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Poul Anderson. The Merman’s Children. Book four. Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

“That was kind of you, sir,” Tauno replied uneasily. He wet his lips with a sip of wine. “You needn’t have gone to so much trouble or, or keep so close a watch on me; but thank you.”

“Naught is too much for a .nobleman from abroad who may be establishing connections among us. Maybe, though, you’d like to tell me, Gospodar-since it doesn’t seem nigh your purpose-why you are this interested in the merfolk?” Like a whipcrack:

“I can’t imagine why else you’d have come to this offside place.”

Tauno’s free hand found comfort in the hilt of his knife. “Well, we do have a race of the same kind in Northern waters.” “Bah!” burst from Tomislav. “Stop that nonsense, both of you. Ivan, your manners are abominable. If you suspect this wight is a Venetian spy, say it forth like an honest man.”

“Oh, no, oh, no,” protested the zhupan hastily. “However, we do have a new war, and in the past couple of years we’ve met such weirdness—My duty is to be careful, Gospodar Carolus. And truth to tell, you haven’t sounded as if you knew these Hrvat-skan kin of yours as well as you might, considering how perfectly you speak their language.”

“Does that make him hostile?” snorted the priest. “Look here, not only have the merfolk worked no evil, they do vital service. And surely the coming of that many pure Christian souls makes God smile on our land.” His tone changed, fell to a near whisper beneath which lay a sob. Tauno saw tears start forth. Yet joy welled up from the depths: “If you want a sign on that, Ivan, why, remember the vilja is gone. This spring she came not out of the waters to haunt the woods. Nobody has found one trace of her. If.. .if she really was the phantom of…a suicide.. .under judgment. . . then God must have pardoned her and taken her home to Paradise-and why else but that He was pleased at the salvation of the merfolk?”

His heart a lump within him, Tauno asked slowly, “So it’s true what people seem to believe, that they were baptized and lost all memory of what they had been?”

“Not quite,” Tomislav answered. “By rare grace, they keep their pa..,t lives, their knowledge and skills in aid of our poor countrymen. It’s a long story, but marvelous.”

“I. . . would like to hear.”

The humans considered Tauno for a silent while, wherein dark-

ness thickened. Ivan’s gaze grew less distrustful, Tomislav’s ever more kind.

At last the zhupan said, “Well, I suppose there’s no reason why you shouldn’t. I make a guess you’ve surmised most of it already. I think, too, that you’ve your own reasons for being here, which you’ve not let out; but I dare hope they’re innocent.”

“Better than innocent,” Tomislav added. “Andrei-Vanimen that was-he told me about certain children of his who were left behind. . . . You needn’t say more till you feel safe in doing it, Carolus. Let me help you understand that you’re among friends. Listen to the tale, ask whatever questions you will.”

Even ashore, Tauno could move sQake-softly when he chose. None saw him glide from his room, down a corridor and a stair-way, forth into the shadow and mist of the court, through an open gate where a pair of sentries nodded at their pikes. Once out among the villager homes, he stalked upright, for nobody was awake and no dog would dare bark. The sky was clear, amply starful. Evening chill had quenched the stenches of habitation enough for his nos-trils to pick out the odors he sought: a hint of waters more deep and broad than any baptismal font.

Already several merfolk dwelt in human households. He passed them by. Nor did he consider seeking the settlement on the lake-shore which others, who were now fishers, shared with children of Adam. A few small dwellings, fragrant with fresh timber, had arisen on the edge of Skradin for the rest of the newcomers. These were chiefly females. . . no, women, he thought, mortal women who must in propriety no longer go adventuring.

A certain blend of cool fleshly scents brought him to a door whereon he knocked. Ears within had kept their Faerie keeness. A voice called, “Who is it? What will you?”

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Categories: Anderson, Poul
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