Chimes from a Deeper Sea by M P Ericson Read Free Book Online Page B

used to."
    "I know I
will." At least, I was determined to. There would be no return
journey, not for me. Already the island lay far behind us, a prone
shape sinking slow into the ocean. I raised one hand in brief
farewell, but in truth I'd already said all my goodbyes. To my
mother - a long, intense hug that soothed me still - and to Hinu,
and Tuni, and all the rest of my people.
    Except for the
few who travelled with me, girls wreathed in flowers and smiles,
brides for other men among my husband's strength. I would not be
entirely alone, on this strange faraway island, there would be
familiar faces around me still.
    I wished I
could have had Hinu, but she was much too young. And Tuni, but she
was too pretty. Perin said she might suit one of his brothers, when
the time came.
    Far out we lay,
now, a mere leaf on the gargantuan expanse of the sea. Almost
nothing remained of my home, just a haze on the horizon. Fear
gripped me, sudden and sharp.
    Monsters swam
in the depths below. So men said. I leaned over, chill with terror,
convinced I would see one of them rise up towards me with mouth
agape. But I saw nothing but ripples, and flinched as stark light
reflected from the restless surface.
    And what could
I do, anyway, should monsters claim me? I'd never wrestled in my
life.
    Not like the
men. I cast a surreptitious glance at Perin. Him I'd seen, oiled
and slick, besting several of my brothers. Not all of them, and
once or twice I'd caught a fierce glare and fiercer word from him
about it. But mostly he'd laughed and shrugged it off, and gone
into the next bout undaunted.
    A cheerful man,
I'd thought then, even-tempered and good-natured as befitted a
grown man and a worthy husband. My mother had warned me about men
who snarled and sneered, said if they had no more trust in their
own strength than that they were nothing for a woman to rely on.
And she was right, I was sure of it. My own father never raised his
voice, never said a cruel word or moved to strike a blow in anger,
yet everyone thought well of him and listened when he spoke.
    "There." Perin
laid his oar aside and pointed. "You'll see it at its best, with
the setting sun behind it."
    It rose from
the sea, a sliver of land growing into a mound, and then a mountain
clad in lush jungle. The sky behind it caught fire, and against
that vivid light the shape of the land rose dark like a door into
eternal night. Like the deeps below, I thought - and shuddered
then, felt a chill grip close around my limbs, struggled to
breathe.
    But we were
welcomed, we were honoured: my new mothers and sisters and aunts
embraced me and called me their darling, fed me and stroked me and
praised me at every word. Left me at last alone in the gloom of an
unfamiliar house, smelling of other bodies than the ones I'd always
known, but eerily familiar with its scent of palm leaves and
stamped soil.
    Perin came to
me then, alone likewise, and we found each other's bodies, touched
skin to skin. Lay close together, sated, and listened to the slow
roll of waves against the shore.
    ###
    He didn't fish,
Perin. I discovered that within a week. Just brought me fruits he'd
gathered on his expeditions around the island, game he'd hunted
with the other men. Coconuts, every morning, without me ever having
to ask. But not fish.
    At first I
thought nothing of it. We were newly married, he did not like to
put far out to sea, he wished to show me all that his own island
had to offer. Slowly, though, I began to wonder. And then to
ask.
    "I don't care
for it cooked." He gave me that odd smile of his, friendly and
cheerful, but with an odd glint to it that filled me with a strange
foreboding. "Give me land food. I'll be happy enough."
    "I like fish."
Perhaps there was a touch of petulance in my tone. Our first
argument! Now we really were a married couple. "Will you not bring
me any? I shall be ashamed in front of your sisters."
    "Are you
unhappy with anything I bring?" Still that smile, and the pleasant
tone, and my