Time's Dark Laughter Part 8

She put her fingers to his lips. " Tis thee I thank. A Human was ne'er so kind to a poor Selkie maiden."

"There are good Humans and bad ones-like everything else," he averred, deflecting the compliment.

"See, there," she pointed through a jagged rent in the hull of the section on which they rested. He followed her gaze to the sandy sh.o.r.e, on which were scattered the bleached and broken bones of a thousand sailors. "Human, most of them," Kshro went on. "They sailed near here and saw us playing, and thought to capture us, to make us their slaves. Every one had this in his mind. And every ship that tried was caught in the Wheel and pulled down to bed and thrown aground here in Mother's Arms. And all who lived we killed, for what they had tried, and wished. But thou ..." she whispered, as if unable to understand. "But thou."

So he stayed, and began to learn their ways. He made friends quickly; they were the friendliest of peoples. He met Kourr and Kshro's best friend, Yhrsh, who was expecting a child in a few weeks. The pregnancy raised an issue in Joshua's mind.

"Why haven't I seen any babies?" he asked them, sunning on a rock one day.

"It is our nature that the colony shares but one birth each season," explained Yhrsh. She was older than Kshro, and darker, with black hair that was longer than her body. Everything about her seemed deep-her intellect, her compa.s.sion, her intuition. She let Josh put his hand on her belly, big with child. "This is my time," she went on. "With only one infant in the group, there is no compet.i.tion, no vying for attention. The child receives the affection of the entire community-from birth, it knows only love, the giving and the receiving. In this way, we engender a nurturing society."

"And a narcissistic one," laughed Kourr, pulling the looking-gla.s.s from Kshro's hand, to straighten his own blond curls in its reflection.

"But that still doesn't explain why there aren't any babies around now," Josh insisted.

"No; we've just had bad seasons, thou," answered Kshro. "Last year Oshar died in childbirth, and her pup, too. The year before that pirates kidnapped several young ones; and before that it was Nessie got past the coral reef."

"But shouldn't you make more babies for the next few years? If more die than are born, your whole colony will sink of old age."

"Perhaps," Yhrsh said, nodding, "but more than one child at a time would foster compet.i.tion. It would be better for our race to die than to embrace that demon."

"But you wouldn't have to-"

"That is our way, Josh." Kshro smiled. "I see it is not thine."

But he did begin to make their ways his. With the soft seaweed cast wrapping his legs, he not only looked like a Selkie, he began to feel like one. He swam more and more every day-mostly in the shallows surrounding the shipwrecks, but sometimes in the deep water at the island's backside. Once or twice he even rode the Wheel alone.

They were a tremendously playful culture, and Josh hadn't played in a long time. He was ripe to join them. Most of their days were spent lazing on the rocks of the smaller island, warmed by the sun and cooled by the sea spray. The only interruptions to this blissful inactivity were the games: deep-diving games and jumping-through-crashing-waves games; tag games around the island and mid-air acrobatics, underwater ballet, shipwreck obstacle-course events, and scavenger hunts; group singalongs, sponge-throwing, stone-skipping, octopus wrestling, spinning the Wheel, floating, racing, leaping, and laughing. And whenever he could, Josh joined in. It was a balm for him, too, such playfulness-not only was his spirit salved, even the pains in his broken legs seemed to disappear. The energy of this place healed much in him that had been torn.

He was accepted and encouraged wherever he went, for the Selkies were also a loving people. And he felt this sentiment no more strongly than when he was with Kshro. Kshro, for her part, grew daily more in love with the kind, odd Human, so unlike the others of his species. He was eager to learn, easy to laugh; proud, yet una.s.suming. Happy to take on the role of Selkie, still he never forgot who he was: a Human, and Scribe.

In fact, after a number of days, he discovered a shelf of books and some corroding writing utensils in one of the old wrecks. He cleaned them, dried them, made ink from what he found in a dead Squid bladder, sun-baked a roll of paper he scavenged from a crumbling sea chest-and set down the record. The Selkies were fascinated. In short order, he was teaching them to read, and write, draw, and doodle. They were delighted with the strange activity; it was a new game.

Josh and Kshro became each other's best pupils. She taught him the importance of play and intuition, the beauty of the sea, the peace of living without a goal. He taught her how to be transported to any world by reading of it; how to make whatever she loved live forever by writing of it; how to share each other's old, sleeping thoughts by reading each other's old, forgotten writings.

It made Josh a little homesick, to speak of Scribery again. But the Selkies were so kind and warm, and they lent such a new, wondrous perspective to the art of scripture, that he was, overall, well content. His legs seemed to be healing; if slowly, yet surely. He was gaining valuable insights not only into this tender society but into his own. He was, inevitably, falling in love.

One evening, they lay side by side in a whispering grotto, as the setting sun turned the water to wine.

"After thy legs heal, wilt thou stay with us?" asked Kshro.

"I ... don't know," he answered. Truly, he didn't. There was so much he had to do at home-his friends, his obligations. Yet, here . . .

"I love thee," she vowed. She pulled him closer, her hand on his breast.

"I haven't known love for a long time," he said. Was this love? Surely he was content, even greatly at peace. And this Selkie who had saved his life-she was beautiful, her people were beautiful. This was life as life should be. He stroked the soft fur of her hip, then the exquisitely soft fur of her thighs.

She leaned over, brought her mouth down on his, her breast pressing his breast, the swell of her hips pinning his bound legs to the smooth sea-washed stone. He caressed her cheek; their kiss became pa.s.sionate. She reached down, below his waist, and gently spread the thick strands of seaweed that encircled his hips, releasing him; they slid into the water. She rolled onto her back and pulled him atop her slippery body, opening herself to receive him. He kissed her as if he had become a creature of the sea, she, his beast of wild dreams. Rolling there, in the cobalt water, they made love.

The wedding ceremony was traditional Selkie. As the first bands of dawn light crossed the channel between the islands, two rows of Selkies formed at the west end of the island, near Luashra's grotto. These were the Witnesses. Kshro and Josh swam in stately fashion between them, as they lightly splashed water at the pa.s.sing couple. Everyone was decorated in water flowers, braised kelp shawls, and jewelry taken from the ruined ships. At the end of the line, Luashra was to meet them and say a few words. They never made it that far, though. Midway down the column of Witnesses, Joshua had a seizure.

It didn't last long. Everyone crowded around to keep his head above water; when it was over, they rushed him to the grotto of Whsh, who had certain medical abilities. But Whsh was baffled.

Josh lay on the watery stone for an hour, trying to collect his senses, as Kshro sat beside him, holding his hand, never looking away from his face. The others huddled in dismay at the mouth of the cave.

Finally, though he was still somewhat post-ictal, he hadn't yet become totally disoriented by the hammer of repeated convulsions-so he knew, shaky as he was, what had happened and why.

"The Queen," he whispered to Kshro. "The spells . . . my helmet . . ." He couldn't say what he wanted to say. He stared intently at Kshro, to make her understand. But she only mopped his brow, as a tear inched down her cheek.

"How can I help thee?" she implored, bringing her face close to his.

"My head . . . inside helmet. Need steel helmet. Inside steel helmet. Put me inside. Inside steel." But the effort was too much for him; he lay back panting, and rambling under his breath.

She didn't know what he was talking about, but she thought he had said something about putting him inside something steel. So she picked him up and carried him through the water to a smallish, ancient warship, listing and aground, whose hull was rusting through. She thought steel didn't rust, but someone had once told her that this boat was of a metal like steel, so she swam inside the open hold with Josh and propped him up on a detached, floating stairway.

He quickly recovered. And as long as he remained within the confines of the iron hull, he stayed well. If ever he ventured out, though, he immediately got the heady feeling that forewarned of a spell-so he quickly had himself taken back inside.

It was a great shock. He had managed largely to forget all that had come before-this was a different life, he had told himself. Now suddenly reality had boxed him in once more.

He told Kshro more about his past-about Beauty, Dicey, Rose, Ollie; about the Queen, and her transmissions that gave him spells in order to draw him back to her. The vile Queen.

"But that was another time, thou," she told him. "Thou art here, now, and safe with me. We are thy people now."

"Am I to live in this ship forever?"

"We will fashion a small cap, as thou hast described to me-fashion it of things from this ship, that it will protect thee from this Queen's devices."

He shook his head in great sadness. "I must leave, Kshro. This Queen must be destroyed-she cannot be suffered life. I've got to return home-to my friends who are dear to me-they're probably looking all over for me. I've got to go help them."

Kshro looked near tears, but loved him too much to intrude on his wishes. At that moment, though, old Luashra entered, buoyed up by his two steady companions.

"I beg thy pardon for overhearing, Joshua. It was not my intention to eavesdrop. And I will beg thy pardon again before the day sleeps."

"Grandfather, what dost thee-"

"Be silent, thou, and I will be brief. Only this: thou mayst not leave these islands. Thou knowest too much of our where and our ways, now, to be free to wander among pirates and worse."

Josh looked hurt and offended. "I'd never tell anyone about-"

"Torture is not unknown to the greedy of the Earth. Nor canst thou be responsible for thy mutterings during thy spells-thou hast said so thyself."

Josh looked from face to face, aghast and confused. Kshro had feelings so mixed that she could look at no one. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Luashra continued. "I sleep with great sorrow for telling this to thee, but there is no other way. Know that we love thee as our own. Know that thy life here will be full with happiness. But know that thou mayst never leave the sea."

With that, Luashra left.

Never leave the sea! The very thought put Josh into a state of acute despair. Never to run across meadows, or see the ragged teeth of the Saddleback Mountains rise out of the distance as he approached. Never to walk side by side with another Human being. No! But what could he do? Tears came to his eyes, and he looked helplessly at Kshro.

She began to cry in sympathy, and held him to her- though, in fact, at least a few of her tears were joyous.

"Do not think of it, thou, not yet," she whispered, trying to soothe him. "Thou canst do nothing until thy legs heal anyway-by then thou mayst have found great peace with us. With me. By then, anything could happen."

Many things did happen.

The next day Josh was awakened by a cooing, wailing sound. He looked out of his iron cage to see all the Selkies of the colony cl.u.s.tered around something fifty yards away. Soon Kshro came racing back to him and embraced him powerfully, too upset to talk.

"What is it, Kshro? What's happening?"

"Kourr has fallen prey to a Remora," she wept. "Now he must go."

"A Remora? What's that?" He had never seen Kshro so upset, and it jarred him. He held her at arm's length.

"A foul fish," the breath whistled through her teeth. "It hath a sucking thing for a mouth that attaches itself to our skin and cannot be pulled off. It saps our strength, and we die two years later-die in shame, for it makes us ugly, and alone."

"Can't you kill it?"

"When it is killed it immediately releases its eggs into the water. Ten million of them, we could never kill them all."

"But why does Kourr have to go now? He has to be cared for-I know some remedies . . ."

"No, no," she cried, "the Remora hath put its eggs into his blood now. He must swim as far from us as he can- before a week's time, when the larvae will spew from his moujh and infest whoever is near. From this hour on, Kourr musfshun all creatures." She shuddered, and hugged Joshua closely.

He held her for a while, stroking her quiet, thinking to himself. Finally he said, "Ask Kourr to come to me."

She looked at him without comprehension, then swam off. In a minute, Kourr had returned in her place. Stuck directly to the center of his back by a slimy suction-cup mouth was the Remora. It was plump, eelish, sticky, and gray. Kourr looked distraught. "Does it hurt?" asked Josh.

Kourr wouldn't look directly at Josh, but only shook his head. It was a great shame. "Take me with you," Josh said.

For a moment, Kourr's eyes flashed at the Human, thinking he was being goaded. Then he saw Josh was serious, and his simple anguish returned. "I cannot," he choked.

"I'm needed by my own people," Josh went on. "You're being turned out by yours. Some of my friends know strong magic. Take me back to them, and perhaps they can find a cure for this . . . this-"

"Thou wouldst leave Kshro-?" Kourr questioned. "I would come back to her-but for now, if I can, I must go."

"No, I cannot-the thing would infect thee. And besides, Luashra said thou mayst never leave the sea." "Luashra is old." "We are his thoughts; he is our voice. But no more of this. Fare well, Human brother. I thank thee for the game of writing. Fare well, for we shall ne'er meet again."

So saying, he swam out past the coral reef and north toward the black waters of the Ice. Josh bared his neck to the vanishing Selkie.

Later that week, Luashra died. The colony was unprepared for a second great sadness so soon, but there was nothing to be done.

That night they held the ceremony under the white light of a half-moon. All the Selkies formed a circle, its diameter extending from island to island. For an hour they whimpered and slapped the calm water softly with the flat of their flukes. When the keening stopped, Luashra's body was floated out into the bay, where it was picked up by the tail of the Wheel and spun quickly around several circuits, until at last it was pulled under by the maelstrom, not to be seen again.

Kshro found an old greenish metal spiked helmet in one of the sunken galleons near the east Arm. Josh tried it on out in the open, and it seemed to block transmissions, though it was rather bulky and kept slipping.

He began to swim again, exercising his legs as much as he dared without disturbing the setting. Kshro doted on him. He was overpowered alternately by affection for her and longing to return home. All about them, life went on.

The next week, Yhrsh had her baby. Josh watched it squirt out into the warm water of the tide pool and immediately wriggle its way to its mother's breast. Only twelve inches long. It was a baby boy.

All the others crowded around, and soon more attention was being lavished on the infant than it knew what to do with. Josh smiled at the scene, glad for the appearance of new life; then swam off by himself, suddenly depressed.

For this was Joshua's last straw-it made him acutely homesick; he was desperate to return to his own Human kind. All the births, the losses, the joy, the pain, of his own-it was all going on without him, back on land, back home.

"Thou art empty, thou," said Kshro. She had swum up behind him.

"I love thee, Kshro," he answered. "But never to run again, and never to see a child of mine born to run with me . . . they are hard thoughts to hold."

She looked down. "Perhaps there is a way . . . only, I said nothing before, that I hoped thou wouldst want to stay."

Hope brought his heart to the edge. "What? What are you saying?"

"I could never keep thee prisoner for long-I love thee too well. Still, Luashra said we must keep thee in the sea-"

"Kshro, tell me!" he begged.

" 'Tis a ship, a special ship. Come, I will show thee."

They swam among shadowy plants and broken shapes that had once been ships, coming eventually to a small grotto. Floating there was a bubble of gla.s.s.

An oblong bubble, actually; twelve feet long and eight feet high. Inside were two chairs and numerous strange implements of impossible description.

"A ship," Kshro said in answer to Joshua's thought. "It arrived, with its two-man crew, over ninety years ago- when I was just a child."

Josh stared at her. Could it be she was a hundred years old? He said nothing.

She continued. "They stayed here with us for a time, before they died. They had been lost, and then they got sick. They were Humans, but they lived not on the land. They lived in the sea. Beneath the sea."

"Beneath the sea?" Josh couldn't make out her meaning.

"Yes, thou. In bubbles like this, only giant. I know where-they told my mother, and she told me. I could take thee there. It would not be against Luashra, for thou wouldst still be in the sea. Also, they possess medicines and great magic for healing thy legs-and truly, thy swimming has improved, but I fear thou will never fully mend with us, nor ever be able to walk on land again. Down there, in this land below us-'tis true that thou wouldst not see thy old friends; but at least thou couldst run with other Humans, and so be happy."

He just stared at her. He didn't know what to say, or think, or do. She saw this, and helped him.

"Get thee in," she whispered, opening the airtight hatch at the side of the clear, gla.s.sy vessel.

In a daze, he obeyed; he felt hypnotized by the force of her will, the power in her eyes, the touch of her hand. With muscular arms, she helped him over the edge, into the craft, then snapped the door shut. She pulled the little ship out of the grotto, along the sh.o.r.e. She dislodged two anchors she found there and tied them both to the propeller of the gla.s.s boat. When the boat began to sink, she guided it out into the bay and held on tightly as it was sucked down the center of the Wheel.

Josh wasn't at all certain he was doing the proper thing. He was leaving the island, but abandoning his dear Kshro. And going to what? A place of rumors beneath the sea? To a land he didn't know, populated by hostile creatures? No creatures at all? But Kshro wouldn't leave him there, then.

He looked for her, but couldn't see her: they were too deep, now, the ocean was too black. Slowly, the little boat continued sinking, tilted somewhat astern due to the added weight of the anchors. Josh was becoming frightened.

.. He felt his momentum shift several times as Kshro pushed the bubble forward or laterally. Once, he fell, and had to grab onto one of the fixed Chan's to avoid tumbling wildly. He was growing claustrophobic. Eyes wide open, he could see nothing. Moreover, the air was getting thick. He had no idea how long they had been floating, but the increasing stuffiness in the closed s.p.a.ce told him suffocation was not impossible. If they had to return to the top, he knew he wouldn't last.

The blackness became denser. Josh felt himself getting dizzy. Would this be his end, then? Why hadn't he stayed with the Selkies? Life would have been simple, free. No, not free. He wanted to see Kshro once more. Bringing his face up to the edge of the gla.s.s, he stared out into the watery night. Nothing. He tapped weakly. His vision blurred. It seemed to be getting lighter, now. Was he dreaming? Just another spell, perhaps. His breath was coming shorter.

A form appeared in the water a few feet from him. Kshro. She approached, brought her face to the gla.s.s, stared inward. Josh brought his mouth up to hers, and they kissed, separated by this crystal barrier-lips, hands, cheeks, almost touching. He saw her chin quiver; she cried, he knew, her tears one with the ocean. His eyes rolled back, and the blackness closed in.

Josh had little recollection of the following days-it might have been hours, or weeks-except in the way febrile hallucinations are recalled: distorted images, overpowering sensations, flashes of lucidity.