord Roguen, may I ask you to tell Sara that I'd like to take care of our guest at her arrival?"
Stiff with disapproval, Lord Roguen agreed and left with the servants. I gave several gold coins to the fishermen - I knew for quite a long time that the servants of my castle never found anything near the sea if a fisherman hadn't found it first - and left with the stranger docilely following me. I heard a very faint whisper:
"Our prince is good for the little folk."
A shiver ran down my spine. Had they meant that the girl was from the little folk, had they recognised her kind in only a glance? I looked at her and found her eyes attached on me. I smiled to her, reassuringly, but her expression never changed.
Sara was waiting for me on the castle's steps and she smiled to the girl when she saw her. She noticed immediately the blanket, which she was wrapped in, and the casual - if not careless - way her hand was holding it.
"I think I'll take it from here, Lar," Sara said firmly.
I nodded.
"I'll be waiting for both of you in my study. Take your time."
On my desk, countless reports - all very important, naturally - were waiting for me, but I couldn't concentrate. There was something about this girl that simply drove my concentration away. I daydreamed she was the answer to my prayers, that she was that girl I had seen in the sea, that she had looked for me and found me, but then I know it couldn't be: the girl in the sea, the 'face' as I called her privately, was also the 'voice'.
I heard a knock at the door and raised up the head. I hadn't even noticed that I had been daydreaming for a long time. She entered in the room, led by Sara. She was dressed in a velvet dress entirely red, a deep red, that let her shoulders bare and her white hair were spread on her back. I started.
"Why did you dress her in red?" I asked Sara.
She shook the head.
"I didn't. She chose this dress. She refused anything else."
I looked again. I had never seen this dress before - though it probably belonged to Sara - but I somehow felt that nobody else but this little stranger could wear it so well. The colour reminded me of the red flower on the foam.
I couldn't take my eyes from the stranger. She was stunningly beautiful. Then she made several steps toward me and she was graceful beyond imagination. I wondered how I could have missed it when we had come back from the shore.
"She doesn't speak a word," said Sara. "And she doesn't know how to read. There's no way she can tell us her name. She doesn't even seem to know the sign language, not that I would have understood."
The girl was still looking at me with her huge eyes, deep as the sea. I came toward her, almost fascinated.
"I will call her friend, little friend," I said.
"I will call her Harmonia," replied Sara, sounding amused.
I knew why she was amused: she couldn't really imagine herself asking the servants if 'friend' was awake, for example. But the choice of the name sounded strange to me: calling Harmonia someone who couldn't speak sounded almost like an insult and, as for me, it reminded me strongly of the 'voice'.
"Why Harmonia?" I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Something about her that makes me think so. I just couldn't call her otherwise."
"Did you ask her if she likes it?"
"She doesn't seem to care."
Actually, my little friend didn't seem to care for anything but me. Her eyes were following each move I was making, even if it was only a nod. It was quite disturbing.
To be continued...
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