Feathertide Read online

  The city bell chimed out the lateness of the hour and I knew the dogs would be ready for their supper. ‘Do you think it’s possible—’ I hesitated, choosing my words carefully ‘—for people to have animal features, besides feathers?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he mumbled, drowsy from the sun.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I paused, trying to give the impression that I was thinking of something completely random. ‘Like scales or feet with their toes webbed together perhaps.’

  ‘So, some kind of fish?’

  ‘More like a mermaid without her tail.’ I tried to sound nonchalant.

  He paused. ‘This is the City of Water … anything and everything is possible here.’

  CHAPTER 28

  Staring across the water the next morning, I was disappointed to discover that the mist didn’t seem to be swirling any closer. Even when I climbed to the very top of the bell tower to measure its distance, it still seemed to be suspended an endless way away. Like a net of glittering silver stars hauled from the sky.

  As I looked down into the square, something caught my eye. I didn’t know what this was – there wasn’t a familiar sight there and no one had called out my name – but I sensed something. Searching the cluster of crowds, I could see nothing of importance and was about to climb down when, all of a sudden, I saw her. She was stepping out of a small white building a little way from the main steps. The unexpectedness of finding her there made me freeze completely, but even from so high I was certain it was her. By the time I had come to my senses, she had been swept away again into the crowd.

  Quickly, I fled down the steps and plunged into the thrum of bodies trying my best to reach her, but the City of Murmurs had a swift tide, offering you something, then quickly snatching it back again and giving you something else in its place. If you didn’t reach out and quickly grab what you wanted, it would be gone. I searched the nearby shops and down the alleys, circling the flower market, but I was too late. She had simply vanished. I should have known then that she was never meant to stay.

  Back on the street there was nothing left to do but retrace her steps back to the white building; I wondered what had brought her there. Climbing the steps, I found a brass plaque, polished to shine like the badge of a general. Engraved upon it, was a name: Doctor Marino. I vowed to visit him, perhaps he could tell me where to find her.

  The next morning, I was back at the doctor’s door. This time I pushed it open and found myself in a dark, pokey chamber which held the pungent odour of a rabbit hutch; the floor looked like it could have done with a good sweep. My brain started to whir faster than the wings of a tiny bird, as I tried to work out what medical emergency could have brought me here. Just then a door opened and a man called me in before disappearing back inside. To my horror I realised that any complaint would necessitate a thorough examination and thus the inevitable discovery of my feathers. Panic-stricken, I managed to shuffle myself through the door, all the time wondering what I was going to say.

  Up close, I could see he was still young, but had silver streaks running through his black curly hair. His eyes were dark and clear and lit with kindness. Then he smiled at me like an old friend and for a moment I faltered, convinced we must have met somewhere before, although I’m sure I would have remembered him. A face like his was not easy to forget.

  ‘Sit down.’ He gestured to a chair. ‘Haven’t you brought the dogs?’ he asked, peering over my shoulder, looking for something that clearly wasn’t there.

  ‘The dogs?’ I queried.

  ‘Yes, Sybel’s dogs. I see you walking them most days around the city. I presumed that’s the reason for your visit.’

  I stared back, surprised that he already knew who I was. ‘Feet,’ I muttered, finally sitting down. I had decided on my feet because they were feather-free and the only items I would have to remove for inspection would be my boots.

  ‘Okay,’ he replied slowly, sounding a little confused. ‘Is that why you are here? Because of the dogs’ feet or because of your feet?’

  ‘Mine.’ I was starting to lose patience with him and his strange interest in Sybel’s dogs.

  I began unlacing my boots and wiggled my toes. Tentatively, he rose from his desk and came around to examine me. His proximity suddenly made me feel nervous and I wondered what was causing his hesitancy. I stared at my toes in sudden embarrassment; my feet may have been feather-free but they were certainly not pretty! He knelt before me, and I could see the top of his head, full of thick dark curls.

  Lifting one of my feet in his hand, he stroked it gently between his fingers, then placed it back on the floor and picked up the other one, cupping it in the warmth of his palm. He examined them closely.

  ‘I can’t find anything wrong with your feet,’ he said.

  ‘But sometimes it’s painful,’ I flinched in an attempt to convince him of my lie.

  ‘It’s probably just the heat. Do you always wear those boots when you’re walking the dogs?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Well, I suggest that you wear something else, something that lets the air in. Your feet can’t breathe in those heavy things. Imagine being kept in a cramped dark space all day long; how would you feel?’

  Trapped, I thought, but kept the answer to myself.

  As he straightened up and walked back to his chair, I noticed the large shell displayed on his desk.

  ‘Do you collect them?’ I asked, pointing at it.

  He followed my gaze and then smiled. His hand reached out and he lifted it from its stand.

  ‘Oh no, I’m not a collector. That’s just a gift from a friend.’ He tried to sound dismissive, but something caught in his throat. He gestured for me to take it from him and tentatively I held it in my hand.

  ‘A friend?’ I probed. It seemed I was not the only one for whom Elver left gifts.

  He nodded, but I could see him frowning, wondering the reason for my question. I mumbled my apologies and clumsily handed the shell back to him.

  ‘So how do you know the dogs I walk belong to Sybel?’ I asked, hoping to change the subject.

  ‘Because they are my patients.’ he replied, with a playful smile.

  I suddenly realised my mistake. ‘You’re a veterinary surgeon?’

  He nodded. ‘I don’t normally write prescriptions for people,’ he said, handing me a note with his signature scrawled along the bottom, ‘but for you I will make an exception.

  I felt a shudder in the tips of my feathers and my eyes widened in mortification. I gave a quick nod of thanks and then I turned and swiftly walked away before I could make an even bigger fool of myself.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he called good-naturedly, ‘I’m sure the balm I’ve suggested will help, and if it doesn’t, I can always recommend a very good shoe shop.’

  CHAPTER 29

  A niggling thought kept me company all the way home, like a stone lodged in my boot that I couldn’t shake loose. There was something between Elver and Doctor Marino. Was it just that she sought some treatment from him or was it something more? It was feasible that she would need his help, perhaps oil for her skin, but it was the way he had gazed at the shell on his desk, so full of longing, that made my throat tighten.

  Sybel narrowed her eyes at me as we ate supper. ‘You are distracted,’ she said.

  ‘Can you give me a reading?’ I asked, stirring the tea, not sure I was ready to confess my feelings about Elver to anyone else. I half-laughed then, as I realised Sybel would have already sensed them, no matter how much I wanted to keep them hidden.

  She looked up and watched me suspiciously. ‘If this is about Leo Hawkins then I don’t need the cards to tell me what he feels and neither do you.’

  ‘It’s not about him,’ I replied, but I could feel my face flush the colour of cherries.

  ‘Very well. What shall the focus be?’

  ‘The focus?’ I asked. I had never had a reading before, and wasn’t sure what she meant.

  ‘You need to have a focus, somet
hing to anchor the meaning to. Call it a theme if you prefer: love, wealth, health or—’

  ‘Love,’ I interrupted at once.

  ‘Very well – the heaviest anchor of them all.’ She opened a big cupboard, and after some rummaging she produced a pale-pink candle and a box of matches. Lighting it, she set it down in an oyster bowl in the middle of the table.

  ‘So, you want the Oracle cards?’

  I nodded, not sure what I wanted, or what she meant.

  ‘I must warn you that I will tell you what I see. There is no disguise. If I see shadows, you will know. I will not hide the truth from you, I never do. Before it even leaves my lips, you will know it.’ She waited a moment for me to ponder her words. ‘Are you sure you are ready for that?’

  I nodded again, this time with much less certainty. All her talk of anchors and shadows made me suddenly afraid of what might be waiting to swallow me. She pulled the deck from her top pocket, and began to shuffle them with speed and skill. Then she handed them to me.

  ‘Shuffle,’ she instructed, and so I began. ‘Think of nothing at first, let everything float free from your mind, then slowly focus on what you most desire. Fate will do the rest.’

  Emptying my mind was more difficult than I imagined, and I tried to focus on the candle in front of me.

  ‘Cut the deck into three and pick a pile. Take your time to choose the right one.’

  I studied each pile carefully, until I felt particularly drawn to one pile over the others. Then I picked it up and handed it back to her. She dealt them in the shape of a star, flipping them over, one by one until they had all been revealed; her face was still unreadable.

  ‘So, this point here is your past,’ she said, tapping the bottom card. ‘It shows me you were loved very much. I can see lots of people around you, most likely female and a dark crowd of men much further away, kept at a distance. There is also one important man here – not your father – although he loved you like one.’

  I recognised him instantly. ‘Professor Elms.’

  ‘Yes, possibly a professor, as this card represents learning and wisdom. Don’t worry about him; he is happy and has found new love from old.’

  ‘Really?’ I was astounded. Had his lost love returned? It seemed unlikely. Then I remembered the way he had held Lemàn’s hand the day I walked away and how she had let him. I wondered if in finding each other they would eventually find a way out of the whorehouse.

  ‘Is it with Lemàn?’

  She laughed. ‘The Oracles do not give you specific names; they are more abstract than that. They offer only associations by which you should recognise the subjects. In this case it showed you the idea of learning. I can tell you one more thing: it was your departure that created this connection.’

  Had my leaving really brought them together? I felt a warm rush of hope, and it gave me much comfort to know that my leaving had united them and neither of them was alone in the world.

  ‘The second point here is connected to your present. It shows confusion and restlessness, which swirls around you, and you cannot see clearly. The third point is your immediate future, where you will face a decision. Do not make it foolishly. You will find yourself with many choices, but you will lose them all if you are not careful. After that, decisions will be made for you.’ There was threat in her tone.

  I frowned; it didn’t make much sense.

  ‘Which brings me to the final point – the distant future.’

  ‘What can you see there?’ I asked impatiently. This is what I really wanted to know. I leaned closer as though it would somehow help me to understand the cards in front of me, but no matter how close I got, they were nothing more than jumbled images, just as indecipherable as the Orniglossa transcripts.

  Sybel hesitated, just for a moment, but long enough for me to see that the shadows she had warned me about had appeared. I might not have been able to read the cards, but I could read her face.

  ‘Tell me,’ I demanded. ‘You said you always tell the truth.’

  Sybel sighed. ‘The cards are showing something very bright, almost blinding, like a yellow storm. Then there is nothing but darkness and water, so much water everywhere.’

  ‘Do you mean I will drown?’ I asked, alarmed, for I had never learned to swim.

  ‘Not in water, and not in the way you are imagining, but sadness will anchor you to this place.’

  ‘What sadness?’

  ‘One of your own making.’

  I frowned. Why would I choose sadness? It didn’t make any sense.

  ‘There will be an endless wait, and an unexpected arrival, which will bring you much happiness. In the end there will be both unity and separation, but you will eventually find your way.’

  ‘So, I will be happy!’ I exclaimed, but I had tasted doubt and it simmered away in my stomach.

  ‘I told you not very long ago that you should be running in a different direction.’ Then she whipped away the cards and hastily shoved them back into the pack before I could ask her any more questions, but one escaped, slipping to the floor and I quickly retrieved it. She snatched it from my fingers, but its image had already been revealed to me in the future spread; a yellow sun, half swallowed by the sea. Its meaning was clear to both of us, and it compelled me to confess.

  ‘I have met someone else like me,’ I said.

  ‘I know,’ she replied, after a long pause – of course she did. She knew secrets before they had been told.

  The room had darkened long ago, but I hadn’t noticed time slip through the cracks in the floor. The Oracle candle still flickered.

  ‘She was once a mermaid. Her skin is dry and calloused where her scales used to be, and her feet are webbed together so tightly that no knife could ever cut them free.’

  For a long time, Sybel didn’t speak, and then eventually she uttered a single word. ‘Elver.’

  ‘What?’ I exclaimed in surprise. ‘But—?’

  ‘I told you I have pulled stranger than you from these waters.’

  Then she began her story. Some years ago, she had been returning from a client’s house over on the east side of the city. It was a wild and stormy night and she was a fool to be out on the streets, but her client had just lost someone and needed the comfort only Sybel could bring. The wind was so strong it tossed her into the air like a flower head and splattered her back down again; not an easy thing to do, given her size. The sea raged, foaming and spitting in defiance. Its waves rose higher and higher in a furious deluge. Boats were the innocent victims, snapped in two and carried out of the lagoon like abandoned coffins. The sea and the wind were in some kind of battle and everything else was just in the way. Many lives were lost that night and the city suffered.

  Sybel had managed to find shelter in a doorway, where she stayed until first light. By then, the storm had exhausted itself, but the city was broken. Roofs had been torn off the buildings and windows shattered, hundred-year old trees fell in one night and park benches only good for fire wood. It was hard to imagine such a peaceful place torn apart in one night, but the anguish in her voice was real.

  It wasn’t until the light crept back into the sky that she was finally able to walk back along the waterfront, and there she noticed a green mound slumped over the steps near the boatyard. At first, she thought it was a tangle of nets or a pile of potato sacking blown through the factory door, or a huge clump of slippery seaweed ripped up from the depths of the water, but as she drew closer her senses heightened. Whatever it was, it was moving. Her thoughts then turned to an injured dog, but as she rushed closer, she could see it was something else entirely; something quite extraordinary.

  ‘What? Was it really a mermaid?’ I asked, as she paused her story. What Sybel was saying was too impossible to believe, yet I already knew it to be true. I had slept beside it.

  She continued her story. She told me that where her legs should have been; she had the tail of a fish, with beautiful iridescent scales that glittered like coins you could never spend. Sybel
explained how she had carefully scooped her up and ran back to the house where she wrapped her in blankets and made her fish broth, stirred with healing herbs. She was barely conscious and her tail had been torn beyond repair and it was starting to rot. Sybel scrunched up her nose then as though the smell still lingered in the room, but when I sniffed the air, it was just the rose wax of burning candles that I could smell. She told me the side of her head had been bashed and left bruised and her ribs were undoubtedly all broken. She told me how she cried out in pain as she slept, but by the third day she was able to swallow the broth she had brewed up from fish bones. The fear of infection sent her in search of a doctor.

  ‘I didn’t know if I was dealing with a girl or a fish.’ She laughed. ‘In the end, I decided a veterinary surgeon would be less likely to report what I had to show him. The next day I brought someone I knew I could trust, and swore him to secrecy.’

  ‘Doctor Marino?’

  ‘Yes.’ She didn’t seem surprised that I knew his name.

  She told me how he would come every day not only to administer medicines, but to sit and hold her hand. After ten days, she was sitting up in bed and a few days after that, she was able to feed herself from a spoon. Whenever he came, Sybel could remember how her face would light up and she could hear them laughing behind the closed door. Although she grew stronger, her tail was shrivelled and wizened and had been so badly damaged that it would take months to heal, if it healed at all. She bathed it daily in buckets of salt water brought back from the Reef, but even that didn’t help. A month later Sybel gave her a choice: lie in bed and wait for something that may never happen or walk.’

  ‘So, you changed her? You gave her legs?’

  ‘At first she was uncertain of what she wanted but one night, Doctor Marino stayed longer than usual and when I saw him leave in the morning, so full of happiness; I knew she had made her choice and I had a new pair of shoes waiting – not that she could wear them, in the end.’

  ‘But how did you do that?’ I asked, amazed by everything she was telling me.