Page 22 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
Elsbeth stoked the fire and moved the teakettle closer. “Just that seven ships were lost, and who knows how many smaller boats.”
“Was anyone…?”
“Not that I’ve heard, but there were stories all morning of close escapes, and the usual tall tales of dolphins.” She pulled two teacups from the cupboard and set a strainer over one.
“Thomas?”
She gave him a soft look. “If your cousin were missing, you know there’d be an outcry up and down the island, and there’s been nothing. I’m sure he’s fine.”
His shoulders dropped in relief. He lifted the cloth covering the plate of cookies she always kept on the corner of the counter and took two. He handed one to the young woman — he really needed to figure out her name — and took a bite out of the other.
Elsbeth’s cookies were what he considered to be the best baked good in the seven kingdoms. The woman stared at it a minute, then looked at him. After he took his bite, she nibbled at hers. A look of concentration pulled her brows down as she tasted it. Her eyes widened in delight, and she bit into the cookie with greater urgency.
Elsbeth poured the tea, adding honey and a generous helping of milk to each, an indulgence he was sure she only offered due to their disheveled appearances. She handed him one cup, then brought the other to the young woman.
“Arick!” she cried out. “What is she wearing?”
His ears burned, and he hid behind his teacup. “A sail.”
“A sail? You’re telling me you brought this poor creature into my kitchen and you didn’t even think to tell me she needed a dress?”
He mumbled his excuse into his cup. It was snatched from his hand before he could sip the soothing liquid.
“You bring her back to my rooms right this second.”
Knowing he wouldn’t get his tea back until he did, he obeyed. His punishment was being relegated to the kitchen bench as Elsbeth bustled back and forth to her private rooms at the rear of the inn, first with pitchers of hot water, then a tray laden with food.
He sipped his tea, wondering if it was safe to help himself to another cookie. As he lifted the cloth, he spotted a plate on the kitchen table with a thick slice of brown bread dripping with honey. Bless the woman. He stuffed a cookie into his mouth, and with a fresh cup of tea and his plate of bread, he returned to his bench. When he was done, he set the plate and cup on the table and headed upstairs to his own room, where he’d been staying since his arrival in Toravik.
Whateverthisroundhumanfood was, Sorcha wanted more. With each nibble, the buttery richness danced upon her tongue, complemented by a subtle sweetness. The texture, delicate yet satisfying, melted away in her mouth. The crumbs were the color of sand, but never had sand tasted so good.
Before she could ask for another, the woman started scolding the man, and then she was whisked away to another room.
It took a minute for her to figure out what the woman expected her to do with the hot water and the soft square of cloth, but she found it was soothing to wash away the salt and sand.
The clothing was a bigger concern, as she had no idea how to put all the various pieces on. In the end, the woman helped her, under the impression that Sorcha was too frail to do it herself.
The dress was too big and too short, but the woman tucked and pinned, chatting away as she worked. Sorcha tried to stand a couple of times to make whatever the woman was trying to do easier, but she kept pushing her back down to sit on the bed. The only time the woman paused was when she caught sight of the ribbon and pendant around her neck. She stared at it, then shook her head, continuing on with her administrations.
At last she left her alone with a tray of strange-looking food.
The small round cup held a fragrant brown liquid, and she found herself drawn to it. She sipped it carefully as she studied the rest of what was laid out before her. With not a small amount of trepidation and a growing sense of curiosity, she sampled each of the foods.
A bowl of stew made her stomach growl, but she could find no oyster shells to scoop it with. A metal tool on the tray seemed designed for the same purpose, so she picked it up, pondering the need of the long bit attached. She held it at the base of the stick portion, and scooped up a small amount of the stew. The stick quickly grew to be a frustration, so she tried a few different ways of holding it.
Although the stew was warm and thick with different colored lumps, she found it bland. When she’d eaten all she could, she set the tray aside and curled up by the foot of the bed. The woman hadn’t come back for a while, and she didn’t know if she was allowed to leave the room. Could she even walk by herself?
She sat upright and lowered her feet to the floor again. She was not going to spend her entire life on land being carried about by the man. He’d been kind, but to be so constrained went against her very nature as a mer.
The floor felt smooth and hard beneath her stockinged feet. She wiggled her toes, still fascinated by the stubby little fingers that were attached to her new appendages. Holding onto the corner post of the bed, she stood.
No little daggers stabbed her soles. With a deep breath, she concentrated on lifting one foot. Both of them slid on the floor, and she clutched the post for balance.
Why did her feet insist on working at the same time? Humans operated them separately. She had to figure this out. She sat down on the bed and glared at her new legs. Holding on to one, she commanded her legs, her feet, her toes to move.
She laughed when she finally managed to wiggle the toes of one foot without the other joining in. For the next while, she worked on making each of her feet and legs do something independently of the other. When she could close her eyes and lift each leg and wiggle the foot without the other moving, she decided it was time to try walking again.
Holding the post tightly once more, she stood. To her delight, one foot lifted, and the other didn’t follow. Slowly, she lowered it back to the floor.
