sakon76

Sequel to Two Houses and Suffer a Sea-Change.

By Season Seasoned
by K. Stonham
first released 30th January 2012

"No," Ariel said, blue eyes blazing. And how human was that phrase? A week before, she had never felt the heat of a fire. "I will not stop going up to the surface," she told her father. "I have friends there. What kind of person would I be if I just abandoned them?"

"Humans," Triton said, face dark with disgust.

"Seabirds," Ariel shot in reply. "Dolphins and whales. Being air breathers doesn't make them evil, Daddy."

"Fish-eaters, all of them," the Sea King said, waving a dismissive hand.

"So are most of your people," Ariel reminded him. "Sharks, rays, eels... they all eat something else that swims. Just because we don't, doesn't make them less worthy."

Triton drew another breath to object, but Ariel beat him to it.

"That human saved your life, Daddy," she reminded him. "He killed Ursula. They're not all bad."

"If it weren't for you, that would never have been necessary," Triton replied, but everyone watching could see that her words had shaken his stance.

"Then that's on me, not on him," Ariel agreed.

Triton sighed, head lowering into one hand. "What am I going to do with you, Ariel?" he asked her.

She drew a deep breath. "Put me to work, Daddy," she said.

Triton jolted straight. "Work?" he asked.

She nodded, red hair clouding in the water around her. "Alana has her seascape beautification project. Andrina teaches children tumbling. Arista performs in charity races for homeless crustaceans. There has to be something I could be doing!"

Ariel watched her father's face transform from surprised to thoughtful to, eventually, pleased.

***

"So what's he going to have you doing, kiddo?" Scuttle asked.

The sea princess flashed him a grin. "Lots of swimming. He wants me going to outlying areas to make sure our people there really are as happy as the reports say. And if not, to fix the problems."

"Alone? Could be dangerous." Scuttle knew that there was bad weather under the sea as well as above, nasty currents, sharks that liked to get their teeth on merfolk... his feathers ruffled at the thought of anything happening to his girl.

"Oh, not alone," she waved off his fears. "Attina's been doing this for a few years and she's been wanting an assistant; she can't be everywhere at once. She's got bodyguards who go with her, so I'll be with them."

"Sounds like you'll be away a lot." Scuttle thought of the lonely weeks and months ahead on his little rock. Not that he didn't have other people to talk to--he did!--but none of them had Ariel's spark. "I'll miss you, kiddo."

She laid a fond hand on his head, ruffling his feathers then smoothing them. Oooh, that felt nice. "I'll miss you too, Scuttle. It's going to be boring most of the time on these tours." She pulled something out of the basket she'd brought up from the depths. "I brought you this for you to remember me by until I'm back."

Curious, Scuttle unwrapped the purple-black seaweed from around the large packet. His beak dropped open.

It was an entire sea-cake.

"I know you like them," Ariel said.

"Oh, kiddo, I love them!" Scuttle gushed, hugging first the cake, then her, then the cake again. He couldn't wait to taste it! But he looked at her and felt his enthusiasm temper, remembering the events of the last week and her big adventure on the land. "Nothing for your prince?" he asked.

She hesitated. "There is something I wanted to give him before I left," she admitted. "But his castle's up on a cliff, and I can't just leave it on the beach; somebody else might find it...."

Scuttle saluted. "Leave it to me!"

Ariel blinked. "Are you sure?"

"First Lieutenant Scuttle of the Atlantican Air Force, reporting for duty!" he told her, just to see her smile. Who ever heard of merfolk flying? "Package delivery to commence at 1800 hours sharp!"

Ariel's laughter washed over him like a summer wave. "All right," she said, and handed him the other seaweed-wrapped package from her basket.

"May I?" he asked, bowing. Ariel waved an open hand in invitation.

Scuttle unwrapped. "Ooh, nice," he said in appreciation, holding the seashell up. "A Triton's trumpet?"

Ariel nodded. It was carved in the way of the seafolk, with holes that nimble fingers or feathers could cover to make notes while one blew air--or, Scuttle supposed, water--through its twisting core. "I don't even know if it'll sound the same in the air," the princess said. "But he plays the snarfblat, so I thought...." Her voice trailed off; when Scuttle looked at her, her eyes were big and watery and her face twisted up in an expression of misery.

Scuttle reached over and patted her on the head. "I'll make sure it gets to him okay. You go off and enjoy your tour of the kingdom, okay?"

"Working tour," Ariel reminded him. But she managed to smile again. "You take care, Scuttle." A quick peck of her lips on his cheek and she was gone, disappearing beneath the water. Scuttle watched the red hair going downward until it was out of sight and she was gone. He then turned his attention to rewrapping her gift to the prince.

***

The last of the wedding guests had finally gone home, happy and excited and full of a fantastic tale to tell their friends and families. Eric spent a moment considering how, exactly, he was likely to be cast in those tales. King Luis' carriage finally vanished from his view and he lowered his waving arm, letting the gracious smile drop from his face. He was probably going to be made into a buffoon in the tellings--falling in love with a half-fish, being duped by an enchantress, having a disaster of a wrecked wedding, and getting himself storm-lost for the second time in a week to boot.

He sighed in vexation, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. There was nothing he could do to change the words of any of his guests, except what he'd already done: been the best, most gracious host he could be for the duration of their stays. What was done was done.

"Well, then," Grimsby directed the formally arrayed servants who had also seen King Luis and the Grand Duke off, "no need to be standing about out here. I'm sure we all have work to be doing." He directed and chided them all back into the castle. Eric would normally have followed, but instead he found himself walking over to the seaside verandah. Resting his arms on the balustrade, he looked at the harbor. Technically half the ships were his, but he always found himself discounting most. His eyes were drawn to the fast sailers, the one where a man could hike out over the edge on a fair day and feel the salt spray on his face....

He supposed he could take one and go look for her. But it would be useless; he didn't even know where Ariel's people lived. He certainly couldn't hold his breath long enough to dive down to find her. And even if he did, what would he do? Try to argue her out of what they both knew was best for their peoples?

No, the thought was stupid.

The fact that his heart hurt for her would just have to be a fact of life.

He closed his eyes, right hand bunching his shirt over that heart, and let his head fall into the palm of his other hand. He concentrated on breathing and not on wondering where she was at that moment.

A fluttering of wings disturbed his pain.

Straightening slightly, Eric lifted his head and opened his eyes. A seagull stood on the railing less than three feet away, examining him with one eye. It held in is beak a knotted strand of seaweed that held suspended a tangled mass more below. Skipping forward, the bird dropped the entire mass before him, then hopped back. It kept looking at him.

Was it... waiting for him to do something?

Eric looked down at the mass of purple-black weed, and noticed something brown poking out of one end. Curious, he moved the seaweed aside with gloved hands, discovering a twisting seashell held in its core. He picked the shell up, turning it over and looking at it. It was damaged, he saw....

No, he realized with a musician's eye, it wasn't. The holes were regularly spaced along the coiling shell, and just the right size and shape....

Not letting himself believe it, he raised the horn to his lips and blew into it.

The first blast gushed water out, and he found himself somehow reminded of Ariel's encounter with Grimsby's pipe.

Coughing and shaking the rest of the seawater clear of the shell, Eric raised it to his lips and tried again.

It wasn't quite like his fife. The sound was richer, deeper. But no less musical. He played a brief scale just to hear it, then stopped, feeling alight with wonder.

He turned to the bird. He didn't know how, but somehow it was possible.... "This is from her?" he asked. "From Ariel?"

The bird nodded.

"She's well? She's safe?" Not that she wouldn't be, in her father's kingdom.

Another nod.

"I... haven't got anything for her. Not right now. But I will," Eric vowed, a promise to the bird and the sea-princess and most importantly himself. "If you see her in the meantime, though, tell her...." Tell her what? What possible words could convey the tangled mix of emotion and duty they were both caught in? "Tell her thank you," he decided. "And that I'm always thinking of her."

A final nod, and the seagull was airborne. Eric watched it go, with far more feeling in his heart than he'd had for France's departure, until he could see the bird no more.

Then he set his new instrument to his lips and began learning how to play the music of the sea.

*~*~*

Author's Note: Part three of this slowly growing tale. The title is from The Merchant of Venice: "How many things by season seasoned are / to their right praise and true perfection!"